No News is Good News

I haven't felt much like posting in awhile. Nothing to do with being depressed or any of that (hey, depression makes fantastic blogosphere fodder!), but mostly because I just feel kind of blah about writing and stuff. I love to write, but like with anything, I go from periods of intense passion and enjoyment to those of apathy and the motivation of a hard-core pot smoker. I'm not really sad, or really happy, kind of in a rut and feeling annoyed with the fact that we're still here, even if Beau did get a really good job. So, I'll just give you some happy updates while I stew in my disinterest.

1. Beau hasn't actually started his job yet (they put it off for a month because the supervisor was out of the country), but he'll be meeting with her this week and starting the following. Yay!

2. I dyed my hair brown, and despite the fact that I think I may see a slight green hue in it, I love it. I love dying my hair. Bye bye blondie. For now.

3. I got a call from a university in Missouri for this fantastic job I applied for. I'm a finalist and they ...wait for it...want to fly me out there for interviews and to meet people, see the campus, etc. WooT! I didn't expect this at all, so this is great news (financially, as well as professionally). It was all going to happen this week, then I was suddenly contacted and told due to scheduling conflicts, it wouldn't happen 'til the end of March. *bites lip* I'm trying not to let my paranoia affect me regarding this, especially since my current boss was none-so-thrilled when they called her for a reference.

4. I love knitting. I'm only slightly better than 'totally sucking' at it, but it's great fun. I'm currently on my second project - another scarf, this time with better/thicker yarn and tassels! *shake shimmy* It already looks tons better than my first disaster - the scarf that Beau said he could use to "go feed the livestock" with. Gee. Thanks.

I picture myself making giant afghan after afghan (and getting carpal tunnel just like my mother did doing the same thing!). I'm taking up crochet too, mostly since it seems so similar, and in a bit of reverence to my deeply-loved, late great-grandmother who taught me when I was a little girl.

5. I've FINALLY, after being dicked around for well over 10 months, become a permanent hire here on campus. I was promised a raise, and didn't get one (HR B.S., hmmm), and am NOT happy about that, but at least I don't feel SO on edge about my employment status. Oh, and the Office Manager Women just gets worse and worse. She's a nightmare, and making the other employees nuts with her professional version of "We must all be Stepford Wives," but I try to ignore her and just do my job.

6. Beau, is finally finally finally reading, and enjoying(!!!) the Harry Potter series. This means a lot to me because of my deeply-rooted attachment and love for these books. He's just started Book 3, one of my very favorites (along with 5 and 7), and will soon meet my lover, Remus Lupin. After he finishes a book, we watch the movie, which is pretty fun since they're all good. I could watch Order of the Phoenix again and again, and kinda have, thanks to the internet.

7. Fergus is settled in and a real joy. Well, except when he's being a little shit. Just like a young adolescent, he's naughty, bewilderingly energetic, and just plain crazy. It's all my older cat can do not to dig her front claws into his brain. He loves to play, and when Beau comes home, he races around the house at breakneck speed with joy (Beau play fights, I'm the kitty cuddler). He's my little man though, and I love love love him.

Yeah, that's all I got. The rest is blah. H8ing on my job, want to leave Missoula, money situation kinda blows, it keeps snowing, etc. That's life!

Sad Sophie

Update on previous post:

After a couple of weeks of checking the Humane Society's webpage for the photo and description of Sophie, I finally called them up, hoping they'd tell me they were still putting weight on her.

No suck luck. Turns out she had feline leukemia and was slowly dying, so they put her down. I was partially horrified, and partially accepting. I dealt with feline leukemia enough in Thailand and know how incredibly infectious it is to outside cats. They told me she would have died a slow and painful death if I hadn't found her (and then given her to them to kill! *sniff*). Small comfort, but I think it was the right thing.

No Rest for the Wicked

A couple Thursdays ago I was feeling pretty ooky at work, and the more I contemplated going home early to rest, the sweeter the idea became. I'm sure that has something to do with my general job dissatisfaction as well, but we've been over that bit before. I finally decided to cut the day in half, and go home at lunch, take a nap, and drink copious amounts of orange juice.

It was a particularly snowy day, even for Montana, and as I pulled into our apartment's parking lot, and I neared our covered parking, I thought to myself, "Geez, that giant white work van in the space next to us didn't give us much room to park." I continued my slow 90 degree turn into my space, like I have a thousand times before.

Yet, as I continued to turn into the space, the car stopped turning and began sliding....right for the giant van. Uh oh.

*BLAM* The impact into the van's front bumper (it was backed in to the space), surprised me, and seemed to make an explosive noise. My little Honda bounced right off of it and quivered. I have never hit another car in my life...well, except for some bumper nudges when parallel parking on snowy hills in Madison, and I was shocked and dismayed. I got out of the car and went to inspect the van. I didn't see any damage, not even a smudge on the bumper. Still, the noise and the very open parking lot made me think I'd probably been witnessed. Besides, leaving a note just seemed like the right thing to do - I'd be super pissed if someone banged my car and did it to me. So, I finished parking, tore off a piece of paper and wrote a carefully-worded note, and carefully placed it on the windshield.

As I was doing this, I heard a scream. For a split second my thoughts were, "OMG, someone saw me hit the car and is actually screaming?" I turned in its direction and couldn't see a soul. Then I heard it again, quieter, but not repeating itself, in a voice so hoarse you could almost feel its pain. Then I saw it.

Looking down, several feet away, was a tiny, grey cat. It was crying for all it was worth, and of course, I instantly melted into a pile of goo. I knelt down and held out a hand, and slowly, the cat came forward, crying the whole way. When it got to me, I stroked it, only to find its coat soaking wet and freezing. The thing was literally fur and bones, the body hard and bumpy and all edges. Taking a chance, I picked it up, and it nestled against me, continuing to cry. Oh god!

As I turned toward the house, Beau was standing up on the landing looking down at me. "What have you got there?" he said with both curiosity and wariness. "A caaat," I said in an almost little girl voice. Beau didn't even bother to protest, but the look on his face said it all.

Inside, I made a beeline for the bathroom to quarantine the cat. I've had plenty of experience with stray cats infecting my own cats (The "black parasite" in Thailand which killed my two kittens and nearly killed Sabina, and the dreaded Feline Leukemia which ran rampant). Fergus was very curious about our new visitor. Sabina, as usual, was completely disgusted.

I went and got two shallow bowls, one filled with water, the other with "kitty crack" (that wet food that comes in the shiny pouches that my cats always whore themselves for). I placed both dishes down on the bathroom floor, and took a seat there myself. The cat nearly lunged for the water bowl and began drinking ...and drinking....and drinking, while I attempted to towel it dry and warm it up. It drank for 10 full minutes, and though I prodded it, it completely ignored the cat food, to my astonishment. All it wanted to do was drink, and me thinking it was probably NOT okay to let it drink 3 bowls of water, finally pulled it away.

It was a sweet cat, tiny and grey with two white paws and Siamese-looking (narrow and slightly crossed) eyes. Calling the local Humane Society, they said they couldn't come to pick it up (damn), but that I would have to bring it in. This was not a HUGE deal, but I had come home because I felt sick and the Humane Society was all the way across town and halfway to the next one. Hrm, okay.

After a little more TLC, the cat loaded in one of my carriers, I took it back outside and into the car. I had the heat way up and didn't play the radio (surprisingly difficult for me), in attempts to keep things calm. It did indeed stay very calm and eventually crawled out of the carrier, into the back seat, and began to sleep.

At the Humane Society, the ground covered in fresh snow, I attempted to drive up to its front doors, which involved a sharp, short hill. The Honda got about halfway up before it decided it wasn't worth it. I felt a quick lightning bolt of panic, then relaxed, and let the car basically slide backwards down the hill, where, slipping and sliding, I found a snow-filled space. Trying to cover the kitty from the sleet and snow, I trudged up the hill myself, and entered the building.

The process went fine, though I admit feeling strangely uncomfortable, like when you can tell a security guard in a store is watching you even though you have no intention of stealing anything. You get that paranoid, guilty feeling. They confirmed it was a Siamese cross, and were nice enough though to let me come into the exam room with the vet, who told me it was a girl, ahhhh. (I christened her "Sophie" in my head). I was in for a couple of shocks when he said, "This cat is about five years old." FIVE? This tiny thing? And then next when he weighed her and she only came up to 4.8lbs! Sabina, who is a fairly petite cat, is usually about 9lbs! Poor thing!

They told me they had a lot of success with rehabilitating starved cats and that she'd probably be fine. I asked if they called me, but they basically said I should call them. I went and visited all the other cats and dogs in the place, and lost my heart to the sweetest English Setter named "Ben," before tearing myself away and leaving for home.

I just visited their webpage, but no sign of Sophie yet. She's probably still getting better. I hope.

For Laughs - Confusion

CONFUSION!

I try not to forward too many joke emails, but I recently received two that just made me burst out laughing over and over. Here's some examples from the first one I received...

Look Out! MooooOOooooOOOoo!


It's a good thing they remained dead -- zombies suck.


Pff, this sign could be at just about every intersection in Missoula.

How about, "Don't drink and make signs!"


And I thought MY job security was questionable!

Now if this was HUSBANDS with gas, we'd eat free for the rest of our lives!

Uh, thanks for the directions!



Ahhhh this brings back memories of my time in Small Town, Missouri. Hey girls! One-stop shopping for your shotgun wedding!

Tee hee.


Hey, no problem!

Erm, I'd love to write you for help and all, but I'M ILLITERATE!!!

My favorite! Best. Last Name. Ever.

At Last

An old friend from NYC, "Belle," showed up recently. She had quit her job in Manhattan at our old non-profit and joined NOLS (National Outdoor Leadership Academy). She's probably THE most active, outdoorsy, fit person I have ever known. In fact, she's on her way to Tucson now where she'll take a climbing course in the desert.

One fun thing is that she is a Thai-phile like me, and LOVES to chat in Thai - her skills being far more advanced than my own, which is slowly slipping away save for some choice food vocabulary (of course). She and a local friend met Beau and I at a local Thai restaurant for lunch, and I had a really nice time.

Over some very delicious pad thai, Belle chastised me though for not keeping in touch since I came to Montana. This is the same problem I've had for the past year -- I haven't really kept in touch with people because I feel I have nothing good to say. "Yes, I'm still temping, Beau's still at Wally World, no, there really AREN'T any teaching jobs, yes, we're broke and cranky, and we're starting to hate Montana." Who wants to hear that shit over and over? (Sorry guys, you all who read this are given little choice!). So, I've just been waiting until I had some good news to report. Sadly, I've been waiting a year. Still, at the meal, Beau and I told our story, tried not to dive too deep into the Life Sucks pool, and attempted to focus on the many irons we have in the fire: Beau's recent interview at the University of Montana, as well as his initial interview with a Missouri high school, my recent interview at University of Missouri, and another upcoming interview at Missouri State for me, and Beau's attempts to get us back to New Zealand.

And of course, Belle's Missoula friend, who has lived here about three years, talked about how her first two years in Missoula were total professional hell and how she had "gone into a deep depression" because of it. Now, she has a great job at a great non-profit, but she understood our gripes. Naturally, I liked her. ;)

Belle, who can be quite the happy optimist at times, was full of enthusiasm, "Something will happen soon! Something's gotta! You're both so smart!" We smiled and nodded hopefully, and then Beau had to leave to go to work at Wally World. We've heard that before, but if we lose our hope, we're finished. Later, when Belle was driving me back to work, she reiterated, "You know something will happen. You're the hardest worker I've ever known, J., you always make it work, no matter where you are or where you go." Flattery is nice, but a paycheck is nicer. :/

About an hour later back at my office, I got a phone call from Beau.

"I got the university job," he said.

What happened next was me pulling out every self-control trick I could summon to keep from screaming at the top of my lungs and doing cartwheels (I can still do them!) down the hallway. I seriously started to tear up. I wanted to laugh and sob. My happiness (and relief) for Beau were so powerful I felt like I was overflowing. I dashed into my boss' office and jabbered off the news, while profusely thanking her for her husband's help - he is a professor on campus who was able to lend Beau some scientific equipment for his university interview, as well as chat about what Beau planned to do (a fun experiment involving a vacuum pump, bell jar, and some marshmallows).

There are so many wonderful levels to this: Beau will have a REAL job that involves science and education, and a great deal of professional advancement as well. He will have the opportunity to expand his scientific knowledge and collaborate with local educators. Although the job is only 6 hours a day, he will be paid several dollars more an hour than Wally World. He will get medical insurance, which he definitely needs! He will get tuition reimbursement at the university, as well as retirement. And best of all...

HE CAN FUCKING QUIT WALLY WORLD!!!!!!!

I texted Belle and told her she must be good luck, for he got the job after all. She called back and was completely thrilled, almost matching my own enthusiasm. Who knows, maybe she did bring us a bit of luck after all?

I don't know what this all means for our future, since we really do want to return to New Zealand, or at least, Missouri, but we are so focused on the here and now - that the present is all that matters.

Yay!