Catching My Breath in Packrat

Activity has slowed a bit around here so I can stop and catch my breath.
Travel. Last week I went to Wisconsin, the land of the Wordsmith, but because notice was so late I didn’t get to call with concrete details until my day of travel - which was also his day of travel further north. That kind of thing used to upset me, but this trip was so quick and I was so tired on my travel day that I was in bed before the sun went down the first night and the next night had dinner with other representatives from the meeting who are now old friends.
…The person who coordinates our travel here usually asks me what flight times I want but didn’t this time and scheduled my flight for early in the morning. I was a 2.5 hours’ drive away from the airport, plus getting there at least an hour before when I’m not a morning person; I had to switch to a hotel close to the airport for my last night, but that put me closer to the settlement - about an hour’s drive away - so of course I had to go, even if for a few hours. I had joked that I was going to the settlement even if I had only time enough to drive my car through it waving at people.
…At the meeting we discussed important things like ghosts, goats, and lunch - not everyone was there at the scheduled start time. The goats were actually a serious topic as a method of maintenance; I said some tribes would want to monitor their activity “because they’re cute” and the superintendent added, “and to see if they really scream like they do on tv!”
…One serious matter we were asked not to discuss but I can say: someone has to pay.
Affairs of the heart. The Wordsmith and I are so compatible and can talk or spend time in each other’s company for hours without getting tired of each other, but time and distance have a lot to do with that. He always hints at something more, but when I’m back home we have contact only if I call or send emails. So I don’t anymore unless I’m heading that way. He was gone this time, but his presence is palpable.
…I also noticed how much S has come to mean to me. He’s not my boyfriend, but we see each other quite a bit although weeks or even a month can go by between when we see each other. As far as I know, he’s not seeing someone else. I’m not and I know he’s more of a workaholic than me. We talk and text often. I’ve been to his house and met his dog (who loves me). I didn’t get so upset about the Wordsmith’s absence because I looked forward to seeing S at my return. The thought of him came at odd moments, and things came up that I wanted to share with him and later did.
…Free Spirit is coming for a week and will be here at the end of this week. I used to get really excited, and I am happy he’s coming, but that’s tempered by two things: 1) he didn’t apply for the job here and 2) S. On one hand, Free Spirit has been talking about working here since we met in 1993. On the other, he now has things to settle before he could make a move like that so it doesn’t mean he won’t come eventually.
Drama Queen. My brother’s “companion” - he’s never called her his girlfriend, wife, sweetheart, significant other, or even main squeeze - left him after a heated argument. Right now he needs assistance; he’s sick. She’s had breaks, just came off a five day one, and she tends not to give him or the baby the attention they need. Now he sees what she really is but they had to bring an innocent baby into the mess that is their relationship. She was gone a week. The bitch is back. My brother no longer wants to be with her but she has to be there for the baby to be there. I get angry at her lies and how stupid he was for being with her in the first place. But I comfort myself with the fact that she still has to hear, every time someone sees a new picture of the baby, that she looks like ME.
Feline family. Still mourning my cats…feeling the empty places where they used to be…my heart still sees them there but breaks when I remember they’re gone. But the others have stepped in - M’ow used to be the one to wake me regularly every morning for her breakfast, thereby getting me up to feed everybody, and to ask for treats; now my other elderly lady asks for breakfast, and my little doctor cat asks for treats and cuddles with me. My “bottle baby” still climbs in my lap. Not every day anymore, but I still need him.

Well, I’m off! Since I’ve been writing this, I saw notification of an email from S!

Hot off the Presses - Asylum Cemetery Project. The woman I dealt with is insane herself, but she’s been told by several other tribes what’s what. One of the tribes represented wants to remove their ancestors from the asylum cemetery to be taken back to their homeland, and by law they have the right to do so. She said No when she hasn’t the authority nor does she own the land. She’s been told the law by other tribal representatives and by a state agency official; in her snide reply to the state official she spoke for all the tribes represented, but one wrote her that she can’t speak for all the tribes, some of whom may have opinions that differ from hers. She seems to think she owns our people and that hers is the only opinion that matters. I’m glad to know others are seeing through her now.

Last updated August 12, 2015