Still Unpacking

There’s still no knitting, still no kittens, and we’re still unpacking. It would be the latter situation that is causing the 2 former situations. Well, that and some home repairs. There are few leaks, a broken step, and a lack of cabinet hardware to attend to.

My yarn is lonely. I imprisoned it in the craft room, stopping by on only 1 night to put the skeins back into the cabinets that were their previous habitat. I think that people in prison get more visits than the poor yarn. I miss it. Maybe if I find a pattern for a baby blanket I would like to crochet in the near future, I can send it up there like a love letter. Hmm, that would involve setting my computer up with the printer. I’ve run into snags with that and I am currently limited to using my husband’s laptop.

Oh, well, I asked for this. I wanted to own a home, and now its needs come first. Like a spouse. Maybe I’ll have to see the yarn on the side.

Not the Way I Planned it

Sometimes things don’t exactly go as planned.

I brought knit and crochet projects in the car so I had something to do when Michael was driving, but I slept whenever I wasn’t at the wheel. It was probably for the best, given that I had obtained a knitting injury (repetitive stress injury) about a month ago. Yes, I’ve been hiding it from you. I didn’t want to explain why I was continuing to do my yarncraft when I had to keep my left wrist in a brace because I injured it with said craft. For crying out loud, it was my left hand, and what does a right handed person need with a left hand? It turns out that it is impossible to hold small needles with your left hand in a brace – who knew? By the time we started the move, I was tired of fighting the injury. I have yet to knit or crochet in my new home. :-(

My friend Vickie (I’ve known her since middle school, maybe when I was 9 years old?) was supposed to come meet me right away to help me paint the new house before the furniture got here. She lives just 3 hours away, but the weather was vastly different there than here. The area where she lives in Wyoming received so much snow that the highways were closed for 2 days! When the roads were finally cleared, there were predictions for a huge snow storm here.

our-first-snow Yeah, we got a little bit.

So, that plan got put on hold. No matter, that’s what the future’s for.

The bedroom needed to be painted before the bed got here, so Michael and I decided to try that room on our own. We learned 2 very important things from that venture: 1) We hate popcorn ceilings, and 2) a power paint roller is an awesome tool. The hardest part about painting the walls is that they are textured. Even though Michael used painter’s tape on the border between the bedroom and the bathroom, paint spilled under the tape as if we never even tried. Ugh. The same thing happened with the popcorn ceiling. Despite those challenges, I think the room came out well.

blue-bedroomblue-bedroom2

After the boxes arrived, the real work started: unpacking. Wouldn’t you know it, just in time for the big unpacking project, I got sick. Fortunately, it wasn’t a respiratory illness, but it was still debilitating. I could stay up for a few hours, run a few errands or unpack a box, but it didn’t take long for the (slight) fever to make me tired. I think I slept away half the day for the past 2 or 3 days. It was only today that I was able to stay up for an entire day, and we finally got the kitchen unpacked. Woo hoo! Now only… oh, the whole rest of the house. Sigh. The rest of the  house looks like this:

unpacking-mess Note the cat lying in the pile of packing paper.

bws-bathing-each-otherOne thing did turn out better than planned – the cats. One night while I was sick, I woke up to the 3 of them snuggling with me and bathing each other. As a matter of fact, they all seem very happy here. Much of the time I see the cats looking out the windows at the new sights, and often I see them sitting on the stairs surveying their new kingdom. Our cats just love empty boxes, and with so many around, it’s become a veritable fort fantasy land. When the cats find a box near the front of the fireplace, nothing can make them move. Buttercup has been overjoyed that her daddy has been home all day. For the feline members of the family, it’s been a thrill a minute.

buttercup-in-boxwesley-new-bedserra-happy

The only hitch in the whole cat part of the story has been Serra, but I absolutely expected her to have some trouble with the move. Poor Serra didn’t like the fact that strangers kept coming to her house. While the movers were here, she and Buttercup opened a cabinet in the bathroom and huddled together until Michael checked on them. When the phone company guy came over, Serra ran to the bathroom upstairs and spied on us from the safety of the cracked doorway. When it’s just us, though, Serra is friendly and curious about her environment.

spying-serra

So, no knitting and no kittens yet. I won’t make any firm plans (they don’t seem to go the way I expect anyhow), but I hope to have some of both in the next few weeks. Like I need more things to do.

We made it!

Good news – one of our new neighbors has an unsecured internet connection. I’ll keep updating as usual, then.

The cats took the 23 hour and 54 minute trip remarkably well. Buttercup did throw up in the first half hour (right before the Bay Bridge, actually) and Wesley pooped in the carrier. Thanks to the puppy pee pads that Naomi gave us, cleanup was incredibly easy. I am definitely lining the carriers with those the next time we make a car trip of 20 minutes or more.

After the first hour of the trip passed, Serra turned pleasant and chatty. I made some phone calls, and Serra just assumed I was talking to her. “Momma?” I would hear from the back. I hope to get an audio recording of her talking like that one day. I was pleased to see Serra taking the trip so well. I think what worked for her was that she was in the carrier – nervous cats tend to feel more secure in small spaces because they feel like they can defend the territory.

Remarkably, I was able to get the cats to use the litter box when we stopped. We offered it to them every 6 hours, when we felt we also needed to answer nature’s call. I tried to get them to drink some water, but none of the cats were interested. Dehydration can be the biggest concern on a long road trip, so I was a little worried. Cats who are primarily fed wet food drink very little because they get their moisture from the food, so I tried offering that to the kitties instead. It worked for the most part. Serra started to refuse both food and the litter box by the end of the trip, but she was more than willing to drink from the bowl when we arrived at the new house. Whew!

Buttercup and Wesley have moved with us before. As a matter of fact, when they were kittens we regularly took them on 10 – 20 hour road trips when we visited family. They took a 24 hour ride to Michigan for our wedding, and they took the 40 hour ride (split into 4 days) from Florida to San Francisco. They also moved with us frequently when we were in college. They are old pros at the moving thing, and they’ve learned to take it as an adventure. Home is where mommy and daddy are. By contrast, Serra moved with us exactly once – from the first apartment we lived in in San Francisco to the one we just vacated. She took that move very poorly. For the first 24 hours the poor thing wouldn’t leave the bedroom which we had set up as her safe room. I’m not sure Linnea believed we had a 3rd cat at first. After the first day, Serra ventured out of the room, walking with her sides pressed against a wall at all times. When she had to cross an open space, it was belly to the ground all the way. It took weeks, maybe months before she would show herself when strangers were visiting.

When we arrived home, we put all the carriers in the living room. I opened Buttercup and Wesley’s carriers with no concern – they immediately walked out and started surveying their new domain. I debated whether to let Serra out there or to take her to a small room where she could feel safe. Because she handled the car ride so well, I decided to let her out. The first thing Serra did was find the bathroom and jump into the tub. When she realized that wasn’t quite as safe and hidden as she preferred, Serra hid behind the open door and observed us through the crack near the hinges. Choosing not to bother her, Michael and I unloaded the car and let her get comfortable. By the time I got back in, Serra was exploring with everyone else. Sudden movements and noises still scare her a little, but she is taking this like a champ.

One of the most exciting parts of this move was introducing the cats to the new place. I took their needs and wants into consideration, too, when we chose this place, and I wanted to know that the cats approved. Buttercup followed me upstairs where I showed her the bathtub with the ledge for her to lay on while I take baths. I let her roam around on the bathroom counter. Butters explored the closet on her own. When her tour was over, Buttercup pranced out into the hallway, rolled over, and promptly declared the home good enough to be hers! “Now get to the belly rubs, woman!”

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The Hard Part

Today we said our good-byes to Linnea, Carisa and Ryan, our closest friends here. None of the other stuff was that bad, really. Sure, it wasn’t all perfect, but it was relatively easy. Anything that gets broken, in the end, is just a thing. But the people – now that’s the hard part. Our good-byes were all tearful, and we all promised to stay in touch and visit once in awhile. Okay, more than once in awhile: let’s aim for frequently!

The cats didn’t like the process of moving either. We locked them in the bathroom for their safety and my peace of mind. I put a Feliway diffuser in there to keep them calm. For what it’s worth, I think it worked. Serra seemed perplexed, but not fearful about the commotion. Buttercup and Wesley, on the other hand:

They banged like this in regular intervals throughout the 3½ hours it took to empty the apartment.

After the movers left, we let the cats out. They explored every empty room of the house. Serra tried to go run under the bed, but since her hiding place was missing, she decided to give exploring a go. It wasn’t long until she was comparatively comfortable with the whole thing. When we came home from our night with Carisa and Ryan, we decided to get a good night’s sleep before heading out in the morning. Michael inflated the mattress, and wouldn’t you now it, Serra helped just like she always does when we make the bed!

serra-helps-inflate-bedserra-gets-bed

So here it is, our last night in the apartment that my friend Linnea, the most wonderful landlady in the world, let us live in for 3 years. It seems so different in here, so much like the end of a story. I mean, this is all the furniture we have left:

blue-brsmall-br1

Try curling up on one of these to read a good book or relieve some stress by knitting. Seriously – not too comfy.

So. After we get as much sleep as possible, Michael, Serra, Buttercup, Wesley and I will begin the loooong trip to Colorado. We are beginning a new story (or maybe a sequel?), with new friends, a new house, a new animal shelter, and some recurring characters from the old stories. It all at once feels terrifying and exciting, the same yet different, and most of all, it feels like an adventure. Are you coming along for the ride?

P.S. We won’t have internet access for certain until Wednesday, but we may be able to find open connections before that. If you don’t hear from me in the next few days, don’t be concerned – I’m coming back.

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Running Commentary

11:00am: The packers are here now – they arrived around 9:30 this morning. I’ll update this post a few times today, adding commentary about how things are going. So far, it’ s been good. The packers have been wise enough to ask “Are you sure you want this packed?” and other important questions. They have nearly finished the living room and dining room, and I think they moved on to the kitchen.

Buttercup and Wesley are thrilled about the packing for some reason, doing the “crazy cat run” through the house. Wesley finally settled on the cat tree – he’s helping me supervise. I noticed that there is a box labeled “Cat’s items” in the living room. I think he orchestrated that. Buttercup is keeping an eye on the boxes the packers left on the porch.

Serra, on the other hand, was not thrilled with the invaders who came in to hide her stuff in boxes. She ran under the bed when she saw the packers do the pre-packing walkthrough – so much for Serra’s career as a security guard. I am pretty sure that Buttercup and Wesley told her that we are getting rid of her, though, because Serra has been way nicer to me the usual.

serra-being-nice

11:00pm: Yeah, well, about that running commentary… Carisa kidnapped me after lunch. We were just supposed to go to Target to pick up a few things Carisa needed. Mmm hmm. A trip to Michael’s and 2 Home Depots later (and a stop at Carisa’s house), 7 hours had passed. The packers finished packing, but they missed my wedding dress. We’ll have to point that out tomorrow. In the meantime, Carisa took me from the stress that was my house being packed up and gave me a good day instead. You know, this just might work out.

12:16am: Carisa, Ryan and Tim stayed over to play a few games of Rook before we parted for the night. Michael won. Tonight, our house looks like this:

entryway-boxeslivingroom-boxeskitchen-boxes

You know, I think this might really happen.

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Loose Ends

The last few weeks and the next few coming up are all about tying up loose ends. Sometimes literally

carisas-afghan-finished as in Carisa’ afghan,

but more often it’s been on the figurative side. I could have moved to Colorado months ago, or at least a few weeks ago when we closed on the house; instead, we chose to stay for Carisa’s 30th birthday party. Carisa’s whole family came to town from Green Bay, Wisconsin to help her celebrate. Carisa’s mom has been bunking with me. It was quite convenient at first with both of us making things for the party. After that was over, her mother and I just chatted like schoolgirls on a sleepover. We went to Stitches on Sunday (can you believe they wouldn’t let you take cameras in?). Today was my first day off from all the festivities -  Carisa took her family to see the Winchester Mystery House. I stayed at home to work on my gloves.

Not that I need them. Kyle, who is looking after our place until we get there, said it’s been in the low to mid 70s (°F, that is) this past week. It’s been in the mid 50s here. Hmm.

Carisa’s mom is a crafter like the rest of us. She loves to knit and crochet (she has been working on mittens while she’s been here), and she adored Stitches. We saw so many different fibers and fiber arts there. I learned about locker hook rugs (not that I need a new hobby, but I think one found me) and Naomi found the most amazing knitter’s purses. I think I need one, but given the price of them I think I need to put more consideration into the possible purchase. I bought a ton of yarn and fiber – I even found an 8oz. bag of cashmere fiber in a bin! When I brought it to Jamie at her Urban Fauna booth, she commented on what a good price it was. I felt awesome. At the end of our trip, Carisa and her mom presented me with a bag of wool locks as a thank you present for letting Carisa’s mom stay with me. Don’t tell anyone, but Carisa’s mom’s presence has been quite a treat for me – I can’t stop chatting with her.

Ah, that will be the last fiber show I see while I live here. I think in the future, fiber trade shows will be a reason for me to come visit my friends in San Francisco. Maybe I won’t have to stop going to them when I move.

It’s weird to realize “this is the last time I will do this” or “this is the last time I will go here.” It’s almost surreal. Moving East has always felt to me like the return to reality from a fairytale land. When I moved to Florida from Hawai’i it was a pretty cruel jolt, as a matter of fact. I had to wake up 5 hours earlier than I was used to so I could get to school. In Hawai’i, Fridays were shorter than the rest of the school week. In Florida, it was back to the old “every day’s the same” feeling. I don’t know, maybe I’m just strange, but leaving California gives me the same feeling of coming back to reality.

I thought for awhile I might have seen my last foster kitten in San Francisco, but just a few days ago I asked Toni to send some bottle-feeders my way. We still get the occasional orphaned kitten this time of year. The only catch is that the kittens have to be able to live in the crib I have for them – I have no kitten room any more. I still have not seen a kitten, but I have 3 weeks left. I must be crazy to be that lonely for kittens.

With no kittens, I feel I have very little to say. I mean, sure, I still do my fiber arts, but let’s face it – the knitting/crocheting isn’t half as cute as a fuzzy kitten face. The knitting doesn’t get sick or learn to walk for the first time. Thank goodness the knitting doesn’t poop, because with the way I let the projects run freely around my house, I’d have a mess. I don’t think it would be easy to litter train an afghan. The thing is, it doesn’t get out of bed and come happily running to see me when I open the door, either.

I am a glutton for punishment.

Good Housekeeping

It’s a shame that I am not a better house keeper. Sure, you won’t get food poisoning from my kitchen, and if you’re taking a shower or bath, you’ll come out clean. However, if you move a piece of furniture…

toy-mouse-in-corner

you find mice. Not the living kind, mind you, the kind that cats play with and lose under the furniture, thus prompting them to come whining to you that they have nothing to play with. I suppose I should expect this, given the sheer number of cats that come through my house in a year. Because I have these lovely little fur children in my home, people bring me presents for them to play with. I mean lots of presents. My cats and foster kittens want for nothing – they are spoiled.

outed-cat-toys There are cat toys everywhere, even in plain sight.

As part of the move, Michael and I have been sorting through the things we’ve collected over the years. We’ve found clothes, furniture and other random items that we no longer need. Some things are being recycled, others are given to charity, yet more are given to friends, and the things that are broken find a new home in the trash (I should have thrown these things out long ago, but you know how well I keep house.). The cat toys are facing a similar fate. Carrot’s new family received a modest donation of toys with her adoption. Kilala (Wisteria when she lived with me) is going to receive a “just because” pile of toys. A friend of mine who just adopted 2 kittens will get some, too. The worst part is, even when all these toys are distributed, my cats will still have too many toys left over. Dude.

Besides the sorting, I have been furiously knitting. I plan to finish gifts I started for my friends before I leave and have to ship them back. I think the shipping cost is a bit of a knitter’s ADD tax. Can’t stick to one project? Well, now you have to pay to ship it back when you could have just given it to that person for free while you were around.

The other thing that has kept me busy is my social schedule. So many people have wanted to see us at least once more before we go. I want to take the time here to tell all my friends how much I appreciate you. You see, almost every one of you has told me that you look forward to my blog posts, and many of you check every day just to see if I happened to take a few minutes to jot down a few words (even my husband does this, and he lives with me. I guess it gives him insight into my perspective). It means a lot to me that you care that much about what I have to say. It means a lot that you make time to go on outings or have meals with me. I enjoy every moment I get to spend with you guys, and I really hope that our friendship doesn’t end just because I am leaving. I do have a guest room and 2 dining tables that seat a total of 14 people (maybe 18 if I add the folding chairs). My friends are always welcome. Of course, I’ll make time to come see you, too.

There may be mice under my furniture, but neglecting the housework just gave me more time for my friends. I’ll take good friends over good housekeeping any day.

Role Reversal

First of all, I am proud to announce that I am officially hooked up as a designer for Ravelry! It’s easy to do, and I’m sure no big deal for most people, but today, it feels like an accomplishment. I think it’s just the first step to becoming and honest-to-goodness serious pattern writer. It means I’m really going to do it – or at least try. My first pattern listed is the Colorado Scarf I made for Michael. Here is the Ravelry link to the pattern. I also posted it on a new page I just made for my blog here. Woo-hoo!

serra-helps-pack

jumbled-officeSo, anyway, I had a meltdown this morning. Michael has been dying to get the packing started since October. Months ago he acquired a bunch of free boxes from a Craigslist posting. They have been sitting in my office unassembled, waiting to be filled with our belongings. I chose this morning to get a serious start on the whole thing. I figured it would be leisurely, and that I would have time to pack things just so and to really think about whether I wanted to bring each particular item with me to our new house. I assembled at least a half dozen boxes and started taking the books off the shelves in the office. It felt good.

After I had packed a few boxes and begun to feel a little frustrated that my office was so full that I had to wade through the unpacked boxes, Michael called me. That’s no big deal – we call each other several times a day anyway. Apparently the movers contacted him to plan and schedule our move. I’ll give you the condensed version of that conversation:

M: “The movers said that they won’t insure our stuff if we pack it ourselves. They are going to send someone out the day before and pack it all up.”

B: “You mean to tell me all the hours of work I did this morning were for nothing? One of those boxes of books was too heavy for me and I had to slide it from the office to the kitten room in order to get it out of here.”

M: “Well, you don’t have to undo what you did, just don’t pack anything else. Unless you just want to, but then if they break it they won’t let us make a claim on it.”

B: (This would be the meltdown – imagine the cadence of the speech getting faster and and higher pitched as it goes along) “What the F@#$? The last time we let movers pack us, they sent 2 guys to pack up the apartment in Tallahassee, and one of them left after being there for maybe ½ an hour. They just packed our stuff up however they felt like, and there was no organization to it at all. I wanted to be organized this time. Besides that, the 1 guy left at our apartment was, surprise, not able to finish, and they were scrambling to pack it all while loading the truck. Things got lost, it was stressful – not good. I don’t tend to be anal about a lot of things, but I was a military dependant for crying out loud, and I think I am just as good as they are about packing, maybe better because I care about the possessions. To add to all of that, I wanted to go through everything and decide if it was worth bringing with us. How am I supposed to sort through our crap if I can put the keepers into boxes. Forget it, I’m not moving.”

M: “How about I call the movers and tell them about our last experience and make it clear that this won’t happen again?”

B: “Whatever.”

(Hang up)

B: “This is going to be a nightmare.”

By this point, I am so anxious I can’t sit down. I angrily rip the tape off of some of the boxes I reassembled. I think terrible thoughts about the f@#$ing people who are going to come mangle my things. Why can’t it be that one of the few things I feel I must have absolute control over goes in such a way that, well, I have control? I need a distraction or I am going to give myself an aneurysm. I have a flyer to work on for Carisa (Rattie Ratz is having fundraising festival thing they call Wonderful World of Rats), so I call her to make sure she can send me some of the graphics I need.

Carisa is one of my best friends in the world, but in many respects, we couldn’t be more different (this is not necessarily a bad thing – we balance one another). Carisa is hyper-organized in her daily life – I am not. Carisa tends to melt down when she has something stressful coming up – I don’t. As a matter of fact, Carisa has often called me for advice in stressful situations – I tend to be calmer and can come up with creative, simple solutions. I am not sure that I’ve really ever called her for something like that. That was about to change.

While I was on the phone with Carisa, I told her about my meltdown. She told me that the movers sent too few people to help them pack for her last move, and one of them had to leave early as well. So, the nightmare situation is not uncommon. She lost control of the packing/organizing, and on the day they were loading stuff onto the truck, the movers just tossed random, unrelated things into boxes. Some things got ruined. That’s what I was afraid of. I have a lot of handmade, irreplaceable things.

While she couldn’t help me with the moving company’s likelihood of not sending enough people and having them carelessly handle my stuff, she did have an organization suggestion (that is her speciality after all). One of the big goals I had for packing was to separate out things from the dual-purpose rooms I have now into groups that would go into the new single-purpose rooms in the new house. For example, I have craft things in my living room, bedroom and office right now. In my new house, my craft things get their own room. Carisa pointed out that I could just group things together that belong in the same room, reducing the likelihood that the toilet paper would be packed with the dishes and that my yarn would be packed with the cat food. I realized at that point that my kitten room is empty now. The kitten supplies I am taking to Colorado will fit in the plastic bin I currently use as a kitten crib. Perfect, I can move all my craft things into the kitten room. Then I have more room in the office, bedroom, and living room to store things that could at least plausibly end up there in the new house. Yes, this could work.

So, while it didn’t solve everything, my conversation with Carisa did at least take the edge off. I could focus once again, and rip the tape off the assembled boxes with just a little less malice. I could see straight enough to write this blog post. And just maybe, I can make my appointment with the endocrinologist this afternoon without killing someone in a road rage incident. Maybe I should keep my cell-phone handy.

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If you love something

I am on the road right now. I’ve spent 3 days thus far in Florida, and tomorrow morning we are heading for Indianapolis, Indiana. On Thurday evening we go home, only to leave for Colorado the following Tuesday. If my posts are sparse, I deeply apologize.

I have had great luck with my health while traveling this year. To put what I am about to say in perspective, I’ve been to the ER for the last 4, maybe 5 winters in a row with a severe respiratory infection after traveling. It’s usually viral, so all they can do is give me codeine to help me sleep. Last year I went twice to the ER after traveling.

As for this trip, I managed to be ok (but a little tired) on Sunday when I went to Busch Gardens with my old friends from high school and college (Lane and Jen – I’ve spoken of them often). It was the last day they were giving out free beer in the park, so we took them up on it. I’ve never been a beer person, though, so it was only ok. Since then, I’ve slept for about 18 out of every 24 hours that has passed. I’m achy and a little feverish. I also had a lot of lower back pain that my friends thought might be a kidney infection. I hope not – I still have a lot of traveling to do. But still, I would rather have this than the awful, desperate feeling of being unable to breathe. How’s that for looking on the bright side of things?

There is one more unfortunate side effect of being sick. When I am awake, I feel incredibly emotional and weepy about everything. I actually woke up the night after going to Busch Gardens sobbing about Carrot. I don’t want to give Carrot’s new mother the wrong impression – giving her up was the right decision. I believe in signs. I was trying not to show Carrot, but the woman who adopted her saw her anyway and said all the right things. She said things like, “I know how much work you must have done with her, and how much you must love her.” When her husband came to meet Carrot, he asked, “Are you sure you want to give her up?” I told him that was a loaded question. After the adoption, Carrot’s intro to the resident cat went really well (and her parents were kind enough to let me help with it). This picture shows what happened after the first maybe 30 minutes of her arrival in her new home:

carrot-and-taj

It may not look special, but it was significant that we were able to let Carrot interact with the resident cat (Taj) that quickly. He was a little nervous about her, but he was quickly interested and tried to check her out. Carrot was absolutely amenable to the whole process.

Within 24 hours, I wanted to call her new mother, but I didn’t want to seem… I don’t know… like I didn’t trust them? I checked my email, and wouldn’t you know it, her mother sent me a note telling me that the cats weren’t friends yet, but they slept within inches of each other. A few days into my trip, she sent me a picture of the two of them doing exactly that. This family is perfect for her – and me. This is what I wish for all of my foster kittens.

Despite all of this, my heart and my head are not always on the same page. I loved Carrot. I had her for 4 months, the first of them being touch and go at best. When she started to develop a personality, Carrot turned out to be amazing. She was warm and affectionate, respectful of the elder cats (especially cat reactive Buttercup), and just the perfect amount of rotten. Every time that cat walked into the room, I couldn’t help but smile no matter how I felt prior to her arrival. She was sunshine in a warm, furry package.

When you have to give something like that up, it is devastating. I missed my own cats while I was on the plane, but I knew they would be there when I got home. I began to miss Carrot, and was hit with the cold reality that she won’t be there anymore. Her mom will update me – I have no doubt about that. And I will treasure every word of it. Every photo. I will also treasure the idea that these wonderful people are willing to care for and love a kitten that I really shouldn’t be adopting. I have to keep reminding myself that Buttercup would not take a move and a new family member well. I love Buttercup, too, and I don’t want to stress her unduly. Still, there is a big hole where Carrot used to be. It’s going to take a while to get past that.

I find the metaphor of Carrot particularly poignant. You see, the Carrot story relates very closely with my move. When I came to San Francisco 5 years ago, it was an easy choice to make. I was living in a town that had nothing left for me, save for a few friends who I still see occasionally. The move to San Francisco was quick – just a month between the day Michael was asked if he would like to interview for a job at Schwab and the day we were moving into a San Francisco apartment. I had no idea what the new city would hold for me, but it had to be better than what we had.

I love San Francisco. It was right for us at the time we moved there. Michael had previously worked for the Board of Administration in Florida. While we were there, we were underpayed and could not comfortably make ends meet. When we got the job in SF, we could pay off our debt and begin a real savings! It was such a great feeling. I finally found my niche in SF – fostering kittens. I learned a lot about how shelter systems work, I learned about kitten health and development, and I made a LOT of friends. I learned about sides of political issues that I may never have otherwise had the opportunity to be exposed to. I feel that my experience here made me a better, more informed citizen of the US. I even changed my points of view when I came to understand issues more deeply. I feel I have become more accepting, more able to see the middle ground in a disagreement. I even learned more about myself.

I love the culture of San Francisco as well. I’ve seen many Broadway plays here, I love the shopping, I love the scenery, I love the old houses and the history. I love the parks and the restaurats. I love the diversity.

But.

I do not love the cost of living. It became clear that I would have to give up a few dreams to live here. Home ownership in a place where I feel safe and can have enough space to foster kittens is financially out of reach. I believe that since I’ve developed asthma, the city air is particularly detrimental to my health. I can’t sleep with the city noise and lack of darkness.

Colorado is not without its drawbacks either. The sameness of suburbia might prove to be soul crushing. I learned that the shelters out there have a different attitude about what it adoptable.  Can you believe that none of the shelters will take Taj and Willy, the cats who currently live in the house we are buying, because they are “too old”? They are in excellent health. They are friendly. They are adoptable. I’m not sure that I will be able to foster kittens in an environment where they take this attitude. I am scared to death that I will be lonely and unable to do the job that I love so much.

In order to make this move, I have to give up a city that I love. Just like I have to give up Carrot. I know in my heart that it’s the right thing in both cases. It’s just hard to give up something you love. Let’s hope the move turns out as well as Carrot’s adoption.

And be one traveler, long I stood

The Road Not Taken

by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear,

And as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference

I was born in Columbus, Ohio in October of 1980. My parents had just gotten married a year or so before, and they wanted to start a family. I was the first. My brother, Robert (you’ve seen his picture in the blog), was born in early October 1983.

In about 1985, the Navy transferred our family to Charleston, SC. I am not exactly sure of that date, by I can place it with a few milestones. As a side note, I have an excellent long-term memory. I remember being an only child, and my mother’s pregnancy with Robert. I was 2 when this happened. How is it then, that now I can’t remember where I left my keys, and sometimes I have to email my husband to call my cell phone so I can find it and ask him where my keys are? In any case, that is the year that I started kindergarten (I was 4, and the school cut-off date to turn 5 was November 1, so I cut it close) and that my youngest full brother John was born.

It gets a little fuzzier here because there are no real time markers, but I believe we moved to Maryland when I was in the 2nd grade or so (so, 1987?). I believe this because I remember taking an intelligence test, after which the teachers told my parents I was really ready for 4th grade. My parents made me stay in the 2nd grade because they feared that I wouldn’t fit in socially, despite the fact that the 2nd graders were already older than me. I have a lot of good memories from that period of my life. I was in the “Happy Feet Jump Rope club” at school. We actually had a jumping routine we did to music for the parents to watch. As an adult, I now feel sorry for my mother having to watch that stuff.

We moved back to South Carolina when I was in the 5th grade. This stands out to me because we I went to 2 schools in one year due to the lack of availability in military housing. The first school I went to in Summerville, SC counted 5th grade as elementary school. The military school I went to in Goose Creek (when the military housing opened up) counted it was middle school, which was a huge deal to me. It was there that I took up acting in the school plays. I was usually the lead role because of the aforementioned memory and a rather well-developed ability to project my voice. I also used to be a diva, and I wasn’t afraid to sing a solo or two for a crowd. Now I won’t sing in front of even my best friends when we play Rock Band. Interesting how time changes a person.

We moved to Arkansas when I started 9th grade. I was 13 then, nearly 14. I actually cried on my first day of high school. I was in a place where I knew no one, I was going to a different type of school, and we were there because my parents had just gotten divorced. Plus, I really wanted to stay in South Carolina. I saw no redeeming qualities about a state that was so far from the coast. Have I mentioned that I love the ocean?

I learned a few things in Arkansas. The town we lived in (and my father continues to live in to this day) is Manila. When I was there, it was a town of about 3,000 people, most of whom were over the age of 60. Our trailer backed up to a cotton field. Many (but not all) of the houses there were dilapidated. I knew of people who lived in homes with holes in the walls and floors. I came to understand the rural “God and Guns” mentality, and I learned that poverty still exists in our country. I also learned that a lot of people are defeated by the circumstances they grew up in. I knew so many kids with promise who dropped out of school because they took up drugs and alcohol, some of the few pastimes in that sort of area. Many of these kids were parents before they completed high school. I also spent a little time living with a couple who were, by my definition, wealthy. The husband played golf all the time (I learned then and there that I liked golf a great deal). They took me in as a boarder because of some of my life circumstances and their desire to make amends for whatever had enticed their son to commit suicide. These were good people, not crazy messed up people. I learned there that money does not buy happiness.

After 2 years in Arkansas, I came to a cross-roads. I applied for and was admitted to the Arkansas School for Math and Sciences. That same year, I was given the opportunity to live with my mother and her new husband in Hawai’i. I was 15 and hadn’t seen my mother since I was about 11 years old. Take a guess at which road I chose?

On my way to Hawai’i, I stopped at an intermediate point in Mascoutah, IL. My aunt and uncle lived there, and were trying to figure out how to facilitate my journey to my mother’s house. While I was there I participated in a church play (it pays to be the Pastor’s niece). My aunt told me a lot about the history of my mother’s side of the family. It’s kind of dark, with many bright spots that continue to shine today. It certainly helped me to understand some of the things that were to happen in the future. Sometime during that month (or so) that I stayed with my aunt, my mother confessed that she had started a new life with her new husband, an old Girl Scout leader of mine. She had 2 more kids whom she had given John’s and my middle name. Not a good omen.

I spent a year in Hawai’i. It was there that I had my first job. I worked around 30 hours a week and kept an “A” average in school. Despite all of this, my mother did not really want me living with her and tried to rid herself of me by any means possible. She finally succeeded when my step-father was discharged from the military. They left me with a family from church whom, I learned later, my mother barely knew. They told me to stay the night with the other family, and if I decided I wanted to go with them the next day, I could meet them at the airport. The church family took me to the airport the next day, and I had every intention of getting on the plane for Washington (state, not D.C.) despite the friction we had. I didn’t find them at the airport. A few DAYS later my mother called the church family and explained that they took an earlier flight. I see.

I lived with the church family for the rest of the school year and for half the summer. At some point, it became likely that they would be transferred to China, and because I was not their legal child, I could not go. They arranged to send me to my mother’s parents in Florida.

I spent my final year of high school in Inverness, FL. It was there that I learned where my aunts, uncles, and mother were coming from. My grandmother told me a lot about what life was like from her perspective, how she raised her family and the trials they endured. My grandfather told me about where his family came from and he expressed his side of the same stories my grandmother told. It was all terribly interesting to me then, and still is to this day. Despite our disagreements, my grandparents taught me a few things I try to keep in mind today.

During a PE class in the Florida high school, I had a collision with another student. The regular teacher was out that day, and the boys were playing rougher than usual. I tried to sit out, but I was threatened with detention if I didn’t participate. Being the good kid I was, I reluctantly stepped in to a game of Frisbee football. Seconds later, I was knocked to the ground with a torn ACL (anterior cruciate ligament). I went on to have major knee surgery that summer before college. The worst part was, the kid who knocked me over never so much as apologized. That event had a two-fold purpose in my life. First, it taught me to trust my instincts about the safety of a situation. The second thing it did was prevent me from joining the military.

I applied to several colleges in high school. I had great SAT and ACT scores. I knew that I could get into whichever college I wanted, so I decided to go where the school tried the hardest to recruit me (and to give me a good deal – college is expensive). There was a military school in Roswell, NM that sent several department heads on a mission to recruit me. I think I received 5 calls in all, including one from their PE department! The thing was, I needed to be able to attend boot camp that summer, and I couldn’t due to the knee surgery. Given that we entered into a war not long after, I am grateful that things went the way they did.

Instead, I went to Tallahassee to attend Florida State University. It was there that I earned a bachelor’s degree in Biology and met my husband. It’s also where we found and adopted Buttercup and Wesley.

I worked at various odd jobs in Tallahassee. Mostly, I was just trying to get us through until Michael graduated from grad school. Sometime during the dissertation process, it became clear that Michael wasn’t going to be able to complete his doctorate (although he is ABD – all but dissertation) and he had to get a job. He worked for the Board of Administration for awhile, but it became clear rather quickly that we needed to move on. Michael is probably the luckiest person on the planet, because out of nowhere he got an email asking if he was still looking for a job. Apparently someone from Charles Schwab had gotten a look at Michael’s résumé and like what he saw. Within a month the company moved us to San Francisco.

Living here has been a huge learning experience for me as well. I had never lived in a large city before, so there was a whole new frame of mind to experience. I had to get used to a certain level of crime. I learned to understand the wine culture (a bit). I’ve learned to take more responsibility for the environment. San Francisco is also where I got my Serra and got involved in kitten foster care.

Why did I tell you all of this? Well, I have an announcement to make. As of sometime mid-March, Michael and I are moving just south of Denver, CO. He is still going to be working for Schwab, just in a different location. The really great news? We can afford a house out there! We’ve known about this for about a month now, and we’ve been surfing real-estate porn like mad people. I just couldn’t tell my readers about this because it wasn’t all set in stone yet. Now that everything is solid, I am thrilled to put it in writing! I’ll talk more about the decision to move in another post (this one is getting long as it stands).

Hooray for us!

P.S. If you happen to run a kitten rescue group or shelter foster program in Centennial, CO or the surrounding areas, leave me a comment (with your email address in the appropriate field). I am hereby offering my services as a foster parent. I also have skills in writing manuals for foster programs (I’ve written 2 manuals and I don’t mind writing another), and in designing and teaching classes for shelter volunteers. I am a huge supporter of No-Kill, I just haven’t wanted to make my blog political. The best part – I’ll foster kittens in any condition. I’m not afraid of behavior or health issues. I like to take lots of kittens at once, and I’m not afraid to fall in love with each and every one of them.