While I wish I could sit down and tell you exactly what’s on my mind - how crazy, exciting, frustrating, exhausting my day-to-day has become - I can’t.

It’s not because I want to keep things private (although I do) or that I can’t find the time (although I can’t).  It’s that I lack the ability to communicate something without a buffer or a break or a bonus round.  What’s going on with me RIGHT NOW?  Ummm…

Yeah.  I sit in front of this blank screen and just…blank.  It all seems boring and piddley and whiney.

Instead, let me share that a month or so ago Tom and I went on vacation.

It was only the second vacation we’ve taken where the point was us.  It feels indulgent and - as I try to plan Chicago since my father is having surgery again - foolhardy.  A whole week?  Just to be together?  Whatever can we do?

Turns out, quite a bit.

We flew in to Las Vegas, spending 4 nights there then driving to the Grand Canyon for 3 nights and returning to Vegas in time for one more buffet and a flight out.

First off, Las Vegas is so not my type of place.  I’ve cared for cats from shows.  I’ve seen the conditions.  I know the trade and cruelty that is perpetuated by even the best caregivers just by fact of displaying them.

It’s also not my place because it is so over the top.  Vegas is disposable and luxurious.  I am canvas bags and frugal.

But…I still loved it. 

We saw 3 shows, gambled a little, and used our jacuzzi every day.  I must say, for all the hype, Zumanity is much tamer than I expected.  Perhaps because this is one area where I am definitely NOT frugal.  Ahem.  But it was still a great show.

Also, as someone who thinks finding good places to eat as a top priority on vacation while Tom is more of the “Is that McDonald’s I see?  It’s cheap and quick!” vacationer, Las Vegas was perfect for us.  We ate several meals at buffets - usually making the meal stretch over the day so as not to seem too piggish.  He couldn’t resist the bargin of a buffet, I couldn’t resist the fact that there is no such thing as bad food in Vegas.  The only thing I found lacking is that I don’t believe you can get great Italian food at a buffet.

After 3 days, we were off to the Grand Canyon.  Where we promptly fell in love with the view, bought peanut butter and bread to make all-day hike preparations, and hit a brick wall.

I’m scared of heights.

And, like a few of my other fears (frogs), it’s one I never really think will rear it’s head.  I mean, sure I quiver when I climb and enclosure to clean off the roof and I curse a bit on ladders.  But, am I REALLY scared?

Evidently, the answer is yes.  Yes I am.

Our first afternoon, we struck off to do a small section of trail to get a good sense of our timing so we’d know how far we could go the next day.

I got maybe 6 yards down the trail.

I got another 12 yards before I made us turn back.

This was a little less than the 12 miles we were planning.

I was so distraught.  I can’t believe I’d planned a vacation to the Grand Canyon and couldn’t even hike!  However, I also didn’t feel like putting myself through pain and hell was exactly what a vacation should be about.

We decided to go down the trail we wanted to hike and see how I felt about those conditions.  It wasn’t much better at first.  There was a large turn at the first switchback and you couldn’t see around it and I couldn’t get over the mental block.

But then, as we were looking around the area thinking we wouldn’t be back the next day, we found an alternative way to the trail head - one past that first turn.

I’m not sure why it got easier for me, but it did.  We hiked enough to determine that we’d make a go of it the next day.

We made it 3 miles.  And I’m not pointing any fingers, but I wasn’t the one to turn us back.

And…that was it in a nutshell.  It was an incredible trip.  The combo of slot machines and canyons is one I definitely recommend.

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.

Note to self:  It hurts to not post.  Four episodes of Buffy until I had erased enough comments that the page would fully load and I could use the “Delete All” button.

You’d think after all that trouble, I’d have something to say.  But no.

The truth is, I hardly turn on this computer any more.  And while I must spend time on one for “work” (granted a Vista machine…eich), I haven’t read another blog in months.  And until I’m staring at this blank space, I don’t really think about what that means to me.

And…I’ve just goaded my husband down the stairs, so I guess I wont’ think about it now either!

Five minutes after Tom has told me a rather raunchy story from his past…

“I’m so happy.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t think most husbands can tell their wives stories like that.”

“Uh, like what?”

(Fingers smeared under nose such as end of said story) “That story.”

“Oh.  Well, whatever.”

“I’m so lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“Yup.”

“That you have a crass slut as a wife?”

“Yup.”

“Ok then.”

Perhaps we should have a memorial for this blog.

Not that I’m going anywhere…but damn, it’s kinda dead these days, huh?

My father, after two stints in the hospital, is fine.  Perhaps over-doing it, but alas it is genetic.

Tom’s grandfather has survived a foot amputation but resides in a nursing home at varying levels of with-it-ness.  We haven’t visited, and I guess we don’t plan to.  Not to belittle his grandfather’s life, but I just tried with all my might to get an old tiger to eat last night with no success.  Sometimes not visiting is better.

Zulu has had another run-in with the big-C.  She has had a much larger mass removed, but her lungs still look clear of metatsis.  She is still, much to the vet’s chargin, sporting her E-collar.  This means she probably could have had dissolvable stitches.  At it stands now, we all have another fun day of catch-n-sedate to remove her sutures.

Spike is reading over my shoulder.  We are now a five-cat household.  Shoot me now.  (Male, Maine Coon, young.  A domestic requiring adoption which happens quite frequently in our world since many people do not understand the type of cats the sanctuary rescues.  Or else because many people know santcuary people = suckers.)

I am…good.  Happy.  I have thought of a half dozen blog entries that all get put on the back burner with the rest of my life and the not-every-day-pressing job duties.  I can’t promise that I’ll be back with any regularity, but I can promise that I’m not shying away due to anything else but life.

And isn’t that a tad bit better than seeing another blog on the side?

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.

I don’t have enough.  But this weekend, I got two days to myself to get the house, the car, and the laundry in order.

More later.  When there’s time.

The past two weeks have been bad.  Crazy, overworked, understaffed.  I had a fuck up so huge that I still get a bit panicky and shakey during certain moments.

The problem with making an error that you’re aware should be life-changing is that sometimes life isn’t able to put up with your bullshit.  Sometimes you need to go in and put in your hours and act like nothing happened.  And I’ve been able to do that.  Tom made that that ever-so-common statement I’m sick of hearing from men in my life:

“You’re stronger than that.”

He even went as far as to say that I was stronger than he would be in the same situation.

And this time, I didn’t roll my eyes or pout or break up with him.  (OK, maybe I had a slight eye roll.)

Many times in my life, I’ve been upset because I felt that I’ve HAD to be strong.  That strong was my only option.  I wanted the ability to check off the give-up, sweep-in-and-save-me, run-away-to-Canada, or all-of-the-above options.

This time I knew.  I knew all those other times were stupid and insignificant.  This was the time that counted.  And thank goodness for all those other times.

So I’m still here.  And things are somewhat better.

In other news…the dog peed on my pages-n-ink journal - three years of my life gone.  Including both my relationship with TG and the start of my relationship with Tom.

I finally saw Avenue Q and loved it.

Tom and I are planning a Vegas/Grand Canyon vacation and I’m very excited.

My father’s in the hospital.  He had surgery for a collapsed lung and it hasn’t healed correctly yet.  It’s been a week.

Life goes on…

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Nothing.  I had cheese and crackers.  And peanut M&Ms.  And doritos.”

“You had cheese and crackers?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t call me down?”

“Right.”

“But you called me down to move the washer and dryer?”

“All’s fair in love and war.  Guess which one this is.”

I was going to write on my birthday.  Then I was going to write on Monday so I could alliterate, except with numbers.  Now it’s Wednesday but that title is stuck in my head and at least 5 is an odd number because I like odd numbers.

I like odd numbers.  Sometimes, you gotta really dig.  Even for the little stuff.

I was spoiled with a new iPod shuffle the week before my birthday.  It is cute and clippy and totally unnecessary because I already had a shuffle that worked perfectly fine.  But I really wanted one - I kept tangling the old ear phones/neck strap in the dog’s leash.

I also received tons of gift cards from Tom’s family for which I haven’t properly thanked them.  And emails/cards/texts from friends.  And booze from a very astute sanctuary friend.

I made the very difficult decision to drop out of my class at school.  My scheduling was difficult, but not impossible.  What was impossible was finding time to study.  Any time I am home I want to sleep or clean.  Or sometimes both.  It really got away from me three weeks ago and I told myself up until the day before a test that I could catch up.

I am not happy with this decision.  More to the point, I am not happy with the knowledge that I won’t take any classes over the summer or in the fall.  There are work/sanctuary-related deadlines that I know will occupy most of my time.  And I knew this (for the most part), going into this situation.

The truth is, I have been very burned out on school ever since I got *any* kind of job.  Not since the second semester of school have I really been interested - in part because I haven’t been able to focus.

So…do I plan to return to school fulltime at some point in the future?  Or do I cut my losses?  These sorts of questions weigh on my mind even though I have absolutely zero brain power to make any decision on the matter.