And now, to find dinner.

At first, when I left work today, I thought, "I don't like anyone." Not people at work, just people in general. Then I listened to one of my happy songs and sang, and admitted that it's not true. It's just that today was very busy and I'm tired and Chris is an infernal asshole. You wouldn't believe the ridiculously mean things he sent to me yesterday. I'm pretty sure he was just venting nastiness from elsewhere, because I seem to be a safe receptacle for it.

But now I don't live in that anymore. Maybe he's worse now, or maybe I'm less used to having to swallow that shit. It made me feel so bad, like I don't have a tolerance for it anymore. The good news is that now he wants to avoid me, so maybe he'll leave me in peace. I suspect he will come back again, acting like everything's fine. Tracy suggested I retain this feeling for when that happens. I wish I had a mute button for him so I could pay attention to his actions instead of his words.

I also suspect the timing. Will he pay his debt? I hope he pays something, even if he can't pay for all of it. I would feel much less manipulated and abandoned and clichéd if he did. Whenever I would point out that he has given me nothing since June, he'd call me an asshole and say that he's paying me $1000 from his tax return. Taxes were filed in March. Suddenly he wants me to go away. (I have been trying to avoid him for several weeks, so why did he write to me?)

Why couldn't it be kind?

Let's see what Ani has to say:

Virtue is relative at best
There's nothing worse than a sunset
When you're driving due west
And I'm afraid that my love
Is gonna come up short
There is no "There, there."
I guess I'm scared, 'cause
I want to have good news to report
Every time I come up for air


The worst thing would be to feel like it wasn't true, that I'm "shipwrecked in a desert," to quote another Ani song. The thing is, I know it was true. Why I need him to validate that, I don't know. Most of the time he does, but when he sends his shitty missives, I feel like it was never real and I'm just holding some crumpled up piece of ribbon- the balloon is gone- and everyone wonders why I won't just throw the damn thing in the trash. "But wait," I say. "I could still use this, make something beautiful out of it..."

Well, last weekend I threw out a lot of ribbon.

Jennyway, so the librarian is here this week from Sacramento, teaching me all kinds of wonderful library things. It's only Tuesday, and my brain is overflowing. It's a good thing I can come home and whine write for a while with the door open, enjoying the breeze and the quiet with my animals.

Somebody my age sent out a feeler today, looking to find out my relationship status. Hmmm.

Oh, and for my moment of gratitude:

I have a lot that I'm grateful for these days, but today I am especially grateful that my mailbox lock was not the one that had peanut butter smeared on it.

Like a Light

Well, I did it- I made dinner! Of course, it's already 9:00 at night and I have another half hour to wait until I can eat, but hey, I made dinner!

This felt like a long weekend. Isn't that awesome? I went to a friend's house Friday night and cackled with her for a few hours. Saturday, I did NOTHING except watch Breaking Bad all day long. I got antsy around 6 and decided to tear everything out of my storage closet and make an unholy mess in the living room. That was after I took all the piles of paper off my desk, but didn't finish sorting/recycling/filing them. My couch is still half covered, and not in neat piles because 1) it's not a desk and we've all been lying on/sitting on it and 2) I had the slider open to enjoy the breeze.

This is exactly how I have always cleaned/organized. I remember being... 10? 12? I would pull absolutely everything out of my closet and make a giant mess in my already messy room, find something interesting and get distracted for about an hour, look up and get immediately overwhelmed, then wander off in search of something to eat. This time, I kept myself on track. I steered clear of the giant plastic bin crammed full of letters and cards and everything else even mildly sentimental that normal people throw out. I resisted my inner recycler and threw out piles of cassette cases instead of deciding that they would make lovely gift card holders. I threw out Chris's old bass strings that I once thought would make strange and lovely ribbon on a birthday present. Guitar strings, maybe, but not thick, heavy bass strings, but I kept them even after I learned this the hard way. (You are not Martha Stewart. Stop it.) I found feathers and mini beads and half a clay tool set, tapes from some stranger's college lectures (What?), unfinished art projects (There's an entire bin full.), including pictures. It would be possible to do something with them, except that some are on CD, some are stuck together, and some have wandered off, leaving only their negatives behind. I mentioned them to Dad, and he invited me to bring them with me during some future visit. He said he'd sort my pictures and I could sort his, which would probably be a lot faster and more productive than sorting our own. I envy people who complete photo albums.

I had a box full of old checkbook carbons back to 2006, mysterious computer cords, spare pieces to things I haven't seen in years, on and on and on. I was vicious and threw out a disintegrating basket and shitty still life drawings. I put the good ones away in a safer place, but why on earth did I keep every half finished vase sitting on a draped cloth?

I consolidated all my office supplies. Um...

This is just some of the stickies and notepads that are not already out on my desk. I can't help myself. I just like it all so much. When I see something neat or something on clearance, or god forbid- both, I think I could surely find a use for it. I keep it ALL. Maybe I need an office supply intervention. All I know is that someone is getting a letter soon that starts with "dearfuckface."

Here's what I've got AFTER the consolidation and purge:

Notice that my pen box does not say "PENIS." Remember, apostrophes have no place in plurals, or you'll end up with a box of penis.

I think I did a nice job overall. My storage closet looks all neat and tidy and would qualify for the express lane checkout. I have pared down further. Today felt much better once I made the thrift store run. Everything kept looking like a total disaster until it suddenly didn't. Dad swore I didn't have that much here in the first place and wondered what I could possibly be getting of rid of, but I was on the warpath. I walked the dogs with Jody this morning and got a couple grocery items, but mostly I was here, cleaning up my mess from yesterday. So yeah, kicked some closet butt AND made dinner. I had better get moving. Mini is tryin g to nap on my fingers and I still need to go put some dinner into single servings for the week and work on attaining dishpan hands.

I am feeling successful, positive, organized, and flipping exhausted.

Dinner was yummy.

Over and out.

Meta blog

Quick- crack a beer so you won't go out for dinner!

Whew... that was close. There were a couple of Red Robin gift certificates as prizes, and I sat there at dinnertime, not winning one, thinking, "Mmmm, Red Robin..." Well, crisis averted. I am heating up some turkey meatballs in spaghetti sauce for my garlic bread meatball sub. Whatever, it's less carbs than having pasta and bread. And by the way, Red Robin, who the hell thought a "bottomless basket of fries" was a good idea? But oh man, there is little I love more than going out to dinner.

I didn't win a damn thing, and neither did anyone at my table. Of course, we were rationing our bingo cards. The winners tended to have piles of used cards (and prizes) on their tables. What they paid in donations may very well have negated the worth of what they won, with the exception of the blackout bingo prizes. As Tee put it, the games got very tense towards the end. I put two cards on a flat screen TV and let her daughter mark one for me. Tee and her husband were kind hawks, making sure none of my numbers were missed. It was a fun kind of tension, and I think next year I will recruit some friends and involve alcohol and dinner.

So yes, I went to bingo. It was a fundraiser, if I haven't told you, for the Feline Rescue of Northern Nevada. That was my social activity for the weekend. I declined other offers (Hey! I had other offers!) and limited myself to one, because I was so tired from this last week. I am consoling myself with the idea that I have evenings open all week, so hopefully I will have the energy to do something besides lie on the couch watching Breaking Bad. (I cannot believe he just let Jane DIE! Ugh!)

I got my apartment half cleaned, so that's something, huh? Got my laundry done and... well, I think that's about it, but we are no longer working on perfection over here. We're in a "Whatever Works" phase- emphasis on the whatever. Today I went searching for a dog bowl and a birdfeeder, and found a fake key with a little knife tucked inside. This is where it shows up in the story and you forget about it until later on when it conveniently shows up and saves the day. It may seem irrelevant now, but I hate it when writers wait until they need it to explain how they got it, so I'm telling you now because it's sure to show up again at some point when I'm stuck in some dire situation. I don't want it to seem like I only came up with it then- I want you to believe that I knew where I was going from the start.

It's been a mellow Sunday. Earlier, someone called them Melancholy Sundays, and that feels appropriate. They often seem bittersweet with the "Dammit, tomorrow's Monday..." It's as if it's not worth having any fun at all. I spend my time these days feeling lonely, but right now I feel like it's an ok kind of lonely, like it'll be less lonely soon and I should just enjoy the time I have to myself.

Did I tell you that I lost four volunteers last week? Only one was an actual blaming me situation, and that one didn't really have that much to do with me, I think. The rest were just coincidental, but someone is going to be upset when she returns from vacation. I had my panicked/feeling horrible moments, and have moved forward from that, but I will need to remember that she will likely be quite alarmed to hear the news. Other than that, things at work will be fine. It feels so big- so much to do, so much to learn, so much to track, so much to promote and manage, but I am keeping my myself optimistic and pleased that I have such gentle chaos that keeps my work days flying by. That's much better than my daily countdown with my coworker: "Only 7 hours and 24 minutes to go!"

On a brighter note, I got flirted with... by someone my age! That is a feat, considering that I normally attract old guys. He was tall and kind of cute, although I could barely see him over the glare from his wedding ring. Boooooo. Gross, dude.

Due to stupid fucking circumstances and me being so quick to wear responsibilities that aren't really mine, I have Jasmine with me and may keep her indefinitely. Some of you will applaud that; some of you will think I'm insane. For now, it's fine. I took her to my trainer for an assessment, and I'm putting her in a class at the end of April. I'm looking forward to that. Since she's already well-trained in obedience (Picture me looking proud), the purpose for the class is to get her (me) better trained in approaching other dogs. My trainer talked extensively about how visible it is that Jasmine is not interested in actually eating other dogs, she is just completely unskilled in her approach. She explained how we would improve that: mainly by building my confidence. She giggled as she pointed out that I was trying to talk myself into it, saying things like "I think this will be good." and "I think we can do this." My goal is lofty: to have people change their minds about Pit Bulls when they see mine. I'm already proud of the training I've done with her and how I have taken care of her, but I want that whole package. I've got some good dogs here. Maybe things will change and she will go live with either one of her true owners, but if I am not going to allow constant upheaval in her world- especially if I suspect she is just going to end up coming back to me.

I have not heard a lot about Ant. I see occasional pictures on Facebook, but most people in the family seem to feel like he will flourish once he sees that he is surrounded by family, love, and stability. The way things are right now, it seems like he is in the best place- down in L.A., living with his uncle's family. I could not have taken him- I don't have that local circle or an equally invested significant other, and it would mean constant interaction with Chris, which even I agree is not the best plan for me. Instead, I can take care of Jasmine. She may be Ant's dog, but his current family unit has their hands full, as does Topaz. There are a lot of things in Ant's world that have not been ideal, but it's poised to get better for him. In the meantime, if there's one thing he knows he can count on, it's that Jasmine will be well taken care of with me.

Hoooooooooooold On (Thank you, Big Star)

It's been a... week. I'm so tired. But tonight, I made some chicken, cleaned up a bit, and now I'm enjoying my warm, cozy apartment surrounded by my animals and listening to music. I've been playing it all alphabetically on iTunes so I can chuck the shitty songs and sort the ones I like into playlists without getting burned out on one artist at a time. What I'm finding is that I really like my taste in music. I mean- duh, but I am happy with what a range there is and how well it all seems to go together in this weird, wonderful juxtaposition. I feel like I could play my music exactly this- the whole thing- if I ever had a party. Not that I've ever hosted a party. Not that I am planning one. Not that my neighbors would appreciate it. But if I ever did- perhaps a house warming in the small, neat, plant, animal, and thrift store treasure filled house I will someday have- I could play my crazy music and it would actually fit quite nicely- not by carefully crafting a playlist, but by pressing play. That's a nice metaphor.

I'm getting some nice messages that things are ok. I have actively invited Chris to leave me alone for a while and I'm slowly crossing things off my list at work. I have to be diplomatic and capable, and I seem to be. I declined an invitation for this weekend, but I already have one social event planned and I need some rest. I apparently injured my knee and now my kneecap is popping in and out all day, which is painful and wakes me up every time I move. One more day, and I can prop it up and watch movies. Breakfast and lunch are packed, Riley needs to be brushed, and bed is calling. And ibuprofen. Ibuprofen is calling.

Soiled Again

I'm out with Jasmine when my neighbor asks about Jasmine's Halti collar. I'm answering his questions and we're discussing the problems he's having with his dog as Jasmine's sniffing around and has this giant, messy poop. I've already dropped my key on the ground and am juggling her and the key and the poop is unwieldy and I'm still talking and telling him about the training over at PetSmart and suddenly he's losing interest fast. I'm chalking that up to the fact that he hasn't gotten any training for his puppy yet, sarcastically thinking why start now when his dog is just over a year old and dragging his son around. Maybe they can't afford it or whatever, but their dog desperately needs training and exercise, but I'm trying to give just the slightest of nudges because I want something positive to come from this conversation and help that dog get what he needs, not try to solve the problem solely by creating another Hannibal Lecter lookalike in the neighborhood. So he takes off and I'm walking with Jasmine in the freezing cold (It finally snowed today.) and I'm thinking about this morning when another neighbor had her goddamned puppy loose in the courtyard while she stood at the top of the stairs. This dog is COMPLETELY untrained- the one who latches his sharp little puppy teeth on the first article of clothing in sight, only now he's almost Jasmine's size. Once again, this woman has to come down and collect her dog without a word of apology. At least the neighbor I was talking to keeps his untrained puppy monster on a leash and is looking for ways to address what he knows is a problem, unlike Ms. Has No Idea What She's Doing.

So I'm all distracted, thinking about this, and on the way back home I happen to look down and realize that I am wearing streaks of Jasmine's unhappy poo. I understand why he had a sudden lack of interest in our conversation, because I started out as Knowledgeable Dog Owner and (literally) painted myself into Crazy Dog Lady who doesn't even notice that she's wearing dog shit. (Well hey, it's COLD outside. If it was July, I might have noticed sooner.) I'm immediately outraged that he didn't tell me, and intend to comment on the diarhhlemma the next time I see him so that he'll know that he doesn't have to avoid me because I am normally coordinated enough not to smear poop on myself. I'd like to think I would be kind enough to point this sort of thing out to someone, but who knows- I might be stunned into blinking a lot with raised eyebrows and waiting for my first opportunity to escape and cackle to myself.

Sigh.

Love these girls...

It is SUPER windy outside, and I just came home to find Riley curled up on my bed with Jasmine. They moved apart a little because Jasmine has a camera phone phobia now, but this is the weirdest thing because Riley rarely jumps up here anymore unless she's on a cookie search. Riley is not fond of storms, and would normally hide in her kennel, so I think perhaps she sought refuge with her big little sister. Now I just want to cuddle them all day.

Two Beer Blog

Ok, so that was a one beer blog, now let's try a two beer blog.

Occasionally, the sadness hits again and there isn't much to do but ride that through. I wish I had nicer things to report on that front.

But here's the thing: I am always going to have those feelings.

I share this because it's better to get it out, and this is how I do that.


But let me tell you how my first full week at my new job went.

I am seriously exhausted. I have so much to do, and it's nice. The former library guy retired in December, and a few people have been manning the PERC while still doing their real jobs, so they have been stressed and no one's really sure how personnel is structured, where the lines are, and who reports where. The retiree lost enthusiasm after he didn't get a job he wanted, and that was a long time ago, so all sorts of short-sighted behavior has gone on for way too long. Everyone was hoping for the new Library Tech to liven up the place with enthusiasm. One of the nurses who teaches the New Patient Orientation class ran up and hugged me when she learned there was finally a new PERC person. All the people involved have been very welcoming and encouraging. I'm going to need to wear walking shoes every day and put my feet up every night. I am going to need to hone my organization skills and wean myself down to one calendar. I will have to practice leaving work at work- today I had to actively unfurrow my brow on the way home. A colleague has been cleaning out the PERC office, but there is still so much stuff left from this guy... I found an empty VA frame meant to hold Polaroid pictures. Polaroids! Oh, and spoons. Unwashed, left over from random lunches. Scattered throughout the drawers. And oh god, the drawers. I have a lot of projects going- one of which is to clean all that out, but people are sending scheduling requests and there are work orders and permissions and accounts and phone calls and people stopping by to get help or provide help or say hi and it will be a while before I am really settled in. Today, one of the work studies finished the drawers for me and I'm still doing a happy dance. He threw out things that my inner recycler/thrift donator did not have time for, consolidated the 45 boxes of Kleenex and toner cartridges and My HealtheVet pamphlets and red permanent markers and Happy Birthday supplies and everything else that guy was hoarding for 11+ years and made sense of it. The difference that makes is phenomenal, and when I see him next week, I will tell him that again. I unburied over half my desk today and crossed several items off my to-do list. I also got the ok to attend the Volunteer Appreciation Ceremony, and I am very happy about that, as those people are actively helpful and knowledgeable and awesome. There are some pre-existing issues and anticipation of power struggles among the various departments involved, and I am going to need a sturdy diplomatic hat, but I think we are headed in a constructive direction. I have been learning about the problems over the week, but today I had very encouraging conversations with all three parties. I've got a strategy. I never thought I would say that about anything.

It's minor chaos in there, but minor chaos is fun. There is a lot of responsibility, but nothing so serious as performing a tracheotomy or doing a senator's taxes. I can help people in a variety of ways, and even with such a mix of schedules and departments, I feel like there is already a team in place and no one really recognizes that. Yet.

My therapist said today that I am going to do well as a diplomat in this job because I am not reactive. I was like, "Wait, have you met me?" but she pointed out that I take time to ruminate and after much contemplation, I realized that she was right. (Ha ha ha ha ha ha... ahhhhhh. Jennyway.)

It's fun. I like juggling. It's a nice change of pace from having to do one thing over and over and over. Even once I get settled, there will be so much to learn and track and manage that I think I will be busy for a long time. And also today, I talked with the person who manages volunteers. We talked a lot about the creation of the current situation and possible changes, but she assured me that manpower is not in short supply. She said she can get me all the people I need. When do you ever hear that?

It's good. Today, my boss was explaining that we had to go over my position description in case I was utterly horrified for some reason and wanted to decline the job. I asked her if that would mean going back to the Call Center. "I suppose," she said, then cracked up when she saw my expression. "I'll stick it out here," I replied with a grin.