I'm sorry Jesse.

I just gave my cats extra hugs.

It's super sad, you guys! I mean, they aren't people, but they live with you for years and years. And are awesome.

I lived with Kittenish for just shy of 18 years. That's longer than any of my sister's children have even been alive. It can be a huge loss.

So we had our holiday staff lunch, did our Secret Santa exchange, and everyone oo-ed and ah-ed over my costume jewelery mirror! I got a very nice tea mug with a lid. The big fighting item was a basket full of home-canned goods (apple butter, dilly beans, jams, even some butter cookies). Then, our Dev. Dir., who is retiring, said that while we've been going on about how we'll miss her, it's her that will be missing us, and that she selfishly doesn't want us to miss *her*, so she handed out bags to each of us, which turned out to be doodads from her office. I almost cried when I got her hummingbird paperweight, which I'd always admired. There were bags of chips and gum and a voodoo doll as well as socks and Tums and ibuprofen, all these little things that she associated with each of us. And she gave the ED a red phone, since he's been threatening to call her in emergencies. What a wonderful and gracious woman, I almost had to leave for crying.

Also, I'm proud of myself: I wore a white shirt and joked that I shouldn't get anything with red sauce (I have soup-catcher boobs), and then succumbed to the pulled-pork sandwich. The shirt, it is still clean!

I also had my "review" with the ED before lunch, which was simply me talking about my overall feelings of the past year, and my hopes and dreams, and I was quite frank with him that things were starting to look bleak with the drastic slashing of the budget, and then I bit the bullet and unloaded about my immediate boss and her controlling ways, which he said he was glad of because he'd been wondering how I was handling it, as he's been witness to her doing that to everyone on staff (and she's only responsible for *me*). But it boiled down to me needing to keep communications open with her and finding a way bring up my issues in a productive way with *her*. Which I agree with, but it was nice that he heard me. And had been wondering how I was holding up under her.

I feel bad, because she seems to have three settings, goofy and relaxed and reading my mind, serious and controlling, and feeling out-of-control and alienated and depressed (and possibly extra controlling). And ever since my review, she's been the third option.

Jesse, I'm so sorry. It's so hard. I hate having to make the decision - would much rather just come home and find the beloved pet already deceased. When we had my Josie put down, she also rallied that day so it was just that much harder. The stupid vet was all, "She looks great!" Thanks, asshole! Like it isn't hard enough. Anyway, hugs to you.

Timelies all!

I'm so sorry, Jesse.

she handed out bags to each of us, which turned out to be doodads from her office. I almost cried when I got her hummingbird paperweight, which I'd always admired. There were bags of chips and gum and a voodoo doll as well as socks and Tums and ibuprofen, all these little things that she associated with each of us. And she gave the ED a red phone, since he's been threatening to call her in emergencies. What a wonderful and gracious woman, I almost had to leave for crying.

That's really sweet. What a great idea.

The stupid vet was all, "She looks great!" Thanks, asshole! Like it isn't hard enough.

Oh god. Fuck you, vet! I hadn't seen this one before, which was a little weird, but she didn't ask anything at all, which I appreciated. I did have to sign a thing saying he hadn't bit anyone!

Jesse, easy and warm thoughts to you.

Meara, this is the sucky website for the awesome cake shop: [link]

Julie, that sounds like a nice leave-taking.

I picked up Noah at school and both knees of his pants were entirely shredded. Sigh. So we went to the mall and bought 3 pairs of pants and a new pair of shoes for him. He is ridiculously rough on clothing.

He is ridiculously rough on clothing.

He's a little boy. I think it's in the job description.

So sorry, Jesse. So hard and sad.

I picked up Noah at school and both knees of his pants were entirely shredded.

Pre-patching is a thing people do, right?