I joined a book club, for both the accountability and comradery, but I am struggling to keep up with the pace despite having ample time to read throughout the day. I find myself dismayed by the decay of my attention span and desire to be in a paper book, after years of scrolling and filling my moments with fast media. The consequence and cost of the smart phone have come home to roost in my very brain, but I am determined to rehabilitate her.
Nesting for winter! Every few months, I move furniture and switch out art and quiet the loudest spaces in our home to prepare for the next season. Thank you, Myquillyn.
It’s true, what they say about the unusual strength and motivation associated with women attempting to move furniture alone, but add four kids and I’ve got myself a whole home design team. Chris is out of town, so… we did some things last night.
I’ve been in a dark place for a few weeks. I have pressured and encouraged and pleased my family to consider rehoming our animals.
I have always owned animals. I have never rehomed one. I finish what I start. I don’t quit things. I barely even admit when things are hard. To consider what I’ve considered with my pets certainly feels like failure.
But. I reserve the right to change my mind, change course, change things up if my mental health requires it. I don’t move houses every year, or change jobs, or change churches (too much). I haven’t shaved my head or gotten a face tattoo or fled the country. I am okay. Except that I’m not.
Life in Alaska is different. Our house is cozy, but quite smaller than we are used to. The weather is much more intense than we are used to. There are challenges to owning animals here that we are not used to – cleaning and crating and boarding and training and feeding and watering.
We selected the perfect breed of dog for the elements here, but she is designed for work and a pack and land… all of which we offer in a different way than that for which she was bred.
We took home a cat, sort of on a whim and sort of not, without figuring out how he’d fit into our home logistics-wise. Then there was the second cat that made her way in while I was out of town. And now there is a lot of sneezing where there wasn’t before, and tape on houseplants to prevent them from becoming litter boxes, and I just can’t take it.
I cannot rehome my husband, or my kids, or my responsibilities at work, or my health and well-being. The animals, sweet as they are, fall below the line.
We have already placed the lady cat with a local community member who was in the market. The report is that both parties are happily in love. The big black cat, or Fat Daddy, will stick around while we wait for the right family to come along.
Today, Jolene goes to check out a farm about forty miles north of us. If it’s a good fit, we’ll leave her with them today. The family recently lost a female from their pack and is looking for a gal to make them whole again. They have a whole lot of livestock guardian dog knowledge and love to give Jo. They said we can visit and they’ll bring her down when they come to fish in the summer; an open adoption, they said. It made me feel only slightly less ashamed and sad.
The right thing is often the hard thing, but when you’re not even sure if it’s the right thing, it’s even harder.
I sat through a presentation today regarding my hospital’s master facility plan, a ten-year process by which we hope to expand services and upgrade facilities in a way that serves our community. I appreciate the care and effort taken by a locally-owned hospital that answers to tax-payers and elected officials who live and work right here. What struck me, though, was when my boss drew attention to our financial trends. We’ve been paying off debt for years without investing anything at all in our future.
Sometimes, you’ve gotta do both. I’m not just talking about money.
Two years ago, I put my name in the hat for a position at large on the medical executive committee at work, just so I could learn the ropes and meet the people. The voting ended up taking forever, and I mean forever. Where it was supposed to take ten minutes as part of the regular meeting, the vote went for two hours or so. Everyone sat there fumbling through recounts because things were split over a few names, one of which was mine. I didn’t win, but I was more embarrassed about sitting there during the delayed debacle then I was about not having a seat at a table I didn’t even know existed yet. A bunch of docs suggested rank choice voting for the next election, and it’s been groaned and laughed about at most meetings since.
Tonight was the annual medical staff meeting, with a nice dinner and also another experience with electing medical officers. This time, however, I didn’t run for anything. In my current role, I’m at a few tables already. I get the exposure and experience and influence I hoped for from the beginning. I know the doctors and have the community I longed for.
Instead, I voted along with the rest of them, with anticipation and confidence. And this time, we were truly done in ten minutes. I doubt anyone even remembered that I was the reason for their election-that-would-not-end two years ago.
Election Day! Election Day! I never vote early if I can help it. I also honk for every person holding a sign on a street corner on this day. I don’t care which candidate or party you’re repping; I’m just happy you’re out here exercising your right and civic duty alongside me. It’s Election Day!
We had the most incredible sunrise today. Daylight savings depression has nothing on me.
