Bits & Pieces Held Together by
Sheer Force of Will, &
a Little Duct Tape

I'm not who I once was, but at the same time, I am. Deep? Oh yeah, baby. That's me.

By the by...
August 22, 2004
A recent photo of me (it is somewhat large) is here. I don't even completely hate it. Not entirely, anyhow. So that's what I look like now, for those of you who haven't seen me in, oh, forever.

More recent events can be seen on my (and I can't believe I've gone and done this) LiveJournal. I may try to sporadically get this thing updated in small pieces, but I make no promises. The main bulk of this was written in July of 2003, with bits added later.

I don't really know where to begin anymore...a lot has happened and changed since I wrote that first "Who am I?" page, back in 1995. If you're interested in an erstwhile me, that page is still there. I have a lot of that young woman in here, of course, but her perspective is usually toned down by a slightly more mature me. Maybe "toned down" isn't right word...reminds me of an episode of Stargate SG-1 (yes, I'm still a bit of a science fiction geek,) in which Teal'c, who is, shall we say, new to American idioms, has the following exchange with another character:

Daniel: "Maybe we should wait until things calm down."
Teal'c: "Things will not calm down, Daniel Jackson. Things will, in fact, calm up."

Ok, so I'm still as random as ever, but that line makes me laugh every time. Point being, sometimes it's the more experienced, mature Airyn who is champing at the bit for one thing or another, and it's the younger me who tries to rein her counterpart in.

Alright, let me get the basics out of the way, then, and since this is a horribly self-indulgent page all about Me, most of the following sentences are going to being with "I." I won't deny having a bit of an ego at times, and I further won't deny enjoying attention, despite being hugely uncomfortable with it most of the time. Otherwise, a lot of this website wouldn't be here, would it.

I'm about to turn 34, I live in a little town called Tenino, I have 2 cats and two dogs, I live on 88 acres in the country, surrounded by yaks, turkeys, cows of all varieties, llamas, horses, and feral peacocks, I work at Wolf Haven International, where I am one of two animal care specialists, and I am poorer than I have ever been. For more than a month now, I have had a negative balance in my checking account, and I subsist largely on oatmeal and frozen vegetables. However, I'm also happier than I've ever been in my life.

When I was a little girl, the things I loved most in this world were animals. Incidentally, that never changed. That little me wanted to work with animals, but she didn't know about such things as wildlife researchers or really anything apart from veterinarians and zookeepers, neither of which appealed to her at all. When the little me began to grow up, and she went to college, she declared her major to be Biology, because she still wanted to work with animals, and she was very interested in the subject matter in general. However, she took one look at the course load for that field of study, saw all of the Math and Chemistry, and fled, screaming into the night, headed straight for the Humanities, never to look back.

She got a degree in Sociology, Criminal Justice and Deviance. A degree which, by the way, has never once seen use in any capacity.

Return to relatively recent times, when I was 32, and decided to get a Master's degree in Wildlife Science at the University of Washington. I started that program, and stopped after one semester, due to a wide variety of circumstances. The two most important ones, though, were the fact that I couldn't be admitted to the program without an undergraduate degree in a related field, and I moved more than 2 hours away from campus to begin work at Wolf Haven. Now, I am working with animals directly and indirectly, and I'm Fighting the Good Fight, which is vital to my mental well-being. Every day, I get to look after 50 canids, all of whom I love (even the one who would love nothing more than to slowly eat me alive.)

After more than a decade of hugely unrewarding work in computer support that paid me well, I'm doing what I love for peanuts, and it's all good.

I used to do some freelance writing for a couple of photography magazines, but my skills as a photographer are still developing. At some point, maybe I'll get a photo or two in there, but I'm patient in that regard (that regard, and precious few others.) I still love my motorcycles, but can't afford to put insurance on Grak, so I haven't ridden much. After Gerlachfest '04, I put Grak up and didn't ride for 11 months. However, during that time, several friends bike-napped him and took him up to Seattle to my friend Bryce. Bryce is a BMW-certified mechanic, and went over Grak thoroughly. The bike runs better now than it has since I drove it off the dealer's lot! I have several trips planned for the remainder of the year, and have already taken one relatively brief weekend jaunt up to British Columbia for the Abbotsford Air Show.

I try to keep in touch with my motorcycling friends, though, and I'll get to see some of them a couple of times later this year.

For more than three years, I was deeply in love with and committed to a boy named Lance, and that relationship gifted me with many new perspectives on love, life, myself, patience, and everything else. That relationship ended in January of '03, and its ending gave me a whole slew of yet newer perspectives, and really changed me for the better. I have a much clearer idea of what I want out of life, and of how I can work to acheive my goals. It was only after about 6 or so months hat I really let go of the past three years, and looked back at them with different eyes. It was a good relationship in so many ways, but there were very dark aspects to it that weren't good for either of us.

Being single again was awkward at first, but now it's exciting and feels fresher and good. I've lost more than 40 pounds since January, and in some respects actually do feel like a different person, physically. Rediscovering my cheekbones was quite a thrill, finding curves that were covered up by fat and wearing clothing that was once in the "I'll never wear these again" box, and then putting those clothes into the "These are too big to even think about wearing" box is even better.

Dating was simultaneously very cool and a little scary, largely due to complexities in the people I chose, plus I still have too much weight, and too many of the associated body images to really be completely free of insecurities, but things are getting better.

In September of 2003, Lance and I made another go of things, and it was really wonderful for awhile. However, the two-hour distance between us coupled with my crazy work schedule made it very difficult to get together more than a couple of weekends a month. For months, though, Lance would come down almost every weekend to spend time together, but it wasn't fair to put most of the burden upon him. However, having 2 dogs in the city (in a no pets apartment, no less) is difficult, and I can't afford the gas money to travel that far terribly often. Thus, we gradually drifted apart, and things sort of unravelled for both of us a month or so ago.

The bottom line, for me, is this: I love Lance dearly, and I always, always will. He's been a huge part of my life, and I hope to continue some kind of relationship, be it whatever it may, well into the future. Right now, that relationship is email-based, but we'll see what happens. Lance and I are very well-suited to each other in many ways, but our negative qualities tend to reinforce each other, and things slide a little bit here and there, leading to less than ideal situations. It's really too bad that things didn't work out the second time around, but we both agreed that we don't see each other enough, and that neither of us has the time or energy to devote to properly trying to make it work. So, I guess I am single again, more or less.

I still have many of the same interests I always have had, although not much time or money to do anything with them. I love to shoot, but haven't in more than a year. I thoroughly enjoyed sea kayaking, but haven't the money to do it again. If I could sky dive every single day, I would. I really, really enjoy movies. I read voraciously. I take pictures. I eat things. I spend time with my friends.

As of June of 2004, I've been HUGELY back into the world of planes and airshows...I've taken a number of amazing flights with world-reknowed pilots in truly mind-blowing old warbirds, and, from the looks of things, it's only going to get better with time. I've been fortunate enough to have been adopted into yet another group of wonderful people, who, for whatever reason, have taken a liking to me. More about these folks can be seen at my LiveJournal pages from August.

(This next bit I left intact, but I'll make an addendum:)
When it comes right down to it, though, my whole universe revolves around Zephyr, my 10-month-old Border Collie/Australian Shepherd/Something Unknown dog. He is beautiful, and he is fun, and he is amazing. We go sheep herding nearby, and people tell me he's going to be a champion dog, someday. Right now, I'm letting our friend Dave do a lot of his training, because he has the firm hand that Zeph really needs right now, whereas I am a giant pansy by comparison.

Ok, bac to present day. In September, Zephyr was run over by a car in my driveway, leading to having a nearly destroyed femoral head in his right leg, along with assorted other injuries. They were horrible and it was a devastating night for both of us, and it resulted in his having a Femoral Head Excision performed - basically, my vet cut off the femoral head, leaving only a false joint on that side of his hip. Nearly a year later, he is recovered nearly completely, but there is still some healing and strenghtening of the false joint to come. He hasn't been herding much, because it really works his joint hard to chase the sheep in the little arena. In February of 2004, I decided it was time to find Zephyr a companion, and I went to the Thurston County Animal Services facility and met my second dog, Sumi, who is probably a husky/chow/maybe shepherd mix. She's sweet and gentle and playful, and she worships the ground Zeph walks on. Zeph will turn 2 in approximately October, and she will turn 2 in approximately January. It took me a long time to bond with Sumi for a variety of reasons (mostly, I missed my alone time with Zeph,) but she and Zephyr are perfect companions. They play and wrestle and just love each other dearly - I really lucked out with her in terms of a dog with a good temperament who has worked out beautifully with Zeph. She a bit difficult to keep weight on, but with her hip condition (see next paragraph,) it's best that she stay on the lean side, anyhow.

On the third day I had Sumi, I discovered she has horrible, debilitating hip dysplasia. Her left hip required immediate surgery so that she could walk and run with less than incredible pain. Thankfully, my mom is a generous, gentle soul who couldn't stand the thought of her grandpuppy in pain, so she paid for the left-side surgery. After 12 weeks of being restricted to 10-minute leash walks, Sumi was once again a real dog, and she has been running non-stop since then. She still has pain in her right side, but at least she can stand up and move with less pain.

Back to the old stuff...
Conversations with Dave were largely been what inspired my current desire to revamp the website and update this page, especially. Dave asks many challenging questions, listens carefully to the answers, and isn't afraid to say "oh, bullshit" or ask the uncomfortable questions no one else is willing to. Dave pushes. I like it. I push back. Dave often resists. This is amusing, and helps me almost as much as his considered answers do.

And to the new again.
Dave ended up being a giant jackass, and as of the beginning of August of 2004, we're no longer speaking to each other.

And the old...
Zephyr and his doggie friends (who are my nephew/god-dogs) spend time romping at work all day, and we are seldom apart. In fact, we've never been without each other for more than 6 hours, and that was only once. We're a little too attached, and I'm slowly working on that by leaving him at home on occasion when I run out for a social reason, or to the store. It's hard.

And the new.
The first time I left Zephyr for more than 6 hours was for Gerlachfest of last year. I cried as I got ready to surrender him to his Auntie Joolie and was just horribly, horribly upset. Now, though, we've all been apart many times, and they usually stay with their Wendy. For the time being (and for the last 3 months,) Wendy has 3 dogs - Jake, Harley, and a foster dog we named "Flapjack." Flap has a long story that I won't relay here, but he should be going to a new home on September first with any luck. Having 5 dogs at once is something else! When one of us dog-sits for the other, it's kind of a huge undertaking, but I really enjoy it.

And back to the old stuff.
Like most people, I have many different splinters of my personality running rampant in my brain. I am not One Person - I'm a whole bunch of different people, co-existing in a very non-Sybil kind of way. They argue, they bicker, and they laugh at each other, but they're all me. People sometimes notice a dichotomous couple of remarks and say something like "you really are at war with yourself, aren't you?" or "how does your spoiled, inner 3-year-old feel about that?" Ho ho ho, aren't you fuckers funny. Look at the funny people! Right there! But they're right - I've got The Scientist, The Hippy Girl, The Naughty Girl, The Precious Child, The Good Girl, The Princess, The Wanton Woman, The Tough Broad, The Vulnerable Woman, The Politically-Correct Female, The I Hate Everything Bitch, and many others. We've all got characters like that in our heads, although sometimes I think maybe mine are a little more animated than other folks'. Sometimes I think mine are more of a pain in the ass. Usually, though, they've all got something valuable to add. The two that war the most are the Naughty and the Nice Girls. They have a lot of conflicts between them. It usually results in a compromise of some kind that is sub-optimal for all of us.

I am bisexual, and I love trucks and planes and machines. I also like scented candles, oils, and bubble baths. These two aspects are not mutually exclusive, as some folks would have you believe. I am not religious, and I'm incredibly skeptical about most things spiritual, I'm sad to say. I don't believe in fairies, but I love it that my friend Kari does. I was never a hardcore computer geek, though I tried to be. I sucked as a Unix systems administrator. I give good customer service whenever possible. I have periods of abject apathy, puntuated by periods of quasi-frenetic productivity...or maybe it's the other way around.

I do not tan easily.

I am learning Patience, but it's hard. I wish it would happen faster.

I still talk to my best friend from childhood, but I am lousy at keeping up with her emails. I am generally lousy at emails at large. My dreams are getting less and less vivid as I get older, and this causes me great concern, almost the point of panic. I never fly in them anymore.

I like feathers and stones and bones and shells. I have tattoos and body piercings. I own scanty leather clothing that I haven't worn in years. I love campfires or fires in fireplaces. I am learning how to Meander, rather than always striding forward with forethought and purpose. I have recently learned that the most powerful chemical attraction I had had previous to this month was not the most powerful chemical attraction I would ever have. I enjoy close contact with people, regardless of gender or sexual attraction. I figured out long ago that I don't want to be a demanding person, but it was only very, very recently that I learned how to accomplish that feat.

I said before that I like attention, but I am also uncomfortable with it many times, depending upon the situation, the kind of attention, and the company I'm in. I am comfortable in large groups of friendly people, whether I know them or not. I am not the kind of person who can insert herself into a new group of people which have not made it clear that I'm welcome. If no one were to approach me at a party where I didn't know anyone, I would likely sit quietly by myself for the duration, feeling incredibly awkward and I would probably busy myself playing with my glass, or picking at a piece of invisible lint. If someone gives me an opening to join in the reindeer games, though, I'm all over it like a happy puppy.

I really, really enjoy debunking stereotypes. I like shattering myths about queer folk, or biker chicks, or people with piercings or tattoos. My feelings are easily hurt, though less so than they once were.

I hate unloading the dishwasher.
Perhaps it is fortuitous, then, that my new (as of June '04) home does not have one. Then again, I hate doing the dishes, too.

I love a clean-but-not-too-clean home, but I hate cleaning house. I hate crowded places after about an hour. I like sitting quietly and drinking something in, whether it's a natural setting, the feel of a person sitting near me, or watching dogs play together. When Zephyr is chasing birds with his little stubby tail wagging madly, I feel an exuberance that is almost unattainable in any other situation.

Powerful machines like fighter jets, four-wheel-drive trucks, well-designed cars and motorcycles make me tingle in all the right places. Music has a strong effect on me, yet most of the time I can't be "bothered" to put in a CD. I'm very visual, but am sometimes afraid to look at things with wide open eyes - whatever I'm looking at can also look back at me, and while I have a strong desire to connect with people, I am also very shy. I am much more comfortable as a voyeur wearing dark, dark sunglasses. Sunglasses are a great defense system - it's easy to be cool, aloof and unflappable when people can't see your eyes.

The older I get, the less I hate cliches.

The older I get, the more I appreciate uniqueness.

The older I get, the more I cherish special people.

The older I get, the more I realize that people always come and go. Even the special ones.

Ok. Break time. Go have a sandwich, take a breather, get the hell away from all of this "ME ME ME ME ME!!!" crap. I can't believe you've read this far already. You realize I'm writing this for me and for a couple of other important people, right? But at the same time, I'm terrified about what those other important people think about all of it. It's a little too me. Y'know?

It's a little embarrassing.

But here it is, and here's more.

This is already huge and rambling and long. I feel like I should insert dancing elves or something to keep things interesting. I don't really have the anecdotal equivalent of a dancing elf, sadly, but here's a little something that made me laugh recently:

Doggie haiku:

Are you gonna eat that?
Are you gonna eat that?
I'll eat that.

Yes, I realize it's not offically a haiku, but the point remains. Another point is, I am a lousy teller of jokes and stories.

But I'm really easily amused, and I love it when other people tell stories, good or bad.

I love, love, love brussel sprouts. And thick, blue rare steaks. And sushi. And spicy food. And pizza. And all manner of sweet, decadent desserts. This somewhat explains my shape, which is rounder than it should be.

And while I continue to love all of those things still, this year I decided to go vegetarian (except for seafood, which is fair game as far as I'm concerned.) I miss meat ever so much, though. I miss thick, blue rare steaks. And I miss pork. I miss big, greasy hamburgers. And chicken dishes. [sigh] Fortunately, the meat substitutes out there now are a hell of a lot better than they were years ago when I tried this the first time and lasted about a month.

I recycle everything humanly possible. I try to be as green as I can be.

I drive an SUV. A small one, but an SUV nonetheless, and my hippy child hates it. The rest of me totally digs it.

I really love my family.

I have a lot of unframed prints on my walls, because I decided they were too pretty to sit, rotting away in storage, until I might be able to frame them, someday. At least this way, I can enjoy them a bit.

I really love art and good photography. I wish I had some kind of creative talent myself. I am in awe of many of my friends who can make things or play things or do things really well, without seeming to put much effort into it. I really love my friends.

If I ran the country, it would be a beautiful place with a whole lot of civil and political freedoms, but the economy would be in the shitter.

I'd still like to give it a shot, though.

I live more in my head than in my body, and I'd like very much to change that.

I have exactly one secret that I will never tell another soul. It's one of those gut-wrenching things that I am deeply ashamed of, and cannot make peace with. I try not to think of it often. There are other things that I'm not particularly comfortable with that might take some poking around to get to.

Because I've done ... questionable ... things in my past, I withhold judgment of others to the best of my abilities.

I am easily moved. I am too self-involved. Because I have no desire to have children, I am either an utter evolutionary failure, because I don't want to pass along my genes, or a complete evolutionary success, because there are too many of us, and I don't want to add more people to the planet. If there weren't so many side-effects, I would get a tubal ligation immediately. If, when a few more years pass, I am suddenly possessed with an obsession to procreate, I'll be hugely disappointed with myself.

Sometimes, I think I'm pretty psychic. Other times, I think I'm totally head-blind.

If no one would ever find out, and if I gave in to a demonic urge I sometimes get, I would, without a doubt, buy a box of 10 Raspberry Zingers and eat them all in one sitting.

I really hate plain water. But I force myself to drink as much of it as I can stand. I hear it's good for me, or some such.

I can't not pop a pimple.

I am an adrenaline junkie with a healthy sense of self-preservation. Not easy bedfellows.

Most of the time, I would rather go fast and get there than go slow and not feel rushed. Slow drivers in the fast lane make me twitchy. Meandering is good and enjoyable and wonderful and nice, but left to my own devices, I will stride.

I am largely Swedish/Northern European. I hate really cold weather. I hate really hot weather. Sometimes, I don't think I'm largely Swedish. I think my folks might be from someplace like, oh, Oregon. Someplace where it gets neither really hot, nor really cold.

I have a touch, just a touch, mind you, of compulsive behavior when it comes to things I've lost and cannot find. Or food. Have I mentioned the thing with food? I have? Ok, then.

Often, I really hate people. Occasionally, I really love them, too.

I'm horrible about remembering birthdays, unless I'm very close to someone.

If someone close to me forgets my birthday, I am very hurt.

Men in uniform, for some reason, are really, really Interesting.

I honestly do not believe I will ever get cancer. I think I can convince my body that it's not interested in being cancerous. I believe cancer is a disease of frustration and repression. I am often frustrated, and sometimes repressed. Hmmm.

After 4 Guinnesses, I can speak pretty good Spanish, when in Mexican company.

If I call you "pumpkin" or "precious" or "babycakes," I am being sarcastic; it's not that I don't like you - but I'm poking fun at you a little bit. Likewise, "snookums," "studmuffin," or "stallion." If I call you "baby" or "honey" or "babe," that's a term of real endearment.

I frequently underestimate my abilities and overestimate the abilities of others. I have a hard time accepting a compliment graciously, despite the part of me that desperately craves them. I grew up with an intense focus on modesty, which occasionally backfires on me.

I fall in love with people easily and too soon. I do things against my better judgment, even after careful consideration. If I make a promise, I will contort myself in all directions to keep it, but sometimes, just sometimes, I can't.

I have relatively little upper body strength. My body type is "all legs and tits," which I resent tremendously. I'm working on the upper body strength thing. It's slow. Too slow, dammit.

I gush too often.

I really hate being interrupted, and it galls me completely when I find myself interrupting someone else. I make silent notes to stop it, and then find myself doing it anyhow. [SHRIEK!]

I have had a lot of intense, sometimes brief, friendships with people, and even though I don't see or talk to them much anymore, they are never far out of my thoughts or heart.

I love Vanilla Coke & Diet Vanilla Coke. I don't like regular Diet Coke much. I love Classic Coke. I love Diet Pepsi, but not regular Pepsi. A truly good, real Vanilla Coke made with syrup is something to be treasured. I could never in 1000 years successfully stay on the Atkins Diet for more than about an hour and a half.

In the animal world, there are precious few critters that I don't like or at least appreciate and respect, but there are some which hold special places, of course. Dogs top the list - it's impossible to be too sad for too long whenever there are dogs around. Other canids are up there, too - wolves, coyotes, foxes, African dogs, dingos - they're all wonderful. Orcas are also up near the top, as are dolphins, horses, raptors, corvids, and other birds.

I am prone to driving a little too fast, and therefore also prone to receiving "performance awards" from police officers in sneaky speed traps.

I've never been convicted of a crime. I have tried a few different drugs in my time, but I've never shot up, and I've never smoked anything that put me at risk of death or instant addiction. I would rather be a little stoned than a little drunk, and I am never Really Drunk. I've never been addicted to anything. Ok, anything except chocolate. I'm still working on that one.

I give people the benefit of the doubt until they really, really screw me, or someone I care about, over.

I become offended and hurt when people speak ill of my friends without justification, and I will defend them to the last. I sometimes become offended and hurt when people speak ill of my friends even with justification, and try to defend them, anyhow.

...to be continued...

August, 2003

I'm all about Second Chances. I can't imagine never giving anyone a second chance, no matter what the offense. Even the person who hurt me most in the world is currently getting one. It's not always easy to give someone another chance, but it's much harder not to.

Recently, someone accused me (repeatedly) of making up the shit I don't know, and passing it on as fact. He's projecting, I assure you.

That same person (it was Dave) finds me, on occasion, "painfully cute." [grimace]

If I could pay off my bills and never again borrow money from my family or friends, I'd be a very, very happy woman. I might even feel like An Actual Adult. I honestly believe that until I'm self-sustaining, I'm not a grown-up. Dave would agree that I'm not a grown-up, but for very different reasons.

Denis Leary is one of my favorite comedians. So's Dennis Miller, although I find it very eerie and disturbing that he's now a conservative Republican. I mean, c'mon - he's always been on the side of the good guys! What gives, Dennis? You're joking, right? Right?!

I once spent 66 hours straight MUD'ing at a computing center on campus, leaving my station only to pee or to get more caffeine. I programmed a hellacious castle in LPC, and it was the jewel of the game. I'm stupidly proud of that feat. I am pathetic. If you know what MUD'ing is, you might be as pathetic as I am, but it's unlikely.

If left to my own devices, I will fall asleep between 3:30 - 5am, and will wake up between 11 and 12:30pm.

I have a mild phobia of going to bed and trying to fall asleep, due to a ridiculous neurological/sleep disorder which has the power to make me wish for death some nights.

I'm so incredibly easily-pleased that it's almost indescribable. This is very fun for me, but sometimes hard for other people to believe that I'm having a good time, even when we're driving randomly around, or simply sitting and doing nothing. I've got enough randomness running around in my head to keep me well-occupied.

This past Sunday, I found out that the average adult only has enough time to read 600 books in his or her lifetime. This caused a small needle of panic to insert itself into my heart - only 600?! That's just not enough! Time to really get cracking on reading more stuff.

Standing on my front porch last night, looking up at a nigh-full moon behind a couple of scattered clouds and a few trees, seeing my breath in the air, watching bright stars overhead, I remembered again how incredibly gifted I am to live in the Pacific Northwest. Moonlight gleaming off of Mt. Rainier's glaciers on a cool, clear night is truly something to behold.

Sometimes, I reread something I wrote years ago, and I am struck by how good or by how bad it is. I just re-found this, and I really like it: "There are distinct differences between a wish, a goal, a dream, and a hope for me. A wish is something grandiose, something that isn't likely to come true, a fantasy. I wish I could stop the destruction of the rainforest right this second. A goal is something within reach, usually short-term, something that if I apply myself, I can attain. My goal is to finish this project by Friday. A dream is almost akin to a longterm goal, something that can come true, if I work at it. It usually requires sacrifice and determination. My dream is to move to the west coast someday. A hope is often more dear to me than my wishes or my dreams...it usually pertains to something in my immediate future, something close to my heart, something I truly want. I am aware there are obstacles or potential obstacles to having my hope fulfilled. There may be tremendous odds against it, in fact. It's a delicate, desperate, passionate feeling that comes straight from the depths of my soul. It can be like a quiet song in a thunderstorm, or a cry in the night. I pin a lot on my hopes, and I sometimes feel like I am flying when I'm hoping. At other times, I feel like a dry leaf in heavy wind. I hope he does not dump me."

There are moments, in between stupid angst and soaring bliss, when I reach a happy medium with my writing, and manage to find a fine line between "too little" and "too much." I love it when that happens.

I am not done yet. Yes, I can babble on and on about me for hours and hours. Why, it's the subject I know best. Sort of.

June, 2004

See, once again, this is all out of date. Crazy.

I have two dogs and two cats; Sumi came into my life earlier this year, and little Stevie departed. I work full-time in animal care at Wolf Haven, which is the most amazing job I've ever had. Times are tumultuous at work, however, and we're going through a period of dramatic change that I hope we can weather, despite the heart and soul of the organization, Kari Jo, leaving next week.

I've become involved with the Olympic Flight Museum, which has been a truly divine experience. I worked their 3-day airshow a couple of weeks ago, and got my first flight in a warbird, which was also my first flight in a taildragger, and my first flight involving aerobatics. My pilot, Bill Shepherd, took me up in his Yak-11 and showed me a good time - I yelled, I laughed, and I was amazed. I also met Bud Granley, a childhood hero to many people, and one of the most natural pilots I've ever had the honor to watch fly. I also discovered he's as much fun on the ground. I pushed around nearly priceless aircraft, I crewed one of the few remaining P-51 Mustangs. I sweated a hell of a lot and I got a nasty sunburn. I worked hard. I met really cool people, and I think I have a new obsession. Every single night since the first day of the show, I have dreamed about planes. I've got The Bug, baby, and I've got it badly. Fortunately, I also have some good people guiding me into it. I'll help out at the upcoming Arlington airshow, and can't wait.

I'm trying to get unpacked and organized after THe Big Move, which isn't easy. I have precious little space, and (as usual) too much stuff.

And I'm sleepy. It's been crazy hot lately, and it just sucks the energy right out of me. Working outside in the sun is forcing me to drink a lot of plain water. Ugh.

With that, good night.

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