Penny Inhales

I think I might be heading for a world record of unemployment periods in the last two years or maybe not.  I know I have lots of company, I just don't know how to find those fellow humans.  They may be home watching T.V. Trying to reinvent oneself creates a great disturbance in the force or at least, my force, my life.  I feel pretty disturbed. 

And so, once again, I am gathering volunteer gigs from our local area.  For me, having nothing to do does not mean I head towards the T.V.  Truthfully, I did get some brochures on travel cruises because I need a big change.  Then, duh, I realized that cruises don't happen during the winter!  Can you say...iceberg ahead!  Ah, well, I can dream of getting away with thousands of others.  Having no job means one had lots of time to ponder getting the hell out of here.  How is another matter.

Yesterday, I drove up Petrified Forest Rd. to Equi-Ed and a potential volunteer opportunity. A new idea thanks to my brother-in-law, I wanted to be around horses and help my fellow humans.  Equi-Ed allows people with disabilities to find new ways to move and new ways of seeing themselves with the help of horses and their trainers.  For me, a chance to shovel some horse poop and be outside was key.  The program director walked me around the facility and I met several horses. 

However, it was Penny, a big, bay horse who towered above me in her stall, who made an impression I will not easily forget.  Penny, her head above me, pressed her nose to the gate of her stall and inhaled deeply.  She actually inhaled me as a greeting.  Her nostrils wide and right in my face, I felt the wind of her breath against my cheek.  Wow.  Incredible.  That settled it for me.  I am ready to show up and do whatever is needed.  Penny lifted my spirits up and I really needed it.

I am doing my best though I feel discouraged as never before, attempting new ideas, running farther on my run days, contacting new volunteer directors, meditating and trying not to worry so much.  It is frightening to have so little money and even more frightening to have so little chances to get a job, keep a job and thrive in a job.  It is everything, but it is essential if you are going to live here, in the most expensive county in California, or anywhere from Ashland, Oregon to Austin, Texas to somewhere in Vermont. 

For today, I am thankful for a big horse with a lungful of horse breath.  Thank you Penny!

The Seven Month Itch

Today I noticed, on my dusty descent to our wee corner, that something was different on our street.  Let me just digress a moment or two to say that for the last two and a half weeks, there has been an absence of the front loaders, dump trucks, 18 wheelers with pipes and lumber, workman yelling at one another, leaving their tobacco chewing tins in our gutter, dust and grime and dirt chucked up onto our sidewalks and cars. It has been quiet here without the TerraCon boys.  No kidding, I have heard birdsong during the day.

Still, cars screech around the corner and tear off down the street as always since we live in an urban neighborhood where people here act anything but neighborly, and plumes of dust launch into the air and down into our yard.  Our plants are still covered with filth.  Our fence is pitted with dirt from the heavy equipment since March rolling past our house. 

Today, the removal of the final front loader, steel planks and yes, the PortoLet seemed like a big change.  We have all been waiting and waiting and waiting for TerraCon to re-pave the streets that they turned into a pitted, muddy mess.  Especially gone are the loaders and the yelling hard hats.  No rattling windows but the grime remains.  Seven months of living in a war zone and now, waiting for a clean slate of paved road is something akin to the dangling participle.

I have a not-so-special place in my heart now for The City of Santa Rosa's lack of information or simply respectful preparation of what was coming when their subcontractor, TerraCon, invaded our privacy and our street to "improve our infrastructure." Nothing short of a clusterf..k, the end of the project looks like the circus came to town and left in a whirlwind of litter, dirt, candy wrappers(tobacco tins) with disappointment in its wake. 

Hell, a heavy rain right about now could wash us cleaner than a paving job.

 

A not so fond remembrance of this summer's main attraction.

The Emperor Has Clothes, He is Pretending To Be Naked

Today my partner was told she was not the interviewee selected for the job she sought.  For her, it was hard news but not totally unexpected.  They selected the younger applicant, of course, though my partner has experience in the field with glowing references and a great desire to have a meaningful job helping seniors.  Her age, however, was an issue apparently. How ironic!

This particular job did not pay well though it offered health insurance benefits, something that has become the last Dodo bird in employment.  Not exactly a perfect scenario the receptionist would have to "change the diaper" of any resident in the lobby if no attendant was available.  For me, I had to say "hell no" and yet the job still held the promise of a less than living wage with sufficient hours and benefits. 

Needless to say, this is the third job that has slipped by after an interview.  It is very difficult and yes, age matters.  If we say it does not, then why are so many people having the same experience?  The people doing the hiring are our age but they do not want to look upon our faces as the greatest mirror ever shown to them.  They have their management jobs and they don't want to be reminded that they are us and we are them or something like that.

The "jobless" rate enunciated in the news today is the biggest lie of all.  That rate does not reflect never clearing the bar because you are just too damn old. The rate does not reflect that we are working at half of our previous wages to now buy health insurance and wonder where we are headed.  The rate does not reflect working at lame jobs and spending the evenings looking for a better job.  The rate doesn't reflect that we never had a chance in hell but the 50 somethings that interviewed us wanted to look like they're an equal opportunity employer.

The talking head may call us the 47% but we are the bulk of the nation's spenders.  If you don't give us a chance, we cannot make a living and we cannot spend money.  If we cannot spend money then the economy continues to drag its' unholy, bloated self across this decade of greed, deception, discrimination and profound sadness.  We don't need a chance to prove ourselves because we already have! We simply need the same chance you are giving the 20-30 year olds. 

The emperor does have clothes after all.  He is just pretending to be naked.

Bobbing For Hot Dogs

Today we suited up and took our surviving two Greyhounds to the Greyhound Friends For Life Reunion in Point Richmond.  Truthfully, Point Richmond and Miller-Knox Regional Park was a bit of a blah location near the lovely Chevron refinery that recently spewed toxic smoke across that community.  We went to try to break the grief and darkness we all feel about Ginger's death three weeks ago.  The dogs lost their most whiny companion, the third in their pack, and we lost a most soft, scamp of a dog who did lots of bad things and who we miss terribly.  Greyhounds are not like other dogs, especially ex-racers.

And so we went, driving almost 50 minutes towards San Francisco with a left turn across the bay to a flat place where dozens of other ex-racers came to gather, sniff, stand around and play games.  Greyhounds lure us to them with their elegant grace and outright mighty ability to run almost 40 M.P.H. Dog racers are grossly mistreated at the tracks and it is unfortunate that almost two dozen states still allow dog racing.  That is slowly changing yet not quickly enough for these awesome dogs.

Today, it helped my girl to see so many other Greyhounds and a few looked like Ginger.  It helps us though Jade and Omi really just sniffed their kin and probably wondered why all those sight hounds were there at the park.  G.F.F.L. staff created games for the dogs and Omi participated in the Hot Dog Bobbing.  Though it took a bit to get the knack of sticking her snout into the bowl of water, she got it quickly and seemed thrilled to be eating meat, something she gets little of living with Vegetarians. 

Greyhound Friends For Life creates a method to offset the horrendous eventuality of dog racers being put to death because they didn't win a race or simply outlived their usefulness to owners.  Breeders and racers don't get pets and they don't get to live life free of the constraints of track life.

I saw one new adoptee today and he had a thick four inch incision on his flank which was all ribcage and skin.  A beautiful black dog starved at the track is now on his way to becoming a dog loved by a human, fed enough and loved more than he can even comprehend right now. 

Thank you G.F.F.L. for all that you do for our ex-racer friends and for a lovely afternoon in Point Richmond. 

http://greyhoundfriendsforlife.org/home.htm

The Jokester Of The Universe

We all have tough weeks in life and sometimes coffee with a friend, a run on the last day of summer, a funny movie or just a day of no responsibilities can ease the turmoil.  Let's all hope so as the summer of 2012 comes to an end.

We hope that the six month construction project at our little corner is coming to an end.  At least that was the promise from TerraCon's letter but the boys of our summer have putzed around here with shovels and their almighty front loaders all week long doing just about nothing.

We thought they would have our streets paved by now but no soap.  They parked a loader across the street, for the umpteenth week, for the weekend for us to view and went off to their lives.  I must say, this job seems to never end.  However, they left a sign, at our corner, and I had to smile.

In more ways than one, this message is already present in our lives as my partner finds out what it will cost to pay for health care on her own, as we try to come to grips with the empty dog bed in our living room, as the weather changes and the light becomes golden across our not so golden state, as I spend my first paycheck on Ginger's death and cremation, as life changes and we attempt to walk forward, albeit one week at a time because, there is, indeed, a bump ahead.

Our Shared Grief

We shall never forget them nor shall we lose track of our nation's loss.  9/11/01 remains an indelible marker of our shared grief for those who died.

Ginger Has The Last Word 9/9/12

We were destined to scoot off to the beach today in the Mini after my crack of dawn shift at my new job.  My schedule is all over the place and it seems, though I am not certain, that being a rookie means you will work any shift scheduled.  I have to say that when I stepped outside this morning at 4:30 AM before my coffee and shower, my breath was taken away.  Within that predawn sky was a roof full of crystal clear stars on a cold September morning.  Crystal.  Crisp.  Wow.  I said a prayer for myself and our wee household for another strange day of life.

It was very busy today at the store and I raced to keep up with my veteran co-workers and customers.  How do they see me?  Am I making the grade?  Truthfully, I am exhausted by the stress of a new situation with all new tasks and responsibilities.  It is easy to smile genuinely at others and I have a fair amount of fear and wonder.  I thought of our household and my family in Texas in those moments where I doubted myself and my path.

I came home tired and thinking of driving to the coast.  I made it home, changed into my shorts after human and dog hellos and waited for my sweetie to get ready to scoot.  I heard a strange commotion from our dogs and ran to the door outside to see Ginger begin a grand mal seizure.  I sped out the door to hold her head and keep her from scraping herself further as she writhed and gasped. 

Seizures are horrible to witness as you comfort and wait, riding the waves forward and back without being able to do anything more.  Three minutes and I was screaming for help as my partner ended her phone call.  Four minutes and Ginger was still writhing and frothing at the mouth.  The seizure built and took it up a notch. Five minutes.  Horrifying with both of us holding her and reassuring her.

Eventually Ginger's grand mal ceased but she got up and paced for a good 45 minutes more, agitated and terrified.  For us humans who are brave enough to love our dogs, we had to talk about this inevitability after trying three seizure meds over almost five months.  It has been so very difficult to deal with changes in Ginger's personality and her breakthrough seizures as each of us lost jobs, started new ones and dealt with the uncertainty of a critically ill pet.

After a few hours of talking to one another and calling my amazing sister for feedback, we decided to end Ginger's life and her struggle with seizures.  Neither one of us thought this day would turn towards this and yet, we knew we had to do the right thing by Ginger.  We three went to the ER and some exceptionally kind medical staff at PetCare allowed us to bid Ginger adieu as only we guardians can. 

We are each spent and so very sorrowful.  We have lit a candle and hold our grief very carefully for the dog who made our trio of Greyhounds complete.

I can say that dogs leave quickly but Ginger did so in her own way.  After Ginger's big Greyhound heart stopped and the wonderful Vet. left the room, Ginger exhaled several times and the last one was a signature Ginger cry.  Perhaps some might explain that breath from her lungs expelled across her vocal cords.  However, I would say that not only did Ginger have the last word, she thanked us as her big dog spirit was exiting for parts unknown.

Thank you Ginger, we miss you terribly.  Bon voyage.