Wednesday, March 31, 2010


Yesterday, I felt very old.

Hubs and I took M* to the park for some springtime fun. Our first stop: the slide.

I sat at the top while Hubs positioned himself for the catch at the bottom. I would send M flying down to Hubs, who would pick him up, brush him off (because Hubs is OCD and is constantly straightening that boy out) and hand him back up to me. This lasted for a while until M insisted on grabbing the side as he slid down which skewed his body and nearly flipped him upside down on his face each time. We decided that meant M was done with the slide.

I had noticed during our sliding soiree that every time Hubs handed M to me, his big, baby eyes were locked on the fascinating tunnel just over my shoulder. I had the brilliant idea to let him crawl all over the jungle jim as I followed on my knees. Make that bad idea...

I barely made it half a foot into the tunnel before pain like I had never felt before began to radiate from my knees. Agonizing pain like 10,000 dull butter knives being forced into my kneecaps stopped me in my tracks. But M? Well, he didn't stop and wait for his favorite aunt; his knees felt just fine. So, I gingerly followed him for the rest of the 2 feet to the tunnel's end, mumbling "oooww, oouu, eeee," the whole way. Thankfully, Hubs was waiting at the end and had M safely in tow by the time I reached the light. When I was finally able to extricate my body from the very small tunnel, I sat back, smoothed down my static hair and massaged my tender joints.

"Whew," I said. "Does it mean that I am old that I can barely crawl 3 feet through a tunnel because of blinding pain shooting through my knees?"

But Hubs said no.

I sat there a second longer allowing the pain to fully subside before M and I slid down the windy slide, and we all made our way to the swings.

As a child, the swings were my absolute favorite part of recess, the park and warm afternoons. My dad would have to beg me off of the swingset in our backyard. It was a magical place kept shady and cool because of the far-reaching limbs of the pecan trees that lived there. I would swing as high as I could or until my dad yelled at me to "SLOOOW DOOWN!" and try to touch the green leaves with the tips of my toes. I pretended that I lived in a tree world, where the leaves were clouds. I also had swinging competitions with myself, where you were awarded points for straight arms, no bounce and a big dismount. (While recollecting on this yesterday with Hubs, he challenged me to a competition, which he lost, because of bent elbows and a very big bounce. He also couldn't keep his feet locked together while pumping. Bad form. I told him all of this, and he proceeded to make fun of me and even made fun of me last night before bed. No more shared stories of youth with you, Hubs. So, I was a weird kid? You married me!)

Not weird though. I like to say that I've always had a fantastic imagination.

Well, yesterday, I decided to relive a bit of my childhood via the swing set. I mean, its a swing. There shouldn't be anything about it to make me feel old like the tunnel. Well, that wasn't entirely the case. Oh, don't worry. I was able to swing. I actually was able to swing for quite a while until I could no longer take the restrictive swing and its death grip on my hips and thigh bones. I mean, ouch. Is there any way to retro-fit a swing for a woman's hips? Because that swing wasn't letting anything give.

So, as you might figure that made me feel old: the fact that I couldn't swing comfortably. And also the fact that I was terrified to jump out of the swing, which at one time was my absolute favorite part. I mean, who doesn't like a good dismount? I wanted to jump. I really did, but I was too afraid of the broken bones that might result from such a risky maneuver. Because I now have old, brittle bones, not tough, pliable bones like I once had.

And last but not least, the real kicker that made me feel old as dirt: the immediate motion sickness that took over my entire being as soon as I set foot on solid ground. I mean I almost lost my Special K after two steps off the swing set.

What a day. Don't worry M, this doesn't mean that Aunt Beeze won't take you to the park anymore. It actually means many more visits to the park, because Aunt Beeze is determined to overcome knee pain and swings adverse to fat-bottomed girls.

Oh, and I tried to do the monkey bars, but that is an entirely different story and I am still recovering from my overall failure to make it 2 rungs to divulge any of it now if ever. 

*our nephew, formerly known as MilkMonster, who is now just Monster; M for short

Monday, March 29, 2010

Oh goodness..

So, I know that I left you all hanging after my last post. I just haven't had the energy to put into words all of the amazing adventures that Hubs and I experienced in the Wild State. Its been over a week since our return and I still feel overwhelmed (and by the way, I only just unpacked my bag last night, much to Hubs' relief). It may have had something to do with the 50+ hour work week that I just finished and the fact that I do 90% of my work on the computer.

I love you, boyfriend Mac, but it is so hard to force myself to sit in front of you once I get home and just want my brain to unwind.

Things are going to continue to be crazy at work with our new huge deadline. And now that I am "official" (ie: payroll, baby), I must devote even more time and brain space to work, especially since I am now the unofficial graphic designer (yeah, that's actually really funny, so feel free to laugh). Blogging will suffer greatly from this, which is why I am here now saying, au revoir. I am not leaving entirely, but posting will most likely occur maybe only once or twice a week.

I think that this will be a good thing. Recently, I have looked back on a few of my posts and have been very disappointed in my uninspired subject matter. Bless all of your hearts for sticking with me.

The honest truth is that I want to blog daily and I daily have a post in mind, but as soon as I sit down to write it, my true nature (otherwise known as LAZINESS) sets in and I don't have the will or the desire to finish. Or, if I do finish it, it is just craahp (said with Scottish "argh" there in the middle).

One of these days, I am going to go back and finish all of the posts that I have begun and yet to complete. But, not any day soon, I am sure.

So, to not leave you entirely hanging, here are a few details:

Hubs and I had a wonderful, whirlwind of a weekend in the Wild State. I met everyone I needed to meet for my future role in the preservation of the Wild State's history and culture.  I have some really great and hilarious stories that I would love to tell you all, but Hubs thinks it is best that I wait until I secure a job, since this is a public site.

But, for a recap. We saw lots of cows, drank wine with the bluebloods of Lewisburg and toured the ritzy Greenbrier with the governor-appointed Commissioner of Culture and History, who asked me to be his girlfriend, which I of course agreed to, meaning that I now have a Gay (I've always wanted one!!)!!

Oh yeah, and we found a place to live. Remember this post? Well, guess what? My wish has been granted! While in the Wild State, Hubs and I signed a lease for the most perfect apartment on the second floor of my very first glimpse into Lewisburg (thank you Wikipedia!). It was just meant to be, people, I tell you! I am now more excited than ever to get up there. I already have furniture arrangements, room decor and what-not planned out in my mind's eye. Hubs' input has been minimal and pretty much shot down each time he makes a suggestion. Sorry, baby, but I've got planz.

As soon as I become un-lazy, I am going to take all of the pictures off of my camera and show you the town and our future home. I swear!!

We will see how long that takes.

By the way, I am getting close to my 100th post, which will be a list of 100 things about yours truly.

How excited are you now, while simultaneously feeling frustrated and upset that I am reducing my post load per week? It could be a while before I get to 100..

Also, I am feeling oddly rejuvenated and am lamenting my temporarily lessened post load. I could just go on and on right now. It won't last long, I'm sure. But, if I do get bitten by the blogging bug, I will be sure to not hold back, which will make me look like a total flake.

But that is a risk that I am willing to take.

I just love the Beatles and talent like this.

Friday, March 19, 2010

West Virginia

Greetings from Wild and Wonderful West Virginia!

This is our second morning in the Wild State and I am wide awake as Hubs attempts to get just a few more minutes of sleep. Apparently, he didn't sleep at all in the hotel's big king bed, while I was literally dead to the world. Poor guy. I hate when I sleep so well and he doesn't.

You see, it started like this.

Wednesday was crazy. A nightmare. A drain.

I had to go to work.
Burn a bunch of DVDs on boyfriend Mac.
Attend a very disappointing meeting that left me frustrated, annoyed and sad.
Run to Target on my lunch break and pick out some sweet treats for the road.
Run home and eat.
Go back to work to sit in front of a computer and copyedit and copyedit and copyedit.
Run to Starbucks for a meeting with my boss and another man, who decided we should sit outside because he was from Ohio and the 55 degree weather was warm to him....
Run back to the office to pack up boyfriend Mac.
Run home.
Clean the house, because Hubs likes to come home to a clean house after vacation, and sometimes, I am just all about pleasing Hubs.
So, I folded our laundry; changed the sheets on the bed; cleaned the bathroom; wiped down all flat surfaces; vacuumed (which I always want to spell with 2 c's and 2 m's) and attended to the Panther.
Then, it was time to run over to MarLar's for Mexican with the family and a chance for Lar to work his magic on boyfriend Mac.
Then, it was off to Kinko's to print off my letter of introduction and letter of recommendation for my Thursday cold-calls.
I decided to try to make up some business cards last minute. So, I did. And printed them out. They looked like CRAP. I nearly cried. Hubs was very annoyed with me. And, I was just exhausted (did I mention that I had been up since 545am and it was 930pm?) and nervous about our trip.
So, we went home.
Put all of our stuff in the car.
Got ready for bed.
Slept. Well, actually, I didn't sleep AT ALL. I tossed and turned and thought about what I had to do the next day. I had to walk into places totally unannounced and tell them I wanted a job. Then, I started to think about how unprepared I was. How my resume was still being worked on (by one very sweet lady) and that I didn't have the heart or the nerve to ask her to work faster. Because after all, she was doing me an enormously huge favor.

So, these were the things rolling through my head all night. I was also hyped up from how extremely busy I had been all day. So, when the 5am alarm went off, Hubs and I struggled out of bed to shower and get dressed and pack up the rest of our stuff.

We were officially on the road by 630am after driving all the way to ChikfilA for breakfast just to find out they are not earlybirds.

The car ride was great and pretty uneventful until I asked Hubs if he got his checkbook to which he responded "no." And, I totally freaked out on him demanding to know how we were supposed to put down a deposit on a place to live without a checkbook. When I already knew that we could easily withdraw cash to cover it, but was worn out and scared and trying not to think about what I was about to do, which means I was ready to pick a fight.

After 5 hours and 15 minutes, we pulled up at our hotel. And, things felt much better. It was an absolutely gorgeous day. The sun was warm, much warmer than I had expected. We quickly changed and headed for downtown Lewisburg, a town that I had explored as much as GoogleMaps would allow.

And, it far exceeded my expectations. It is quaint and beautiful and busy! I love the busyness here. It makes such a small town seem just a little bit bigger and much more inviting. There were tons of people on the street and the traffic is insane here. It was a shocking day, but in a good way. It displaced any worries that I had.

We lunched at an adorable cafe, called Stardust. The food was delicious. The atmosphere was relaxed, a little hipster and totally historic with the original storefront still intact.

We literally gulped down lunch as Tammy at the Greenbrier Historical Society had invited us on a tour of Lewisburg and the North House Museum. We quickly ran up the street and joined in on the West Virginia Association of Museums conference, where Tammy greeted us both with big hugs. She and I have been writing emails back and forth since December. She wants so bad for me to work with her at the museum (which she hinted at about 300 times yesterday) and I must say that I'm with her!

We tagged along on the tour for a little over 2 hours before she asked what our plans had been. I told her about my idea to do a few coldcalls to a development corporation and Main Street Program in Ronceverte. Well, she knew the executive director, called him up and Hubs and I were on our way there within 5 minutes.

The meeting went well. They don't really have a budget for another employee, but the director wants all of my information, because he often needs people to do contract work. So, here's hoping some contract work might come my way! He said that if I had known how to conserve tombstones, I could have a job right now. This might mean that I go back to Columbia and learn how to conserve tombstones.....

After that meeting, we ran back to the hotel, fighting the horrible 5 o'clock traffic (who knew that a city of 4,000 people could have such traffic!?) the whole way. We had 10 minutes to freshen up (my hair was a grease pit at this point, although Hubs said that it looked great) and make our way over to the Montwell House that sits on a ridge overlooking Lewisburg. Tammy had invited us to the reception for the WVAM conference.

As soon as I walked through the door, I felt as if I had stepped into a preservation fundraiser in Charleston, South Carolina. These were the bluebloods of Lewisburg. These were the people with the money and the power. To be continued....

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

New Post.

I am writing this post on my brand-spanking-new macbook.

It is white. Sleek. Sexy. Beautiful.

I am officially techno-crushing.

Unfortunately, I don't have enough brain space for a very interesting post right now. I am currently running on empty.

There are just too many things that have happened, are about to happen or will be happening for me to take a moment, regroup and put it into cyberspace.

So, here's the deal.

I have a BIG day at work tomorrow--meeting with some pretty important architects to give them information based on my research. Cra-Zy. I don't think that I would have believed this time last year that I would be here now doing what I am doing.

Then, I have to accumulate all of my important documents for the cold-calls that I will be making in West Virginia on Thursday and Friday. This means lots of printing and copying and organizing. (Here's hoping enough brain space opens up before then.)

Then, we have to go to the store and buy all of our road trip snacks.

Then, we have to go to bed early.

Wake up at 4:30am.


Load up the car.

Be on the road by 5am. (Ha!)

And finally, enjoy our first real road trip as a married couple.

You see, I was planning this very fun and informative post about my bad decision-making when it comes to buying shoes. I am still planning on it. Suspense...

Next post will be brought to you from Wild and Wonderful West Virginia.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Things that I am excited/happy about this TGIF AM.

1. Its Friday!! And that equals weekend fun.

2. Hubs and I are getting on the road this afternoon and heading to Florence for a weekend with my parents.

3. The Irish meal (that isn't really Irish at all) that we will eat Saturday night: corned beef, cabbage, red potatoes, Irish sodabread and green beer!


5. This Sunday when Hubs is finally going to fix our broken toilet. Have I mentioned that we have been flushing it all week by taking off the back lid and jimmying the flush thingy with kitchen tongs? Fun times.

6. The $60 I have to spend on a pair of heels to replace my favorite pair that mysteriously disappeared a few months ago. I need some for my interviews in WV next week.

7. I can't wait to eat the leftovers from last night. Risotto. Yum.

8. The arrival of my really pretty, hardback and very thick book on America's first architect, Robert Mills, who graduated from my alma mater. Here it is:

What are you excited/happy about this AM? I hope you all have a wonderful weekend. 
Drink some green beer! Slainte!

Wednesday, March 10, 2010


Yeah, you heard it here. I am now officially a bloglebrity.

Well, at least in my own little world of anonymity.

Check me out here and here and here on Ann's blog.

Yay! I made it onto someone's blog.

This makes me feel really special,

if you couldn't tell that already.

Big day today.

Today, I am having lunch with a man whose job I covet. He pioneered historic preservation of small town Main streets at a time when new, new, new meant good, better, best--a time when many razed lots were being filled with ugly brick-veneered or tan-stuccoed office buildings that stared vapidly with blank, plate glass openings (could you really call those black holes windows?) onto downtown streets once lined by stately mansions and decorative brick and cast iron storefronts.

His mission: to restore the magic of downtowns.

So, leave your suburban shopping mall behind. They are now a thing of the past and quickly heading for bankruptcy. Trends and most importantly, people, are moving back to the city center. One hundred year old properties are begging for single-occupant, resident owners and a return to the grandeur of city-living.

Step off soapbox.

So, today is a big day. After the rejection of the historical society in WV, I reaccessed my situation and decided that there were 3 different associations up there that needed someone like me. They are development corporations, specializing in Main Street revitalization. I emailed my lunch appointment with inquiries about what it takes to work for one of these corporations, asking what type of person would they want if they were even looking for someone in the first place.

He said that I would be perfect for the job, an ideal candidate.

His only exposure to me and my work has been through Historic Columbia and the walking tours that I have been working on, since he is underwriting a few of them. (Post tomorrow explaining exactly what it is that I do.)

He asked if he could take me out to lunch.

I said, "See you Wednesday at noon."

Wish me luck!

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

I'm doing the job dance!

I got a job. 

I got a job. 

I got a job. 

Hey, hey, hey, hey!

Well, actually, I have had the job for the past 7 months at Historic Columbia.

But now, I am actually getting paid for all of my hard work!

Yay! for the magic word,


Save the drama for your mama.

Good grief. What a crazy day yesterday. I hate drama. It is the epitome of uncool. But, I am just not the kind of person who can ignore, forget and move-on. I am way too proactive and way too self-respecting for that nonsense.

Let's move on to greener pastures.

I wish that I had exciting details from the past week to divulge here, but our life alas is not that exciting. Besides, I have been working way too much to leave room for anything out-of-the-ordinary to occur.

The one-car family situation is trudging along quite nicely. Want to hear about it? Ok!

This morning, Hubs sat straight up in bed with a "Dang it!" that jarred me suddenly from my warm and cozy dreamland. It was 545am and he had overslept. He stumbled out of bed, mumbling something about "Babe, its 545am. You need to get up. We have to go."

I answered "Ok. I'm getting up," in my head. Who knows if I actually said it out loud, but I definitely acknowledged him from some form or other of consciousness.

I heard him in the kitchen and the familiar screech of the coffee grinder. I rolled over onto his side of the bed that is always so warm and so much softer than mine. It is my favorite place to go to in the wee hours of the morning to get a few more minutes of my precious shut-eye. I was back to sleep in no time.

But, when Hubs burst back through the bedroom door, showered and wide-awake, I rolled over quickly and opened my eyes, pretending I had been awake all along, and was dressed and ready to go under the heavy covers.

"Babe," he said. "We have to go, now."

"Alriiiight," I said in my most awake voice that I could then muster. "I'm ready!"

I dizzily searched in the dark for my pjs in the unending pile of clothes on our desk. I have xray fingers and can usually locate exactly what I am looking for in no time. Success!

I donned my light blue, fleece pants with huge navy and aqua polkadots all over them and pulled my long sleeve blue shirt over my head. No bra. That is way too early in the morning to have to worry about that hated contraption. I put on my slippers and walked to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my hair. Again, way too early to brush my teeth, especially when my plans were to come back home and crawl right back into bed. Toothpaste equals the end of sleep for me.

I wandered back into the bedroom to put on my ugg shoes and pull on my heavy, knee-length wool coat, as Hubs hurried past me, frantically finishing his morning routine (have I ever mentioned before how methodical Hubs is? There is rarely a variation in any of his daily activities.). I pulled my greasy hair back into a ponytail, put on my glasses and walked out into the kitchen. I grabbed my bag, stuck in my hand and began the frustrating search for my keys. Hubs was literally walking circles around me, grabbing this and that and opening the door, as I walked step by step by step towards the door (read: zombie-like).

I made it out into the hated morning, still-dark air as Hubs unlocked the car doors with his keyless entry. Thank God for that, as my key search had still yet to locate the darn things. By the time I opened the front door and climbed onto the cold leather seat, I had a fingernail on my cross keychain. I gently slid my finger under the cool metal and pulled my keys to safety. Finally!

I turned the ignition. Flipped on the headlights. Buckled my seatbelt. Turned down the blaring 70s rock that sounded tinny and piercing to my sleepy eardrums so early in the morning.  Placed my bag on the floorboard in front of Hubs. Put the car in reverse. Eased onto the gas pedal and watched the rearview mirror with one barely awake eye as the car moved backwards down the driveway and onto the street. That's as methodical as I get.

I backed out of the driveway and a shiver ran down my spine as I remembered the comforting warmth of his side of the bed and the wish to be back there in that cocoon of cotton and down feathers. I think I smiled then in remembrance.

Hubs apologized about the rush. I said, "Its ok."

We didn't talk. Hubs sipped his coffee. I focused very hard on not gunning the gas pedal or slamming on our squeaky brakes. I managed the stop signs, the three red lights that caught us and the slow pokes on their morning drives easily. I actually felt half awake at that point. As I pulled into the hospital driveway, I could see in my mind's eye the huge mass of comforter and blankets and the dark cool room waiting for me at the end of this journey. I pulled up slowly to the out-patient entrance and told Hubs to have a good day. He pecked me on the lips and was off.

I smiled to myself as I rounded the driveway and eased the car down the steep hill and out unto the road. I looked at the clock. 615am.

I had another 2 hours of free time to sleep away. I smiled and accelerated down the street.

Monday, March 8, 2010

Never again.

I make it a point to never discuss politics outside the comfort of my own home. And, usually, I am very good at keeping to that point. Politics are a sensitive issue on which everyone has an opinion. While I respect this little known fact about politics, it is the reason that I do not discuss it and why I keep my politicking to myself. You see, no one ever did have a friendly discussion about politics.

And, I say that if you can't talk about a thing maturely and without name-calling, then you don't need to talk about it at all.

Well, I made a mistake a few days ago when I commented on a post about feminism and one woman's view of equality of the sexes. You see, I am not a feminist and neither was the author. She made a few great, valid points, and I agreed with her for the most part. I always enjoy her posts and have just recently begun commenting on them, so I decided that I would leave a cute little response about my views of equality.

I said something along the lines of

I believe that man and woman were created equal. You cannot have one without the other. It takes two, baby.

I thought it was quite cheeky and appropriate, so I clicked "comment." Well, something happened and blogger said that it could not post my comment, so I had to try again. It took me back to the top of the comments, and as I was on my way to click "comment," another's comment caught my eye. I do not read other peoples' comments on other peoples' post. Its not that I am not interested or don't care, I just feel that they aren't meant for me and I honestly lack the time and the patience to sit still long enough to read any number of them.

But, unfortunately, a few of these comments caught my eye. I read a few, skipping over some, until I had my fill. I posted my original comment and went along my way. I tried to forget the comments and the blatant "ME!ME!ME!" that had screamed at me from a few certain entries, posted by well-to-do ladies, who surely had never known the feeling of utter despair when any and all options were no better than death itself.

I just couldn't help but think,

Who are we to complain about the unjustness of our world in middle class America? What is a lesser salary to the option of pain and death that many others face on a daily basis?

I confess that I did not really take a worldview of this point of discussion. With the original post's substance of feminism and inequality of the sexes, my mind and opinions were firmly rooted in the soil of this country that we call the land of the free. You see, the term feminism was an American invention from the 20th century.

I thought about these women, complaining loudly in cyberspace about fairness and equal rights and wondered how many of them had actually fought for a single thing in their entire lives. And, I must say, it infuriated me.

And, this is why:

American women have more choices than I think we could ever fully grasp in one lifetime. So, for these women to cry out, asking where was their right to choose. Well, I just couldn't stand it. That is the beauty of democracy. There is always a choice, and chances are that death is never one of them.

So, I commented, focusing on selfish American women (of which I am one; I cannot deny it). I have since deleted my comment. I deleted it for one obvious reason, if any of you, my faithful readers, have come across the comments on my previous post. I am truly sorry if I offended anyone, but I acted without thinking (alas, a fault that has gotten me into trouble more than once) and posted a comment that I had no idea would illicit any response, let alone anger, at all.

You see, I think arguing on a blog is just plain silliness. It is why I commented blindly without directing my comment at any other comment in particular. Apparently, my comment fell right smack dab in the middle of a discussion about oppressed women in other parts of the world and the inequality of it all. And, my comment, my angry flash of brilliance against the egotistical women out there, who whine about how unfair the world is to them (give me a break!), unleashed a fury of comments against my character, assuming my heartlessness and disdain for oppressed women around the world.


I thought, when I saw the first comment on my innocent post about selling a car and the trials of a one-car-family, quickly followed by the second.


You see, I posted my comment on the post and never looked back. I wasn't looking for a response and honestly did not think that someone would waste their time responding to it. I wasn't about to pick a cyber fight with anyone, especially over a blog post. I mean really, how old are we here? So, I was completely unaware of the angry women out there, ready to call me heartless and ignorant.

Totally unaware of them, until they invaded my blog and left outrageous accusations against my character.

And now, I am responding to these comments on a whole, because it is not worth arguing through comments and exposing my readers to the pettiness of political debate about women, whose positions we could never truly understand.

Sure, we can feel for them, cry for them, fight for them and rally for them, but can or could we ever really relate to them?

I chose to leave the comments below my previous post, because I can take it just as well as I can dish it. I did not call these women names or accuse them of anything at all, but they felt the need to respond to me in such a way. Because of these accusations, I responded once with an explanation of my outburst, which you will find in my comments.

But, let's not embarrass ourselves anymore. I will not allow any further comments from these two women on the subject.

And, I do have a heart--a pretty big one actually.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Open the Book of Life to somewhere near the front.

Read: Hubs and I are now officially a one car family. We sold the dookie brown Toyota Camry that saw me through 3 years of high school, all 4 years of college and 1 marriage yesterday. And when all was completed with the appropriate lines signed and dated and the money clasped firmly in my hand, I was sad, like really, really sad. Even though I constantly complained about that car, cussed it out when it squeaked and daily wished for it to die, I felt a little piece of me drive off with it and its proud and grateful new owner. End of chapter.

Turn the page. Next chapter. Read: For the first time in our marriage (which has only been for 7 months), our bank account looks great, and I feel really good. I feel secure. I don't feel like a leech. I'm not as worried about Lewisburg. We have a nice little cushion and that makes it easier to lie on the couch next to Will and not fret over what I could be doing right then, like working for money for once. End of chapter.

Skip ahead a few pages. Read: Jillian Michaels has been shredding my body, quite literally. I have done the workout video only 7 days, and Hubs can already tell a difference. I can, too! I've never done a workout and seen results after a mere week. It is stimulating and encouraging. I have no desire to quit. I actually look forward to working out. It only takes 20 minutes. And, the results are so worth it. End of scene.

Turn the page. Read: I took Hubs to work this morning, which meant that I had to get out of bed at 5:40am. I couldn't have walked a straight line if I had wanted. I sat on the couch in a sort of trance until Hubs gave the green light that it was time to go. I stumbled out to the car. Turned the ignition. Backed out of the driveway. Roboticly (yeah, that is not a word--yet). The cold steering wheel was firmly grasped in my stiff fingers. Hubs sat quietly in the passenger seat, sipping his coffee. "Babe, go a little faster," he said. I looked at the speedometer. I was doing 15 mph. Skip over to the next page.

Read: I am not a morning person. The End.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

A Disappointment.

Last night, I received an email that I was dreading. I knew that I was taking a big chance--that I was probably getting my hopes up--that this economy is just not a post-grad's friend at this moment. But, I secretly believed that I would never get that email. I thought I had it in the bag.

I guess that I should tell you what I am talking about. I hope that I don't regret spilling the beans. I don't see why I would. So, here goes.

In early December, I was browsing the websites of local institutions in Lewisburg, WV. I came across the Greenbrier Historical Society's website and their director's email address.

I thought, I should send her an email--just to mention some of my experience and give her a heads-up that I will soon be a resident of the town. I should totally let her in on my little obsession with history and the lengths that I am willing to go to preserve it.

So, I sent her (the director) an email. I told her about college and my degrees. I told her what I have been doing for Historic Columbia for the past couple of months. I told her that I was in love with buildings.

I didn't expect a response, honestly. I realize how busy these non-profits can be and that in these hard times, they are usually very understaffed.

But, I thought, Why not?

To my utter shock and amazement, two minutes later, there was a response in my inbox.

The first line of her email, "YOU ARE A GOD SEND!!!"

Success! I thought. I've done it! I'm going to have a job and it will be doing something that I love. I'm a rockstar.

I called Will. I forwarded the email to my parents. I couldn't believe the blessings in this opportunity.

And, like I said, I thought that I had it in the bag.

So, I immediately updated my resume. I asked my boss at HCF to write a recommendation letter. I sent them both to her with a lengthy cover letter. She said that she would have to talk to the Board and see if there was room in the budget for another employee. At the moment, she was the only one. And, she needed help.

And, I wanted to give it.

Like I said, I thought that I had it in the bag.

Well, Saturday night, I decided that I could wait no longer to hear a response. I emailed her and asked if the Board had had a chance to review my resume and discuss the possibility of another employee.

They had, she said. And, unfortunately, the economy had finally caught up with them and there would not be a position available this year.


Back to square one.

Where to begin?

What am I going to do?

I have to do something.

Will will be in school. I will have to feed us. I will have to keep us warm.

What else could there be in that tiny valley town that I could do?

I guess that I could work at the Greenbrier Resort. There are plenty of server, front desk and bar tending positions. But, I don't want to do any of those things.

I want to do what I love. I want to be an asset. I want to be involved. I want to continue in my education and gain even more experience in the field that I have made my life's mission.

So, back to square one.

But, first of all, I have to explain how incredibly awesome the director has been. She has offered so much advice. She has kept in touch with me throughout this whole process. She will be giving Will and I a tour of Lewisburg. I honestly cannot wait to meet her and spend time with her when we visit. I hope that whatever job I do secure will allow me the opportunity to help out at the society in any way that I can.

I am crushed, but I am not bitter.

I have grown accustomed to the ravages of the economy. Don't forget that I basically work for free at HCF. I wish that I could work for free in Lewisburg, but I will be the sole income then and it just isn't possible.

So, what to do now?

Well, the rejection has lit a fire under me.

Last night, I updated my resume and plan to have it completed by the end of the week, so that I can send it and my boss's letter to any and every business in Lewisburg, who might even remotely need my expertise (which isn't much). I need to be doing something to expand my horizons.

And, I just don't see waiting tables as that expander.

Send prayers and positive thoughts my way.

I'm going for the gold.