If I had been successful, my dreams I carried into my adult life would all be checked "completed" by now, wouldn't they? None of them are checked off...absolutely none! I have a hard time not viewing this as failure.
My aspirations have fared somewhat better. While none broke completely free of the earth's atmospheric layers, some came within spitting distance of the stratosphere's outer edge, and by some standards, I guess, that isn't too bad; although by my standards it doesn't "wow" me at all. If I made a positive difference in anyone's life I haven't a clue, although if dogs and cats count, I guess I've made a multitude of differences both good and bad that glow like Las Vegas neon lights.
My self-esteem suffered a setback this morning. I lied so it wouldn't plummet to the outer edges of pathetic, but it took a nosedive anyway. I was asked if I'm the park secretary. I said yes...but I'm really a clerk who does all the secretarial work. As a clerk I'm invisible to people. As a secretary I become visible, because I'm perceived as having some importance. Introductions by personal always include park secretary attached to my name, I guess to make me important enough to introduce in the first place. My visitor then declared that I have an extremely wonderful job...I don't...but I lied again and declared "what job wouldn't be wonderful when it's in the middle of a park".
I work with two desks, rolling back and forth between them on my five wheeled chair. My space is claustrophobic cubical sized. I'm pinned in by my two desks, file cabinet, the ranger's desk, and the front customer counter. I work indoors, so the only part of the park I usually see is the road from the office to the entrance. I deal with phone calls, emails, and front desk drop-ins all day from happy people and people who need to be pacified. I wedge my work in between all these bits and pieces, and by the end of any day I don't want to dawdle and waddle around here after-hours. I need to be at my happy place which is as far from the job as I can get. Park jobs are a long way from the glamorous spectrum of a visitor's fantasy.
I harden my heart to "dump-offs" at this park, but there are many and sometimes the emotional drain is tiring. I couldn't shut my brain off to the last ones and it's still rehashing that crap over and over and over.
An abandoned mother cat and her three little tykes were taken in at the maintenance building, sheltered and fed until they were full of trust, then animal control was summoned and they were all caged unwillingly...I'm told they put up quite a fight...as they were taken away to have their lives ended. It really irks me how we domesticate an animal...let it put its trust in us...then we devalue its life. We live barbaric, but call ourselves civilized.
Home...where the heart and most of the work is. The feline trio of disharmony...Lacey - rising ruler of the House of Vic, Zoe - rising revolutionist of the House of Vic, Andee - rising fence straddler of the House of Vic, and Dustin - just a dog of the House of Vic. ALL my pets were abandoned before they crossed my path. I've never been loved by an abandoned animal that didn't have lifelong health issues that drain the dollars right out of my lifestyle. I adapt. I feel a responsibility to be the best I can be when it comes to the lives of those entrusted in my care.
Andee was on one experiment after another in his earlier years to come up with a healthy preventive solution to an ongoing crystal in the urine issue from being too alkaline. After that was accomplished he seemed to have a re-occurrence, but it was determined the symptoms only mimicked the urine issues. He was put on joint care maintenance and problem solved. Then problems again, an endocrine imbalance, and he was put on a preventive shot routine, one shot every three weeks for the rest of his life. Our household converted to healthier cleaning products to prevent the problem with any newer pets. Now in the beginning stages of kidney disease, we're on a search to see if we can slow down the disease's progress. He's my million dollar cat. Emergency clinic vet charges are surrealistic, and I cannot ever remember a pet having a life threatening situation when my regular vet clinic was open.
Zoe had heart-worms when she was added to our family and in order to not kill her, we had to let the worms run their course and hope she survived. She did...but with issues involving her heart and lungs. She's on a series of holistic and supplemental additives to hopefully correct a heart murmur and strengthen her lungs. We don't know how short her life will be, but I'm hoping to lengthen it a bit, if possible.
Dustin came to me already sick with a tick disease that I cannot even spell, let alone pronounce. It's one of those diseases that never leaves one's life. He's on preventive maintenance to hopefully prevent another re-occurrence with the disease.
Lacey's latest was a lung infection, and now we're trying to minimize the gurgles, growling, moaning, and groaning coming from her stomach that can be heard loudly from one end of the living room to the other. The sound is hard to ignore. Treatment for two types of worms has cut the loudness in half. She's currently on a pro-biotic, enzyme, and a few other additives, but her musical addition to our evenings is still a regular occurrence.
Take the exit five exits back...
Skipping the details, let's just say that we never saw the exit to my sisters' house, and somewhere past Houston pulled off the freeway to call sister before we wound up in Laredo. Plans to visit the second half of the second day turned into plans to have a late dinner with them.
I've always wondered where the wrong side of the bed is. I need to know. I never, ever, any way in this life time or the next want to get up on that side again! TEXAS...Texarkana to Hockley was a drag for husband...a relay of towns that slowed us down...stop light after stop light after stop light. I was taking note of every antique store that looked like an interesting browse for the return trip.
While in the veggie garden, chicken coop, and kitchen chatting with sister, husband was with her hubbie polishing the little red Solara's engine, and bathing and polishing that sweet ride from rooftop to tire bottoms. Somewhere in all this exciting activity, husband devised a return home trip that was entirely freeway, and although just a bit longer, it was faster; so the extra distance was no issue, according to his calculations. A tiny loophole called CONSTRUCTION taught us the benefits of brains not expecting too much.
We entered the sit and wait zone in Louisiana, traveling eight miles in three hours. Sunshine burst forth, traffic started flying, and we hit the next exit for potty breaks. Not paying attention can melt happiness into a glob of molten misery when one discovers that the car's speeding back to the way it came. The frontage road that followed the freeway about half a mile inland saved my steering wheel from being malformed, and e-v-e-n-t-u-a-l-l-y we did re-enter that freeway in the correct direction to freedom, beautiful wetlands, onward to Mississippi and the check engine light blues.
I lived a life I didn't know I lived. I missed out on the best times I don't remember. Mom told me about it all. I grew up with people that were dead before I was born. We had quite the chats, and I learned boo coos of stuff about myself that I never knew before. I'm a marvelous marvel, and extremely grateful that although mom has forgotten some of us, she still remembers me.