As If That Weren't Enough...

Auggie has been taken. After three unsuccessful adoptions over the course of almost a year (the first two had extenuating circumstances at the last second, the third proved to be too flaky for comfort), we finally looked into pug rescue. Surprisingly (to me, at least), the rescue could provide a far better adoption process and much more rigorous qualifications and accountability than we ever could. After painstakingly checking references and discovering that we were linking up with what might be the best dog rescue in the country, we applied to surrender Auggie just yesterday afternoon. By some alignment in the stars, the local representative happened to be heading to the rescue at 8am today, and roused us out of bed for a 9am pick-up. It seemed so abrupt. So disturbing... or disconcerting.

I now feel like beef jerky. Kevin asked me what that means. I said brittle and worn, and inanimate. But I still think beef jerky is better. It makes me sound like a jerk, too, which is a little how I feel. The crazy thing is Auggie will be happier. I was doing my best, but it wasn't enough. We have no money. We have no time. We have no patience. If anyone should be getting the scraps of us after four jobs and a skin-tight budget, it's each other and our children. Not Auggie. Poor Auggie.

It's like a death: a pet death. And like a pet death where it's your fault. I keep expecting him to come bounding around the corner. I keep thinking to myself, Better let Auggie in. Has Auggie been fed yet today? And I open the laundry room door, pause with surprise where his crate was, and is no more.

I have to admit, in response to the nagging feelings about feeding him, shuffling him, doing for him--even on this first day of absence--I sort of think, "Oh!" and then feel a weight-absent. But then I notice the hole.

Auggie is now a hole, which will undoubtedly grow over with time.

Disaster.

I'm almost too emotionally exhausted to blog, but it seemed like a more realistic option than staring at my gmail page and refreshing it every several seconds to see if someone was reaching out to me. Which I was doing.

It never seems to rain, but it pours. We really were getting very lucky with Kev's new medications, and were actually scraping by (maybe just barely) with the budget. We were even ready to make some new year's resolutions, including picking a new avenue for Kevin's employment and career. Then things careen out of control. I never was in control. I am humble now. I give. I fold. Please.

I feel sick with worry. Kevin has been laid off...sort of. They are remaining as vague as they can possibly can, keeping us teetering on a wire of maybe. And then, in the middle of our heroic panic, Kevin rear-ends a lady. Lord Almighty! Have some mercy! Kevin really looked like he might be able to get through this, one step at a time, and now? I can hear the tears in his voice. Did we need the straw-that-would-break-the-camel's-back?

I don't know what else to say.

A Couple Book Reviews and an Adieu

I have had things to say. I have had things to share. I even have a few scraps of paper left in the van from the holiday travels, with blog-headed jottings on them. When I gather the papers in, perhaps I will write about Orion rising over the West Virginian Mountains in the dead of night.

More recently, I have been reading. I am now in the middle of a quick, evangelical Christian, fiction, read--which is a genre I very, very, very rarely explore--but I seem to have misplaced it while the main protagonists are in the middle of a marriage crisis and the housewife is about to get romantically involved with the painter. So we will write about It Happens Every Spring when I happen to locate the book.

Since the loss, I read through Haven Kimmel's Iodine in two or three days. Mostly I read it that fast (and not due to an abundance of free time, let me assure you) because it was engaging, as Kimmel always is. I know that I have sung her praises on this blog before, but let me repeat that she should (and I would be surprised if she didn't) go down in the cannon of great American writers, as time proves her genius, which lies is her intelligence, her fluidity, her grasp of language, and in her sensitivity to her characters and ultimately to us all. This book was much darker than the Kimmel I have grown to love, but let me assure you that once you make it past the fear that it is yet another tome to the normalcy of incest, you will be rewarded. I did occasionally find Kimmel's coolness and academia a little distracting, but maybe this was because I kept wallowing in the truth: I could never write like this (not that smart, anyhow). As long as you don't mind the dark and the psychoanalytical, give it a read.

Am now reading Does This Clutter Make My Butt Look Fat? Also, not a usual read for me, but I was intrigued with the idea of shaving off the un-important in my life. (Uh-oh! There goes the blog!) It is way more a diet book than I anticipated, and is written so very poorly, but I am still considering taking the author up on his little "assignments." I would love to clean out my house and my life and find focus on the things that really matter right now. And don't ask me what that is. I have not yet done the exercise. But considering that I have accomplished absolutely none of my new year's resolutions from last year, I'm thinking that there is a disconnect between my dreams and desires and my doings.

That's all. I can't believe I could go forever without blue cheese or mushrooms. But I most definitely could. What makes those decisions in our lives, anyways? How complicated can we be? It turns out, very. People are way too complicated for me to wrap my mind around. Or, really, my mind is geared for something else, entirely, which is the way it often is with people like me. What kind of people am I? You decide. You're a mystery to me, anyhow.

Good night and good riddance.