I guess I really should update more than once a month, huh?  At the very least, my frugality should kick in and decide paying for this site means I actually use it.

I miss writing daily.  Like many things, it’s habit.  Once broken, hard to fix.  I have the time now to do so - I no longer work at the sanctuary and Tom travels for work every week so I have my evenings to myself.  But somehow I never think to write.

I turned 35 this month.  It happened with little fanfare, as I wished.  I guess I might have wanted a bit more trumpet blowing if I thought I were healthier, wealthier, and wiser than I was at 30.  But alas, I don’t think that’s the case.

I’m getting there though.  Before fixing this writing habit, I’m trying to fix a few healthy habits that fell by the wayside.  Hate to throw him under the bus, but it is so much easier with Tom gone most of the time.  As someone who was paid for physical labor over half his life, he has a hard time convincing himself to sweat without dollar signs attached.  He also had a HUGE change in his eating habits when we merged - no red meat?  What’s this green stuff?  And while that was great for him, it was a step backwards for me and my 8-a-day.

The wealthier is a bit harder to manage.  I am currently drawing a small salary from my grandmother.  It became evident last fall that she needed extra help around the house.  I couldn’t provide more support without making her my “job”, and so we agreed that’s what was best for now.  I drive up to Gainesville once a week to spend 2 days with her.  I also do things for her throughout the week that don’t require her presence - buying a toaster, getting rid of old items we’ve stashed in my trunk, etc.

I am enjoying this extra time with her immensely.  Thankfully, Tom comes from a large, tight-knit family.  He’s incredibly supportive of this departure from my having a “real job”.

While leaving the sanctuary as the IT Manager wasn’t something I was seriously considering at the time, several changes happened that made this decision easy for me.  My “boss”, GM, (aka friend, mentor, big brother, hero, cohort who made the impossible challenges of working there bearable) had/has some pretty awesome opportunities in the works for him.  Whether higher ups felt threatened by that, or were making a premptive strike on his leaving, he wasn’t being treated well.

I wasn’t being treated well either, come to think of it.  Several of us that helped build up much of the infrastructure were put down and negated on many changes that started to happen.

Since then, changes having been occurring at a rapid fire pace.  I am still a volunteer, and still a volunteer coordinator.  I hope that things will slow down and the dust will settle.  But there are a lot of hurt feelings and I’m not sure the outcome of that yet - even for myself (take note: do not do most of your correspondance via email if you slander people whose help you still need/want).

And the wiser part?  Well, perhaps leaving the paid position at the sanctuary and returning to volunteer-only status is a big step in that direction.  It gives me freedom and distance from some of the people out there while allowing me more time with the cats.

Other than that, I kind of feel like I’m back where I was when I left my software engineering job.  Blank slate.  It feels a bit silly to be here yet again.  But I’d rather be here than stuck in another unhappy situation.  I can only move forward from here.

I blink.

And my world is upside down.

The vague unease I felt being part of something big I wasn’t sure I deserved to be a part of is replaced by the vague unease that I am part of something I’m not sure deserves me.

But the truth is, on paper, if I push on I doubt anyone but myself will look back and think that.  Myself and the few others who are thinking the same thing right now.

I blink again.

A person who raised me and made sure I got exercise and ate my vegetables (I can only remember once hiding them underneath my booster seat), now relies on me to see the restroom signs, the street signs, the xs marks the spot.

She gave me metallic sticky stars for pooping when I was constipated at age four.  Now I look the other way and pretend I don’t understand when she mentions difficultly collecting a urine sample.

Blink.  Blink.

Is it all right side up again?  Have I won?

I really wanted to work that into the title of a mass email I sent out today.

Please excuse the picture quality - it’s a print screen from the podcast we did for the sanctuary on my hair cut.  This is the closest I’ve come to admitting my real identity on this site.  Note the oh-so-high tech rectangle over the logo.

So, what did you do today?

This weekend will be our one year anniversary.  While I’m sure I can wax poetic about love, etc., all I can think is thank goodness it’s a reason to take the weekend off.

For the third time since I’ve started officially working for the sanctuary, GM has gone traveling for work. Rather surreal, I’m watching a history channel series with him on it right now - from his first travels.

I actually held off on writing anything a few days ago just because I didn’t want to jinx myself.  But I think it is safe to say…I’ve learned a lot in these few months.

With GM off property, my status as someone who runs the volunteer program has put me in the position of managing the day-to-day issues.  I’ll readily admit, it felt like quite a nightmare the first time.  I survived - but barely.  In part just because it’s not a position I feel comfortable in.  For almost 10 years, I looked to few people at the sanctuary for the answers.  Now I am one of those people.

I’m getting comfortable with that.  And dare I say, this time has been easier.  I have a better balance of what to take care of myself, what to request help with.  Who I can expect to help, who might need some help of their own.

It helps that we just happen to have a kick ass team of staff, interns, and volunteers.

But despite the pat on the back I’ll give myself…damn am I tired.

Anyone who cares even the slightest about animals or has ever been wowed by the “lion tamer” (yes, I must put it quotes) at a circus thinks I must have a greatest job in the world.

A phone rep at tiger-direct.com who was confirming my billing address thought my life was the best.  I was sitting in 80+ degree weather because I get no cell reception at my desk, desperately trying to be heard over the sound of male peacocks (that everyone thinks is a cat calling out), in order for a piece of equipment to be sent that I wasn’t even sure we needed or if I was indeed authorized to purchase.

Without the backyard and the peacock, it probably sounds like your job.

The truth is, we (the volunteers) spend hours and hours a week, sometimes more than we spend at our real jobs, carrying for wild animals that can never be wild.  We decide when they eat, where their den is, how large their enclosure is, what toys they get, when their poop is removed.  And then they die.  It’s like a punchline but there is no joke.

Last week, we saw our Chance.

Florida has two native cats - cougars (or florida panthers) and bobcats.  We have received several bobcats, mostly kittens, and most with too much human contact to do anything but build another enclosure.

But last week, we said goodbye in a different way to a different sort of bobcat.

With only one eye, but fully recovered from surgery to place his stomach back inside where stomachs belong, he bounded into the forest.  He was our second true rehab and release.

Some volunteers worry about him.  Some wonder if he will hunt successfully.  Will he survive the year?  Will he survive the month?  The day?

I don’t worry or question.  I saw him have that one good run.  A run into the wild that all the cats we returned to at the sanctuary can never have.

The next day, we had to let another cat go.  This time, in the manner that we are accustomed to.  A black leopard, cursed to cry his whole life due to facial damage from being beaten to perform.  He was old, and arthritis had crippled him.  Some volunteers feel sad and angry that he had to leave.  He was the reason many fell in love with the sanctuary.

For me, I’m just sad and angry that he ever had to be here in the first place.  That he couldn’t get his one good run.

My mother-in-law sent me the cutest e-card this week.  I’d paste the link except then you could see her email address and I may not have learned much during my time on the Internet, but allowing strangers access to family that is allowed to hate you because you’re not blood related is a no-no.

Especially when she’s painfully aware you don’t plan on coughing up grandkids.

The card is a little animation of two…bunnies?  Cats?  Small, simplistic creatures with big eyes.  One green, one pink.  They chant and hooray for me.  And my favorite part is when they say, “You did some good stuff…we don’t know what it was, but it was good.  Do more.  More Good Stuff!  More Good Stuff!  More Good Stuff!”

What I love is that is pretty much sums up what the congratulations is for.  I got a new job.  How?  By doing some good stuff.  And the assumption of my new boss that I am capable of doing more of it.

Starting February, I will be working for the sanctuary.

Oh wait, I already do that.

I mean, I will be PAID by the sanctuary for doing MORE GOOD STUFF.  Specifically, administration/computer stuff.  We don’t have paid staff for animal care - that’s my volunteering position.  But we have a vast world on this here Internet and someone needs to corral parts of it.  And make spreadsheets of it.  And add to it.

I am very excited and frightened.  And of course, I don’t feel I can share any of that here.  Blogging credo # 1 - No blogging about work.

In fact, this is the second thing put in motion do to the idea that I can do MORE GOOD STUFF.  I have put off talking about because I wasn’t sure how.  But a month ago, I was asked to join the committee that runs the volunteer program.  (I guess I’d better do MORE GOOD STUFF, or else - as a committee member - I’m going to have to give myself a stern talking to.)

Some sanctuary people are aware that I blog.  One has even admitted to looking for the address.  For all I know, everyone from there reads because I haven’t looked at my site stats in months.  (Dear Sanctuary People, especially those not quite-so internet saavy, I can see your IP address.  Love, Jessica)

I don’t think I’m ready for this to be a public place where “In Progress” is replaced with my true last name.  While I always blog with the intention of being funny, or sweet, or nice, I would not say that I always blog with the idea that everyone in my real world is reading.  I’m not sure it would be any different, but I have too much other shit to figure out right now to give it deep thought or a test run or just let it fly and see what happens.

So, please bare with me as I get used to several new roles in my real life.  I may not be able to talk about all of it, but I promise I will try to be up to MORE GOOD STUFF.

Or at the very least, MORE EMBARRASSING SHIT.  Because that I can blog about. 

I was asked about the sanctuary recently.  I didn’t realize I hadn’t written about it in a while.  It’s such a part of my life that sometimes it feels like writing about breathing.

But, it’s also an intimate part of my life.  So sometimes it feels like writing about…well, other intimate parts of life.

Things have been good and weird for me out there lately.  The weird will be resolved this weekend (I think), and I will be free to talk about it then.  While I have strong evidence on which way things work out, I honestly will be happy any which way.

I spent a lot of time there over the Christmas break.  Well, there and Borders.  A local Borders sets up free gift wrapping and has charities come in and man the booth.  We are allowed to collect donations, and put out any literature we want.  Borders chose us as one of two charities, giving us the lion’s share of time.  I picked up some daytime shifts when other people were in work, got called out one afternoon when they were getting slammed, and volunteered to be there Christmas Eve morning.  As I heard from the manager’s pep talk, “Welcome to Hell!”

I have a leopard spot trimmed santa hat, so I wore that and smiled a lot and used my telephone voice.  I also wrapped a lot of books.

Christmas day, I got up bright and early, stuck overnight french toast in the oven, fed ST, then headed off to the sanctuary.  There was a very small crew of us, but we got things done quickly and I was on my way home to ST by noon.  It felt good to be part of such a great team.  Oh, I also stopped at MC’s work on the way there so she could partake of the breakfast.

On a sadder note, we’ve lost three cats this winter.  All were past their life expectancy, one by 10 years(!), but it hurts nonetheless.  I once wrote a poem for another volunteer who has a great affinity for feeding the animals.  She mentioned last weekend that every cat in that poem is now dead.

I used to be made of stronger stuff when it came to the life cycle out there.  None of our animals are young; it’s nature.  I don’t know if it was losing “my” lionness and tiger, or perhaps just time weaving into my heart a little more, but it’s been hard.

Instead of a deluxe apartment, I get to sling raw meat.

Yesterday was the monthly meeting for the sanctuary.  It’s when all the volunteers get together, hear updates from the committee, meet new people, and attend training classes.

It’s also when promotions are handed out.

In June, I thought very hard about applying to be a ML (mid-level) volunteer.  I was high from the freedom of my schedule and enjoying myself immensely out there.  I had been told by GM that the promotion was mine to have whenever I wanted.

(Note:  The requirements are 6 months as an LL and over 150 hours logged.  Plus about 8 classes.  They could be waived since I already have 4,000+ hours and 5 years working with exotic cats.  They would never be waived if someone did not have the experience.  I made it a point to get all the classwork done in my first two months back because it seemed rather dangerous for me not to know any changes in protocol.)

I was already doing much ML work - conducting tours, helping guests, training new volunteers and interns, and taking more and more of a leadership role with the enrichment program.  The two biggest things an actual promotion required were 1) cleaning cougars and 2) feeding.

GM and I had talked about this before.  Feeding occurs at dusk, an active time for most animals.  During the summer, this is often the coolest part of the day - an important factor when you’re leaving pounds of meat on a concrete slab.  The animals have the solitude of the night to eat their meal, then cleaning starts around 8am.

During the winter, feeders become scarce because of the short days.  By the time many 9-to-5ers are off work, it’s dark.  He and I had thrown around the idea when I first came back that promoting me and adding me to the feeding rotation would be helpful and also a way for me to keep up hours with the inevitiable wacky schedule of classes.

But in June, I took a hard look at my travel schedule and decided not to apply.  It would look shitty to become a ML volunteer and then skip town for weeks.  I was happy where I was.  It still sort of astounds me how the prestige of promotion doesn’t interest me.  It’s a bug that bites almost every volunteer who sticks around.  I guess because I’ve been there, done that it doesn’t appeal.  I think I’ve gained from this by being able to just enjoy my time out there for what it is, not always thinking about the next step.

Skip to Saturday.  It’s been a rough couple of weeks for me - the car wreck, the school situation, the job front.  I hadn’t been out since the Saturday before and then it was with a sprained ankle so I just limped through a tour, did some computer work, and left before lunch.

Before I even got out of the car, I asked GM for my favorite cleaning assignment.  I wanted to get the most out of the day.  He agreed readily.

I ended up having an intern interviewee shadow me.  It’s been raining every day here, and that plus how much concrete jungle has been built around the sanctuary means that the paths are soggy and even underwater.  (The enclosures have land built up during construction.  I’m not saying they’re bone-dry, but for the most part the standing water runs to the paths between the enclosures.)

Basically, this is one of the worst times of the year to volunteer.  Hot, mosquito-ey, and wet.  But I was loving it.

I got called off one cage short of finishing to conduct a tour.  We have a program where people can come and spend the day getting a bit more of a private experience - a general tour, then some time with various guides doing enrichment and operanant conditioning.  They end with getting to watch some of the feeding take place.  I had a group of seven to do their general tour.

When I got done, I met GM in the parking lot, pondering his volunteer schedule for the next few months.  He asked if I had applied for ML.  And when I said no, he asked if I could go write a letter right then.

This is quite possibly the greatest way to get a promotion - have someone ask you to do it.  I hadn’t even been thinking about it.  But I know that I can help more as an ML.  GM really wants me back in the feeding rotation - something that while more responsibility is also somewhat of a treat.

I grabbed a sheet of printer paper, scribbed a note, and voila.  Yesterday I was promoted.

The actual promotion means little to me, except that it will be nice to walk around with the word “Keeper” on my back rather than “Trainee”.  It always felt a tad ridiculous.  But I am extremely happy to know that I’ve managed to return to the sanctuary in a positive way, earn my dues, and be regarded as an asset and a help.  My goal for volunteering is to make a good life for our animals and teach others about them.  I feel like I’m succeeding at that.

I’m at the sanctuary 2-3 times a week these days and having an awesome time.  About a month ago or so I was seriously considering moving up in the ranks.  It just felt so natural.

Then we decided to go to Georgia for a weekend.  And to Chicago/Eagle River for a week.  In between, I will be in Costa Rica.

Whether the feeling would be valid of self-inflicted, I would worry about how it would look to accept the priviledges of a higher volunteer level and then skip town.  After wrestling with the idea for a week or so, I decided I am very happy just being grunt.  I’ll do what I’m told and leave when I’m done.

Perhaps I would feel different if I weren’t allowed to conduct tours.  I’ve done 2 adult tours, 3 children’s tours, and 1 tour for emotional disturbed teenagers in the past week.  I don’t think I’d ever want to be a full-fledged teacher, but the tours are educational and it is both fun and amazing to help people learn about these animals.

Another thing is that I have worked back up to doing enrichment.  I was granted time yesterday and walked around with an intern handing out spice bags and liver-cicles.  (Scent is important to cats in the wild so spices interest them.  And a liver-cicle is, well, pureed liver frozen in a cup.  Yum.)  It reminded me so much of why I do this.  These animals rely on humans for everything.  They are reminded of this when they eat, when they shit, and when they hurt.  Enrichment is a time for the animal to just be an animal.

These pictures are not from that, but from an early morning while I was waiting for a tour to come.  It’s hard to get pictures because there is little time for anyone to just wander; we’re always working and the work is never done.  But I snuck to my car when I saw these photo opportunities.

Leopard, mid-yawn.  He came to us after his owner, a small road-side zoo operator, died.

Tiger.  She was a rescue from the exotic animal market, a pet.  I believe she was almost 3 months when the owners realized she was too big and dangerous.  She’ll live to be around 20.

Not wild animals, but too cute to not share.

I have been back at the sanctuary for a month now.  It has been wonderful.  I have been anxious and cautious at times; things change, people change.  I feel it is a careful balance between respecting the now (what I’m allowed to do, when I should ask for help/direction/guidance) but also not shirking responsibility I’m aware of from the then.

One thing several volunteers asked me after the meeting today was if I was going to be promoted quickly, go back to my old status, etc.  It amazes me how little I’m interested in that.  Not that I don’t want to be out there that much, but that I feel I can do so much just as I am right now.

Why do I think you’ve been waiting for this post?  Pictures.

First, I got home yesterday with an hour to get all purty for a date.  This is how dirty I was:

See the sock line?  That’s the color the rest of me was supposed to be.  I did not snap an after photo because when you are that dirty and have an hour to get date-presentable, you don’t have time to take more than one picture.

Then, today after our monthly meeting, I grabbed my camera and begged an old friend to walk me around a bit.  (As a LL, I shouldn’t be wandering by myself in certain areas.)

Cougar cub, roughly seven months old.  Rescued with his two siblings from Idaho after a hunter shot his mother in late fall.

All three siblings, peeking out from their den.

Lioness seized in a drug bust in Tennessee.  The Nashville zoo could not keep her for many reasons, one being she was declawed.  Her elbows had huge growths on them when she arrived years ago.  They had grown to protect her joints from the concrete on which she was kept.  A few months of a natural enclosure and good diet did wonders.  (You can see one still a bit knobby although it is a poor picture of it.)