appraisal and all

so apart from collecting two sparrows at separate vets, and a white pigeon somewhere else.....saw t-doc this morning. She figured it was a multi-purpose appointment; firstly to persuade me not to tell manager to f-off, then to make sure that I got there on time and lastly as a normal session. I really adore her - she is just such a warm, caring person. When I grow up, I'd like to be.... Yeah. Right. I wish.

And after that, the PA was a walkover. I got a really good rating, although that doesn't mean much as a contractor. Wasn't nasty to boss, although that actually didn't worry me too much. He is terribly sweet, and if he wasn't my boss, I'd be quite fond of him. It's just that as a manager he is totally ineffectual, and I think team leader and I scare him too. She and I are both very experienced, good at the work, drink, swear and smoke (all of them more than we should) and - at work - are both somewhat tough. It was the era we were formed in, mostly, when a woman in our positions then needed to be better than any of the guys, at everything. From going to the pub with the team, to doing call outs at midnight, and, above all, making ourselves known and rated as not being girly. Programmers could cry, DBAs couldn't. Not implying that any of it was such a good idea - it was just how it was.

But still, think boss is a bit nervy of both of us. Starting with the bit about knowing that neither of us would want his job, ever - it would mean too much admin and kissing ass, and way too many meetings. So, as long as we keep being good at what we do, not being promoted isn't any kind of incentive to conform. TL got a low rating on meeting attitude, and told him 'great, now stop making me attend so many of them'...I didn't even have that as a KPA! I mentioned the meeting on Thurs that I refused to attend...he told me that he agrees with me about not going and will do his best to put my points across. And that I can always feel free to rant to him if I can just please try not to tell anyone out of the data centre how stupid they are. He also told me that in a way he appreciates me getting angry about things, because he sees that as being an indicator of client-centricity, and that that is key to being a good data-centre DBA. So...as long as I document my major client's database environment some time before March next year, all is well. Guess what he hasn't yet realised is the fact that I care about my one client, I care that they aren't getting the service that they deserve, I care about my reputation with a handful of people in the industry - almost all of whom don't work for my employer - and I'm rather fond of getting large amounts of money for being skilled and available almost all the time. None of the above is enough to stop me from saying what I think. I don't need the job, but it sort of suits me to have it for a while. And while being fired would not be good for my ego, it wouldn't hurt my reputation, doesn't make me behave any better, and doesn't make me dress better either!

Last week, I mentioned the appraisal to p-doc, and said that the data centre and H/O management were pissing me off enough that I didn't see it going too well. So he asked what I was going to do about it, and was astounded when I said that I would bill them double for the annoyance factor. I've told my boss that as well...anything I regard as a waste of time, he gets billed for twice as many hours. P-doc thought that was rather desirable, albeit strange. Dress code.... well, suffice it to say that I am the only person who is expected at work in denims, flip flops and a tshirt. If it's a formal meeting I mostly wear baggy, open-necked shirts. And if it's a very formal meeting, then I try (between Sept and Apr) to not bring more than one basket of birds.

Actually, having this job is probably good for me. If I think about the amount of crap they take without firing me, I have to figure that maybe I am worth something. Somehow......

And I still haven't taken birdy pictures.

feather-floods

through to the centre again to fetch another two mynahs..... Another two. For a total of seven now, although one is a bit weaker than I'd like. And as I was collecting them, eleven feral pigeons arrived. A building that is being renovated, and the builders were seen throwing the babies off the tenth floor. Some people are really not worth keeping. The rest of the errands were fetching 3 hedgehogs of about two days old and delivering them to their new mum, and collecting a baby robin. Half the babies went with me, and in between trips out, I rushed home to feed the rest. Didn't get round to taking pics of anyone, because in between feeds I was collapsing on the couch until the next summons. And tomorrow is t-doc, performance appraisal at the paying job and the dentist. Haha, being out for 4 hours in the morning means that 21 birds will have to go to work with me. Should give my boss an idea of priorities.....

too sweet

back through to the centre again today to fetch another two Indian mynah babies, these two only about ten days old. I have the five of them in a basket together, and when I checked just now they were lying in an overlapping huddle. Wings and beaks everywhere, so that one can't actually count how many birds there are in there. Must remember to take pics tomorrow, after a feed. And before as well, when the bird layer disappears behind huge, yellow mouths.

And Weevil the white-eye has decided that she is now a Big Bird, all 1.5 inches of her. She screams loudly for food but then refuses to be fed from the syringe, and dances around the cage instead. This afternoon I found an acceptable compromise. If I drip food mix onto the floor, she is prepared to pick up a few drops herself, but because she takes so little at a time she demands to be fed every twenty minutes. Oy veh... teenagers...

slowing down

rehab boss phoned to see if I could bring something through to the centre today, and mentioned that the assistant manager had had no volunteers at all show up, after she'd been off sick all week already. So, after I'd washed the babies and then waited ages for them to dry off, I took 16 pigeons and 4 mynahs through to their new home, and then went in to see if I could be useful. I was, a bit. But I am soooo slow, compared to how I used to be when I was doing it more regularly. Last feeds require a rythmn, a level of organisation and movement that I just don't seem to have any more. By the time I got home, I had barely enough energy to get out of the car and feed the very indignant cats and dogs.

If this is what I'm like now, god only knows how useless I'd be if I ever get to 50...

metaphorical marathon

even when I was at peak fitness I was never much of a runner, and seriously doubt if I could actually run around the block now. But I feel as if I've been running myself silly all week. And just never catching up. Out of 14 appointments/arrangements since Mon, I have been late for all but one. I've driven just over 1000 kilometres. Fetched and dropped off a whole bunch of birds, killed a few, accumulated more. Will take twenty-two to their new homes tomorrow, which still leaves me with 7 needing hourly feeds, two on bi-hourly, 6 that would sell their siblings for the chance to have a feeding tube down their throats again but who all can actually eat by themselves, and another three who are long term care but feed themselves. Have chased two bunnies around a parking lot three times (and completely failed at catching them), chased and caught a goose, taken 18 tortoises, 4 jackals, a terrapin and a hedgehog out to a conservancy area for release. Missed an appt with tdoc because I got totally lost in a really scuzzy area (and even her calling me back with map in her hand couldn't get me out of wherever I was fast enough to still get there in time) and been reminded that pdoc is only ever running on time when I'm not. Have been five minutes or less late three times in two and a half years, and those are about the only three times that he's been running on time. Cried for 40 minutes through my nieces operetta at school, where she had one of the main singing parts. Told my paying boss that I wouldn't come to a meeting because it was pointless and a waste of time, and then remembered that I have my biannual performance appraisal next week. Guess that means I will not score well on anything to do with attitude towards management. The clients love me, which might balance that a bit. Am just about to run out of coffee and cigarettes because every time I remember that I have to go shopping, I have baby birds in the car and would rather get them home. And the bloody Hindu's are celebrating Diwali with a never-ending barrage of fireworks, which has two of the dogs in hysterics, and half the birds so upset that they won't sleep, so can't even go to the all night shop now.

Just want to go to sleep. Enough already. Somehow I don't think the Manerix,Remeron,Neurontin, Inderal and Ambien combo is doing much positive yet. Just don't know anymore if any of the meds are ever going to. I know what I should be doing, like going to gym (sorry Aqua, not yet, just haven't had time or energy this week), not drinking (doing ok on that except for family dinner on Monday and yeah, that was one of the things I was late for). And pdoc came up with a new one this week: joining Toastmasters. Fat chance, or should that be no chance. He still doesn't believe me when I tell him most people think I talk too much, told me yesterday that if he did a wordcount per halfhour session, I wouldn't even be on the same page as most of his female patients. Used to be that I didn't talk in meetings or give speeches or lectures, but that was one of the good things I got from demonic ex-BF. He kind of manipulated me into a high-profile job, and because it was important to me to impress him, I ended up doing the public speaking enough to get comfortable about it. Until the relationship ended badly, and then along with eventually dropping out of the industry entirely, drinking way too much for way too long and failing at killing myself, I started stuttering. Fun and games....not.

stolen trivia

from Lara over at Red Red Whine, last week. A whole bunch more things that you didn't really want to know about me.....

What makes you happy?
Not much at the moment…umm. Laughing gas at the dentist, sleeping with the cats, getting baby birds big enough to release

What are your favorite stores?
Bookshops

What’s the best cheesy song?
I Would Do Anything by Meatloaf

What’s the best apology song?
Sorry Love Daddy by Brian McFadden

What’s a truly beautiful love song that you’d never roll your eyes at if it was played at a wedding?
Everything I Do by Bryan Adams

What song are you embarrassed to like?
Bed of Roses by Bon Jovi. Only because everyone else seems to think it’s so naff

What are your favorite songs?
Mostly folk and soft rock. But pretty eclectic – my collection contains some of just about everything except jazz and gospel. And rap/hiphop, although I’m not too convinced that those actually count as music

What’s your favorite song to hear when you’re out on the town?
Been a long time, but HAS to be It’s Raining Men. Ok, maybe that one should also embarrass me

What song makes you cry?
One? Nah, more like at least three hundred

What’s your latest happy musical discovery?
Also thanks to LaraB, Josh Ritter. Have bought and downloaded a whole bunch of his songs, best one to date is Wings

What’s your worst habit?
I say rude things to other drivers. Mostly while I’m not looking at them, just in case they get pissed off and shoot me. And a whole lot of others that I am just not going to admit to

What’s annoying you right now?
Depression that has lasted way too long. Being fat. My boss at the paying job – actually, make that most of the management structure there.

Why did your past relationships not work?
My fault mostly, although I’ve ended all of them except one. I’m hard to live with, as well.

If you could have a romance with any fictional character, who would it be?
Alex Delaware in Jonathan Kellerman’s books

Which month of the year do you think best suits you?
Any of the ones that aren’t too hot because I hate being all sweaty. And any of the ones that aren’t too cold because I hate having to wear shoes. (My mother would want me to put my footwear or lack of it down under bad habits as well). So here, that normally leaves me March, April, May, September and sometimes October

Are you attracted to people whose personalities are very similar to your personality or very different?
Different mostly, it’s bad enough having to live with myself never mind anyone similar to me

You’ve won $100,000 but you have to give it all away. To which charity or institution would you donate it?
Easy – to the wildlife rehab centre I work for and the animal rescue group I’m also involved with

If you could switch lives with anyone for a day, who would it be?
My rehab boss, to see if she feels as amazing from the inside as she appears

If you had to pick one book to recommend, what would it be?
Can’t choose. Can’t even narrow it down to my favourite 100.

Who are you attracted to but you’re a little embarrassed to admit it?
Very embarrassed, not just a little. My dentist but I’m blaming it all on the nitrous oxide

If you could be on a reality show (from Survivor to Dancing With the Stars to Top Chef), which one would you be on and why?
Meerkat Manor so that I could show them more realistically, and stop people from wanting them as pets

What TV shows do you watch every week?
None

What are your five favorite meals?
Sushi/sashimi. Grilled chicken thighs in honey and mustard marinade. Deep-fried calamari. Artichokes with crème fraiche or hollandaise sauce. Smoked salmon trout with lemon and cream cheese.

What are your five favorite non-blog websites?
Cybershrink, Medscape, Google, Drugs.com, Wikipedia. Yes, I know I’m weird

What song will you always get up and dance to?
None, unless I’m seriously drunk. I’m a really bad dancer. At home alone… I’m Not In Love by Enrique Iglesias

yawn

long day, starting with baby feeds, including a few overnight visitors. One baby crow, who scared the pants off the mynahs when he cawed loudly - probably the only bird that does scare a mynah. Kind of like a bigger, stronger, louder version of themselves. And a baby hadeda ibis, who had to be wrestled down and force-fed. At 06h30, I'm not great on wrestling matches.

And then off to the dentist - 40 mins of gas while he did disgusting sounding things to a back tooth, and I just lay there making happy noises every now and again. Home for a nap, and then off to the vet with crow-baby, then to see tdoc. She figures that the gas is good for me, that I sounded more ok than I have for ages. I agree. Getting completely stoned legally definitely improves my mood. And - yay! - he has to wait before finishing the tooth, so I get more on Monday. Tdoc reckons I should ask pdoc to prescribe it for me, seeing as it does more than any of the other meds - if I had my hand on the controls though, I'd probably never actually get out of bed. Just lie there breathing deeply every now and again.....

Finished off by dropping crow, ibis and a dove off at the centre, taking another mousebird nestling for my baby-basket and then driving out to release a whole bunch of coots, tortoises, a hedehog and the dassie (rock hyrax) that I trapped last week. Ten days of good food hadn't improved his mood at all, and he made it very clear that he would still like to bite any portion of my anatomy that he could reach.

Seeing as I have to be up at the crack to go do another snake-catching course, guess bed is a good idea. I signed up for it mostly for a bit more catching practice, and hopefully some ID tips - maybe get comfortable enough with catching that I don't swear subvocally for the entire duration, and very vocally when I mess up!

not quite good...never quite good enough

no prizes for guessing the mood. Howled all over tdoc yesterday for no reason, and came straight home to the couch.

no gym today, but I did walk around a bit at the local dam catching an injured goose, so not quite bad either. And will repeat again tomorrow afternoon probably.

and after three nights of who let the dogs out on the alcohol, back to behaving for a few days. I really don't see that it makes anything worse, other than the one night out of probably 50 that I get morbid and tearful. So, with not drinking at all, I have at least two or three of those every week. Just speaking statistically it is probably better to drink. But hey, if it makes pdoc happy, I'll keep trying it.
And then he wants to know why I'm not being sociable.

ended up yesterday with 4 babies on hourly feeds - speckled mousebird from Fri (left the sparrow at the centre), and then accumulated 2 weavers and a white-eye. Added a teeniest redfaced mousebird today. Don't really want to keep them over next few days, but don't really want to hand them over either. Most of all don't want them to die, either with me, or at the centre (double helping of guilt then for not caring for them).

spring is not a good time of year for me anymore...

big babies

...of the 9 pigeons outside in the aviary, there are 4 that really don't think that they should a)be outside, b)be forced to eat on their own or c)do without a daily cuddle. And they are all hulking great birds already. When I put food down today, I ended up with one stuck between my toes, and three sitting on my head and shoulders while they shoved their beaks into every orifice they could find. Tried explaining to them that they couldn't be released until they stopped behaving like babies, but the explanation was cut short when one tried to put his entire head into my mouth. Gross.

And then it was off to the dentist for a checkup, where I was the big baby, and made ouch noises until he rolled his eyeballs and gave me gas. Which of course, was exactly why I was whining to begin with. I just love the stuff. I figure that he only gives me the absolute minimum, and not very often, and it's about the only nice drug that I ever get...heck, I just like feeling stoned! Only down side is that it makes me feel distinctly cuddly, especially seeing as he reminds me so much anyway of last b/f. When one starts perving at one's 63-year old grandfather of 5 dentist, it's obviously a sign that celibacy doesn't suit one. I knew that already actually..

great achievement

for the month, never mind week or day....was getting myself to a shopping mall to buy gym sweatpants. Wow. Thanks to Aqua for the long-distance push. More of a mission than I thought, though. What I want is plain-coloured, Tshirty-material, elastic at ankles, baggy even though I am ginormous kind of pants. Only things available are skintight from the halfway down your ass waists to the knees, parachute material, not an elastic ankle in town, and most of all....not a hope in hell of me being comfortable in them, never mind them being baggy by design. Eventually lucked out and found one pair that is at least baggy - the rest of the criteria will have to wait. That's malls and me done until the week before Christmas.

So now I have one less excuse about gym. Over to you on the shopping, A!

gray skies everywhere

which are more in keeping with the mood anyway, than the normal sunny summer. Been a week of driving back and forth again, fetching little birds all over. I said to my rehab boss that it was quite safe for me to get up in the morning with absolutely no plans for the day because by the time I got out of the bath our receptionist would have filled the day for me. All I want to do is just curl up on the couch anyway.

Still haven't made it to the gym, which is kind of embarrassing. First problem is that before I can go to the gym, I have to go shopping for some tracksuit pants, and I can't summon up the motivation to go anywhere near a mall. And I'm too fat to get them anywhere else.

Pdoc today looked at me and said 'I think we should swap'. When I looked blank, he clarified, 'moods. You can have my happy mood for a week and I'll take your miserable one and just stay at home with it.' Then he thought about it and said 'except that you'd probably run off with it and not give it back, so I'll just have to keep my good mood. And fix yours instead.'. Ha bloody ha....been trying that for nearly 3 years now. Then we had a nice discussion about bird flu - he and I both have a sneaking hope that when bird flu really gets going it will annihilate vast numbers of people too. Big difference between us though, is that he figures he would be excluded, while I wish that - thanks to cuddling birds of all kinds - I'd be one of the dead. Would save a whole lot of mental agonising, if I could just go kiss a duck and die...

mazel tov

to the mynah babies who ate by themselves for the first time today. About time too, 3 of them are already making short flights. At least, I presume that they ate something from the bowl of food that was liberally distributed around the cage.....

Mynahs always remind me of teenage hoodlums. Not only do they have extra-long legs that give them a bit of a bandy strut, but they also slouch most of the time. Added to which, they are incapable of quiet chat - it's always easy to find where the mynahs in the neighbourhood are sleeping, because from about 15 mins before sunset until full dark, they congregate in the chosen tree, and yell raucously at each other, and push and shove their neighbours. And of course, they often hang out on the side of roads, where, in spite of their propensity for jaywalking, they manage to avoid being hit by traffic most of the time. But when none of their friends are looking, they are still quite willing to cuddle up to mom!

still no idea

of whether the sore neck is the Manerix or the tick bite. Pdoc responded to mail on weds by telling me to cut back to 300mg on the Manerix until we talked on thu. On thu he didn't commit to either theory, but just said to stay down on the Manerix until the tick bite fever was either confirmed or past the window. Then announced happily that he'd never seen a bite that was basically on the spine before, and that he thought that might be interesting symptomatically. I kind of prefer interesting things that don't involve my neck.

Todays fun was collecting a snake of unknown parentage. Ended up meeting the finder in the parking area of a busy fast-food place on a main road, and then discovered that the snake was in a large box on the back of his bakkie. Given that he was really keen to ID it, he insisted that we open the box and move the snake to my container, which I did with tongs, and gave a tentative ID. Then he wanted a picture, so after he got his camera, I lifted the lid an inch. Snake, who is about 1.25m long and angry, bailed out of container at high speed and started exploring the loadbed looking for a way off. My tongs were already in their bag, so I grabbed the snake by the tail and tried to persuade him back into the box, which it didn't like at all. I think I was yelling something like ohshitshitshit at the time, until he got the tongs out for me and I could rebox it. And then I suggested that we not take photos anymore. He was so awed by the image of me as Medusa, clutching a writhing snake by one end that he agreed immediately. Turned out that my initial ID was right, and it was a mole snake. They are renowned for having one of the worst bites around in wound terms, as although they are non-venomous constrictors, they are very aggressive on initial contact, and use their powerful, thick bodies to tear tissue as they bite with their rows of sharp little teeth - wounds often need stitching. Boss lady rolled around laughing when I returned to the centre with him.
I don't know why I do snake catches, really - I am terrified by it, and I am so crap at IDing them, other than the common form of the top 3 most poisonous species. Number 2 on the list, of course, is the one that makes up about 80% of all my calls...

waste of an entire f**ing year

just had a mail from my exceedingly feeble boss, telling me that the project I have put in huge hours and stress on for most of this year has now been shelved indefinitely. I am so pissed off, and so depressed about it too. Between the data centre management and the account management I am not sure which is the most useless bunch. I'm a tech support drone, and it's not up to me to convince clients - that's why I have multiple layers of management.

I know I should go and dig in the garden or something to vent, but my neck hurts too much already. Not sure if it is a Manerix s/e or impending tick bite fever (picked up a tick from the baby jackals last week, yecchh!) but my neck has been really sore since Monday, after going up on the Manerix in the morning. Will check with pdoc tomorrow, but meantime I really don't feel like ending up with sore shoulders as well.

sad kitty stuff

Got a call last night about a kitten at the local squatter camp, from our insider lady. Someone had given a woman three tiny kittens, and last night she noticed that one of them couldn't walk. I collected him this morning, and took him to one of the local vets. As soon as I saw him, I had a bad feeling about the prognosis, which the vet confirmed. Total paralysis of the hindquarters, with absolutely no pain response, no anal tone, no movement. Whatever the cause, it was something that would almost definitely not be treatable in a kitten of about 4 weeks old. And so I held him - in one hand because he was so small - while the vet euthanased him....

falling asleep on my feet

after another few hours at a natural sciences exhibition where the rehab centre had a stand (I was there yesterday as well). We get invited to a lot of shows, most of which entail standing around answering questions about the centre, telling them what we do, and in my case at least, feeding baby birds that can't stay home on their own. This one also involved a lot of schools who had to fill in a workbook, so it was also answering the same 14 questions over and over. And over again. Although I did think it kind of defeated the purpose of having questions at all and made me feel very old, because I kept thinking that back in the dark ages when I was at school we would have been expected to go home or to the library and learn something by actually looking up the answers.
In books, never mind having internet access to all the info you could ever want about anything. Make that old and crotchety....

For light relief though, I picked up a fledgling spotted eagle owl (pic is of a nestling) at dusk yesterday in a local park - had been seen on the ground by dogwalkers who were absolutely sure it had a broken wing. I couldn't feel a break, but wanted to make certain, so I brought it home to get a second opinion from another volunteer. When we were both happy that there were no breaks, and the reason it wasn't flying was just because it doesn't know how to yet, the centre manager asked that it be returned either to the park if possible, or to one of the adjacent houses. So this afternoon, I took it back, found a safe and well-camouflaged spot for it close to one of the adults and released him. Before I left, I had the satisfaction of seeing a parent flying down to him. A feel-good rescue all round.

And now, at a ridiculous hour for a Saturday night, I'm off to bed. There are nine little beaks who will be waiting eagerly from sunrise on to be filled - as well as a whole lot more who really don't believe that they are big enough to eat by themselves yet and will add their plaintive cries to the mix. No wonder birds have short maturation periods; if they took as long as most mammals do, the parents would die of exhaustion before they ever raised any young to the self-feeding age....

thursday already

and I have done just about nothing this week. Apart from seeing tdoc on Tue and today, and pdoc this morning, all I've really done is fetch animals and birds from all over. Including 3 baby black backed jackals of about 3 weeks from somewhere 2.5 hours out of town on Tue, a whole bunch of birds yesterday, a bunch more today including my first baby mynahs of the season. Four little guys that look to be between 10 and 15 days old - been waiting weeks for them to start being found out of the nests, and now four at once. Needless to say, I have a waiting list for them already. While I wouldn't normally encourage people to keep wild birds as pets, mynahs thrive on human interaction and many of the ones I know are never caged or clipped - they stay by their choice, and, probably, because they enjoy having a tame human to serve them. Also, I figure that the more people see of them as pets, the more they will be regarded with some degree of fondness and in the long term it might become less acceptable to kill them in the wild.

Good to have tdoc back again. I know that most of what she does is just 'supportive' therapy, but she does also prod me into looking at things differently sometimes. I spend most of my life trying to pretend everything is ok, and at least I can talk to her about anything. I kind of feel she is the only person who knows everything about me and doesn't reject me for the worst bits. Yeah, I know it's a paid-for relationship...but sometimes it's still the only totally honest one I have. Even pdoc doesn't know a lot of what she does, partly because he doesn't really want to get into the really emotional stuff and partly because I adore him too much to tell him what a totally useless bitch I am a lot of the time. We do talk, and he can be really astute sometimes, but there will always be stuff I'd rather not discuss.

He was in great form today, and we ended up talking about all sorts of weird stuff. Including another one of his slightly off-colour stories - started off with the strange things little old ladies do sometimes, so he reckons one of the strangest he'd had was at a very busy hospital where most of the ambulance calls were taken to. A member of staff was brought in to ER with a bunch of flowers stuck in her genitals, so the junior resident on duty comes running to call him and tells him this in a very wide-eyed shocked tone. 'oh' says pdoc calmly, 'she probably just couldn't find a vase anywhere'! And shrinks wonder why they have a reputation for being a bit strange themselves....

So it's up again on the Aurorix again, to 750mg. And wait. He says no way to even thinking about methadone, which is probably my choice as well. I'm way too much of an addictive personality anyway, and the opiates are still something I find a bit scary. At the same time though, I'm running out of patience - and out of meds that we haven't tried. I've lost count of how many it's been just in the past three years, almost all of them without any effect at all. Getting to the point again where I just think it's been too long already, and it doesn't seem to be anything left to hope for.

No gym yet. But no vodka either.

three good things

tdoc is back from honeymoon and I get to see her tomorrow

I stuck to the no vodka decision, even if I didn't get to gym (I didn't actually have time, between bird calls)

I collected a really sweet bird this morning. He's a fledgling Pied Crow, who was found sitting alone in the middle of the road, and when I fetched him, he made it very clear that he hadn't been given breakfast. Took him to the centre, where he made such a noise in the clinic that the receptionist came running to see what was wrong, so took him to the kitchen where he ate 90% of a cut up dead chick before burping (no...not really) and settling down on my arm. Went back to the clinic to process him, and showed him to the boss. She looked at him, thought about it, and said she was going to hack him out away from the centre 'before he turns into a great big cuddly chicken'. Then she looks at him again, and at me, and says 'if its not too late for that already' - I looked down, and he was leaning against my chest with his eyes closed, fast asleep in a very uncrow-like way. Yep...cuddly chicken.

and again...

Entire day was spent semi-comatose, first in bed, then the bath, and then on the couch for most of the day. It was dark and drizzly for most of it, and all the babes are on 3 hourly feeds, so I basically fed and then curled under the '70s sleeping bag with a book in hand. And started at 5 o'clock on what I've determined will be my last alcoholic evening for a while. It's not going to make me feel any better; most of the time, drinking stops the real demons from roosting - and when they do, stops me from doing anything fatal. Will please pdoc immensely though. Might as well make one of us happy...

blaaahhh

Been raining just about solidly for the last six days. I have a room full of little birds who ended up wet and on the ground. I've cried myself ugly over the last three books I've read - every time anything bad happens, every time anything good happens.
Supposed to stay on 450mg Aurorix for another three days still, but seeing as I have no side effects anyway, and pdoc reckons that he wants to get up to 750mg before he expects anything, I went up this morning to 600mg. No result by Thur, I'll go up again, and he can yell at me when I see him. He wants to do the hospital bit anyway, which I declined on the grounds of having too many birdlings. Wouldn't go anyway, even if the house was empty. But it's just too close - never mind being near the edge... I'm sitting there with my legs dangling over, ready to lean forward and just take the dive..

damn!

Saw pdoc today. Didn't tell him how totally crap this week has been, although he can kind of guess by how much time I spend fiddling with the coaster on his desk and not talking, and by how much eye contact I can handle.

So, for the first time in two and a half years, he didn't ask about gym. And this is when I have something to tell him on said subject for the only time in just as long. Eventually I said to him that he'd missed a question. Which one, he asks. Gym, I say. His eyebrows go up and he asks 'and?', so I say that I signed up for one. He expresses great joy, shakes my hand, writes it in his notes, underlines it in red, gets even more overjoyed and circles it in red with exclamation marks. And tells me not to overdo it for the first week - 'don't go more than 6 times' he says. Ha bloody ha...little does he know the family history I can claim in my defence. My sister once became a member and stayed one for 3 years at a particular gym, without ever setting foot through the doors after signing up. Besides, six times in a month would probably be pushing it. I didn't want to admit that I had to stop and breathe heavily halfway up the stairs so that I didn't collapse at the entrance.....

the rehab bit

Aqua asked about doing more of the nice side of things. I do, I get way more than my share of them. I'm lucky in that the boss trusts me with doing a lot of the catching, and a lot of releasing as well. Actually, in all honesty, it's not so much skill - it's more that because I contract from home most of the time for the paying job, I'm available and I don't mind going places. And I'm not too scared of being bitten, which is a huge advantage.

I stopped doing shifts at the centre every day because I'd come home just about every day and cry about losing birds or animals. A lot of the catching does involve injured or trapped animals, and very often I need to make the call on whether they go straight to the nearest vet for euthanasing. And of course, the babies I treat at home are entirely my responsibility. Some of them will go through to the centre as soon as I can get them there, but most are feral pigeons and mynahs, and the centre doesn't treat them because they aren't indigenous. And crap as I might be sometimes, at least I'm giving them some chance.

Boss lady says that we don't know either how many of the littlest ones would make it with their parents, that in the wild a percentage would die anyway. Also, the ones that we get have often been traumatised in some way already - by falling out of the nest, being caught by cats or dogs, being cold and hungry etc.

But it's still heartbreaking to lose them, especially when it's a babe that you've been feeding two drops to every half hour for a few days. Don't think I'll ever get used to that...just that some days it hurts a bit, and some days it feels like a bit of me dying too....

long day. long week.

long post and blogger just ate it. Too much work and too much time at home and too many dead babies.

This is coming up to my fourth summer at rehab, the first as an appie. The second I ran the centre for a month. The third I was at home a lot, in hospital for a few weeks, mostly doing baby stuff on my own. And mostly feral pigeons and indian mynahs - the unloved and unwanted of the bird world. The ones most people would kill as soon as look at.

I don't know if I can do another baby season. Even the most expert of us don't run much better than 2/3 of the easiest species, more like 50% on average. I'm not the best, but I'm not bad. And I don't think I can cope with that many little bodies, not after I've loved them and fed them and breathed into them for a week or ten days, however long it takes them to live or die. Five in the last three days, including the biggest heart-stealer of all time, the little White-eye. Lost this one after 8 days. Had a fairly experienced volunteer crying on my shoulder earlier this week, about losing babies. I was trying to say, as well....I can cope with them dying in the first 3 days, and then I give them a piece of my heart. And they take that with them when I lose them....

give and take

there was a horrible, horrible accident this morning. I had the little finch-baby on his towel on my hand while feeding him. I was leaning on the hot-box while I did it, as with something so small and wriggly, it helps to brace both hands on a solid surface. Of the 12 pigeons, two are off the heat, the four smallest are in one nest, and the others are in a big tub. They were also desperate for a feed, and suddenly, one managed to get on top of his buddies and leapt out of the tub onto my hand. And one of his long, strong toenails went into the little guy. Totally freak accident, but the baby was dead within a minute. Not the pigeon's fault at all, but really heartbreaking after the finch had survived so much already.

And then this afternoon, as I was doing last feeds, one of the pigeon eggs on the hot-box suddenly split in two and out rolled a little blonde baby. I was wondering this afternoon how much longer I should keep incubating the eggs for, before accepting that they won't hatch - guess for a few more days still!

It doesn't take away the heartbreak of losing the little guy, but it does help to remind that life is a cycle. And without death, the miracle of new life can't happen.

definitely spring

baby bird season is in full swing. I have 12 baby pigeons, one mynah, one White-eye about an inch long. And the newest arrival, a little finch who is so fragile that I can hardly pick him up. He is about 3 days old, and was dropped in the swimming pool by a mynah who was probably taking him home for supper on Friday night - luckily the house-owner saw it happen and got him out immediately. I'm surprised he has survived this long, but he's obviously a toughie. Only hope he makes it, as I'm starting to get very fond of him.

With the last two on 30 minute feeds, there hasn't been much time for anything else this weekend. Not even afternoon naps. So I'm tired and miserable. And if this is how it feels already, don't know how I'm going to make it through baby season. In spite of me bawling through most of the appt, p-doc was all smug, because he reckons feeling worse off the Pexola is a good sign. Wonderful. Now if only I got to feel good with it or anything else. At least one of us is optimistic about the Aurorix though.

This is going to be a bitch of a week, and the following one will be worse. The work meeting that the moronic account team cancelled on Friday has been replaced with an all day workshop on Thurs - to discuss about 20 mins of info, and with traffic, I will be out for at least 11 hours. Waste of time and resources, and the client ends up paying for it. So have had to cancel both p-doc and t-doc for then. T-doc is away from Friday so will see her this Tues and then not for two weeks. Don't know if I'll get to see p-doc at all. And my own useless manager has suddenly decided that he needs to know what 'we' are going to say on Thurs, so has called a meeting for Weds.
After he has done bugger all for 7 months on this, I don't really see that he can justify any interference now just because his managers are going to be at the workshop.

With how I feel at the moment, I almost wish they would fire me. It would probably be a good enough reason to finish things off. And I just don't know how much longer I can endure this anyway....

such a bitch

the worst bit about yesterday's trip was the way I yelled at the guy bringing the tortoises. I don't know the area, and had looked up where I was supposed to meet him, and then it turned out he didn't have a clue where that was and every time I phoned him he'd come up with some other landmark where he was, and I couldn't even get him to tell me which road he was on. So I kept losing it and starting to cry and shouting at him to please just find the river or ask someone. Felt like such a cow.
And then I'd cry for ten minutes and phone him again, and lose it all over again.

Cried for an hour back to town. Cried even more when I realised it was two years since one of our senior volunteers was killed in a car accident. Just about cried for the rest of the evening.

And today, cried all the way to see p-doc, firstly because work is stuffing me around and most of what I've done for the last 3 months is going to be wasted because the people who should be driving this project don't want to tell the client that the reason he is going to pay huge amounts unnecessarily is because they've stuffed up. Cried for most of appt, and all the way home. Cried about birds dying. Stopped reading really sad book about teenager shooting herself, and started reading what should have been a happy chicklit book - all her others have been - only to discover well into it that the edgy feel of the first bit where her husband isn't with her but you don't know why is because he's dead. They were on their way to dinner, and then there was a car-crash and he was killed. All of a sudden the first part makes sense, even though a lot of it is her emailing him and leaving messages on his cell. Been crying all afternoon in between little bird feeding, and all evening too. Not even half past eight, and going to bed now. Can't even double up on sedatives because I'm on call - guess I can cry myself to sleep instead...

long-distance day

drove about an hour south of town today to fetch some tortoises. 12 huge buggers and 2 smaller ones. And had to wait for almost 3 hours for the guy bringing them from their home - problem was, they'd come from a farm in another province and we couldn't go there to fetch them without permit issues, so I'd arranged for them to be brought to the provincial border for me to pick up there. Really heartbreaking. This lady has had some of them for 31 years, made sure they were never isolated from other torties, sounds like they had a perfect home. And now her husband has died and she can't stay on the farm alone and has had to move to a town complex, where she can't take 14 tortoises. She has spoken to me at least 15 times this week, and every call has ended with her having to hang up because she's crying so much. So hard, to lose first your partner, then your home, and then your beloved pets.

We release that breed of tortoise in a private reserve, so I know they will still live well. But I haven't found the words yet to say that they won't be tucked up in bed each night. And I think somehow that maybe I shouldn't.

waste of space

- saw t-doc today. And once again, just couldn't talk. Not for any good reason, and not her fault at all. Every time she tried to direct things, I found myself diverting onto something less raw. What makes me feel even more useless is that she is only seeing a few patients this month. So I sit there for an hour and just about don't talk about anything more meaningful than the weather. Absolute loser...

the russian way

So Toni over at No Eye Contact, please asked how Russians drink vodka. Now this is purely hearsay, mind you, based on what my sister told me, and she did admit that the lessons got somewhat blurred.

Apparently, the first thing non-Russians do wrong is sip. And taste. Neither of which is supposed to be done to vodka. My sister tells me, in a strong accent aided by a few goes at the Russian vodka, that 'vodka is not for the mouth. Is for the stomach.' and that it is served in very large shot glasses, at least two tots she reckons. Having thrown it down your throat, one waits two minutes before having a second, and three minutes before the third. So that's about 6 tots of strong spirits in 5 minutes. After that you can settle down to a steadier pace for the rest of the evening - she wasn't too sure whether there were any other rules.

Guess I'd be banned from the pub for mixing my vodka with about 500ml of Coke lite!

Today was a drive-around one. Pick up a pet mynah who had been found in someones garden, pick up two baby doves, pick up dog and take her through to domestic-rehab centre for treatment, and back to pick up an unknown number of pigeons. Inner-city school, with contractors doing some remodelling, and not being comfortable with sealing pigeons into the roofing they were about to close up. So, there I am on a short ladder, sticking my hand into a gap just arm-width and 8 inches above my head, and feeling around for nests, and then for babies. All in a roof that hasn't been cleaned for about the last 30 years. At least 30 years, and with the nests that the current inhabitant's grandparents 20 times removed had left there, along with all the associated pigeon-poop. And an audience of about a hundred school kids. Not my favourite rescue scenario. Didn't manage to catch any of the parents, but brought home one babe of about two weeks, one of about two days and 6 warm eggs. Might be too soon for the eggs to be viable, but at least they will have a chance. It's unusual for builders here to call us - although some of the biggest, burliest guys I've seen have come in with little birds nestled in a hard hat. Mostly they just clear the nests out if it's easy and close up. And I've heard horror stories about some who just close up regardless - feral pigeons worldwide are regarded as vermin by many people. So, yucky as it was, I really appreciated the chance to get the babies out.

Most interesting pigeon fact? They always lay two eggs about a day apart, in almost 100% there will be one of each sex, and in about 78% of nests the male chick will be the firstborn. No-one has learned yet how they manage this so consistently - there are other species that generally have one of each sex, but none that manage the order quite as regularly. Reason for this apparently is that the male is stronger at birth and for the first two weeks, and if there is a sudden food shortage or some other natural hardship and the parents can only raise one chick, the male will stand more of a chance of surviving. Brings new meaning to loving one's brother....

weekends were made to be wasted

umm...in more ways than one. I achieved the basics - fed all the little birds, albeit both of Friday night's babies didn't make it. Washed the pigeons and slung them out into the aviary. Met rehab-boss at a 'body mind and spirit faire', comforted the body with two new t-shirts, some pure salt crystals (negative ions), and some incense. Green apple and cannabis. Hey..I had to. Don't think anyone in this country would believe that one would burn cannabis incense rather than the real thing. Swear, sometimes I really do think I stopped maturing at 15 - that is such a teenage thing to buy.

Other than that - afternoon nap yesterday and a wordwar with ex next-door neighbour. I figure that one of the rules of borrowing stuff - apart from asking nicely and returning it when requested - is to accept that just sometimes, people might have plans for their own possessions that include using them. And then don't get fucking rude and huffy about it.

So today's plans were so overladen with her resentment that after I'd checked out an injured dog in the informal settlement and made arrangements to pick it up tomorrow for a vet trip, I ended up not playing in the garden and slept most of the afternoon instead. Finished off with one of the most confused and overwhelming dreams I've had in ages. All sorts of people and crowds and feelings of inadequacy whatever I did. And pizza, lots of pizza in there. Not that sure I want to know what the dream interpretation guides would say about pizza-nightmares. Even ones with goat's cheese, rocket and sundried tomatoes.

My sister and BIL are just back from Russia, where she says that the tour matriarch's first task was to teach them to drink vodka like Russians. I suspect the guide had had a few to demonstrate when she came up with this wisdom : 'one bottle is too much, two is almost right and three is not enough'. So I'm about a third of too much, and a hundred percent ready for sleep....

yo...spadework!

...on two fronts has showed results.

First is extracting little animals from the local zoo, for rehab and release. OK, extract means that they give them to me, not that I lead commando raids over the walls at night. And it's only the ones they don't want anyway, so nothing exciting like the polar bears or others that I'd love to see released. Will save zoo-rant for another time - suffice it to say that (as with most things) I'm in two minds about whether they are good or not. So after about two weeks of innocently dropping hints and nuclear missile-strength stories in the ears of the zoo-hospital staff as well as enlisting my rehab-boss's aid, I got to fetch a meerkat, a banded mongoose (pic above, from wikipedia) and two 'padloper' tortoises - on the 'scarce' list in their natural habitat. All of which will be released as soon as possible. Cool thing was that when I took the whole bunch plus some little birds out to the centre, boss and I formed a new meerkat tribe out of the zoo "loser", two previously-pet females and a neutered pp male, and they settled in OK. There will still need to be at least one viable male added before the end of the year, but getting 4 of the little savages together without bloodshed is a good start. So we followed it up by introducing the mongoose to the other one at the centre, as they are also sociable animals, and - two for two...that also went well. I have a feeling that I also agreed to drive them about 500kms north to their putative release site next week...sucker.

Second spadework result is that late last night, the critical applications resource sent me a mail saying he's now available for the upgrade of my products, and let's move ass. Might have had something to do with scheduled meeting, because he had to have been assigned to this - which just reiterates that we should have had this meeting with the client two months ago. So now the big Q is whether between him, me and other DBA contractor, we can push, shove and otherwise mutilate this into happening before the change-freeze. And, of course, the Q for me is whether I really want to...knowing that if I do it will mean 6 weeks of bloody hell for me. Coupled with doing all-client standby will mean that by Nov I'll be suicidal, self-injuring, drinking litres of vodka, irritable as all fuck and all the other joyous responses to over-stress.

Actually, spade-work on a third front too. This one literally - the lavender bed to be has progressed substantially in the last two days, both horizontally (easy) and depth wise (micro-progress). And as a result of pick-wielding my wrists are in agony, while the small trowel work has given me a mostly skinless thumb. It hurts at the time, but that gets overridden by the obsession with seeing progress. It hurts a whole lot more a couple of hours later.

Weekend plans are mostly feeding 6 little birds every 2-3 hours, as well as washing two oil-soaked pigeons again (toothbrush and dishwashing liquid kind of micro-scrub), and meeting rehab-boss to buy tie-died t-shirts tomorrow. She needs the tree of life /Celtic knot one that I bought at the horse show I worked at two weeks ago for her b/f - I need more tie-died versions of anything. I have an inherent weakness for hippy-remnant clothing, especially when it is mixed with things like wolves and dragons. Even if the whole family celebrates every time one of them wears out from overuse.

Shit. For a day where I was lying in the bath crying for the first three hours of it, at least I got something done. Guess that is all I'm aiming for. Heading for the three year mark of this dip, and every day of it would be spent under the duvet or underground by choice. So I kind of have to hang onto every little bit that I get done. And every little bit of bad that gets put off until tomorrow....

big bad wolf ain't at the door anymore....

...he's in the house. Eating whatever he wants, sleeping wherever he wants. Taking over my fucking life, as if it were his alone. It is, I guess. Ain't mine anymore. Or if it is, I don't want it.

T-doc yesterday, who is being really sweet by fitting me and a couple of her other losers in around getting married and having people to stay and going on honeymoon etc. Appreciate her doing it, but almost wish she wasn't. I don't want to spoil things for her by howling on her shoulder. So instead I just keep things superficial - which means her making the time for me is even more of a waste. And then a few hours of hanging around that side of town before having dinner with a friend who used to live on the same farm way back when - was one of those invitations that can't be turned down, not without end-of-friendship results. She didn't even know that ex-B/F was dead. Almost 3 years now. I'd thought it was just going to be us and her daughter, but turned out to be a whole girly dinner-party. With a huge chunk of the dinner conversation revolving around the church that all except me go to, and the politics involved. So I spent a lot of time outside smoking and wishing I could just go home.

Today's highlight was being reminded that the advantage of not having a life is that when p-doc's receptionist phones and asks if I can make it for an appt in 4 hours, the answer can be yes - otherwise wouldn't have seen him this week. He got onto work somehow, and the meeting that should have happened months ago but that is now scheduled for next week. At which my company will try to proclaim innocence about screwing up my main client, and costing them at least a million in licence fees. I'm expected to go, stand up and present the position and plans for my products without mentioning that I've been telling management for at least three months that they need to be pulling finger. So once p-doc had finished pissing himself laughing about me doing presentations (he still doesn't believe that when it comes to faking it I am so fucking verbose), he asked what I was going to say to the client. I figure it depends on what client asks, but I'm not lying to him. Not just to cover the site management's asses. P-doc asks about likely consequences. Number 1 is that I get fired, which he seems to think I should care about. I don't.

Would give me one less obligation to keep hanging on for.....

late again

Last night ended up being another 02h00 in the morning blog-mission. Blame Cranky Professor over at The Cranky Epistles.
Awesome. Not only is she an English professor, but yo! she can cuss! I thought I'd been practicing hard for many years, but she leaves me standing in sheer inventiveness and versatility. Somehow I don't think she ever came close to the PG blog rating.

Don't know why, but I am so reluctant to go to sleep. Not having nightmares with the current meds (Seroquel.....dragons beware!, Nardil too), but just put off taking meds for ages, and no chance that I sleep without them.

Needless to say, morning was the stagger round like a walrus bit again, and only got out the bath finally at about 10h45. Bath naps are different to normal sleep somehow. Couple of collections on the way, and got to the rehab centre about 30 mins after the last oil-soaked bird was washed. Guilt then impelled me to go the very long way home, to drop a trap and pick up another, then to visit Andy's mom in the local informal settlement and drop off cat food as well as all sorts of shampoo and tick dips.

And then home, to feel like a total space-waste ever since. Still have no clue as to when if ever anything that I need to plan for will happen. Not tomorrow, I guess.

For tonight though, it's blog-browsing and Josh Ritter again, until I can talk myself into bed. Guess sleep is the cap on the day, the final sign off on another day of being a failure and an asshole....

invasion of the pc borrowers

poor cat-buddy is still without PC, so she spent much of the day and evening here doing her urgent work. As a result, I'm feeling deprived (of hours of surfing...nothing important!) and over-socialised. Even though she is probably the person I am most able to spend time with, today was just too much time with people. I went out to domestic-rehab centre today too, taking my rescue boy to see their clinic manager. Took him to the vet as well, while he was out in the car anyway - he now weighs 20.15 kg! I haven't noticed how much weight he's picked up recently, but in early July he only weighed 14.5 kg.

Feeling so unsettled at the moment. I know there are all sorts of things that will probably happen this week, but none of them have dates or times attached, except for seeing t-doc on Weds. Have to attend a work meeting with senior people at some stage, but no-one can tell me when. Will hopefully see p-doc sometime too, but don't know when either. Need to schedule rehab shifts to help wash birds. Just need to know what will be happening....

And am drinking way too much this week - started with being on call, and not being able to take enough sleeping tabs. So I'm now off call for a week. Yippee. Have remembered why I don't like the Ambien though - it might mean I can function in the middle of the night, but it really knocks me in the morning. Sleep through alarm, sleep in bath, only get moving by about 10h00...kind of knock. Hohum. Don't know what else to try, given that without something I am still lurking around the house at midnight.

I am so tired of feeling like this. I am so tired of defining my life by meds and appointments and what to try next. Nothing fucking works. I want out, one way or another. Just too long. Too dark. Too lonely. Too fucking pointless.

dead day

So after the 02h30 bedtime, I didn't go anywhere today. Didn't do much either. My attempt at an afternoon nap was irretrievably ruined by burns charity ex-neighbour who, as her least-tolerable attribute has a belief that running a charity means that she is entitled to whatever she wants at any time. She's pissed off with me already because when she wanted me to jump on Thurs and provide free transport to somewhere I didn't want to go anyway, I was miles away releasing animals. So today, after I ignored a phone call - because I had my eyes clenched shut, trying to stay asleep - she sends my ex-tenant with instructions to take my wheelbarrow "because she had already asked for it". Bull. Plus it would then mean having to nag repeatedly and eventually yell in order to get my own property back for me to use it. Not to mention that it was half full of dirt, and my plan was to continue filling it after my nap.

Which I did, so at least I managed my 90 mins pseudo-gym workout. I have a moral problem at the moment. There's a new gym opened reasonably close to home. Now, p-doc would be delirious if I started going to gym, and my one irrefutable excuse has been the lack of one that is convenient. My own interest is far more theoretical than real. So do I join and then feel guilty every day of my life if I don't go, or do I pretend that I haven't seen it. And seeing as it's an independent, and gyms in this country don't have a great record for staying open that long, can I convince myself that I can justify waiting 6 months to see if it lasts.

And now, I'm - once again - listening to Josh Ritter downloads, while I read blogs written by people who are funny and write well and actually have something worth saying. One of the strange of trivia though, is that almost all the blogs I enjoy are written by people in the medical field, across the whole range, or lawyers. I can understand the interesting topics, but it burns that they all, without exception, write so well too.....

"who will love a little sparrow....

....Will no one write her eulogy?
"I will," said the Earth
"For all I've created returns unto me
From dust were ye made and dust ye shall be"

Paul Simon 1964

Been loving lots of little sparrows this week. And pigeons, and doves, and oiled-up seagulls from a spill into a wetland reserve. Writing too many eulogies as well. It keeps me out of too much trouble, I guess. But adds a lot of hurt too.

Dinner with my folks on Weds - in town to look after my sister's kids while she and h/b are attending a conference in Russia. And dinner tonight with cat-buddy - with way too much wine and even way more too much Chinese food, because I wasn't feeling very sociable, would rather have had quiet evening and early bedtime. And quiet weekend has bitten the dust, between cat-buddy probably being here for big bits of it because her PC blew earlier and she has a book deadline to meet, so I offered mine as emergency aid. As well, I have to go out to domestic-rescue centre to drop some stuff off, SPCA to return a trap, and our centre to wash more birds. Even with contracting and working from home, weekends are different. Mostly because housekeeper isn't here and I can indulge myself by spending the day never getting further dressed than my bath towel.

Good bit for the last 4 days was seeing p-doc today. He wanted to know what sleeping pills I've been taking for last week if not the benzo, and conned me into admitting that I still had some Ambien in my collection. Tells me gleefully that he can always see when I'm trying not to mention something cos I get a strange little twist to my mouth. Damn, I used to be the best liar I knew. Although I never lie to him anyway, I'd like to have the option though at least. So he's now made a note in plain English - rather than code squiggles - that he will only give more Ambien when he gets something in exchange. And that when I'm on call, I have to take less. In return, when he wrote the script for the next week, I summoned up my most innocent face when it got to Ambien quantity and didn't say anything as he figured how much he'd give me - he stopped at 1 1/2 per night. Only taking one when I'm not on call, and a half when I am. Shit. I might as well enjoy feeling like I scored something for tonight, because I'll end up confessing next time.

And he wanted to know if I'm coping with the whole call thing. Said I was, sort of. I'm not. Tied up in knots half the time, feel like I'm not coping with anything, never mind work. Feel sick every time the phone rings. This is why I stopped working full time, and it's even worse now because I haven't been doing the stuff every day. Not sleeping properly doesn't help, and neither does not eating or stuffing my face.... and when I do eat, I generally throw up. Don't honestly know if getting paid lots is worth this, but I can't quit now, not with just having signed a years contract.

Shit, shit, extra shit....almost 00h30 and work has just called. For the client I know least about, with a problem I know nothing about because it's a result of other problems they had with the tape robot. Timeout while I throw up again. Guess this one is another wing and a prayer one...if anyone listens to atheist's prayers...

good/bad

the good bit: down to half an Ambien. Still wake up 5 times. But don't feel groggy, and woke up on time feeling clear-headed.
the rest: feeling clear-headed has no influence on feeling crap. Way down in the dungeons crap. Kind of a giveaway when you lie in the bath at 07h15 and cry because the day has already been too long.
and the stupid bit: sleeping in the afternoon for less than an hour. That's enough though to make me too awake to go to sleep early. So the crap day gets to be a crap evening too....

no-name post

Started off with one of the senior client-liason guys on my major account calling. I now know that it has been absolutely pointless sending a weekly report on the upgrade project every Sunday, because obviously, not one of the outsource-at-the- client team has read the bloody thing. So client tells them that client expects other product upgraded 3 times by Jan, even with 3 month change freeze over the holiday period. Outsource team wakes up. At last. Other product has been waiting on my upgrade for at least two months, which has been detailed every week in my report.
They call meeting with me and other tech-team leader for this afternoon. We tell them this again. They panic. How are they going to explain this to client. Solution is that they plan a meeting for next week with client very-senior-management for next week, and tell me that I need to come along and tell said VSM what the hold-up is (waiting on applications vendor staff to fix applications....) - presumably so VSM knows that it's not them holding things up. Good news; meeting with client doesn't scare me. Bad news; if client asks, I will tell him that this has been known for months and nothing has been done by managers to get it resolved. Very bad news; as of next week, it will also be costing client very large sums to run old version of other-product, and client is going to hit the roof. Oh well....I have documentation to support me, and it's been a long time since I've seen someone hung, drawn and quartered by this client, who has a particularly astute nature, a very ascerbic tongue and a huge dislike of being kept in the dark. Something to look forward to, even if I will have to find more officey clothes to wear for the meeting.

This anonymous way of not specifying client, my company, products involved or any other identifying details makes things very complicated, doesn't it.

That wasted most of the afternoon. Saw t-doc in the morning, who is regretting not taking her father up on his offer to pay for them to elope. She reckons that wedding planning and organising is way too stressful - having seen my sister's version, I agree with her. Highly unlikely, but if I ever find anyone stupid enough to marry me, I suspect I'll ask him if we can do the very very intimate foreign country version - just the two of us and the minimum legal requirements. Extra-highly unlikely, seeing as I am way too scared of my mother to try that!

Being tense about not seeing her and p-doc (possibly) for patches of the next month is enough to make me feel like Borderline is at least partly a match. Not that I want it to be, but there are still too many of the criteria that apply sometimes. The self-destructive behaviour, cutting and suicide, and this one...the fear of abandonment or perceived abandonment. Even though I know it's not, and that weeks and fortnights pass quickly with baby birds and standby and digging up the garden, it scares me that I still feel so tense about the possibility. Especially seeing as I don't actually even know whether p-doc will be MIA at the same time at all, and wouldn't consider asking him either. So stupid, given that he knows so much about me, but there are still subjects that I won't either raise or discuss.

Ah hell...let me try sleep, so that when Ops phone again they'll get me in full deep sleep mode. I am terrified about being on standby at the moment as well. Not only that I'll be too dopey to respond properly, but also because I haven't supported most of the clients or their software for 3 years now, and don't remember enough about either part to be comfortable. One client is a new one that I have never supported, which is even worse. And I've had too much of a break to trust my instincts anymore. I used to know that in spite of everything, I was a really hot DBA. Which was some consolation for stuffing up the rest of my life. Now, only the latter bit applies...

all around the town...

...starting later than planned, due to not sleeping much last night with meds "amendment". How come though, I could easily rack up hours if I start at about 06h00, but until then I sleep so lightly? I've always been renowned for my ability to sleep anytime, anywhere - albeit the naps that earned me the reputation have always been the ones that I've had in places that I shouldn't have. I know the theory is that you need less sleep as you get older, but I'm obviously out of step with myself, because I need more than I am getting, no matter how much that actually is.

And then out to a big horsy-stuff exhibition, where the rehab centre had been given a stand. Major achievement was buying 11 Christmas presents - hah! I break the December 20th curse at last! That's the one where you swear blind that you'll do all your Christmas shopping before July, and not only miss that deadline, but are then struck by a kind of idea-paralysis that only leaves you on Dec 20th, and normally means you do all your shopping in one shopping centre on one of the remaining three nights along with most of the population within a 500km radius. And vow never to leave it till the last minute again, only to be caught exactly the same way the following year. Of course, buying things now actually means that by Christmas I will have a)been overcome by wanting to give the gift sooner, so will only have about 3 of them left and b)the remaining 3 will be hiding somewhere sensible in the house where I won't be able to find them until about 28th Dec, so will have had to succumb to the Dec 20th curse all over again.

Apart from the delusional gift-buying satisfaction, it was a long day. Managed to scrounge some money and some possible new volunteers for the centre though, so not too bad. Offered to take the display stuff, including our educational owl, back to the centre on my way home, then offered to pick up an injured bird after that, so only got home to starving cats and dogs at around 18h45 (potentially-starving little birds had come with me), which is now having a knock-on effect on my evening. Don't feel that I have been home long enough to go to bed (even though I am yawning hugely), and by the time I do, will end up - again - not getting enough solid sleep, so will be tired in the morning. And agreed earlier to get up an hour before I have to, to wake the tenant in my cottage up because she has let her mobile phone go flat, doesn't have a charger, and doesn't have an alarm. Ummm, she's also 24, living in a foreign country with a responsible job....why am I having to act like a mommy? Oh, thinks jcat, and hasn't paid her rent yet either, which was due before the 1st...

However - as someone who even with alarms and reminders on the phone etc - still ends up with her t-doc phoning to make sure she is out of bed for time-critical wake-up calls before catching planes etc.....I can't really deny the universe some revenge!

Which reminds me that I get to see t-doc tomorrow. Good. Need it. And also brings an unwelcome thought that I am way too dependent on both t-doc and p-doc, and that the rest of this month is crappy from that POV too. T-doc has carefully made arrangements to see me in between getting married, hosting lots of visitors for that, being away on honeymoon etc, but just knowing that she is unavailable for much of the next 6 weeks is scary. P-doc is back from holiday tomorrow, and his receptionist has found me an appt for Fri, but then it's three weeks before the next scheduled one, so will be on the cancellation list, and I have a horrible feeling that he mentioned some congress that he's going to as well - just don't remember when or where, but there is a vague suspicion that it's the last week or so of Sept.

Sometimes I think that I should stop seeing both of them, and sink or swim on my own again. I don't like needing people. Especially not people with whom - no matter how intimate the relationship is - are intrinsically not supposed to be people that I depend on so much that the idea of them being simultaneously unavailable can worry me as much as it does.

I think the most appropriate phrase would be 'get a life'....

oh yeah, constructivity rules....

- another pair of days where I'm sitting here trying to work out what, exactly, I have actually done. Umm. Not much. Read lots of really interesting web stuff - blogs, and meds research, and news. Some great new blogs. How come medical blogs (many of which have nothing to do with psych stuff) are just so fascinating? And so....educational? I haven't wanted to be a doctor or nurse since I was about 8, but somehow it seems like almost all the blogs I hit regularly are med-related, either from a provider or patient perspective. With regular visits to Drugs.com to look up meds by their foreign names, and to Wikipedia for everything else I don't know. Seeing though, as I'm never going to be a healthcare kind of professional, that probably doesn't count as constructive.

News? Well, IOL had my favourite headline of the day. SA has always had full-service fuel stations, and no-one is going to change that - not only 'cos we're lazy - but it also does provide a lot of(albeit not well-paid) employment. But the editor who let the article about a wage increase slip through headed 'Hefty pay rise for petrol attendance' is due for a new dictionary....

Fetched 2 little pigeons. Collected a Fennec fox from the rehab centre and took him to his new home. Not normally a place we would rehome anything, being the city Zoo, but in this case, a far better alternative than his previous status as a pet, being kept in somewhat inadequate conditions. Although the "owner" had a permit, when NatureCon inspected the place, they withdrew the permit and requested that we find an alternative. The Zoo was delighted to get him, and had prepared a huge and exciting enclosure for him, and they've already started looking for a mate. Ok, bird and beast missions always count as constructive, so that gives me about 3 hours credit.

Oh - must remember to tell p-doc next week (it's one of his permanent nagging points) - I was sociable last night! And - second nagging point - almost sober with it. One single over about 2 1/2 hours, but I did drink a whole lot of green tea instead - had dinner with semi-sane cat buddy last night at the local Chinese restaurant. As always, we both ate too much due to our permanent inability to decide on what to eat, which means we end up going for either the set menus (knowing that they consist of too much food) or choosing 3 or 4 dishes to share (ditto on too much).

And I've now quit taking the midazolam as a sedative. Wasn't doing that good a job anyway, I was still waking up 4 or 5 times a night, but I was really uncoordinated and groggy when I did. Am going back onto doing standby for the IT job for all mainframe clients, not just my "own" one. Which means the likelihood of being called has risen dramatically, and it's all for software that I know really well but haven't been dealing with for 3 years. I can't take the chance on not being able to wake up enough to handle calls. Don't know what I'm going to use instead though. Even with Remeron being sedating, without an actual "sleeping pill", I'm awake till 04h00 - and little bird season is on the go, so they need first feeds anytime between 05h00 and 07h30 (at the latest and only for the bigger babies). And I don't function without at least 7 hours of solid kip. Last one didn't work at all, the two before that were OK, but not great. Guess I wing it for the week on those, seeing as I have a couple of each in the collection, and see what p-doc says when I see him on Friday. He'll probably snigger lots about me having dipped into my savings, and refuse to give me anything else until I give him back the midazolam remnants. And/or the other waifs and strays - I really hate myself for keeping them so obsessively. Only good point is that somehow having them makes me think less about using them, or anything else. Doesn't stop me from keeping the pool hose in the car though.....

backward day

- normally, on a day where I don't have any odd-timed appointments, I have a fairly static routine. Used to be that I went to the rehab centre every weekday morning, and then did other things in the afternoon. The last 18 months, though, I kind of dropped out. If it's possible to drop out from a voluntary job. I do shifts when they really need someone, and otherwise I'm available to fetch and carry, and catch anything anywhere. So most days, I get up before 08h00, feed cats and anyone else who needs it, wallow in the bath - depending on the meds, I often have a nap there too.

Before the bath, I check email; after it I settle at the PC, and either work or surf for most of the day. Meds-dependant again....I sometimes have a couch nap. Sometimes being every day on some meds, and never on others. At the moment, it's wouldn't mind but mostly don't. Around 15h30 or so, I have a break, and do some gardening, mostly until it gets dark, after which I have another bath with oils and foam and other good for aching bits stuff, and then go back to the PC.

At the moment I'm waiting for feedback from work, so it's mostly surfing. Today though, my team leader came to visit, to do site handover on all the mainframe database sites that I haven't been supporting. Somehow, I agreed to do standby, which was one of the things I swore I'd never do again, after I stopped working full time. Haha. With the 6-people team down to 1 and me, I have to give her some time off. It's not only being called - it's also things like never going anywhere where you can't leave abruptly, never drinking too much, in my case at the moment, not taking over-sedating meds like the benzo I've been taking. I wake up 5 times most nights, but when I do, I'm so uncoordinated that even having a smoke is difficult... I keep dropping it. Going to the loo is a mission impossible. My main client has very little overnight callout; most of it is either before 21h30 or from 05h30 on, so I've managed so far. But if there is a higher probability of being called at midnight and having to work, I can't be too groggy to log on. So - as of Monday night, no more benzo. Just don't know what else.

Funnily enough, alcohol might get me paralytic, but it has never stopped me from being able to work. Not debating whether I should have or not - the answer to that is almost definitely that I shouldn't have. Fiddling with production data for huge corporations when one can barely stand probably isn't the wisest choice. But I was a stand-alone DBA for those corps back in the '80s when it was mandatory for the IT (DP, then) teams to be able to outdrink anyone and still work all night, and for a woman in my position to still be 'one of the boys'. And I did, and I was. But never to the extent that I couldn't work when I was paged...maybe I couldn't stand too well, but I could still work. Things like that are why I don't mind admitting that I had a well-developed drinking problem. Nowadays, I'm out of practice - so as well as adjusting meds, I'm going to have to not drink at all. Will make p-doc very happy, as well!

The schedule though, meant that I was out at my lavender-trench for two hours this morning, and am consequently in agony again. The worst bit? Definitely, when I have been sitting with my feet in the hole and digging away, and it gets to having to get up. So my butt is on the ground, my feet are a foot down - not enough of a difference to be able to drop onto my feet and stand. Just enough of one so that I have to use my thighs and knees. Which, I keep finding, don't want to be used at all. And pushing off with my hands would entail using wrists, and those are distinctly unusable at the moment. Even using the mouse has become the smallest possible movement required....

Hell, at this rate, I don't need to get old, I'm having all the joys of being a decrepit 90-year old already.

sore for a reason today

...so, to work out some of my general bad mood, I spent about 2 hours yesterday wielding a pick and a teeny little spade. The pick is to break up the shale that makes up my entire garden from about 6 inches down, and to remove the old bricks that I think might have been a patio a few centuries ago - judging by their cohesiveness, they would last for another few as well. These guys weren't shy with the cement. Unfortunately, the edge of it is right in the middle of where I want the first row of lavender bushes to go, in the famous lavender bed-to-be. The teeny little spade is because it's the only way of getting any of the dirt out without hitting unbroken bits of shale and feeling as if your wrists have just shattered under the impact. So it's pick, pick, pick, and then remove the results one half-cup at a time. A very slow process, and very sore biceps, shoulders, wrists, hands, back, thighs (no, I can't understand that one either...) even after a hot bath with everything that said muscles or relax that I could find in the bathroom cupboard.

Aqua says that her Mom trained her dog to dig holes for her. Mine, although exceedingly fond of digging holes where they aren't wanted, remain completely uninterested in assisting with trench-digging.
The only one who was remotely interested was CJ, and that was only because he kept dropping a chocolate-coloured (from the mud and slobber that coated it) half tennis ball into the hole as I swung the pick. Damn dog nearly got a new hole in his head numerous times, as I suddenly had to abort the swing halfway. And then he lies down with half of him just about in the hole, making little excited whimpers as he waits for me to throw the revolting soggy ball for him to chase and bring straight back.

It's a half ball, by the way, because the first thing he does with a new ball is bite a hole in it. Then he drops it in the pool, so that it can choke the pool-cleaner. When he gets it back again, he tears a few pieces off, and then plays with the remnant. So far this week, I've given him 5 new tennis balls. Weird dog....

cold and lost and sore

...no good reasons. Just am. Which is why I am listening to things I shouldn't be. Like Tom Waits' The Road to Peace.. And Josh Ritter, thanks to GG over at Red,Red Whine. And a couple of other local artists that are equally as sad.

Kind of strange, listening to Waits singing about the Israeli conflict, given that the first time I ever heard him was in Israel, listening to a mixed tape from one of the American volunteers on the kibbutz I was at. She couldn't tell me what the song names were, or the albums, and although I've bought a few of his CDs from about the right time, I've never found them again. But found some other good songs, anyway.

Israel is the only other country I have ever found that I have even considered living in. I like the US, haven't been to Canada, like most of Europe, and a lot of Africa and the Mid-East. But Israel is the only one I could thrive in. And I'm not even Jewish. Then again, neither are a lot of Israelis.

I'm an '80s child, politically. Almost got kicked out of school for 'free Mandela' graffiti. Had politically-aware parents. Migrated across the spectrum from left to centre. Still sitting about centre. Mostly because the government we all wanted so much has proven to be a corrupt ostrich. Head in the sand about AIDS, TB, over-population, crime, economics... so many other issues. Corrupt and hamstrung by alliances and politicking from before I was born. Mbeki and I share a birthday, he and my parents used to socialise together. He is amazingly intelligent. And the worst possible leader this country has ever had and that includes a whole lot of real dickhead pre-94 leaders. At least most of the universe could agree on them being bad. And fight them. Any criticism of Mbeki is waved off as coming from anti-ANC (pick your category here...only thing any of them have in common is not being overly impressed with the current government). Doesn't matter what your beliefs are, or your colour, or your history. The far left, the far right, business, trade unions, rich, poor, homeless or middle-class suburban... All tarred with the same label - the whole if you don't like the current regime, it automatically has to imply that you are an anti-SA apartheid sympathiser. Sucks. I want so much more for my country. I am proud to be South African. I'm not proud of my government and what they are doing to us all. And it's going to get worse long before it gets better.

Anyway - I digress. Israel. I went there in '95/'96, for almost the full two years, across two separate trips. In between I learned Hebrew, so that I could talk to people more - would have learned more Arabic too, if I wasn't so bad at languages - as it was, I found myself sticking Afrikaans words into whatever language I was using because my brain got stuck on finding a not-English word and just grabbed the first alternative available. The original trip was supposed to be 2 months to learn about hydroponic farming from the guys who invented it before I started up on my own here. First place I worked was a kibbutz on the Green Line about the middle of the country. We were a mixed bag. Holocaust-survivors who walked from Poland to Israel, Israeli Jews, Muslims and Christians, so-called Palestinian Arabs. And me. As the only woman in the greenhouses, I was automatically expected to cook the breakfast (the first first thing the guys had in common was a huuuge dose of sexism!) - we started work at between 06h00 and 06h30, worked until the first orders were done or 09h00 if there weren't orders, and then ate at work. Because of me being South African, politics was a common subject. The first thing I learned was that there was just about no difference between the men who were born in the area. Israeli Jew, Israeli Arab, Palestinian...we all lived within a kilometre of each other. It was further from work to my room than it was to cross a paper border. The Palestinians lived on the other side of the chickpea field. That was all that separated us, and I walked home across the line to meet their families and have dinner with them. To the guys, the line was an abomination. They were living where they were born, but because of a line on a map they were meant to be citizens of some arb political entity. As one of the guys, who was also my boss, told me...there are no Palestinian men. Only cowards whose parents were cowards, abandoning their land and their future for religious lies. I thought this a bit harsh, and told him so. He reiterated - they ran for no reason, and stayed for even less; bigotry and prejudice at the cost of their children and their children's children. That thanks to them, he was regarded as a migrant worker, and that he and his family were targets for extremists. That he didn't care whether he carried an Israeli passport or a Palestinian one. What mattered was that he lived where he did, and worked where he did, and had the freedom to do both. As his father had done. One of the harshest things he told me was that there would never be a solution. Because a few hundred thousand had run, and a few million expected to claim their 'inheritance', and he blamed the surrounding nations for creating and fanning the conflict. And for maintaining it against all rational beliefs. He was a proud man, and above all he was proud of who he was - an Arab man who was above religious and political schisms. Who owned his home, and supported his family by working at a job that he excelled at. No-one in the greenhouses cared who had what nationality.

Unfortunately, a bunch of hot-heads did. I heard a year or so later that the border that we had all ignored was now enforced. Not by the Israelis, but by a bunch of kids on the other side of a line on the map, and that the guys I had worked with, and for, could no longer walk across the chickpea field to work....not if they wanted their families and homes to be there when they walked home again. Guess I'll never know whether the sweet-faced kids I knew have seen their dreams come true or not. Somehow I doubt it...

Twelve years on: listening to Tom Waits singing about 18-year olds on the opposite sides of an insurmountable divide. If I wasn't so sad already....if I didn't fear for the country of my birth in some of the same ways....ah hell, anything that involves peace on earth obviously doesn't involve the human race.

So why should I be dumb enough to expect that any individual one of us can ever achieve it for ourselves?

oh dear, how boring can i be?

Very, very boring indeed, if today is an example. After waking up to feed everyone, I lay in the bath for two hours more asleep than not. Then I read 'Jonathan Segal Chicken', which I got hold of yesterday. After 20 years of trying to find it, I walked into the local 2nd-hand bookshop, and asked the owner if he'd ever heard of it. After correcting me on the name, he reached over to a shelf behind him - and gave me a copy! Not finding it might have had something to do with calling it 'Jonathan Livingston Chicken'.

And after that, I spent two hours lying on my stomach dusting the rocks in my one flowerbed (that I'm still digging etc), and another hour positioning 60kg more of round river rocks. The plan was that the dogs wouldn't like walking on them. The truth is that they derive extra pleasure from hurtling across the bed. And then I have to go rearrange the rocks so that they aren't squashing plants and that there's no exposed ground.

I don't think that even Robert Pirsig would find much Zen-ness in that. Dusting rocks. Especially when they are next to the huge dust-bowl that my dogs have created in the garden. Never fear, I have a plan. Namely, 400 kg of pink rose-quartz, which will cover the lavender bed - this will happen after I have a)dug the bed and b)gone and bought lavender, and c)could involve mutilating any dog who puts paw on it. Point A is taking a long, long time though, and an awful lot of pick-work to break up the shale that lies 4 -6 inches below the dust. And I am very lazy.....

spoke too soon....

Baby doveling was dead when I went in for first morning feed at 07h30. I hate it when that happens. We kind of expect, and grow into coping with losses in the first couple of days, particularly with the very young babies that come in. So there's an inbuilt protection mechanism that says "don't get too attached yet...at least some will die", and even so, it still hurts a bit. But after a week, or ten days, there's not only a whole lot of love and caring attached - you can't feed and care for a tiny thing every hour and not start caring about it - but there's also an expectation that if something was wrong with it, it would have died already, if it was just too young, it would have died already, if we weren't giving it what it needed, it would have died. By ten days, you've seen it (in birds) treble in size, get eyeballs, pick it's head up when you go near it - it's a responsive, thinking creature. And it hurts big time to lose them. I don't do baby mammals as a rule, after having a baby meerkat (ok, an already seriously compromised baby, after being burned out of the burrow and sold on the side of the road way before weaning) die in my arms one night. Not only because of the attachment. I also have way too many sleep issues, and when I am sleeping, wouldn't trust myself to give a bottle or a syringe to anything. Waking up for IT work is different - I actually CAN do that in my sleep! And have, many times...

So bigtime bummer. After which the weather picked up on my mood and just stayed grey and miserable all day. I couldn't nap because Gil the handyman was here. I couldn't do anything because of that. Except spend lots of time reading up on oxytocin, as instructed by p-doc yesterday. Interesting stuff. I think though that rather than the artificial versions, I'd prefer what came up # 1 on the ways to produce it: good sex and lots of orgasms. Umm. Blush. Not something I'll get into discussing with him, I don't think. And the other interesting alternative is Ecstasy. Somehow don't think he meant me to try that either. I'm also not terribly excited about things that are given to lactating women to increase milk production. Hey, just call me Daisy. Or Buttercup. Moo...!