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2 september 2003
currently reading
the current issue of mother jones. this week, i'm getting a brief history of time to read. i read 20 pages at the bookstore one day, and now i'm hooked. must...read...
current listening
nothing. i'm enjoying the silence tonight.
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i did better than gilligan
There are so many other things that I should be doing besides writing tonight. Those things will get done. They always get done. I'm carving a routine again. I'm running, swimming more. Even seeing if I can't become a better biker. I love having my afternoons to play outside. It's the right thing to do.
I will tell you this. Your life evolves into something else when you do work you truly enjoy. Even though I am absolutely swamped at least three days out of the week, I don't really care. It doesn't bother me. Things that used to bother me...don't so much. I am slower to frustration, anxiety, and ill will. It's not as though I was quick to bad feelings before. It's just that when you lead the life you want, you become a lot more charitable toward the world. You sustain your sense of humor. For crying out loud, I manage 120 eighth graders a day. Long lines, idiotic drivers, run-of-the-mill daily injustices--please. They now qualify as "the small stuff". So shall they remain.
And then there's the not-so-small stuff.
I come home the other day, and Harry is (and has been) particularly whiny lately. He's usually kind of a windbag, but has been in full-on meow mode for about a week now. I remove the litterbox lid to begin cleaning the box. Harry wants to play in there. I shoo him away, telling him it's not a sandbox.
So Harry pees in the lid. It's bright red. He looks very, very sad.
I feel very, very small.
I pack him into the carrier pronto, grab the cellphone, and call the critter hospital. They admit him immediately, though they're not as alarmed as I am. You'll forgive me, but I always figured that peeing blood was like a big deal and stuff. For many cats, though, it's just part of life. Probably just a small (?!?) infection. He has no fever. They'll keep him for investigation. Guh.
His attending physician, in another life, was a Viking. He is 6 foot 4, Teutonic, and has a name that sounds a lot like Ulrich Jennsen. Jah, Viking Man, du bist take care of my cat! I leave Harry with Viking Vet of the Piedmont. Jah.
Three hours later, call comes in. The Viking has released Harry, and all tests look AOK. It's just a UTI, but they want to send his stuff out for a formal culture. Which will be 88 bucks. Which makes sense, as shipping to the lab in Denmark is Farverfriggin' expensive. I jah the procedure, in the best interest of Harry. But still. Ich bin ppft.
They did ease my "bad mommy" guilt over not knowing anything was wrong, so that was nice. I guess I find out this week if I need to change his diet or anything. I just learned this year that Harry is a Maine Coon. We all kinda wondered, with his mega-hairy tail, three-feet-long whiskers, and air raid meow. Awesome breed of cat, but prone to a few health issues that the sturdy Tabbies don't often encounter. Wilma will still help take care of him.
In other health news, I got some creeping crud from my students. Thanks, guys! My throat feels like I've been gargling with floor cleaner, and doesn't look much better. I had laryngytis last week, but also had a number of very compassionate students assume leadership of speaking duties in class. I do not forget small kindnesses.
This weekend, more sailing. I sailed the boat! For real! I sailed the little boat and a bigger boat (>25 feet). I still need to learn how to trim the sail properly, but I do not suck at steering the boat! This weekend (thanks to perfect weather and plenty of time) I finally had that "aha" moment about sailing. There is no motor. There are no oars. It's between you and the wind whether you get there or not. So now I get it.
For ages, people have been making a big deal about that 'walking on water' business, right?
That's all good. Sailing is faster, though.
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