Thursday, February 26, 2009


After reading my millionth “short sale” horror story, I’m trying to find my patient place. Sure we’d love to have a house, that house, and in about two months we’ll be apartment-less if some sort of action isn’t taken, but good things come to those who wait, right?

But the “not knowing” makes it hard to focus. All I can do is plan and re-plan the next 3 months, 6 months, year, 5 years, 10 years of our lives. Try to think of all of the possible counters the bank could make, and imagine how we’d react. Decorate rooms in my head and then try to detach myself from all of it. Wonder if our kid will ride their bike to the junior high on the bike path, and worry that they won’t wear a helmet. Try to picture what the house and the neighborhood will look like in 30 years, what we’ll look like in 30 years. In the grand scheme of things, what is 2 months of not knowing?

We commented last night that eventually our luck will have to run out. We have been so fortunate in every aspect of our lives – to have found each other, found this place we love living, found jobs in this place and to have always had a roof over our heads and amazing family and friends that support us. Can that really last? Should any two people be given so much? And if we only have a certain amount of luck left, is it right to waste it on a house, or should we hold on to it for all the other things left in life?

Some days I wish I could shut my brain off.

Friday, February 20, 2009


Neither Steve nor I like being the center of attention very much. If you watch some of the video from our wedding reception, this becomes painfully obvious. As we step out for our first dance, we both have pained looks on our faces. And I remember the conversation during that first dance. It was not, "I love you. This is amazing. First day of the rest of our lives, blah, blah, blah.” It was, “This is awkward! I hate this! Can people come dance with us now?”

This feeling extends to opening gifts, being the recipient of any sort of party or recognition, and delivering any kind of news that we know may bring with it a line of intense questioning. Neither of us is very good at defending our decisions, not because we don’t believe in them, but because the attention immediately drives us to this place of awkward misery that we can’t seem to climb out of.

“Why aren’t you eating bacon?”

“Umm… actually I don’t really eat meat.”

“Oh you’re one of those vegetarians. I don’t see how people can live that way. Why don’t you eat meat?”

“Uh… well, kind of environmental and animal rights reasons.”

“People have been eating meat for thousands of years! What do you even eat if you don’t eat meat? Do you think animals really have feelings? Do you think one person not eating steaks is going to save the world?”

“Never mind. Pass the bacon.”

Lately I’ve been trying to think of a good response to those lines of questioning that make me uncomfortable – where I’m forced to defend parts of my life that really don’t affect anyone but me, but it’s obvious that people have already made their judgments. My first thought was “F*** off!” Just crudely surprising enough to throw people off their game, but sadly not all that clever. “None of your business” is so cliché. “This is not a decision I have taken lightly, and I enter into it knowing full well the consequences, but I understand if it is not a choice you understand” is true, but it has no zip.

I guess that I’m at a loss and open for suggestions. In the meantime I guess I’ll just continue my awkward, half-assed explanations.

Saturday, February 7, 2009

I'm sorry

Rachel really wanted me to post a picture of her swollen tonsils. Probably one of the most disgusting things I have ever seen. Those juicy white spots are not normally there, thank God. Click on the picture for a closer look.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Work Stats

Since I started my job on May 12, 2008…

…I have spent 173 days in the office, counting today.

…I have received more than 1,453 and sent more than 1,258 e-mails, archived in 46 folders and 65 subfolders.

…216 projects have been completed and billed by our office; 28 projects are currently open and assigned to designers.

…I have processed 111 display case reservations.

…I have attended 116 meetings/trainings.

On days when things are slow, I feel like it’s easy to forget all that I’ve done in the past 9 months. Looking at the numbers makes me feel a little better about what I’ve been able to accomplish. And best of all, I still really like my job.