It was my second photography trip for work and I have another one lined up later next month.

I was sent to Baltimore, MD to shoot a Civic Type R for a project that we are doing for Honda.

Again, I’m only a backup backup photographer for the agency and it seems that everyone was unavailable due to it being a holiday weekend and I was the only one who didn’t have plans. I usually don’t plan anything around this time anyway, but yes, I was available to do it.

At first, I was gung ho about it and then I was a little hesitant because I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with Relish. She stayed at ASEC for medical boarding for a price I was willing to pay.

Pickles was Pickles. He’s a pro at being boarded at Center Sinai now. He’s comfortable with it and I’m okay with it.

So, I went.

* * *

Thursday was a long day of traveling. Bright and early to late night on EST. It was only 6:30 on PST, but it felt like 9:30 to me.

By the time I landed, there wasn’t a shot list. It didn’t come until past midnight on the East Coast. Good thing I don’t sleep well and I looked it over and planned on doing most of the shots anyway. I was to treat the photoshoot like an auto show and for the most part, that’s what I did.

They had a narrative and a story that they wanted to tell, but given the area and the environment, I couldn’t make that happen. There were no shipping containers anywhere near this port.

There were just cars and cars and more cars. Cars.

The photoshoot went well. I got all the shots I needed, or at least I think I did and a lot more.

There was a mishap and it was my fault. I should have seen it. I should have anticipated it. It was during the exterior 360 shoot with the Theta. It was windy and the low-profile tripod, was more a monopod than anything else.

Wind and no balance doesn’t lend well for photography, especially the camera. One of the lenses got scratched up bad. I have a replacement Theta on order and should get it tonight.

Fucking piece of shit. It is what it is.

I got the shots and hauled ass back to the hotel room where I selected a few jpgs for upload.

It was a long full workday for me even though most people got out at 2. I wasn’t fortunate. It’s part of the job and it is what it is.

I got a job and I got more insight into the advertising aspect of the agency and see how the meat of the work is produced. It is truly interesting and fascinating to see that part process. I never been included before.

They picked their shots and I got them the pictures.

There was a mishap in terms of getting pictures which I don’t know what happened. It must be a permission setting or something.

I just tried it with a “view only” perms that I set for users and they could login without any problems.

I’ll have to test with Nick.

But they got the files and I am done with this project. Onto the next one.

Onto the next one.

* * *

Exploring Baltimore.

Well, I didn’t have a good chance to explore Baltimore.

I left work, or my hotel room a little after 5 and went to the hotel bar to grab a drink and then I went back to the hotel to put the files on the shuttle since some users were having issues.

After, I went to dinner. It was about 2 miles away and I decided to drive instead. I thought of walking after I was well on my way. There was a moment I thought about driving back, parking, and then walking, but then decided not to.

The plan was seafood. It’s the Northeast, so seafood was the thing to go for. I found the Thames St. Oyster Bar on Yelp and that’s where I went.

I had the grilled octopus and the lobster roll. I’ve had better of each, but still good.

I was sitting at the bar and I met and had an interesting conversation with a girl that was sitting next to me.

She is a science teacher in high school and from North Carolina. She moved to Baltimore back in 2008 for the teaching gig and she seems cool.

Everything felt so organic in how we started to chat and what not and I’m sure the copious amount of alcohol that we both consumed helped ease whatever inhibitions that we had.

She is envious about my fearlessness and my sense of adventure and for the most part it seems that she needs someone to give her the confidence and to be with her and to live their life with her. She wants a companion.

I’m sure if I was a local in Baltimore, something probably would have happened or continue to happen and since I’m not, nothing much happened other than an exchange of numbers.

I haven’t heard from her yet.

But, I was still trying to make it work, in terms of hooking up. I’m not going to lie about that.

If it happened, great. If it didn’t, fine.

But it was a great experience, a great moment in this life of moment that I’m able to connect and have a moment with a total stranger like that. I’m not as hopeless as I think I am.

I just need to put myself in a situation like that and allow it to happen.

It was good. I know that I’m capable of it and I like the confirmation that I can. Sure I got rejected, but again, what’s new.

Next time.

When things are out of control, the only control you have is how you process and deal with it.

It’s the only way one can keep sane.

Take control of your emotions when things get out of hand.

It’s the only control you have.

It’s important.

Take control of what you can.

Some light broke through last week and now everything is bright.

Sometime early last week I decided to let Relish out of her crate and roam the living room under supervision. She seemed so much happier now that she has some freedom and out of her crate.

She’s able to cat again. She’ll groom herself and explore the limited space that she has access to.

Light.

Sunshine.

The darkness lifted.

Relish will have surgery on Tuesday to close her wound. They’ll have to take skin from somewhere else and graft it on to the open wound. She’s on the mend.

She’s eating on her own. She’s moving around on her own. I was directed to stop her pain medication.

Progress.

Light.

Relish.

* * *

Mother’s Day was Sunday.

I called mom and the first thing she asked was about Relish. I told her she’s doing fine and how it happened with me rescuing Chutney and everything.

She then asked how much money I spent on her.

I told her I didn’t want to talk about it. I know what her response would be. She started from thousands to tens-of-thousands and believe me, she wasn’t happy.

I knew her response.

She would have just let her died. Why would I spend that much money of a fucking cat?

Typical.

It is what it is.

Money isn’t that important to me. My conscience and my heart matters more. Money is money. It doesn’t buy me my happiness.

My clear conscience that I did everything to protect this cat and to save this cat makes me feel better about myself. That’s what’s important.

My responsibility as a pet owner and as a fur-parent.

That matters.

But, overall, it was a good call after we moved on from Relish.

Even though I knew her response, it still pissed me off.

* * *

As people find out what happened to Relish and see pictures of the damage, they all feel bad.

Those who were encouraging me to get Chutney feel guilty about it.

It’s not their fault and it’s not something that they should apologize for. I’ve pretty much had it in my mind and heart that I needed to rescue Chutney anyway.

It is what it is.

No one could have foreseen what happened. I certainly didn’t when I met him and rescued him. I thought that he would just fit in based on Chutney’s personality when I met him.

He’s sweet and just wants attention.

It is what it is.

Time to move on.

We all can’t change the past, we just have to come to terms with it.

* * *

My life is unbalanced and I’m slowly trying to find that balance again. I trying to find the status quo that I had before everything that happened in the past month or so.

It is staking its time.

Slowly.

Slowly getting back to cooking again.

Slowly getting back to baking bread.

Slowly finding my routine.

Work is busy and that’s not helping. I’m in the thick of a big company project for my department and I’m pulled in so many directions while trying to manage and project manage things on my side.

For the most part, I have things all under control, but it’s a lot.

It’s the new normal.

It’s the new status quo.

I just have to adapt.

Adapt or die.

Evolution, right?

Adapt.

Live.

* * *

Quiet.

Silence.

I keep my weekends quiet and alone.

It’s how I recharge.

I stay home and take care of my charges and that’s all that matters. It’s their time. I make it up to them for being at work during the week and they get to be home with me.

I don’t like to go out.

I don’t like to do things.

I just like to chill.

I like to Zen out and unwind.

Cooking helps.

Bread making helps.

Sometimes, not always, cleaning helps.

Alcohol helps.

I’ve been drinking a lot recently and it’s mostly because of the upheaval in my life. Things are slowing down as stated above. There’s light, but things are still unbalanced.

It’ll take some time to adjust, but I’m getting there.

The pressure is off.

I’m adapting.

* * *

Carbs.

I’ve been eating a lot of carbs…like, a shit ton of carbs.

Pizza. Pizza. Pasta. Pasta.

Now, bread bread.

Experimenting with bread.

I started to venture out from the regular sourdough boules that I’ve been making and adding other things to it.

My first experiment? Sundried tomatoes and basil sourdough.

How do I think it’ll come out? Like shit. It’s way too hydrated.

I fucked it up. There probably wouldn’t be any oven spring.

It’s just a wet mess.

I’ll cook the fucked up one tonight and leave the other three for tomorrow.

Hopefully at least one of those loaves will turnout okay. I just want something to turn out okay.

There’s some light at the end of the tunnel. There’s some breathing room where I don’t feel the whole world crushing down on me.

Relish is on the rebound. Her wounds and new tissue are looking healthier and healthier each time that she’s getting her bandage changed. It’ll still be a long road to recovery, but there’s progress.

It’s only been a week, but I think I have worked out a schedule and a routine in when to feed her, her meds, and dropping her off to get her bandage changed.

It’s tough and requires a lot of patience and care and at times a strong stomach cleaning up after her, but as long as she makes a recovery, I’m all for it. I’ll put in the time. I’ll put in the work, and heaven knows I’ve put in the money.

Relish is impatient and just wants to get out from her crate and explore the apartment, to find her old hiding places and just be. She wants to go to her litter box and do her business there and scoffs at the make-shift one of newspaper that I made for her.

I have to be more diligent about cleaning that out. If it’s dirty with pee, she’ll just shit on the towel. Disgusting.

Patience.

It’ll definitely be like this if I ever have kids. It’ll be a lot of patience and a lot of work.

So tired. I can feel my body giving up, I can feel the cold coming down on me. I just need to rest. I need to sleep. I need to catch up on sleep.

I haven’t been sleeping well since all of this started and it’s not like my normal sleeping was that great to begin with.

I slept better while I was on the Whole30 Cleanse. Might have to just adjust my diet again. Who knows?

But, now, Relish is alive. Relish is on the mend. Relish is recovering and I am so fucking grateful for it.

She’s my kid, my responsibility and I was the one that got her in the mess. If she has any chance of staying alive, then I’m taking it. That’s what being a parent and an owner/guardian of a pet or a child means. You be responsibility for everything.

Sigh.

Of course, I wish this never happened and that I wonder if I made the right decision, but it’s way too fucking late now.

Everything is temporary. Everything will be okay.

Everything, Everything.

Everything.

What is the lesson in all of this?

What am I supposed to learn in all of this? How to deal with this stress better? How to not think about things that I don’t have control over or mull over how things could have turned out differently if I did one thing differently?

What is it?

2017, what are you trying to teach me? 38, what are you trying to teach me?

You know, I was fine with most of the things that happened in 2017 prior to turning 38, but everything after, fuck that shit.

What am I supposed to learn?

Is it that I am not alone and that I can’t do everything myself? That I need to learn how to reach out and ask for help? Is that it?

I do ask for help. I know there are parts of me that don’t ask, out of pride and responsibility, but when push comes to shove, I know that I can and will need to ask for help and that I do.

So, what the fuck am I supposed to learn from this? What?

* * *

My girl is back. Relish is back home.

I picked her up and my heart skipped a beat when I saw her. It was rough. Her wounds are bad and I can’t stop from feeling so guilty that that horror happened to her.

It’s going to be a long recovery at home and we are hoping that everything will go smoothly. She’ll have her daily bandage changes and checkups to see if the medication that she’s on kills the infection.

It’s a long and arduous process in feeding her medication and food. Once I get a routine down in terms of waking up early, getting everything ready and getting her food ready, it should be better.

Everything is new right now and seems so daunting. There was a lot to take in during discharge and I hope that I remembered everything.

I hope.

But, Ms. Relish is back. My girl is back and that is a relief but seeing how much of a mess she is, I wonder if I made the right decision.

Is she suffering? How much is she suffering? Would it have been better if I didn’t try to save her?

I don’t know, but she’s home, she’s alive and being feisty.

She’s a strong woman who takes no bullshit and that’s how I like them.

Relish…fight on.

The thing that I feared the most with Chutney happened. The thing that helped me conclude that Chutney needs to be an only dog and needs to be re-homed happened.

Chutney attacked Relish and left her for dead.

It happened two Tuesdays ago, April 25th.

It was the first day that Chutney had his cone off after being neutered. Before, he never gave any inkling that he would open the door. Everything was the same in terms of routine. I put Pickles and Relish in the bedroom and Chutney was king of the living room. I left for work, to DTLA for the MS Teams conference.

I don’t know exactly the time that it happened, but I came home to the mess. I knew something was wrong when I opened the front door and saw that the living room door to the bedroom area was open. I saw Pickles looking at me like he would when I come home.

Then the smell hit me, then the black fur. I didn’t really comprehend what was happening, but then I put my bag down on the crate like I normally would and saw Relish lying there, calm, sleeping, not moving.

Chutney was there, excited that I’m home, excited to show me what he’s done.

I carefully carried Relish out of the crate and put her in her own crate. I needed to take her to the Emergency hospital. I crated Chutney and took Pickles out for a pee and I was gone. I was at home for no longer than 5-10 minutes.

I took her to ASEC, the same place that I took her last year when she had that weird asthma attack. She’s still there.

The damage was extensive. Chutney tore into her hind legs and possible soft regions. Relish was in shock when I brought her in and the first night was just trying to get her out of shock and stabilize her. Once she was in the clear, the doctors cleaned out the wound and went into surgery to investigate and repair.

Chutney tore the muscles from her bones. They had to cut out the dead flesh since there was no blood running into it and sew her up.

Thankfully the major veins, nerves, and arteries were still intact. There were no broken bones. The shock and the look of the whole thing was worse than what was expected.

Since she’s still in the hospital, scheduled to be released today, her recovery is slow and still requires a lot of care.

Her blood proteins were stabilizing nor her blood pressure, but after a week or so, things started to get back to normal levels.

Since then, it was just fucking stressful for me.

I knew everything that happened was because me. I made the decision to rescue Chutney. I brought him into our good and peaceful home. Albeit it was on good intentions, but I knew there were possibilities that things weren’t going to work out. I had forewarning, but I tried.

I was the one that didn’t lock Chutney up in his crate when I was gone, even though I know that Relish would be safer. I just assumed that he wouldn’t be able to open the doors, even though Pickles didn’t have a problem. It was my fault.

I did a good thing in saving Chutney and the Universe had other plans to fuck with me…and so It did. I paid dearly for it and still am paying for it. Not only for the emotional pain and stress that I was/am going through, but financially. Thank goodness, I had a good amount in savings to cover the expense, but otherwise, I would probably have had to make that decision or be in debt.

I’m not happy about it, but again, my responsibility, and it’s my debt to pay. I own it. My fault, but I’m still blaming the Universe. Shit happens.

So, while Relish was in recovery, I had to find a home for Chutney. I drafted out a flier and reached out to people that could help and they shared and forwarded the information and hopefully I could get interested parties in adopting Chutney.

I reached out to all the partners for NKLA asking if they could help re-home Chutney and a few reached out looking for information and helping me do courtesy posts.

One rescue helped and said that I should go to their adoption event last weekend at the VegFest 2017. It’s a vegan festival and I did. Chutney and I was there and we did have a few interested parties, but most of those who are interested didn’t have a place for him or already had other dogs or even cats.

Chutney had to be an only pet. I couldn’t consciously say that he gets a long great with other pets and animals. I can’t consciously do that at all.

I told them the story of how I rescued him and tried to integrate him, etc. etc. etc. and many were moved and thanked me for rescuing Chutney, but WE came home together.

Thankfully Carel was interested in taking him but in a sense, he had to clear it with his landlord and neighbor first. Carel came out to the adoption event and met Chutney and they seemed to get along well.

One thing about Chutney that I love is that he’s pretty chill with people. He’s loving to people, affectionate. He just wants to be able to be loyal to someone.

So, after that event, Carel decided that he did want to adopt him and so we came up with a plan and he would pick Chutney up since I was anticipating getting Relish back mid-week.

Unfortunately, even though Ms. Relish’s spirit was back and great, her wound can’t fight an infection. That’s why her stay in the hospital is so long, this infection.

Carel picked Chutney up Tuesday night after his date and the Agency meeting.

Maybe I was drunk, ’cause I planned on getting shitfaced at the event from the stress that I was going through, but after I got home and Carel was on his way and me packing up Chutney’s things, I broke down.

I was emotional about a fucking dog that I’ve only had for 2 weeks and that only killed my fucking cat. I fucking cried, sobbed, that Chutney was going to go. I held him, hugged him, and cried on him and I’m not sure what the hell was happening.

I’m sure that emotional outbreak wasn’t all just about Chutney, but about EVERYTHING that I was going through. It was some sort of release and relief from the heavy burden and stress that I was going through.

I found him a good home and I didn’t have to make the decision to dump him at a shelter, ’cause I would have done that. When push came to shove, if I couldn’t find a home for Chutney, I would have dropped him off at the WLA Animal Shelter.

I went there to ask what would happen if I dropped him off and he wouldn’t get adopted and they told me that he’ll still be there. They have a high adoption rate vs kill rate and the main reason why they would put a dog down is because of their health and not behavior or anything else. That made me feel a lot better and comfortable enough for me to drop him off.

Again, Chutney is a great dog. He’s very sweet and affectionate. He just needs to be an only dog and I will definitely make those notes during drop-off.

Even though one part of this stress is over, my worries turned to Relish. Again, she’s recovering miraculously, but her infection won’t go away. The surgeons went back to clean up the wound and put her on antibiotics.

On Thursday, I was expecting the call that I don’t want, the call to tell me that the infection wasn’t going away and they’ve exhausted everything that they can do to help her and that I would have to make the decision to put her down.

I did get a call, but it wasn’t that. Yes, her infection wasn’t going away, but she’s recovering great. The doctors decided that they would try to send her home for recovery instead.

They put a medicine and feeding tube in her so I can easily feed her the medication without having to fight with her. They also believe that it might be a better healing place because there wouldn’t be as much bacteria that might be causing the infection because it isn’t a hospital.

That’s the hope and plan and TODAY, I will pick her up.

Here’s to a good and quick recovery at home. The next phase of getting back to normal starts today.

Here I am, back from my recent travels of work and my #specialweekend.

I am back to the daily grind, back to my normal at Volcano punching the keys and this life of mine away.

I rolled another number last week.

I’m 38. 38. 38. 38.

38.

I am officially another year older, another year wiser.

Looking back at 37 and thinking of all the things that I’ve done this past year, I must say that it was just a great year.

It was a great year of me doing what I wanted to do, living my life, with the confidence of someone who is happy in his life.

It was the best things ever.

I lived.

I lived a life based on my own rules and I really didn’t care much about anything else.

I hope that this new number would be no different.

It seems that’s how I am, with my I don’t give a fuck attitude.

38.

Bring it.

* * *

With every year, time goes by faster.

I know it isn’t true since time beats to a constant drumming, but it feels that way.

Time, such a psychological mind fuck.

But 37 came and went in a blur. I guess that is what happens when you have fun living and stop worrying about life.

As I always say, if you aren’t learning, you aren’t growing and I think this past number was no different.

Learning about life, learning more about myself, and just learning about work and things in general.

Though the knowledge might be limited, but there will always be something new to learn.

Where to start?

Confidence.

It soars.

I soar.

With each year, I’m more and more confident with who I am, my actions, and my interactions with people, especially girls.

Sure, I still am single. Part of it is by choice and another is from fear, but in a way, just socializing and meeting new people and being around people is getting easier.

One can see from how I am with all the new people that we’ve on-boarded. We are cool, clicking and just working together well.

I have no problems chatting up Lizzy Borden or any others on that team or that side of the building.

Maybe it is because I’m old and too old to give a fuck about image and certain things. That’s how I present myself and I think I do present myself in a very genuine way.

I do hope that people see that and appreciate it.

One thing that I’ve always been good with is being true to myself and being genuine on how I present myself.

I might come back to this whole confidence later, I’m not sure.

I’ve barely started this little yearly diatribe and I’ve already lost my way.

Moving on.

* * *

37.

It was a great number. It was a number that I noticed marked a particular change in me, in terms of actually wanting to go out and socializing.

I still don’t want to go out and socialize in a superficial be cool way, but just want to hang out and have company.

Is that me growing up and finally starting a step of just wanting to be like a normal person? I don’t know. Maybe.

But I know with my bro, it’s a little different and especially with family that I would make considerations for them. I think ever since our Glacier National Park trip, I do make a considerate effort to include him in my adventures. A lot of it has to do with me looking out for him and a lot of it has to do with trying to fit in some bonding time and figure him out and figure out what’s going on in his life.

It’s tough. Very tough, but I make the effort.

Even at work, I do find myself gravitating towards the WW Receptionist and just chilling and hanging out with her just to get some interaction.

Then it comes with the girls that I interact with from time to time and it just seems easier to do it, even saying hi to pvo.

Growth. Becoming a better person. Just reaching a stage in my life that grew organically.

If last year was a very independent year of me doing my thing, it seems that slowly and gradually it had morphed into something different, something more grownup and more human, seeking out social interaction.

We are all social animals. Some need it more so than others, and then you have me that tend to go to extremes of avoiding them.

Things are changing. I am changing.

I even out of the blue invited coworkers to Yamakase. Sure, I know them, but I don’t know much about them besides our interactions, and yet, I invited them to a very expensive dinner.

Exposing myself to social situations in which I am comfortable, plus alcohol, make me do things that I normally wouldn’t do.

That’s new.

That’s a grown-up thing.

37, a year that helped me grow up a little bit more.

Let’s keep that up with 38. Let’s keep it going.

* * *

Back. It’s about a week later.

Yesterday’s post pretty much sums up what’s been happening and why this post has been a little late, but here I am, back again, trying to get back into the flow of things.

The AC in Volcano today isn’t helping either.

So, here we go. Here we go.

38.

Another number. Another year older, another year wiser.

37.

It was another year when I took the reins on a few projects and took the initiative to get people up and running and to learn a few new things at work.

With the new tools that are offered by Microsoft, I learned and incorporated them into the agency and make it work for a few of the different teams that we have.

I took it upon myself to learn and then train other people on these tools and as the point person to get things one.

It’s a responsibility that I have to the agency and the people that I work with. Sure, I could have half-assed it, but no, that wouldn’t be like me.

I need to see things done and have it done properly. Sure there are learning curves, but it’s something that I felt that I excelled at last year.

In terms of responsibility, I think there was a moment when I felt that I should be okay with giving up some of the responsibilities that came my way. It’s not that I’m shirking responsibility, it’s more that I realize what my skills and knowledge is and that sometimes, it’s not my responsibility to take care of it and pass it on to someone that can help or is better suited to help. I don’t need to be responsible for everything.

I can always point people in the right direction.

This mindset might be shaping up with the new dog situation at home. I did the right thing and am responsible for Chutney, but I know what I can take and what I can handle and given everything at home, maybe it being a foster situation while I work with people to find him a more suitable home would be best.

I’m doing all I can to get him up to speed, with the neutering and getting him back to health and training so he’s a better dog to adopt.

Sometimes I do wish that he can get along with everyone, but I don’t have faith that that is the case.

Sometimes the responsible thing to do is to give up responsibility and pass it on to someone else.

It’s okay.

Learning to do that, to be able to let go, it was an important skill to know.

* * *

37.

It’s been brewing for a while, like a rolling rock gathering steam downhill, ever since 36, but 37 was a continuation of that just living life and enjoying it.

It can’t stress that enough. I’m just living.

That’s the point of life, right? To live it?

Live it on your terms and enjoy it?

That’s the case.

Sure, there are some stressful moments and ever since this new year started, it’s been busy and stressful and it seems to keep going, but it’s nothing that I can’t handle or manage.

37.

It was another time of figuring out and learning what I’m capable of as a person. Having that knowledge is very valuable and that’s something that I try to do every year. Pare down the essence of who I am. Learn and grow and take care of that, because in the end, who you are as a person is the thing that matters most.

How did you live your life? How do you treat people? It’s your character that makes you who you are.

Own it.

I try to be a good person and do my due diligence to give back the Universe. I just hope that I’m doing enough.

Is it enough?

* * *

This entry went off the rails.

It’s too fucking cold.

Fuck you AC.

* * *

37.

It was a great number.

It was a continuation of an upward trajectory that started when I was 36 and it soared.

38 just started and it’s already testing my character and my patience, but it’s just something that will make me a better person and a stronger person.

38, bring it.

It’s been hectic and crazy two weeks or so.

Things are calming down, albeit a little at a time. I’m still a little stressed and I’m trying to figure some stuff out, but hopefully things will just fall into place and I can come to an informed decision on what to do.

I had to get this out and put aside my yearly another year older, another year wiser diatribe until another time.

Today, I want to write about what’s been troubling my mind for the past two weeks or so. It’s a crazy story and I need to get it out.

Operation: Rescue Chutney

It’s been kind of a tradition for me to get out of town and take a trip for my birthday. Some years, it may not be on my bday, while others are months before or after. This year, as stated before, it was a long weekend to Carlsbad, NM for Carlsbad Caverns National Park.

The park was great and I’ll write about it at some other time, if I remember, but the day after, I went to Roswell, NM.

It’s Roswell, a definite visit since I’m just there or close enough.

I visited the alien museum, walked about downtown and enjoyed the kitschy-ness of everything and then I decided to explore some of what Roswell had to offer. I went to Bitterlake Wildlife Refuge.

It was a Sunday; therefore, the visitor center was closed, but the refuge is basically a big lake/swamp area where a lot of birds and other animals just chill. There’s a road that goes around the lake that you drive and there are pullouts and little trails that gives you some prime real estate to see the animal.

I was there around noon, so there weren’t that many animals out.

About two-miles into this little venture, I stopped by the restroom that they had in the park. There was a dog chilling there.

I didn’t think much of it besides wondering if it is friendly or not. It approached me and allowed me to pet it. It was cool.

I went and do my business and noticed that it didn’t have a leash and wondered where the owner was. Then, I noticed the food and water that was left out for him. I knocked on the restroom door and it was empty.

Someone abandoned this dog in the middle of this wildlife refuge.

I didn’t know what to do, so I decided to pack it up in my rental and called animal control. They weren’t familiar with the refuge and whether there was a dog that lived there, so I decided to go a drop off the dog at animal control.

The Humane Society right next door was closed, so it had to do.

During the intake, they said that it was probably abandoned and that they’ll keep the dog for about 4-5 days for reclamation and then it’ll be available for adoption. If no one wants it, then it’ll go to a high-intake kill shelter.

I almost lost it there. My heart broke knowing that I dropped him off and there was a high possibility that he’ll be put down.

That thought weighed on my mind and heart. It bore down to my soul on my drive back to Carlsbad.

The dog was on my mind the whole time I was in NYC for work and the days that I got back into the office.

On Thursday I looked at the Roswell Animal Control website and saw that it took in another 20-25 dogs. The dog I rescued, which they named Duke and I haven’t named yet was available for adoption starting that Friday, April 16th.

Paula had a friend that can help with rescues and relocations. Pictures of the new dogs popped up in my feed as we all tried to get local shelters and rescues to get him out of animal control.

I don’t know whether it was something that I wanted and felt the urge to do because of my own heart or was it from all the likes and comments on Facebook, but man, it was pouring in.

I just wanted someone to adopt him and give him a good life.

‘Cause I just don’t know if I did the right thing by rescuing him and bringing him to animal control.

There were a lot of what ifs that were playing with my mind.

What if I left him and someone else found him and could take him back and he now have a good forever home?

What if because I picked him up and dropped him off, I sealed his fate that he’s going to be put down. He had a better chance of not being rescued by me. Me dropping him off guaranteed his death. Could I live with that? Could I? That’s a heavy thought. Very heavy for me.

I didn’t know what to do.

A woman who found him earlier in the day and couldn’t take him found him through the website and tagged him for adoption, but while she came to pick him up, she saw that he’s aggressive to other dogs and decided not to take him. She had other dogs at home and didn’t want to go through that. I don’t blame her.

Even though I knew about this, I decided on Saturday afternoon to book a flight out to Roswell, rent a car, adopt Chutney and drive him home and hope for the best. I decided that. I came to that decision in a matter of seconds after calling to check his status, looking up flight costs and then BAM. Done.

I’m going full forward with this. It’s going to happen….and it did.

Saturday afternoon, I went into action. I dropped Pickles off for boarding. I got a new crate and some welcoming supplies along with a leash and harness for Chutney. I got things in order for the adoption.

I updated my Facebook feed to keep everyone informed of what is happening with the dog and I got cheers of encouragement. Menty and Faith was so kind in offering some money to help with this cause.

Sunday morning, I was off on this mission. I was going to save a dog’s life.

I made my flights, got my car, got to the pound, and got the dog. Chutney was a part of my life now. It seems that he was a part of my life since I met him. I just don’t know how our story is going to end and that’s what is stressing me out now.

After picking him up, I started the long long long drive home. He threw up in the car. I’m sure he’s never been in a car ride that long before.

But it’s a matter of learning about Chutney, his temperament, his behavior while all the time thinking how to integrate him into the family that I already have.

But on the long car ride, I know that he’s very loving and very fucking strong. He loves attention and wants to be petted. He’s always by my side and he’s house trained. He’s very sweet and quiet and very loving.

When I got home, I took him out for a walk to see how he does on leash and he did well. It seems that he’s been leash trained and house broken. How can someone just abandon him? Fuck people.

People are the worst.

But after our walk, I put him in the kennel and got Pickles.

Since it was just me doing the introduction, I had to figure out a good way to do this. I tied Chutney outside and while I left Pickles in the car. Once Chutney was secured, I went to get Pickles and have them do a little sniffing. Chutney was more concerned with me being there than anything else. I then just took them for a walk and everything went fine.

When I got home, Chutney then snapped at Pickles’s face. Maybe he just got in his face and he didn’t like it, but that was the biggest thing that happened the first night.

Chutney and Relish don’t get along because Chutney is such an aggressive dog and wants to chase Relish, because that’s what dogs do.

There weren’t too many things that happened at that night. No fighting, no snapping. There might have been some growling, but it was a rough sleepless night because I was so worried about every little noise. Chutney chasing Relish at night and Chutney roaming the apartment scoping things out.

The next morning, I took him to the vet to get neutered while I fix up the apartment a little bit.

That night, he was so out of it that it wasn’t that bad.

It was when he got his energy back and feeling fine that things were shaping up to be stressful. Chutney still terrorizes Relish. It is nature. I need to figure out how to get him use to her and vice versa.

I’m trying to figure out the best thing to do with the whole brood.

Currently, I am separating old from the new while I’m gone. There were times when I open all doors and let nature take its course.

Many websites and blogs say that I should let the dogs work out the hierarchy and in a way, I know I need to. Pickles is the passive and less dominate one. I know that and there are times when I think it has been established, but then there’s growling and fighting and I had to pull them apart. It’s just sad and stressful.

At night, I started to keep Chutney outside in the living room while I lock myself in with Pickles and Relish. I did it for a peace of mind. I needed to sleep and not worry about anything and for the most part it worked.

I noticed that Pickles stayed with me in the bed and Relish slept in the bed with us too.

She’s more relaxed and feels safer when Chutney doesn’t have access to the room.

That is what is stressing me out.

Currently I have the same setup during the day while I’m here and at work. I didn’t want Pickles to eat Chutney’s food.

I know in the long run, everything takes time. Time will fix things or make things a little more apparent in terms of what I need to do.

I know I need to come to a conclusion of what to do with this whole situation. I question my sanity as to everything that I’ve done and spent to get this dog. It’s fucking crazy.

It’s really fucking crazy.

Fuck. What’s wrong with me?

Karma? Am I doing this to just get more karma, ’cause I know I need some?

Who knows? Who….knows?

As I’ve been telling people as I update them on this situation that it might have to be a foster situation if I can’t successfully integrate the whole brood. I need to be okay with that.

I just need to find Chutney a good family.

Chutney is a great dog. He’s sweet, quiet, trained, but just needs a lot more obedience training. He’s loving and loves attention and belly rubs and he’s very loyal and very protective of me. He wants to be constantly by my side. He lays at the front door waiting for me to get back from wherever it is that I am. HE FUCKING WAITS AT THE FRONT DOOR. He’s a loveable dog.

Chutney is a great dog…it’s just that he’s a great ONLY DOG and ONLY PET. I think he’ll make a great first dog for someone who is willing to take him in.

I just need to figure out what I am going to do and I need time to make that informed decision.

Fucking time.

Fuck me.

What the fuck am I doing.

This won’t be my another year older, another year wiser entry. I’ll write in about two weeks, a little after the actual day.

This is just the one that I write that says that it is almost time.

I have a about 8 days left before I inch another number towards 40. I’m middle aged, or I hope to be. I’ve already gone through my MLC, what is there to expect now? What is going to come up?

I don’t know.

I spent yesterday reading over these yearly entries to get a feel of how these entries should go and to get a feel of the general trajectory of how my life have been and they seem to be on the positive ever since a few years ago, when I first felt that weird sensation that I call my MLC.

It was a rough couple of years of stagnation and questioning and just a general sense of ennui. Now…better.

* * *

Like last year, I planned to be out of town on my bday. I planned a trip to Carlsbad Caverns National Park in New Mexico.

Unlike last year, I opted not to drive. It’s a 14-hour drive and the last thing I probably want to do was spend two full days just driving, so I opted to fly into El Paso, TX and then driving the three hours instead to Carlsbad. Not a bad option. Less tired, and maybe a little more time.

On the actual day, I’ll be traveling. Originally, I had it planned that I’ll be flying back home and then heading back to the real world and the office the next day, but somehow plans changed.

I was asked if I could go to NYC and shoot an auto show for work. I agreed and my boss gave them the A-OK, so I’ll be flying to NYC that day. It’ll be a long day of driving back to El Paso and then the four-hour flight to NYC.

It’ll be my second time in NYC and I’m excited. I’ll be there for the most part, alone, besides coworkers. I’ll be doing a shoot for work and then hopefully I’ll just get to explore the city and continue my little extended #specialweekend, as I like to now call it.

I’m keeping my expectations low, but I think it’ll be great.

Now, I just need to plan for the weather and figure out what to pack and some logistics about the whole thing.

Just looked up the weather for the trip and it seems that New Mexico will be hot and windy and NYC might be a little wet; 10-20% chance of rain.

I’ll make the best out of it. It’ll be great.

* * *

Vacation mode.

Or, I’ll try to see if I can transition into vacation mode this week. Besides the quick meeting for the NYC trip to go over the details of the shoot, I have a training that I need to do for the SharePoint site and Cyclotron SharePoint audits that I’ve done.

For everything else, I’ll try to do as little as I can. I’ll most likely try and plan what I’m going to do with Carlsbad Caverns National Park. I still need to research the damn place, in terms of how big the caves are, where to go, what to do and to figure out if a full two days would be worth it. Otherwise, I’ll have to figure out something else for Sunday.

Roswell could be an option. It’ll be one of those kitschy things to do because it is Roswell.

Growing up watching the show and X-Files and being so fascinated with aliens and space, it’ll be a logical place for me to go and explore. Not sure how much there is to do there, but I’m good at just figuring shit out.

That’s what this week would be about, research.

In terms of NYC, no idea either. I’ll play it by ear in terms of what everyone else is doing, but most likely, I’ll just disappear and explore the city. I’ll do what I do best.

I’m resourceful.

A break.

A much-needed break.

The one thing that I know for damn sure is that I need a break. It’s been nonstop busy for me since the beginning of the year.

Much of it has to do with the new responsibilities that came my way along with the new software that became available.

Also, the new hires and onboarding them added to the workload and the stress.

But I think things are finally settling down. Things are finally finding a balance.

A break.

I look forward to my breaks. I look forward to getting out of the city and just exploring and not think much about work. I look forward to not being reachable.

This year I know there won’t be as many as last year. Much of it has to do with me needing to save money for our European vacation and I am okay with that. It’s worth the sacrifice for something that big.

So, I’m content with this small trip and NYC is just an added bonus. I’m really looking forward to the Rocky Mountains National Park in July. That’s something that I’ll need to research also and then committing to Italy.

I’m not planning that one, just giving input. Looking forward to it.

I have an inkling of what my brother have in mind, but at the same time, I don’t know either.

I’m sure we’ll figure it out when things get down to it. It must happen.

It needs to happen.

Vacation.

Take them.

* * *

Well, I’m officially off this little cleanse that I put myself through, or this little inconsistent cleanse since getting sick.

In the past, few weeks, I tried my hardest to be compliant but if it wasn’t one thing it was another that brought me out of it. Getting tired of trying to keep a strict diet and my stomach feeling a little bit better, I decided to get off this cleanse and reintroduce some stuff back into my diet again.

My first meal after this kind of cleanse, Banh Xeo. I thought I’d be fine since there was no soy. The only thing that was really non-compliant was probably sugar and the rice flour. Do I have a thing about rice?

Actually, my first legit meal was KBBQ at Hanjip in Culver City. Cloud had a long layover on her way to Costa Rica and she wanted kbbq and that was one that I’ve been meaning to try without having to drive all the way out to K-Town.

Overall, it was all right. Good to know there’s a AYCE kbbq spot that’s kind of decent. The price is what it is, but for the most part, it was good. I had a good time. Meat with very little veggies and beer.

My stomach felt okay afterwards. I didn’t think I had much problems with it, but then again, my stomach is reeling after the banh xeo. I don’t know what it is.

Now, I have bread too. Looking forward to my first bite of sourdough. I missed it. I know that I need to cut down the bread. It’s just the right thing and the healthy thing to do.

Let’s see how it goes.

I would prefer that my stomach is at 100% no issues before I try the bread, but I guess life has other plans for me.

I am severely underweight. I need to get my weight back to normal before I start rethinking my diet and maybe make it a lifestyle to be a little healthier. It’ll be tough. Very tough, but let’s hope I can do it.

But in the meantime, as I suffer to eat anything to get back to a healthy weight, I’m going to enjoy the fuck out of it.

Now all I’m doing is trying to figure out what I want to make and eat.

* * *

This weekend I tried a new bread recipe that is 80% hydration. Shaping that dough was tough and I have no faith in the bread turning out well.

I baked two loaves this morning and one turned out okay and the other was flat. Very little rise and I’m sure the problem was in the shaping. I fucked it up and degassed that shit.

I hope that the other ones turn out to be better.

Here’s to hoping.

Along with the higher hydro, it uses four type of flour, rye, spelt, wheat, and white. I’ve never used rye and spelt before but I am very curious to what the flavor of the bread would be.

I just hope it is good. I think it’ll be good. I know it’ll be good.

I think I’ll try it freshly cut and then I’ll try it as toast and then maybe add butter with it. I don’t know. I want to know the taste and how different flour affects the bread.

Whether the bread turns out good or bad, I’m at a point that I don’t care. It was more of a way for me to destress and relax, more than anything.

* * *

Food.

That’s all I’ve been thinking about. Food.

What I want to eat and what I think I should cook.

Food.

Right now, I’m doing research on how to do a deep-dish pizza.

It seems easy enough.

I think I should do it soon.

I’ll make it with sourdough pizza dough. Why not. Get more flavor, get more umphf.

I wish I wasn’t such a fan of food.