Opportunity

I have been searching for some time for a new job. Over a year.

I took a PRN (as needed) position with the Cleveland Clinic in September. I enjoy it. It provides money that is slowly bringing my debt down, ad well as allowing me to do other things. like this past week's trip to the waterpark. I know some people think that those trips are frivolous or wasteful, like a trip to the amusement park, but I think there is a great benefit to them, especially if you have kids.

(I love introducing my kids to the biggest, baddest rollercoasters I rode as a kid. And the great ones my dad rode as a kid. And the idea that some day, they will introduce THEIR kids to all of these and more. (There's a new one going in at Six Flags north of Chicago that looks crazy awesome.) I think that's a rite of childhood that kids to which have almost a right.)

Sadly, my current full time position continues to deteriorate in a number of ways, as does my marriage.

I have been researching new positions and have come to the conclusion that I have to leave north east Ohio. I spoke with my wife, briefly, and she seems receptive to the idea of never leaving the area, ever, ever, ever.

So, an impasse.

Or not.

I am on the verge of applying for a position as a civilian employee with the Air Force. I know, the Navy is way cooler, but they're not looking right now. This position is one of about 40 or 50 available nationwide. I could end up almost anywhere. Though I would like to move south, where the weather is warmer, there are a few interesting possibilities elsewhere.

While Biloxi and Gulfport seem like good choices, I would love the opportunity to take a spot in Idaho or Utah. I know: Snow and cold. But: Mountains and fresh air. I think the trade off would be fair. I would actually take the one at Elmendorf AFB in Anchorage, just to be daring. The most important thing is to be some place fairly conservative for when the Troubles begin.

And they will begin.

I'm scared and alone, and it seems I likely to be even more alone, very soon. I worry my kids will think I'm abandoning them. My wife...well I don't really care much WHAT she thinks these days, as it's become obvious she cares very little for what I think.

A discussion I had at church a week ago leads me to believe that this is a decision that God will support me in, if I feel it necessary. I think it is, but I still feel like a failure. Of course, that's nothing new, so what the heck.

That Coke Commerical

Okay, yeah. This one is better. If you say you want diversity, then sing for the fences: I can find people at work who can sing in Spanish, Arabic, French, etc...

But a guy who can sing in Klingon? Don't see one of those everyday.

...and so it goes

It's amazing how quickly a good week can be brought low.
A week that started with  family vacation that went surprisingly well has now ended with yet another shouting match.

So much of the time, I feel like I not only don't have a partner in life, but like I'm married to an opponent. It seems that the more I try to change and make things better, the more she obstructs and fights. And not just big things.

Sometimes I feel so petty and awful.

Last night, I was angry. I thought I had a good reason, but I don't know.

When we went to leave the hotel yesterday morning, I packed most of the stuff and brought it to the car. It's easier this way. I sent everyone else to the waterpark to have a good time and I got to spend some time just being busy and productive, which I enjoy. But I had packed most of the stuff in the car prior to the trip, along with the kids, unloaded it all at the hotel, also with the kids, done the little shopping necessary for food for the trip (the room came with dinner vouchers which saved a bundle), packed everything in the car after the trip, and, with the kids, unloaded the whole car at home. Then, since the kids had so many stuffed animals that they were essentially buried under a large pile of fake fur, I made the trip back the way I had come to pick up the dog, followed by her evening walk, which she was hounding me for (pun intended).

It was a long, cold walk, in temperatures as high as 8 or 9, or at least it FELT long (1.4 miles is nothing, not even a decent warm-up, on a nice day). And then I went home.

At ten-thirty on a school night, kids ought to be in bed. Instead, there's my boy, playing videos games on the TV, while his mother plays video games on her phone. My daughter, bless her, is working: packing for the mother/daughter Girl Scout camping trip they have to leave on less than 24 hours later, and putting stuff away from the trip she just got home from. I was upset: They should have been in bed, and stuff should have been put away, at least a little. And when my daughter found the clothes from vacation that she needed for camping, her mother took them down and washed them and left all the wet swim stuff sit in bags upstairs.

I was upset: I worked hard, not just to pay for the trip, which I will be doing for the next month and a half, but before, during and after the trip to make sure everyone had a good time. And now I'm going to get to clean up the mess afterwards, as well. By myself.

Then today, I went to upload pictures from my wife's camera to the computer. She has about 1100 pictures on the card. almost none of which have been seen since the day they were taken. She's good at taking them, not so much at getting them looked at. I thought I might help the process. Well, I uploaded a bunch of them, but then I was trying to get out the door for work and accidentally stuck the camera in my coat pocket. This resulted in a call at work, during which I apologized repeatedly while being berated and insulted.

So I hung up.

And refused to take any more calls.

And now, I'm sure, I'M the bad guy.

She was upset on the way home, as well. I was playing the stereo and singing along to pretty much every song, but when our song came on, I couldn't. She made a nasty remark and I didn't really respond.

If she'd have looked, she'd have seen the tears running down my face.

I've decided I'm leaving. I don't know when or where yet, but I'm looking south: Alabama or Missisppi or maybe as far as Texas. I'm tired of the cold. And the weather around here has been lousy, too. I know there are jobs available where I can work 7 days on/ 7 days off, which would allow me to get back and see the kids more than I do now. If the kids wanted to come with me, I would work hard to make that possible. My daughter is old enough to make it work right now with just us, but my son needs a few more years. I would do everything I could to make that happen, though: I would hate to separate them. I have a few ideas, but I don't know if they will work.

I'm just staring down another lengthy period of solitude: The people who I thought loved me are treating me like a pariah, those who said they were my friends have abandoned me without so much as a "Go to Hell," my family doesn't want to follow where I have to go.

I'm scared. I'm lonely.

I'm resolute.

Devastation

Two inches of snow on the ground already, with five to eight more due by 5pm tomorrow.

If it was just me, I would chance it, but there's just no way that I'm driving an hour and a half through the snow tomorrow with the kids in the car.

Looks like we're stuck at Kalahari for an extra night.

The kids are DEVASTATED. They have to spend another day at the waterpark while it snows like heck outside. And they might not make it to school at all this week.

Sucks to be them.

Jacuzzi Warning

Just a word of caution: It is VERY asy to turn a hot tub into a hot stinky monkey tub.

Not always a problem, but you need to be careful:

Kalahari has banned us from the waterpark.

Dogs and Doctrine

There is a certain denomination/sect/cult that believes that animals who are loved by their owners and are faithful to them can earn a soul through that service.

I used to believe this.

Turns out, as I learn more of the doctrine of the church I've joined, it intersects and expands on my beliefs in a good way. We apparently believe that all life, plant and animal was first created in spirit, then in body.

I told one gentleman at church the whimsical postscript to this mornings post about my dog Mollie, about how her spirit followed me home. He just looked at me, smiled and said, "Of course."

I want to cry again.

Our church says that Mollie will be there with me when I die.

Tears.

It was another wonderful day at church today. I may write something about it later. Church keeps me alive. It gives me hope and reason to continue on, no matter how bad now is.

I wish Abigail were still speaking with me. I have so much I want to share with her, and so many questions to ask. I miss her with all my soul.

Gone to the Dogs

I saw this last night and once again tears flowed.

They call them Canine Commandments, but really, I think a dog would call the Polite Canine Requests.

It was the tenth one that hurts. I'm crying again right now.

It's been over six years and, well, you know. Even when it's time and it's the right thing to do, the decision will haunt you. In my case, literally.

I have pictures.

This was Mollie. She was the first dog that I had as an adult. She was a shelter dog. It was a no-kill shelter, so some dogs stayed there for a long time.

Mollie was there six months. That was probably half her life to that point.

She was a horribly damaged dog. Physically she was fine. Emotionally, not so much. 

If you've ever been to the shelter, you know all the dogs come to the front of the cages and bark, "Choose me! Choose me!" Mollie just hunched over in the back of the cage and shook.

We brought her home on MLK Day 2007. She wouldn't walk on her own. I carried her to the car. When we got her home, she hid in a corner and shook.

That night, her first night of freedom in many months, we went to bed and she stayed in the living room. She was welcome in the master bedroom, we just couldn't get her in there. Within about ten minutes, she came to life and we could hear her running all over the house at top speed. The next morning, she was sitting on the couch like nothing had happened.

The first week was rough. It turned out she was more or less housebroken, or paper-trained, anyway. But she was scared to death of me. Maybe she was abused in her before time. Hard to say. But, after that first week, she was bonded to me as if with glue. She was only on a leash for formality. She had no desire to be anywhere but with me. 

When we moved back to Ohio, she rode 5000 miles in the only part of the car not occupied by luggage and stuff moving with us and, well, us, her head out the window the whole way. Rain, shine, wind, snow, she would whine like crazy until her window was rolled down.

She was very shy about going to the potty in front of people. It wasn't until we were in Louisiana, a week into the trip, that we actually saw her go. That was the first time in the year we'd had her. I think whoever had her before gave her grief over it.

The only time I remember her doing anything remotely close to running away was when a section of fence fell in our backyard. She'd chased squirrels and such at the park, but I don't count that. Anyway, she found the fence down and decided to explore. I was asleep/ We usually left the back door open if the weather was nice, so she could go in and out as she pleased. Anyway, I had been sleeping for several hours. When I got up, I realized she was missing. I called three times, and on the third, heard her tags jingling about three doors down and she came running. That's as far as she ever went from us.

We moved to a house of our own and when we were just getting settled, she ran in from the wet back yard, across the deck and onto the linoleum floor in the dining room, where her long legs got tied in knots and she slid all the way across the room and whacked into the wall on the far side. The mud splotch is still there. I don't have the heart to clean it. It's a good (and funny) memory, like the kids' height measurements.

Another time, she saw a squirrel on the back fence and lit out the back door like a shot. She ran across the deck and proceeded to get her head stuck in the slats of the deck railing. It only took her a few seconds to free herself, but by that point, I had a good laugh and she learned a valuable lesson.

When the kids came along, we were concerned how she would react. We needn't have worried. I have a picture somewhere of my daughter on Mollie's back like she's body surfing, giant grin in her face. Unfortunately, that was pre-digital camera, so I don't have it to put online. That dog never bit those kids, no matter how much they deserved it.

Those pictures are Mollie and Jake. She was very gentle with the kids. She was a friendly, loving dog to almost everyone outside the house, but inside, she didn't much like other people coming around. She was very protective of her pack.

The next pictures hurt really badly.

All three of these were taken on the last day of her life. She developed an aggressive cancer that was inoperable. It looked like a lump of bloody ground beef hanging from her lower jaw. I Biggie-sized the picture just above. You can see it on her lower lip. It looks like her tongue sticking out, but it's not. We tried to have it removed once, but it took all of the front teeth on her lower jaw and grew back within days. We said goodbye at home, then went to the park for a last walk. She bled all over the trail and all over the car.

We went to Strickland's for chocolate ice cream, because a good dog deserves chocolate at least once in her life. 

Then to the vet. Everybody hugged her and kissed her in the lobby and I went back into the office with her.

And then she was gone.

It only took about ten minutes to kill my best friend.

I held her as her breathing and heart rate slowed. I watched the spark of life fade from her eyes. I laid there on the floor in a puddle of urine holding her body and wailing. I must have stayed there twenty minutes. Then I had to get up and go.

It was the right decision to make, but it still haunts me.

But, interestingly, the story doesn't end there.

I called her as we left the vet's office. Felt a little odd, but also the right thing to do. For the next few years, I could lie in bed and feel footsteps crawling across my legs. I would hear barks. A few times, I saw the mattress actually dimple, as though her feet were pushing it down as she walked across it.

This actually went on for years, through two dogs that didn't work out, until we got our next good dog, Katie. Now, it's been a while. I don't know if she's gone for good or just waiting, but it was nice to know she stayed near. Am I crazy? Probably, ,but I'm not the only one who noticed.

I walk Katie every day, at least a mile. Why? Part of it is guilt: I was raging drunk for the almost the first nine years Mollie was with us. And yes, pretty much every day. I didn't walk her nearly as much as I should have. I don't want that to happen with Katie. Mollie deserved more. 

I love my Katie-dog, but I still miss my Mollie. Katie is not a replacement, but a successor. She has made her own niche: She will never be able to fill Mollie's place, but she occupies a special place all her own.

Mollie's ashes are in a tin in the hutch in my dining room. They will come with me when I move out, and I will call her spirit, just like I did at the vet's office that horrible day. Is she still around? I don't know. But if she is, she's welcome to come along with me when I go.

And I expect that when I am dead, her ashes will be buried with me.