In Memoriam

Cooter


His suffering ended. Ours still goes on.


Even though I'm an agnostic leaning towards atheism, I'd like to think there's a doggie (or pet, as it were) heaven. Right now, he could be playing with our dearly departed Heidi, and Rogue, and Roscoe, and Watermelon. Or hell, he could just be a ghost and haunt us, moving around the toys and chewies he was unable to play with in his last month. Maybe standing on my chest at 5:00 am, to get up and walk him and Bubba.

I still love you, Toot.

One More Christmas to Go

Jimmy comes up from his dad's today, I just heard from him.

HORRORS!! I took a cel phone call at work! Come and take me away!

We haven't bought his gift yet, because we didn't know what to get. We could've gotten Serenity, but thought he would've gotten it as soon as it came out. Turns out he didn't. Other than that, we're not sure. Jimmy's suggesting glasses, to replace the ugliest (and, most likely, indesctructible) glasses on the face of the planet the Navy gave him.

I got to be with my family yesterday (too long according to the Hubby), which was nice. I wanted the Hubby to go, and they wanted to see the Hubby, but he's still being a gloomy gus.

And, speaking of being a gloomy gus, we were hoping to get beyond the holidays before thinking of euthanizing Cooter. He's eating less and less, and yips in pain when he tries to yawn. We don't want him to suffer, but we don't want him to die, either. Would you call that a Catch-22?

Hello....This Thing On?!

I need to rant, but I don't know what to say or how to start.

I need to talk to somebody, but I hate to bother people with my problems. I guess that would be one reason I tend to implode.

I hate my job. I Hate My Job. I HATE MY JOB. IHATEMYJOBIHATEMYJOBIHATEMYJOBIHATEMYJOB!!

I hate my customers, the ones who get to travel, yet won't take resposibility for their reservations.

I hate my supervisors. It's always, say this, ask that, why aren't you on the phone, there are calls in queue. When, it seems to me, they should be appreciative that I'm neither on the floor in a little ball, crying; or shooting them full of holes (just supervisors - and NO!! I wouldn't actually do that!!).

And, again, my dog has cancer and is slowly dying. And, again, this is killing the Hubby, who is now taking it out on me. I'd like to say, "Get off my back!! You're pissing me off!!" But of course I don't, and, in fact, get mad at myself.

merry christmas.

bah! Humbug!

Empathy Bites

A Cooter-Patooter update:

He tires easily, but is still eating (soft food) and drinking. He felt good enough this morning to play with the cat, Whiskers (stupid name - but we got him at a year old and already named). And since losing Artie, I think Wickers (what I call him, the Hubby calls him Whiskey) is lonely, and likes even the clumsy attention of a big, slobbery dog.

This is killing the Hubby. So far, I can still be strong - if I don't think about it too much. I just wish it would go away! Can't cancer just spontaneously go away?!

OH, and my human son, Jimmy, 's leave starts the 23rd, but he goes to his dads first for a couple of days. But dad bought the tickets so it's cool. Dad's driving him up here for the rest of his leave and will fly out of OKC back to Charleston. YAY!!

Kinda Crappy Weekend

We got the results of Cooter's biopsy, and it's not good. Cancer and there's not much we can do, what was cut out will grow back. So far, Cooter's acting fine, almost back to precancer rambunctiousness. The M-in-L says even though he has cancer, we shouldn't be babying him. yeah. Hey! M-in-L, Kiss my large, white behind. We're going to love him and care for him the time he has left, however long it is.

I missed my psychiatrist appointment yesterday, but ask her to call in my prescription to my drug store. Need to see if it's there.

Really down today. Got into an argument with the Hubby over politics. He likes to listen to talk radio (gag!). I try to tell him there full of shit, but I don't get listened to.

It would be kinda nice to be catatonic for a while.

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

Just some different notes.

Maybe GM is telling the truth when it says the tripling of jobs in India is not moving US jobs oversees, but the timing can't be worse. It only seems suspicious. From tompaine.com.

Went to a co-workers "Winter Holidays & Apartmentwarming Cocktail Party" on Saturday. Got pretty blasted on Vodka and cranberry juice. Just 2 drinks, but pretty potent. Then I tried to mix myself a rum and coke, but with disaster. Too late the Hubby said, "That's too much rum!" I never did finish it, I kept putting more coke, and then diet coke into it. I tried a martini - yuck. I know alcohol is a depressant, and I guess it could've been a recipe (cocktail?) for disaster, being a depressive and all, but I was goddamned happy. Stereotypically happy. And no hangover and no puking the next day. Great time.

I have received and spent my "Surface and Damages" check (a couple thou) in regards to my Oil Leases (which is still kind of freaking me out a year later). I've now learned they're going to put in pipeline - and thus giving me another couple thou. The background is here, you have to scroll down to December 21, 2004. The "Surface and Damages" thingy is what the pay you for distubance of the property when drilling. The drilling company who paid us the "S&D" money is being sued by some other companies (no! fuck, I don't know!), so the actual drilling (and thus flowing of oil or natural gas) is delayed. That I could be some kind of Jed Clampitt in the future is unbelieveable. But I have modified the song:

Well first thing you know ol' Pattye's a millionaire
the kinfolk say, "Pattye, move away from there"
"Gaillardia is the place you ought to be"
So we loaded up the truck and moved to OKC.

In other news, my son's training has started at the Naval Nuclear Power Training Command. And he has declared himself "one of the dumbest people here."
SIGH.
You know it was cool when he was little that he was like me. But the older he got, I realized he got the bad things, too - the shyness, the lack of self-confidence. One time we were at the Little Sahara, in Waynoka, OK, with some kids who used to hang out at the motorcycle shop (died 2000). Jimmy and I were sitting at a picnic table eating chips and one of the kids was sitting by himself. I told Jimmy he ought to ask him if he wants any and he gives me a deer in headlights look. I said "One of us ought not to be shy!"
And Jimmy replied, "Why does it have to be me?"
"Because!" I thought but didn't say. It was all that was in my head, but not my heart. I didn't want him to have my weaknesses. (I offered the kid chips, he turned them down.)

We still don't know exactly what the mass in Cooter's mouth is, cancer or no, benign or malignant. We took him to the Veterinary Surgery Center. The doctor said he'd probably have to cut off part of the upper jaw and the teeth involved (at a cost of $1,200-1,400 - yow!). But, according to the Hubby, who took the message, Cooters red blood cell count was too low. So he cut some of the mass to biopsy and removed two back teeth. Cooter's still not eating hard dog food, but is gobbling soft food, and is being perky and happy again.

And it's my Friday!

A Mental Health - or Lack Thereof - Update

I'm at the end of my second month of Cymbalta. And while I'm not crashing and reaching for pills, guns or whatever, I feel so.... I don't know - Down? Yes, but more than that. Frustrated? Angry? Burned Out? Oh Yeah.

I wish I could feel like I'm worth a damn. Maybe that's the wrong thing - somewhere inside I know I'm worth a damn. Except for having a great son and Hubby, I don't feel like I've amounted to anything.

I'd like to have a well-read blog, like those on my list on the right. But I don't have the talent, just the profilagacy.

I'd like to get the 5 stories out of my head - but just because I like them doesn't make them any good.

I'd like to have a job I enjoy, that I make a decent living at. Hell, I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. Oops.

In my twenties, I was just making a living. It was okay, though, my life was still ahead of me. I just knew I didn't want a job that put me to sleep (as they usually did).

I spent pretty much all of my twenties in federal service with the Department of Defense - first in Outbound GBL's (government bills of lading - the shipping department) at Tinker AFB (the ONLY thing I'll ever thank Ronald Reagan for), followed then-husband to NYC and got a similar job, though a down-grade, at Defense Contracts whatever (can't remember the acronym), then lateralled to Defense Contracts whatever in Dallas when then-husband lost the job we moved to NYC for and got a crap job that didn't seem destined to last long. (oh, and Jimmy was starting to talk at that time - with a NY accent - and I thought, "No way in hell") Marriage is going downhill at that point, my eyes just beginning to open (actually I was in an avalanche, but didn't know it).

Now I'm approaching 30, the decade is coming to a close. My marriage has only gotten worse, and I no longer had any excuses for his abuse. And though the flex-time I had in Dallas really rocked, I hated my job. I was approaching ten years total in federal service, doing the same old shit with no advancement opportunities.

December 1, 1989, the worst day of my life.
I went to work and never went home. Then-husband (shortly to be ex-) and I had another fight the night before (and Jimmy was having recurring nightmares, and coloring mostly with black at daycare), He was driving me to the Irving DART (Dallas-area Rapid Transit) station where Jimmy and I took the bus downtown (Jimmy being at the federal daycare in the building next door to the train station). He was telling me what "my problems were". It was almost an out-of-body experience. I was quiet, just looking at him, asking myself "What are you doing?" I spent the day second- and third-guessing myself. I spent the night with a co-worker and my parents picked me up the next day. I spent a week back home. I almost went back. "I'll change, I'll go to counseling," he said. I went so far as to make air reservations, but then I realized that was just talk to get me back to the same ol' same ol'. Thats when I took off my wedding ring (that I bought anyway).

I went back to Dallas, living alone for the first time. I tried to make a go of it, but I guess I had changed. I was trapped at my job, but with RIF's (reduction in force) going on at Tinker and freezes elsewhere, not to mention that I plain-d hated that job, I decided to quit federal service and move back home. Dallas was just too close (of course, at the time, the moon was too close). With federal service, it's not what you know, it's who you know and the only place I knew people was NYC (by-the-by, loved the people, hated the city).

So, before moving home I temped for a while in Dallas, mostly at places I didn't want to work at. Now I did temp a week at Southwest Airlines headquarters - just stuffing envelopes for a frequent flyer promotion. It was like a different world. Management appreciated their employees, employees loved their company. I'd never before or since had an experience like that.

Moved home to Midwest City, OK in August of 1990. I temped for a while, but where I could make a living temping in Dallas, not so OKC. I had one crappy job (data entry - snooze) that they let me quit before being fired, temped some more, then in February 1993, just before my Grandma Ben died, I was hired as a reservation agent at Hertz.
At first I was like a different world, I could talk to people without being shy! And I enjoyed what I was doing! Well, at first, domestic reservations got real old, real quick. There's only so many times I could take: "Where do you want a car?" "Here." "Where's here?" "Oh, I don't know, the airport, I guess." I was going insane. I transfered to International. And again, another world, people from everywhere going to everywhere. And not much domestic backup. That didn't last long, soon we were doing domestic backup all the time. And of course, international is so different from domestic, we get rusty. Other things about Hertz bothered me, too. They treat (or treated) travel agents like they were made out of gold, but we were a necessary evil. A lot of the supervisors were never on the phone, they were hired from outside the company straight out of college. And yet, they had to tell me how to do my job. Right. And like all call centers, they give you sick leave, but it counts as an absence to take it. And they really didn't want you to stay more than 5 years (they'd rather pay new people less, than try to keep established workers). People would leave right and left when new call centers opened: Aol, Sprint, etc. But I knew it was a pipe dream. A call center is a call center.

My mother died in February, 1999. I kept on working, but my performance steadily went downhill, along with my mood. In June, 2000, one morning I woke up and just started crying. The Hubby said, "If you feel that bad, don't go to work."
I really tried to do the short-term disability with Hertz, but I ended up screwing myself. When I finally got the form (the second one - my mail sucks), I had been out for 2 months or so, but when I went to my then-doctor to fill it out - he only put a week down. I wasn't nervy enough to tell him off. Hertz let me quit instead of being fired. And if I had had the presence of mind to put down a date 2 weeks in the future, I could have been rehired later on.

So, now it's late 2000, and I've reached another fork in the road. I get a job at a place called Young America, that handles different companies rebates, contests and other promotions. It was a company that was more concerned with bodies in chairs, than caliber of employee. My client was RJ Reynolds, I handled Camel Cash and the Free Doral programs. As a non-smoker, who watched her smoker mother decline, you can tell how much I liked that job. It lasted just over a year. I told the Hubby I had to look for something else, and I wanted to do something I liked. I did once get to the point of almost starting a class with Southwest (who has - whatelse - a call center here in OKC), but they said "sorry, we don't need you, we'll call you later" HAH! Still waiting on that one!

The job I did get is the one I still have: January 2002, I became a travel agent with Cendant Travel. I discovered one thing, I can't sell. Well, I can't do the hard sell, if you want to buy, you want to buy. So I went to Customer Service. You would think that I wouldn't like being griped to constantly about real or imagined travel problems. Well, since I've crashed 3 times now (twice this year alone), maybe it just took time for me to realize.

I guess the question is - What Now?

I just don't know.

Hah! maybe radio!

Let's Say A Prayer For Cooter

Our Bassett Hound, not even a year and a half. After Thanksgiving I noticed him bleeding out of his mouth. A couple of times. The Hubby explained it as either a cat popped him in the mouth, or maybe he got a piece of bone stuck. But walking him and Bubba in the Back-Back, his mouth started bleeding again. With no plausible excuses now, I called and made an appointment with the vet. He showed me this black thing on the roof of his mouth. He said it could be either an infection or cancer, but he would need a closer, more probitive look, which could only be done with Cooter under anesthesia - to be done the next morning (today).

I should have went ahead and played hooky like the Hubby wanted.

It's cancer.

He's going to have to have surgery, maybe next week. It's not guaranteed to clear it up - it could grow back. The Hubby said the Vet was decidedly pessimistic.

But I've decided to be hopeful. My little Cooter-Patooter will be ok!!

YOU HEAR ME?! He'll be ok!!