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Hellos and Good-byes

May 9, 2012 in Uncategorized | 1 comment

Three years ago this summer, I did something a little out of character for me. C and I were hanging at the neighborhood pool one Saturday. She was a wee thing of only 2 1/2 years, and it was only our second summer in the neighborhood. I spotted another mom hanging in the kiddie pool watching her twins play in the water. They didn’t look much older than my C, and mom was very, very pregnant. In our neighborhood, everybody seems to know everybody, and as a newcomer it can sometimes be a little tricky getting to know people who may have known each other for years, or whose spouses went to high school together and have an instant connection, or whose parents and grandparents are upstanding members of the community and therefore know everybody. It’s just…complicated, especially as a relatively new mom. The reason this family stood out to me was that she didn’t seem to know everybody at the pool. She seemed new, like me. I had seen her once or twice before and smiled her way, but we had never spoken.

Although I am an extrovert, someone who feels energized by being around other people, I’m not usually one to introduce myself to random strangers, especially in suburbia where I don’t fit the stereotype, and especially as a new mom who was finding it challenging to make other mom friends. But something about her demeanor made me feel like I should, just this once, stick my neck out and introduce myself. So I did. And it wasn’t awful. She seemed really happy that I did, and I found out that she was, in fact, new to the neighborhood. We chatted for a minute, and we exchanged phone numbers. In that next year, we became good friends and our families spent a lot of time together. She introduced me to another mom with kids the same age as my C, and the three of us have remained close, forging friendships when the two of them were new to our city.

Now, as a result of fellowships and jobs and life, both families are packing up for new cities this summer. I bid one of the families good-bye tonight, and as I was driving home from their house, I realized that had I never worked up the nerve to say anything to a stranger at the pool that day, I would have missed the opportunity to have these friendships. I often hear from moms that they find it so hard to make good friends as an adult, especially with other moms, and I couldn’t agree more. But as I reflect back on these particular friendships, I want to tell every grown woman out there that it’s worth sticking your neck out every once in awhile to someone who seems like a kindred spirit. You might get shot down, sure. But you might get two new, amazing friends out of it, like I did, which is totally worth the risk. And if someone makes a friendly overture towards you, for the love of all that is good, don’t shoot her down. She made herself a little vulnerable to meet you, and that’s a scary thing for most of us to do.

Women…we can be a fickle bunch, and we can be baffling and difficult to befriend. And I don’t mean to sound all sappy and kumbaya, but we can make it easier on ourselves and on each other, no? We can show grace and kindness to each other. We can be inclusive and generous in our friendships. We can be open and welcoming to newcomers. I can, and I will.

How about you? Any serendipitous friendships in your life?

© 2012, OneShoeOff. All rights reserved.

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Balancing, Juggling, Pick Your Metaphor

April 19, 2012 in Uncategorized | No comments

It’s late, and I’m tired, so pardon the crappy title. But yeah, there’s kind of a lot going on right now, and I’m doing my damnedest to keep all the plates spinning at once (the later it gets the worse my metaphors get). There’s parenting a five year old who randomly happened to puke twice in a very dramatic fashion this evening. There’s keeping up with this house, which just never seems to get any neater no matter how much crap I throw away. There’s making sure we have food on the table via the garden and the grocery. There is so much happening at C’s school now that the end of the year is less than 2 months away. Oh, and did I mention there’s this new company that I just helped launch with three paid employees right off the bat, and holy shit that’s a lot of work, and oh, right, that means there’s a whole new blog I’m supposed to be writing for. There’s a quarter marathon I’m training for in less than three weeks, and I only just ran five miles for the first time last weekend. There are books I want to read. Things I want to make. There are friends I want to spend time with, and there’s this whole trying not to neglect my husband business. Plates, they are aspinnin’, and at any given moment one or more of them is threatening to take off on its own.

So my only goal for now is to buckle down and keep going, even if I can only manage to plod through each day. I may not get to do all the things I want to do right now, but I think it’s pretty safe to say I’m cycling through a period where I need to focus on the critical things right now and the rest will have to wait. Right now, the critical thing is for me to go to sleep. I’ll update when time and energy levels permit, but in the meantime g’night, y’all.

© 2012, OneShoeOff. All rights reserved.

Are You Insulting My Cooking?

April 10, 2012 in Uncategorized | 2 comments

Cooking is actually quite aggressive and controlling and sometimes, yes, there is an element of force-feeding going on.
-Nigella Lawson

I have a pet peeve. Okay, fine, I have a lot of pet peeves, but there’s one that’s been getting under my skin lately, and it’s about kids and food. No, it’s not about how our culture dumbs down so-called “kids’ food” so that it’s nothing more than fat and sugar held together with mountains of salt; that’s another pet peeve for another day. But wait, while we’re on the subject, why are we obsessed with “kids’” food?! Do the children in China not eat tofu? Do the children in India not eat curry? Do the children of Sweden not eat smoked salmon?! I don’t understand why our children are born craving mac and cheese and chicken nuggets. Oh, wait…they’re not! Sorry, hang on, wrong soapbox.

So the pet peeve we’re discussing today is when kids respond to seeing or tasting a food item with “Ewwwww! That’s gross!” or “That’s yucky, I don’t want that!” Makes. Me. Crazy. I know that kids go through stages where new foods are genuinely scary for them. We’re biologically programmed to not go around eating everything in sight because it’s dangerous; I get it. What I don’t get is the total and utter lack of respect their word choice demonstrates to the person who prepared the food. We all have our priorities, but I spend a lot of time, money, and effort making sure that my family eats well. My parents and grandparents on both sides pathologically demonstrate love through food, and we work damn hard when we cook. When someone else cooks for us, be it at a restaurant or a friend’s house, I assume that the chef/cook also exerts some level of effort and concern into preparing us a decent meal. So when a child says “That’s so gross!” or “That’s disgusting!” I’ll admit it, I’m horrified that our culture generally allows and accepts this because it’s “age-appropriate” behavior. I don’t care if the food DOES look or taste gross. To me, it demonstrates blatant disrespect for someone else’s hard work. If a friend or family member painted a picture, we wouldn’t allow our child to say “That’s ugly!” If a classmate came up with an idea for a game, we wouldn’t allow our child to say “That’s stupid!” So why is it that I hear so many children say “That’s gross!” or make gagging noises, or make faces in response to someone’s hard work in the kitchen?!

Believe me, I have put my heart and soul into my cooking only to serve my family something completely vile. But if they made faces and gagged and told me “That’s gross!” I would be crushed. In our family, we have a few rules around this issue. First, you don’t get to say anything about how a dish tastes before you’ve tried it. Second, you must try everything. If Mama decides she’s going to try her hand at toxic blowfish sashimi, then you have my blessing to take a pass, but otherwise, you must try everything. Finally, if you try something and you don’t like it, you will NOT make gagging noises; you will NOT make disparaging remarks; you will simply say, “I don’t care for it,” and you will eat something else on your plate. That’s it. Perhaps it’s a matter of semantics, but it’s not hard to say. It’s respectful and kind to the chef. And it accounts for the fact that everyone has different tastes and appreciates different flavors.

What do you think, am I splitting hairs and being overly picky about their choice in words? Does it bother you when kids respond that way? What are the rules around foods kids don’t like in your house?

© 2012, OneShoeOff. All rights reserved.

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Eggs, eggs, eggs

April 9, 2012 in Uncategorized | 2 comments

Easter is over, and I have 3 dozen hard-boiled eggs to use up. Yes, I only have one child. No, I have no idea why I thought it would be a good idea to dye 36 Easter eggs. Yes, I like eggs, but no, I don’t really like plain hard-boiled eggs that much. How do I like them? I really prefer them poached, fried, or soft-boiled. No, I don’t plan to have my cholesterol checked in the next month. Any further questions?

When Cagey posted her recipe for Egg Curry, I was thrilled. YES! 8 eggs down, 28 to go! So that’s what’s on the table for dinner tonight. Then yesterday, I saw that BlogHer Food linked to Grab a Plate’s recipe for Avocado Egg Salad. Avocados + eggs = why had I never thought of this before?! Although I use avocado in a variety of cuisines, her egg salad recipe made me think of Tex-Mex right off the bat, so last night, I used what I had in the kitchen to whip up a batch of Southwestern Egg Salad, and oh my, was it delicious. So that’s 6 more eggs down, 22 to go…

Southwestern Egg Salad

Ingredients:
6 hard-boiled eggs, roughly chopped
2 avocados, cubed
1/3 cup red onion, diced
1 scallion, thinly sliced
1/4 cup cilantro leaves, finely chopped
1 Tbsp of green salsa
2 Tbsp of lime juice
Salt and pepper to taste

Directions:

1) I am fundamentally very lazy about making egg salad, so I combine all the ingredients in a bowl and mash them together. It held together well enough to be called egg salad, but stayed chunky enough to eat with tortilla chips or as a sandwich (my favorite sandwich bread for egg salad is toasted English muffins, YUM). I think you could also add chopped tomatoes, black beans, or even a half a teaspoon of cumin to this, too, depending on what you like.

So. As of tonight, I will have 22 eggs remaining. Any suggestions on what to do with them?

© 2012, OneShoeOff. All rights reserved.

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What if?

March 27, 2012 in Uncategorized | 1 comment

I rolled over yesterday morning to C. cuddled up beside me in bed, ready to wake her for her first day back to school after Spring Break. I tapped her gently on the shoulder, wanting to wake her slowly. No sooner did her eyes flutter open did she immediately start thrashing and crying. Rough morning, I thought, and I tried to soothe her, which only made her more agitated. She sat bolt upright in bed and flopped over backwards towards the foot of the bed, and when I asked her what was wrong, she could only wail, “I don’t know.” She suddenly jumped out of bed and ran around to my side, still crying, wailing, and distraught, and she sobbed that her stomach hurt and that she was so thirsty and wanted milk. At this point, I was worried. I’d never seen her act like this, and I scooped her up in my arms to hold her. I held her close, rocked her like a baby, and I reassured her that everything would be okay and she could have some milk. Then I realized that she had gone completely limp in my arms. I looked down and her eyes were closed. Her skin was pale, and I could see beads of perspiration along her hairline, which was soaked. I touched her face, and her skin was clammy and cool to the touch. She didn’t respond to my touch. It only took a split second for these details to register, for the fear and panic to well up…Oh, god, what’s going on? What’s wrong with her? What if…?

I shook her and said her name loudly, sharply. She eyes slowly eased open. “Mama, maybe we can get some milk now?” “Yes, baby, of course.” “Mama, my tummy hurts.” “I know, baby; I’m so sorry. Can I pick you up like this?” I asked, reaching under her armpits.
“Nooo!” she wailed, “Rock me, please!” “Shhh, okay, no problem,” I reassured her, pulling her close again, squeezing her tight, and rocking her. Then I felt her go limp in my arms again. I couldn’t help it; fear got the best of me, and I tumbled headlong into the abyss of what ifs. At this moment, R. walked into the room after having taken the dogs out, took one look at my wide, petrified eyes, and asked if everything was okay. “No. No, everything is not okay.” He and I both rubbed her face and said her name, and she awoke again, slowly, weakly. I was moments away from rushing her to the hospital, but I decided to give her food and drink as she once more requested. She ate; she wanted to be held; her hands were shaky, but seemed to grow stronger as time passed. I told her she needed to go back to bed, and she requested that I snuggle with her. We snuggled, and she slept, and all the while the what ifs continued. What if she has e. coli? That can be deadly in children. What if she has some other kind of food poisoning? Also deadly. What if it’s something worse? What if she’s really sick? What if I’m doing the wrong thing? What if she has to go to the hospital? What if we lose her? My god, what if..?

She awoke four and a half hours later, smiling and perfectly normal, and she immediately asked if it was time for lunch. We spent a quiet, happy afternoon together, both of us still in our jammies, and she went to bed without fuss. But I couldn’t, I still can’t, shake the lump in the pit of my stomach, and the fear that gripped me when I stood face-to-face with the tiniest shred of a possibility of losing my child. It’s silly, right? She’s fine. What am I worried about? Get a grip, woman. Parents deal with REAL illness and REAL loss every day. I’m being hysterical. But instead of feeling reassured, I’ve simply stopped asking “What if she IS,” and I’ve started asking “What if she WAS” and “What if she SOMEDAY DOES” and it makes me weak and nauseous and so deeply afraid. Surely you know the feeling? I get a small dose of it when I turn around in a store and don’t immediately see her beside me. I get another small dose when we have a close call while in the car. But this time I allowed my mind the tiniest liberty to fully imagine a world in which she was no longer with us, and it’s proven difficult to shake the dread, the fear, and the anxiety my imagination produced.

As I write this, I realize with gratitude and tremendous sadness how fortunate we are. Our daughter is healthy and happy, and in all likelihood, she will remain that way. She is very much here with us, and we are grateful. So when I follow the news coverage of Trayvon Martin’s senseless killing, and when I see the pictures of his parents, I grieve with them. The mere thought of losing my child brought me to my knees. What must they be feeling? How can they get up and face each day without him? How can we possibly live in a country where this is a real and constant worry for some, and only some, parents? Why should having a son with dark skin mean that both he and his parents should fear for his safety more than others? Why is the fear and hatred of difference still so goddamn pervasive in our culture? And what am I doing, what are any of us doing, to change that?

Truth be told, I didn’t want to write this post. Not because I didn’t want to say something about Trayvon Martin; I don’t have a problem calling out racism and racial inequality when I see it. I didn’t want to write this post because I didn’t want to give my fear any more ground than it had already gained in my mind by thinking about it long enough to write the post. But that’s a luxury I have, isn’t it? And it’s certainly a luxury Sybrina Fulton doesn’t share. My daughter lives a relatively safe life, and most of the time I don’t genuinely have to worry for her well-being. I don’t have a black teenaged son whose every move in public is scrutinized. Ms. Fulton’s what ifs sound completely different than mine. What if he looks suspicious to someone with a gun? What if someone decides they don’t like his clothes? What if he wears a goddamn hoodie and winds up dead? I will never have to ask those questions, and mothers of black boys shouldn’t have to either.

So again, what am I going to do about this? I’m going to hit “publish” on this post to publicly show my support for Sybrina Fulton, a mother who has sadly become the public symbol for what all the rest of us hope and pray we will never have to live through. And after that, I’m going to keep talking about racism when I see it, and I’m not going to accept excuses for racist behavior. And after that I’m going make sure my daughter understands why none of this is acceptable. Maybe nobody will read this post. Maybe it won’t make the tiniest difference in the world. But I can’t sit by and not say anything. I will not stand for it. How about you?

Please note that I’m very aware that having a child who is Latino, Asian, female, Muslim, Jewish, gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, or disabled means that you also worry more than normal because their difference may elicit a violent response from someone. This is also abhorrent and is part of the larger problem, and we need to work to make sure that changes, too.

© 2012, OneShoeOff. All rights reserved.

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Spring Break

March 26, 2012 in Uncategorized | No comments

We’re back from a marvelous spring break! C. and I spent two weeks traveling to see my parents in Las Vegas, then R. joined us all to travel out to San Diego for a fun little road trip. Two weeks without dogs, cats, school, cooking, working, and all of my other normal responsibilities? Blissful. When I tell people that my parents live in Las Vegas, their immediate comment is that it must be so much fun to visit them. Sure, my parents are fun, but truthfully, it’s not that different than visiting parents who live anywhere else. We don’t hit The Strip; we don’t gamble; we don’t go clubbing. We just hang out with family, enjoy the sunshine, and we eat (yes, at the occasional buffet), because that’s what my family does when we’re together, and may I just say we do it really, really well.

So off to San Diego we went in a really sweet rented minivan. Holy crap, y’all. When did those things get so high-end and easy to drive? I’m embarrassing myself as I write this, but it was nearly brand new, and it was really, really, really swanky. The buttons! To open and shut the big doors! So convenient! And the bucket seats! So comfy! BUT. Those of you familiar with downtown San Diego will know that a minivan is a downright stupid vehicle choice in that city. Not only is traffic heavy and unyielding (apparently lane-changing is frowned upon by the locals), parking is impossible to find. Not to pat myself on the back, but I parallel parked that monstrosity TWICE (successfully, I should probably note), and I had to navigate it through parking structures that must have been designed with Smart Cars in mind (we had only inches to spare on either side of the vehicle, and all of my traveling companions chose to close their eyes to quell their fears).

Aside from that, San Diego was lovely. We hit the beach at Coronado Island, and I grew insanely jealous of the people living in those gorgeous houses facing the water. We hit Legoland in Carlsbad, which, I’ll admit, I would have loved at C’s age. She, of course, had a blast, and the rest of us tagged along to watch her enjoy herself. We also managed to hit the San Diego Zoo, which R. and I hadn’t been to since our honeymoon nearly 12 years ago. We trudged for miles through that place, and despite sore feet, we all loved it. Aside from touristy things, we ate, and ate, and ate some more at some truly exquisite restaurants. The Gaslamp Quarter downtown has an amazing selection of restaurants, and we were lucky to pick 3 at random that were so freaking good.

So there’s my very unexciting recap of Spring Break. I’m thinking, though, that I might *gasp* post some pictures of our adventures. That would a) be very out of character since up until recently, I’ve been incredibly paranoid about outing myself online, and b) probably make this post a lot more interesting. Let’s see how long it takes me to get them transferred to my computer, then we’ll talk.

Anybody else do anything fun over spring break?

© 2012, OneShoeOff. All rights reserved.

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Jumping into the Fray: Social Change

March 9, 2012 in Uncategorized | No comments

Before I dive into this, let me preface this post by saying there is no way I can fully articulate everything I feel about this issue, but I’m going to at least try to speak to some of what’s been stewing in my head the past few days.

Do you guys remember when Dooce came back from Bangladesh and all hell broke loose on Twitter when people questioned her motives and raised the issue of poverty tourism? This latest brouhaha over the Kony 2012 campaign reminds me of her Bangladesh debacle. When that first went down, I wanted to blog about what was happening, but I didn’t feel like I could speak to one side of the issue or the other without being called either a troll (what Dooce’s detractors were being called) or a groupie (what Dooce’s detractors were calling her supporters). Now that plenty of time has elapsed and we have a new philanthropic movement to contend with, I feel like I can finally dip my toes into these tempestuous waters and hopefully articulate some of what is so frustrating and unsettling and hopeful about these situations.

To review, this is what we’ve seen repeated several times over now:

Steps to a Social Change Nightmare

1) Find a social good campaign, preferably in an underprivileged country with lots of brown people.
2) Get it some media attention. Stir, and watch what happens.
3) Wait until lots of people say, “Yay! Let’s all go save Darfur/Uganda/Bangaldesh/_______”
4) Wait until someone offers critique or criticism of the movement
5) Watch the original supporters get angry.
6) Let it all devolve into people being spectacularly rude to each other and calling each other nasty names on the internet.

Um…that was fun?

When all of this starts to unravel, you have to sift through all of the angry posts to get down to essentials. On the one hand, supporters say that doing something is better than doing nothing, and they say that raising awareness is the beginning of amazing change! On the other hand, detractors will point out that awareness doesn’t actually fix anything, and they point out how uninformed and misguided aid can do more harm than good. And I think that for most of us, this is incredibly frustrating. I’m no expert on NGOs or charity organizations or how and why certain forms of aid are better than others, and I’m going to guess most of you aren’t either. I also give a shit about what’s happening outside of my own little bubble, I want other people to give a shit about what’s happening outside of their little bubbles, I want all of us to be able to contribute to the greater good in whatever ways we can, and I’m guessing you feel the same way, too. But I’m also a critical thinker and sometimes a bit of a cynic, and I refuse to let rhetorically clever media pitches persuade me without doing my due diligence and checking my sources. These organizations and their messages need to pass muster with me before I will throw my voice, my time, or my money behind them. And the crappy part of this is that by putting a critical lens on these organizations, I will typically land on the detractor side of the fence no matter how meaningful the cause is to me, because they are all problematic in some way. I find independently un-audited financials problematic; I find high administrative salaries problematic; I find low percentages of funds directed towards the cause problematic; I find white savior complex problematic; and I find skewing the facts to tug at my heartstrings deeply, deeply problematic.

After going through the mental gymnastics required to get to this point I’m stuck in a catch-22. If I critique, I’m accused of inaction, which is a crime in and of itself, according to some. If I support, I’m accused of doing harm by funding imperfect organizations, which is also crime according to others. So what am I, what are any of us, supposed to do? There’s no point engaging with either side online, because the vast majority of the online conversations quickly turn into “You’re stupid!” “No, YOU’RE stupid!” “No, YOU’RE stupid and so is your mom and so is your dog!” fights. Pointless and a waste of time. Even when people bring relevant evidence, questions, and concerns to either side of the conversation, it isn’t long before civility is abandoned and punches are thrown in a virtual bar brawl.

And you know what else pisses me off? How very personally both sides take criticism. None of us knows anybody else’s motivations for certain, but would it kill us to assume that when it comes to social change and doing good in the world, your average citizen just wants to do the best that they can? Yes, there are always douchebags who will name-call and make it personal, but can we assume that when anyone else critiques a particular viewpoint, it’s not to personally insult those who espouse that viewpoint, but instead to bring critical thought and rhetorical analysis to make sense of a complex issue? Because while we’re busy insulting each other, unspeakable things are happening all around the world that we don’t stand a chance of stopping if we’re busy hurling insults at each other.

But now that I’m all riled up, here’s what I think we’re missing: there are really two different parts to this conversation going on at the same time, and I think we’re muddling them all together. The first part is the conversation about the individual organization. Someone, somewhere feels strongly enough about something that they bring it to the attention of other people. And there emerges from this a passion for an organization and its message and a conversation about convincing other people to invest their time and attention to this cause. Those conversations are (mostly) good, and important, and necessary.

There is, however, a second, meta conversation about HOW BEST to bring about social change, and what the best strategies are for dealing with the innumerable worthy causes to which we can devote our attention, which has nothing to do with any individual organization. What’s the best strategy for stabilizing the political situation in Central Africa that allows for child soldiers? What’s the best strategy to reduce maternal mortality worldwide? What’s the best strategy for reducing death rates from breast cancer? No one organization can deal with any of these issues by themselves. When this conversation about how best to do the work collectively and on a higher level addresses the individual organizations who are trying to do the work, you get really spectacular fireworks. Because this second conversation pisses people off, and it can kill the enthusiasm that stems from the first conversation because oh, hell, if these guys aren’t doing it right, then who is? And if no one is doing it right, shouldn’t we still be doing something?!

The Kony 2012 campaign has had at least one upshot in that people are using this as a lesson in researching non-profits, which I think is forcing people to engage with the meta part of the conversation, as uncomfortable as that might be. People are being challenged to evaluate whether their methods are sound based on experts in the field. People are being forced to question whether their finances sound and whether or not they espouse our values. And I hope that people will eventually realize that just because we critique an organization’s strategies, doesn’t mean we think their cause isn’t worth fighting for, it just means we think maybe there’s a better way to fight. And just because we support an organization, doesn’t mean we believe that they’re flawless. It just means that we’ve found peace with our decision to support them, hopefully through thoughtful research and critical analysis.

As frustrating as it is to watch all of this unfold across the internet, it boils down to this for me: we need to be talking about this, all of it. We need to be kind to one another and educate each other as much as we can. We need to make sure our kids are savvy in world affairs. We need the passion and enthusiasm for change, but we ALL need to research the hell out of our causes. We need to be careful of group-think, and we need to be able to accept the consequences of our choices if it turns out down the road that the group we supported yesterday turns out to not align with our values after all.

So now that I’m done on my soapbox, what do you think? What have these campaigns and conversations changed in your thinking and researching? How is your approach to social change and charitable work changing?

© 2012, OneShoeOff. All rights reserved.

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Is it 2013 yet?

March 1, 2012 in Uncategorized | 6 comments

Y’all, I have sat down dozens of times in the last two months ready to craft a post, only to close out WordPress and walk away because I was in grave danger of writing an intolerable, maudlin piece of crap in which I lament how genuinely awful 2012 has been. And I just couldn’t bring myself to write those posts because DUDE, first-world problems. Also, there has been so much amazing stuff intertwined with the bad that I just couldn’t do any of it justice. But we have now arrived at the point where these first two months can be classified as utterly ridiculous, and I can’t help it, I have to tell you!

So let’s back up a couple of months. At the end of last year I had hinted that things weren’t all unicorns and rainbows at my job. I was waiting for the whole situation to implode, and I spent months agonizing over whether each and every day was going to be That Day. You guys, I’ve done a lot of hard things in my life, but the stress of that situation ranks up there as one of the most taxing things I’ve had to cope with. I was so irritable, so completely on-edge. I was suffering, but my family and friends were suffering right there with me. And then the new year happened. And then I got laid off. I knew it was probably coming when I got called into the meeting, but I didn’t know for sure until he actually said the words to me. But can I tell you something? Getting laid off is shitty, no matter what, but in that moment, when the words sank in, I felt like all the stress of the previous three months simply evaporated. It was time to move on, and that was the kick in the pants I needed to do it. So…hooray? Or something? But get this. Within a few hours of being laid off, I was offered another position, and a few weeks later, I was offered a freelance position, both of which can be done from home. I also have a headhunter who is bugging me for an updated resume. I’m working on both of the new offers and navigating what this new work situation looks like for me. Perhaps neither of these will be long-term projects; perhaps they will. I don’t know, and that’s okay for me right now. I’m content to have moved on from being unhappy to something brand new. So short version of this story: I have career whiplash, but I am so unbelievably fortunate and grateful, and everything is going to be okay.

Then, in the middle of all of my career chaos, my husband announces that he is seriously considering changing jobs within his company, which could possibly result in moving, dramatic financial upheaval until he gets settled into his new position, and more uncertainty in our lives. Have mercy. Don’t get me wrong, I am happy he wants to find something new and interesting for himself, but I think his timing could be a bit better. But I told him I’m supportive and he should go for it. What the hell, why not go for it while things are all up in the air anyways, right?

Right, so all of that that was crappy, but not so crappy and kind of exciting all at the same time. Here’s another fun detail: I got pulled over on my way to getting laid off. I haven’t been pulled over in easily 8 years, and I got pulled over. On. My. Way. To. Get. Laid. Off. BUT! The university police officer (FauxPo according to my friend, R.) who pulled me over wrote me a warning and not a ticket! So again, crappy, but not crappy. In the intervening weeks, I have been pulled over once more for speeding, and I have received two parking tickets. Let me repeat, I haven’t had any traffic violations in nearly a decade, and I get pulled over twice (both times with warnings) and receive two parking tickets within the span of 7 weeks. Does not compute.

And now it would appear that our house is in the process of falling apart at the seams. We discovered recently that our house is not ventilating air properly and moisture is accumulating in alarming quantities inside the house. At one point we had ice on the INSIDE of one of our windows because there was so much moisture. And THEN we discovered that there was paint peeling in the master bedroom behind my wall of scarves because of moisture accumulation from the master bath. And THEN we discovered last night that our kitchen sink wasn’t draining properly, which we thought was a minor clog issue until I went to take a shower this morning and had the water fill the tub to my ankles. At which point my husband went into the crawl space under the house to discover that water is leaking from the pipes into the crawl space. Apparently he was shouting at me to not turn the water on, but I couldn’t hear him because I already had the water running. (Have I mentioned that this happened once previously due to a piece of drain that had fallen completely off and resulted in water from our washing machine flooding the crawl space and resulting in a drain fly infestation for which we couldn’t find the source for MONTHS? I haven’t? True story.) On the plus side (I’m really reaching here, people), we discovered the leakage before it resulted in another drain fly infestation. Now our house smells vaguely of sewage, and I’m waiting for the guy to show up who is going to attempt to clear the drain before we have the plumber out to fix the leak.

I won’t lie; it’s been hard on all of us in this house these past two months. But despite the chaos and upheaval and first-world disasters, I’m really trying to remain grateful for everything I have. I’m trying to laugh at the absurdity of all of this. And I’m trying not to worry too much, I swear. My awesome mom, who happens to be Chinese and who happens to believe a little bit in Chinese notions of good and bad luck and good and bad fortune, told me at Chinese New Year that this was eventually going to be a good year for me. She said the beginning of the year was going to be rough, but that things would turn around and the year would end well. I don’t follow Chinese astrology that closely, but the thought that this year has the potential to get a lot better makes me feel really, really happy. So I’m going to try to focus on that, and I’m going to focus on the positive things that have come out of all of this chaos. And with any luck I’ll find time to write about it here, too.

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