So here I am. In two days I'll be 34. Which is crazy. When did it become August? When did it become 2012? Seems like just a few months ago I was sitting in the dungeon clicking "Next Blog" and trying to come up with witty emails so Jon would maybe fall in love with me, move here and let me come up with beautiful Indian names for his future children. But that was seven years, four jobs, three residences and one wedding ago. DANG.
Ri and C just closed on a house across the street from our subdivision. They're moving in with their four-month-old next weekend. I knew the crooked claw of suburbia would beckon them back sooner or later.
My brother moved to St. Louis. I pray that is not a permanent situation, because even though I didn't see him often when he lived here (he travels for work) I worry that I will see him even less. I can't describe to you how it feels when the planets align and the whole family is sitting down to a meal together at the old kitchen table and then a rousing game of poorly performed Rock Band. I nearly passed out from contentment. Do regular people have these thoughts? Probably not.
My job* is challenging in a wonderful way. But all this "strategizing," "discovering," "figuring out," "designing," "planning," "compromising" all day can really take a lot out of a person. Every night I come home with broke brain (a term I have been trying to get into the lexicon for years). Sometimes I miss being able to walk around and make smalltalk with others without feeling like I'm neglecting my spreadsheets. Then I remember how invigorating it is to be screamed at by three different unhappy people all at once, and I thank my lucky clouds for the silent and colorful comfort of spreadsheets.
I spend most of my evenings watching recorded television and making baby presents because MANY people I know are producing babies. I cannot get enough of the babies, and I am absorbing as many tips as I can for the time when I will have one of our very own (don't get any ideas, that is out on the horizon somewhere).
I started exercising in earnest. Granted, it's only been a week, but when all the workout gear you own gets into the hamper in fewer than six days, that is something.
Yoga on Monday and Wednesday, Tuesday and Thursday is "boot camp" (circuit training that goes by so fast you don't realize how hard you're working until you get to the car and have to take a minute before getting in because you don't want to have to clean vomit off the floormats). Friday, Saturday and Sunday are for lying on the couch and whining about how you never realized triceps were necessary for mundane tasks such as the tying of shoelaces.
Jon is doing bootcamp, too, but he's insane and replaces the yoga with running (yuck to running).
In the midst of the craziness of work, I found myself on the department's party-planning committee. The powers that be want to have a "Margaritaville" party and we are supposed to get people to wear Hawaiian gear, do the limbo and a hula hooping contest--in the middle of a week when deadlines are dropping from the sky--oh and there's no alcohol allowed. I told you, it's a challenging job. I am in charge of the Hawaiianwear judging and I have no Hawaiianwear that will zip up the back anymore. So I am trying to sew a dress. Today. Even though I'm too big for this pattern from 2003 and have to figure out how to make it work. I'm nothing if not ambitious, Tim Gunn.
One day when my head was spinning from spreadsheets, I took a peek back at the archives of this blog. Here is a snippet from what I wrote on August 14, 2005, the year I started this blog. It was the tail end of a very rough slew of disappointments for me, and if you had told me then what I'm up to now, I never would have believed it (warning, this is back when I refused to capitalize letters while still adhering to all the other grammar rules. I know, I was living on the edge back then).
* it's possible to be in paradise and yet be completely miserable.
* always remember to eat. even if you feel like you're going to puke with every bite.
* you can only soak up so many boxes of kleenex before the pity party gets played out.
* no one but you can tell you what to feel. or think, for that matter.
* everyone has their own crap to take care of. you landed on this earth alone, you're going to leave it alone, so why not learn how to fly solo in between? think of your copilots as bonuses.
* nothing puts your troubles in perspective faster than someone you can't live without going under the knife.
* free alcohol is the most expensive drink. ever. (i saw that at postsecret.blogspot.com)
* no matter what you do to try and straighten it, at the end of the day a pig's tail is always going to be curly (okay, i stole that from my mother).
* there is a grave difference between what you want and what you need.
* your true peeps will somehow be there for you. maybe not right away, maybe not how you'd want them to, but they will stand up when you need them. and sometimes, who they end up being will surprise you.
* anything worth anything is going to be hella hard.
* once-in-a-lifetime opportunities will nearly ALWAYS come up at the worst possible moment. it is a test of your merit and you will either thank your lucky stars or have to shoulder that regret till you're 83.
* sometimes you have to suck it up and do something you're afraid of because you don't know what'll happen. and what may happen may just be what you needed after all. but chickensh*ts would never have found out.
* and most importantly, ALWAYS listen to the little duende in your gut that starts pulling on your intestines like a shirt sleeve at the first sign of trouble. that little goblin will never steer you wrong, but if your ego/heart/logic is yapping too loudly, you’ll never hear what it has to say.
*I work in healthcare. Previously, I was a "fixer," making sure things were running smoothly. Now I've been put on a team that is helping technically and theoretically re-engineer the entire system, hopefully for the better.