lest my report of today's tears implies otherwise, i feel the need to remind the world that i am, in fact, very joyful and in love with my life. not that there aren't blue moments here and there, but mine are small tribulations compared with those of so many others and i really, truly am thankful for what is still a considerably bougie existence.

there's a freeze predicted for tonight, the first of the season, but the day will warm up considerably even with the breeze that's expected to blow. i've a lot of work ahead of me in the next several hours. time to tidy up the house and finish a few odd jobs, time to make room, make room! in this house for the love and laughter that arrives tomorrow night. it seems he's bringing the cold with him, a taste of my home away from home, and i can't wait to snuggle down into sleep next to him, buried under warm blankets and against his side.

in a few more days we'll be off on that long west texas drive. i hope we can leave early enough to do the whole drive in daylight and still take in the long and dusty, but still very beautiful desert landscape that will stretch out for hours and hours. wish we had time to side trip to marfa, big bend, etc. but alas that will have to wait for another holiday. if this roadtrip is anything like others this time of year, it will be cold, clear, and blustery the whole way. and my little car will feel every gust and bump in the road.

but we'll be together! huzzah! (i'm positively wriggling my toes with excitement.)

and so it is that i'm looking forward to the next week and a half as if it's christmas day that's coming and not thanksgiving. sigh. a whole ten days...

can you imagine what the approach of an actual christmas day will be like when we can spend it together...?

pardon the reuse of this picture, but i expect i shall look something like this...

only taller.

leo supposedly has as an upper respiratory infection--i've always thought it was allergies--and they won't take him till he's been treated. i didn't want to leave lilu without leo; i felt they'd acclimate better if their first days there, and by themselves, were together. staff agreed. so i brought them both back home and picked up meds from the vet for my sick boy. as if playing up the part, he's been sneeze hacking more tonight.

i cried a lot today. i feel pretty lame. doesn't mean i won't cry again when i take them back the week after thanksgiving. i'm hoping, though, that i'll be better prepared by then and will be able to find more peace with the decision.

i'm taking leo and lilu, the two younger cats, to the humane society today. they called and said they have room after all, so i'm not just taking them for evaluations, but rather to leave them there and have them incorporated into their adoption program. (provided they're deemed friendly and healthy enough. which they should be. i had the vet over last friday who was highly impressed, again, with how sweet everyone was.)

i'm pretty upset. i know i need to do this, and it's a great sign that they have room, cause it means they're moving cats out, you know? like adopting them out at a decent rate, but ugh, it still sucks.

i hate that i'm having to owner surrender these guys. i hate that i'm having to rely on their resources to do this--i know what the rescue/adoption world is like--but i really am trying to do the right thing for them.

and i am doing the right thing, right? i have to do right by them, but i have to do what's right for me, too. i know this.

sigh.

it doesn't make it any easier.

but by the end of the day i'll go from 8 pets in the house to just 6.

Not for sale, but for a moderate donation to the Austin Humane Society, you could find a pair of these big beautiful eyes staring lovingly into yours.

So very much to do and never enough time in the day. Mostly because I am able and willing to sleep, to say good night, and wake up to say good morning, and pleasantly say 'Yes, I did sleep well. You?'

October's end was quite unexpected. And therefore unexpectedly busy. I regret none of it, but I am a wee bit saddened that nanowrimo is 9 days old and I haven't put pen to paper, or fingertips to keyboard if you like, in its employ even once.

Well, that's not true--I did resketch several chapters to incorporate some development that's been swirling in my head since my trip home, but alas 50,000 words seems a damn near impossibility now, even with my jump start from previous work on it. Sigh. I'm torn between setting a realistic goal of a couple of weeks later, OR desperately trying to make up the time. I still have so much left undone--around the house, at work, on my contract, that I just don't know what to do.

And then there are the animals. I am so very desperate to get them adopted out. I want to get on with the business of grieving their loss, of getting over their absence and believing that I've done the right thing by finding them better homes. I am tired of being practical and logical, tired of loving them and yet holding myself at the distance of a mere caretaker. Coming home is a reminder that they are my burden and my failure. If I had been stronger, I would have forced myself to recognize the unsustainability of this situation earlier, and adopted them out when they were younger, cuter, etc. Now they are older, less adoptable and I've only just recognized how little space exists between the rock and a hard place I've been occupying for two and a half years.

My biggest comfort, beyond the hope that I will find them better places, is my love and the new life that's waiting for me. That fate and luck have offered up such a sweet reward--a door opening just as I was prepared to walk out of the old one and shut it behind me--is yet another sign, I hope, that this has been the right direction all along.

I just wish I could run down the road and through that open door a bit faster. I want to get the crying over with, and I'd prefer to do it in the arms of the someone else I trust to help 'make everything better.'

The road, though, is a pages long to-do list. Time to get back to it.

He wasn't back as soon as I thought, but I'm glad I dressed because the surgeon came in shortly after to let me know how it went. All is well. No stones in ducts. No second surgery needed. Very inflamed gallbladder means another 2 nights in the hospital most likely as we bring him back onto solid food and make sure no infection is still around.

He is back in the room now, in and out of sleep which is great as it'll help shake off the anesthesia. He's totally lucid when he's awake. He said to tell Mia he was brave. He also said with a bit of innocence in his raspy voice and surprise in his eyes, "This sucks." Yes, it does. But he's going to be ok.

He asked if I was afraid. I pretended not to hear. Was I afraid? Of course. Not panicked, not distraught, but the love of my life was in territory neither of us had control over. And things happen...

But luckily, thankfully, wonderfully not today.

Morning.

The room is colder now after a full night here with the A/C blowing and especially now after they've wheeled him down the hall and around the corner to surgery. It's a small hospital. Tiny, really, and perhaps there's something comforting about knowing the OR is so close, but I'm not sure.

It's just routine surgery. Lots of folks have it all the time. I know this. But, as always, there are the risks and the papers they make you sign. And it is general anesthesia, which means this is serious business to me.

I brought him to the ER night after last after many hours of abdominal pain. The pain was familiar to him, but this time much much worse. When he finally woke me to tell me something was wrong there was already panic in his eyes. It was bad enough that breathing was hard. I was glad when he gave in to going to the hospital. (Something he has, apparently, been accused of doing too often.)

My little town has a brand new hospital and though its beds are full, its ER was empty. We saw a doctor right away and after a quick assessment and watching the sharp intake of breath that came with pressing on the right side under the rib cage, he was whisked off for an ultrasound. The med tech joked, "So we can see if it's a boy or a girl..." and on his return he, "You're going to need an addition to the house." The verdict was a gall bladder full of stones that would have to come out.

"I have a bag of marbles for a gall bladder."

They transferred him then at about 6 a.m. to this smaller hospital with empty beds and a surgeon who would fit him in, but who opted to schedule him today at 7:30. They gave him IV saline and antibiotics to treat what was assumed to be infection where inflammation appeared on the ultrasound. The day was mostly uneventful. He was stir crazy, and in very little pain, especially when compared with the night before, and they only started a little pain med in the evening. No food, no drink, not even water, though, since he'd arrived at the ER. "I'll trade you that morphine for a cheeseburger." Friends stopped by to say hello. The new nurse who came in at shift change made him smile a little. And he sung a bit of "I'm just a sweet transvestite..." while he put on his compression stockings as so ordered.

But the night was hard. Pain and nausea. Meds. "Can I have a glass of water?" No. Another anti-nausea med. He popped right after that and, thankfully, felt better. He fell asleep. I fell asleep.

This morning they prepped him and then I lay in his bed with him for a while. We talked. We dozed. I asked if I could post to his Facebook when he's back, and am laughing now a little at the status I'm to use for his update.

They wheeled him away at 7:17. When I knew I was out of sight, I cried a little. I'm calm, really, in these situations and have been throughout. But the nurse's assumption that we're married made me worry...if something should happen and I'm found out, then no one will be around for decisions.

But nothing will happen. They'll wheel him back, minus a faulty gall bladder, and he'll recover over time, hopefully quickly. And not have to be back here for a long time, if ever.

Morning.

Room is cold and empty with his robotic bed gone. I watched him as they took his vitals this morning, before he realized I was watching, and saw how exhausted he was...his face drawn like I've never seen...despite a night of sleep.

I said what you always say in these scenes, "Love you." And then, as they moved him into the hallway, "Be brave. Don't forget what Mia said." My friends' little girl, 5 years old, who is quite taken with him, had sent that message along. He managed a half laugh, genuine though, and off he went.

Time to get dressed before he's back. And he'll be back. Soon.

Have I really not posted since ACL? WTF?

Alright time to get back in the swing of things, though probably will have to keep this post to just the daily details.

For now, work is busy and better stay so as I have big plans ahead and am still broke as a joke from paycheck to paycheck, but glad to have the jobby job still.

Home is busy too. I'm cleaning out the house of all the unwanted stuff I've still held onto for some unknown reason and having a garage sale with another neighbor tomorrow. Trying to get the rest of the block in on the act too. You know what that madness is like. Craigslist, fliers, early arrivals, etc. but it's supposed to be beautiful weather so we decided to go for it.

The pets are all still here and in need of new owners, though the local human society has agreed to accept the 2 youngest cats if I don't adopt them out first. I'm heartbroken and, yet, as I just spent the morning first walking all over and then sweeping up cat litter scatter. Then I mopped. Had to, was too disgusting to stand. Also made rice for the sick dog since she was sick to her stomach this morning...but she turned up her nose at my efforts, so she can suck it. :-)

I was in El Paso over the weekend showing off my hometown and introducing my love to all the family and friends present. It went very well and we will likely both be back at Thanksgiving together.

I'm home now for a couple of weeks and then off to St. Louis to see my girlfriend and her 'new' baby who is already crawling, quel tragedy!

Oh, and did I mention what this year's Halloween costume is going to be? Heh heh heh...my trip home netted some great stuff that mom has been saving for years, and so I shall be going as a 12 year old version of myself. While I'm sporting a side-pony in the run-through pic below, I'm actually trying to find a crimper to really do it up right. Note the charm necklace and NKOTB fan gear. :) [And hey you coworker readers, no fair telling anyone else at work what I'm going to be! Or I shall hunt you down and cram pumpkin seeds in your eyeholes!]

Friday was beautiful. Grass was green. Music was loud.  Phoenix was lilting and though experienced fans say they didn't give their best performance, as a first timer I was sold on their enthusiasm and their sounds, despite supposed tech issues. Raphael Saddiq from Toni!Tony!Tone! (or some order of Tonys) was an updated throwback to days of beautiful soul sounds, and he gave a solid show that lived up to expectations. Them Crooked Vultures rocked, though perhaps not quite as hard as I expected or wanted. (In my head they are overshadowed by 'Trail of Dead' the next day, but more on that in a second.) The Yeah Yeah Yeahs rocked my world in various ways and with various sounds. I love me a powerful front girl and Karen O be the real deal. Plus, toward the end of the show, I snaked my way to the outskirts of the viewing area, up on a bit of a rolling hill, busted out my trusty picnic mat, and did a little yoga under the stars. Yes, there were people around, but not within annoyed view of shitty poses, and besides it's Austin so no one blinked an eye. The bike rides to and from Zilker park were beautiful.

Saturday was joyfully hardcore. It started sprinkling in the morning as I rode my bike to Chuy's on Barton Springs to meet up with BitchBuzz writer Jelisa Castrodale. (Funny gal, look her up yo!) The drizzle gave way to a torrential downpour as ...And They Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead (ellipses is part of the name, thanks) rocked a crowd that was actually seemed invigorated by the rain. I saw Grizzly Bear earlier, pre-rain, but babysat a drunken friend of a friend of a friend so didn't get to pay much attention. (I'm expecting a karma payout for that act of kindness sometime in the future...cause that was some shite let me tell you.) I can't remember much of the rest. I know I saw other bands, but the night was when the mud began to take hold, when the air finally dipped into the chilly zone, and I headed back to the hotel on my bike a bit early (about 15 into Dave--sorry, Dave, I couldn't feel my feet)--cold and yet sweating as I pedaled for my life on Cesar Chavez. (Be kind, people. Next time you see a cyclist, share the road for fuck's sake! Er, I mean, please.) After a good hour of showering and recuperation, I headed out to the Mohawk on Red River for some DJd fun by NASA. I gave it the old college try, but I was beat and back at the hotel by 2 a.m.

Sunday morning dawned with my laptop still burning on the bed and the beginnings of a cold in my head. Headed out. The rain was gone. The mud was omnipresent. 'Dillo mud, made from 'Dillo Dirt, the all organic compost fertilizer made and sold by the City of Austin, and used by Austin Parks and Rec to grow the beautiful Great Zilker Lawn we last saw on Friday. That's right. The entire place was a hippy mud pit...that smelled like shit. Don't believe me? Didn't know that was poop--sanitized poop, but poop nonetheless--you were trudging in? Bet you wish you'd bought those rainboots now. Still the music was the medicine and I saw a bit o' the B-52's (before they die, yay!) do a set they joked (somewhat darkly) that they learned in karoake. The Heartless Bastards were my favorite of the day as, I may have mentioned this, I love me a powerful front girl. Excellent band (complete with rather hot drummer who reminds me strongly of my own love) didn't hurt either. I was up front for most of the set and then back at the press room for pics after. Hee. (They ignored my interview request this time, but they're back at the end of the month. Bwaahahaha!) Plowed to the head of The Dead Weather crowd, in a nice polite way, who thankfully are more rock and less angst than The Raconteurs. (Sorry but the latter aren't my fave, and they damn near put me to sleep last year, so pffffft!) I braved The Pearl Jam crowd for about a third of the set before hitting the wall--as in there was no way I was getting closer than my 30 yards from the stage, and I didn't think the view was worth the bit of inappropriate drunken groping from the fool behind me. So I hit up a hospitality tent and watched the rest of the show by HD feed, singing along with the rest of the cushy crowd, and enjoying myself thoroughly. Vedder brought out Ben Harper followed by Perry Farrell for the final jams, and that was that. (Except for another madcap bike ride, this time several pounds of mud heavier, and along an even darker trail, but with less traffic.)

I have to be honest. Despite the fact that I live in Austin--the live music capital of the world (it says so on our t-shirts)--I can’t claim much knowledge of the Austin music scene or anywhere else for that matter.  Most of what I do in this town has little to do with the music. I work here and…well, shit, I guess I mostly just work here. I play a little, too, but since that bitch Sallie Mae is always standing over my shoulder, even a $10 cover makes me think twice about showing up for a weeknight show.

So, no I don’t usually know who’s hot, who’s making a comeback, or who’s the next big thing. I don’t keep up with who produced what on whose album or what the degrees of separation are between one drummer and another. Don’t get me wrong, I find those connections and histories fascinating, and I wish I knew more of them, but I’m not a scholar. Not yet. I'm just a lover.

And that’s the thing …I love music. No really, I have a soundtrack in my head at all times (just like you do) and since I get to see so little of it, ACL is particularly special to me for being my chance to drink from the firehose. There’s something filmic and grander than life about standing out in the driving rain or jostling the crowd against an outdoor stage to see four little people, all of us gathered together for only that one moment in time. My absolute favorite way to find a band is to be forced into love with them at a show, preferably one I’m attending on a whim, so that it’s like falling hard for a near perfect stranger.

And as you can see from this string of words pouring forth, that little repeating love story, and its moments of inspiration, are as important as the music and the artists, the poetry and performance, and all the folk who sing to me, who ping something in my non-musical soul that goes ping right back...so much so that I'm struck with a manic passion to ride wildly home on a blind path, to find pen and scraps of paper, and to write until my eyes go red and the muscles in my neck seize in protest, or I pass out over my barely legible scrawl. Only to wake up the next morning and do it all again. Only to save my sheckles and do it all again next year.

And with that, ACL, thanks oh so much for the memories. Till next time...

Today is prep day. Picked up the bike I'm borrowing from a friend for my brother. Grabbed a few essentials at the store--antibacterial stuff, sunscreen (!), etc.--and ran to the mall to grab a cover for the new iPhone.

Things to do tonight before going to sleep (However, it's 4 AM....shit.)

1. Finish laundry
2. Upload Michigan pics to flickr
3. Charge camera battery

Things to do tomorrow

1. Go to Sam's for dog food
2. Pick up dog's prescription
3. Buy hot dogs to give pills to dog
4. Pack my bag
5. Pick up media credentials
6. Pick up little bro from the airport
7. Check into downtown hotel
8. Bike to Zilker
9. Try not to get soaked
10. See bands/artists who rock

Per #10, here's my schedule. Band I'm most looking forward to seeing tomorrow? Them Crooked Vultures. Big names, remixed.

Here's hoping the rain and inevitable mud, though messy, is less dangerous than the dust that gave me black lung for a week last year.