And... I'm Employed

Just like that?
Just like that.
Can it really be so easy?

I've settled into a nice routine here, looking for work in the mornings, working on the house in the afternoon.

Thursday followed the normal mode. I was still wearing my job-hunting hat after lunch; there were just a few more places I wanted to look into. As I was paging through one of the job hunt sites, one of the ads I'd skimmed over caught my eye. The job description was generic, but right up my alley, so I sent them a note, attached my resume, and moved on.

About an hour later, the phone rang. It was Jasmin, from the company with the job ad, and wanted to talk to me about my application. We talked for about ten minutes about my background and her company and decided that yes, this could possibly work.  I asked her, "where do we go from here?" At this point, I still thought she was one a front-line recruiter, who would then pass on my information to the hiring manager. It wasn't until she said, "Well, at this point we usually do a technical interview, but I don't see any need for that in your case, so you'll receive an offer from us in 2-3 hours" that I realized I'd been mistaken.

An offer?
Wait!
I didn't know this was the interview, I was just asking questions!
Wait!
I forgot to be nervous!

Sure enough, about three hours later, I got a phone call from them with an offer. We talked for just a bit, he sent the paperwork across. I took a look at it with fresh eyes in the morning, and after just a bit of negotiation, I accepted the job.

I start next Monday. They're a small consulting firm; I'll be working on one of their larger contracts.

---------------

I've been trying to enjoy this last week of relative freedom before jumping with both feet back into a sea of work.  Haven't made much progress; I'm eminently distractable. Before I stalled us out, Joe was making great progress on the new flagstone patio (see photo above - I'm going to LOVE the final results!); I was starting to build the kitchen cabinets. I still hope to get one or two more of them done this week.

It's all happened so fast; I don't think my mind has quite caught up with me.
Ready or not, here I go!

Twitch, Twitch

There's something about this job search process that's set the bottom lid of my right eye to twitching.

I've a more-or-less schedule going here; I look for work in the morning, work on my projects in the afternoon. I've heard looking for work is a full-time job, but I don't have the focus needed to look at job listings all. day. long.

I've set myself some simple goals - apply to at least one job each day, follow up on previous openings, look for contacts to help me get beyond the job board application black hole. I start each morning with a full cup of coffee and a fresh attitude. I pull up the listings, and start reading. There are a lot of jobs out there, it takes time to sort through the requirements to find the ones with possibilities of being a good match. About an hour later, the words start to blur. Twitch. I find myself looking at the listings, paging through without actually comprehending a word. which means I have to go back and look through them again, because some of the are the sort of work I'm targeting. Twitch.

I fill out an application, try to answer the questions well, try to come up with a short, snappy, relevant cover letter that will have the hiring manager dropping everything to call to snatch me up for their job before one of their competitors gets smart and beats them to the punch. Repeat.

About this time, the twitching is becoming downright annoying. Twitch. Oh, settle down, Janice. Twitch. This isn't so bad. Twitch. Look, here's somewhere new to look. Twitch. You can picture yourself here, can't you?  Twitch, twitch, twitch.

Fine. that's enough for today, let's pick this up in the morning. (twitch subsides almost immediately)

I'll be glad when I find work.

Be Nice!

I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with people who come through the short-term rental place next door, and most of the hate part stems from the shared driveway. The drive is narrow, and there's not a lot of room on their side of the road to maneuver once you get up it. Often, the guests will drive on up - and only then realize how little wriggle room there is to get back down, especially when we have our cars parked on our side. And, since many of them are from out of town, they are driving unfamiliar vehicles.

Earlier this summer, when I was not in an especially good space anyways given all that was going on with Kate, one of them managed to ding up my downspout on their way down the drive. I talked to the owners about it, they offered to fix it (they're good about such things), but I turned them down, figuring it's only a matter of time before someone does it again.

I tried to set it aside, but somewhere in my mind, I was still fuming. Not so much over the ding as over the unwillingness of some theoretically responsible adults to own up to the messes they've made. I thought of varying ways to protect my property - one of those concrete columns protecting the gutter came to mind, or perhaps a big railroad tie along the side of the house. I couldn't come up with anything that wouldn't inconvenience me as much as it would my unwitting neighbors, so I went to Minnesota and let it go.

Mostly.

I came home, and sure enough, the dent I'd told them not to try to repair was still there. (duh!) I found myself tarring all the temporary neighbors with the same brush, looking at them with suspicion and distrust. The first group made it easy - a group of self-absorbed twenty-somethings using the house as their wedding prep site. There were a lot of them, and sure enough, they managed to park two cars out back, blocking the drive so we had to get them to move one of the cars so we could get out.

I was working in the yard this weekend when the latest group pulled in.  Still wary, I watched them pull a good-sized SUV into the yard. But then, but then. The father came over to introduce himself and say hello. They are in down for a few days from New Mexico, so their son can see one of the Children's Mercy doctors for continuing treatment of severe scoliosis. The mother came to introduce herself with a big smile and a compliment for the work I was doing in the yard. Even the teenage daughter smiled. And the son, the son who will deal with the same health problems his life long that plagued my good friend Charlie, looked up from his e-toy and flashed me a smile that echoed the one I miss so much on Charlie's face. They proceeded to get into their car - she stood outside to carefully guide it safely down the narrow channel, and since then, have parked on the street.

Makes it hard for a girl to hold a grudge. Just sayin'.

Home!

The hoped-for job didn't come through (there were some teasers in there - recruiters called with good jobs last week, but neither of them materialized) and so, with decidedly mixed feelings, I headed back home last weekend, with Kate, Alexandra and my niece Juliann in tow.

We packed up and headed on out last Friday morning. The drive down was the best kind - uneventful - we got here in time for dinner. Our weekend turned into a whirlwind of get-togethers. Kate is well loved, and her friends here wanted to see her; to see with their own eyes that she is on the mend; to touch her and share their care.

They left Sunday afternoon, leaving the house way too quiet behind them. No toys scattered on the floor, no ice cream for breakfast and lunch, no soft small cheek to give one last kiss goodnight to as I head to bed myself.  I miss them.

But it's also good to be home. To see the butterfly garden in all its weedy glory (the plants stand four feet tall!), to check on my green tomatoes (why are mine still green? the rest of the world's tomatoes are ripened and eaten by now!), to sleep in my own bed.

Despite my time job searching in Minnesota, yesterday was the first day that felt like I should have been at work and wasn't. I guess, to my heart, the rest of the time since I left in July doesn't count because it was just an extension of the times I'd been running up there to help Kate through the aftermath of her chemo treatments.

Yesterday, I slept in a bit, just because I could. I lingered over my coffee, just because I could. I enjoyed the quiet of the house; the company of the cat who is thinking about forgiving me for my long absence. Oh yeah, I also started to look for work.

As good as it was to spend time in Minnesota, and it was good, it's good to be home.

State Fair

I'm not one for big crowds, but I've always heard how much people LOVE going to the Minnesota State Fair. Since Kate's current apartment is closer to the fairgrounds than most of the attendees get to park, since I'm currently between jobs so my days are not full of mandated activity, and since this looked to be the only year both these things will be true, I pushed my grumbly self out the door yesterday morning just as the booths opened.

I figured it was a rocking chair thing. A small one, but still. When I'm ninety, and about all I can do is sit in my rocking chair and think back over my life, when I think about this juncture, will I be glad I did this or sorry? Will I be sad I didn't take this chance, or relieved that mischance had passed me by?

In this case, I decided I'd be sorry I'd missed the chance.  And so I went, and I'm glad I did.

I came in through one of the back gates, into the swine barn first thing, and was captivated by the pigs.  Pink, black, spotted, most of them sleeping.  A few enterprising souls were up, trying to get the latches on their cages open.  Not so stupid, pigs.

From the pig barn, I walked on through to see the cows, the horses, the sheep, then onto the main streets of the fair, where can be purchased a large variety of foods on a stick.  The people watching was even better than the animal watching.  I pulled up a comfy section of curb and sat and watched the world go by. It was still early in the day, so folks were in good humor. The weather was good, they were excited and happy to be at the fair. I saw lots of crowding, but very few scowls at the inevitable bumps as those who decided to stop and change direction without signalling collided with those not quite watching their step as they conversed and got distracted by the fried cheese curd booth on the far left.

I wandered through the merchandise booths (didn't find anything I couldn't live without), went to the newborn life building and oohed with the rest of the crowd at the newborn lambs, stopped in the coliseum to watch the border collie herding trials.  I bought a fresh pretzel.  (I don't think it counts as going to the fair if you don't purchase at least one item of food.)  I didn't stay all day - couldn't; my feet won't take the punishment these days - but headed home mid-afternoon, a bit hot and tired and grubby, happy with my decision to see the fair.

Discouraged

When is it time to say when?

For this section of my life's adventure, I've rather arbitrarily picked next weekend to go on home.

My job search up here has petered out.  I had lots of good conversations with recruiters, but never unlocked the key to actually getting to talk to a hiring manager.  I've quit looking - time is not on my side if I want to be home by spring.  The shortest consulting contracts are generally six months - and six months from now puts me into March.  By March, God willin' and the crick don't rise, Kate will be done with school and moving on with life.

It's tough to say done.  I'd hoped to be up here until the year's end, to see this through.  It feels like I'm quitting in the middle, and I hate quitting in the middle.  But economics enter the equation somewhere in here, and I don't have the wherewithal to stop work forever.  And if I can't find short term work, I'd prefer the long term job be on my home turf.

With all this running through my mind last night, I had a hard time getting to sleep.  Sometimes when this happens, it's effective for me to pull out my childhood bedtime prayers.  As a child, I never saw the prayers written.  I memorized the sounds, and so each night would dutifully pray:

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I give you my heart and my soul.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I give you my lass dagony.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, mevreeforth my soul in peace with you.  Amen.

I had no idea what a dagony was, nor why only lasses had them - and why did the boys say the prayer if they didn't have dagonys to give?  I also wasn't sure what mevreethforth meant, but knew it had to be a good process, since I ended in peace with Jesus, Mary and Joseph if I managed to figure out how to do it.

I quit saying the prayers sometime before Mom died; I was well into my thirties before they came to mind again, and I realized the actual prayer was:

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I give you my heart and my soul.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I give you my last agony.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, may I breathe forth my soul in peace with you.  Amen.

Makes a bit more sense this way.
But that hasn't stopped me from working on mevreeforthing my soul.
I'm all about Peace.
Amen.

Weddings

Two weddings in two weeks.

At the first, we got there early, and went into the bride's room to talk for just a bit. There Haley sat, beautiful in her dress, radiating joy from every pore. She had dreamed of this day; this day, her dream became reality. The simple ceremony brought tears to my eyes - her love shone as she repeated the words that bound her to Terrell.

We had to travel to the second ceremony. It was more elaborate; lots of attendants, a big family do. The day of the wedding, hair and makeup took up a good portion of the day. (Kate and Alexandra were both part of the ceremony, so were included in all the pre-wedding hoopla - Kate and Shrika have been friends since preschool.) I love to watch Shrika's family. They're loud, joyful, loving, chaotic. The wedding reflected their essence.

As I watched, I spent some time reflecting on love. Between brides and grooms. Between parents and children. Between friends. Sometimes, it's clearly visible, trumpeting its presence. Sometimes, it's quiet, expressed by a tender sideways glance, neatly clasped hands under a table. Always, it's what helps me make it through the dark times.

Someone once called weddings a triumph of hope over experience. I like the part where hope wins in life. It would be easy to be cynical - at my age, I've seen a lot of marriages fail. But I've also seen a lot of marriages work. Some that seemed doomed from the start twenty-plus years ago are still going strong. Sometimes, love wins. I like that part, too.

I like that part especially well.

On the Fence

Just before I came up to Minnesota, I went to a ballgame featuring the Royals against the Twins. I didn't know who to root for, my loyalties were pretty evenly divided, my adopted home against my childhood one. Every time either team did anything good, I cheered. Made me popular with the surrounding fans, let me tell you, especially since the Twins won.  (Go, team!)

I feel the same way about the current state of my job search.  I'm quickly coming to a point where I need to either land a job here or go back home and start looking there.

I've had some success here, there are currently three job options that are not yet dead. (I'm finding jobs in the world of consulting move quickly and am learning a lot about looking for work - this is the first time I've actually looked for a job since starting with AT&T, which was quite some time ago.)

Every time someone calls me back, I feel a little thrill. Maybe, this time, this one will come through; I just need one! I start to plan how I'll fit the job into my days here with Kate and Alexandra.

Every time the job falls through, I feel a little thrill. I'll go back home to Kansas City after Labor Day. I can pick up the pieces of my abandoned project, start to look for work there. I'm fairly sure I'll be able to find something once I am willing to broaden my search parameters.

I'm rarely this balanced in my life. The options pull more-or-less equally. I'd love to stay here, extend my time with my family. I'm even willing to face a Minnesota winter for the first time in eons - though I may regret that part come the middle of January. I'd love to go back home, pick up the pieces with my friends and house and family there.

It's not a bad spot to be, if I do say so myself.  Either way, I'm good!

Ordinary Days

In the past year and a bit, with some help from that damn shot, my joints have gotten a bit creaky. I can still move as long as I'm careful, but running is definitely out. For good.

I took Alexandra for a walk yesterday to see if I could help her burn some energy. We walked up the hill to a big green space on the St. Paul campus. We climbed on the statues of the bulls, following in the tradition of many before us, as evidenced by the shiny spots on the metal where the good launching off points are.

She still had some energy, so I gave her a challenge, to run across the park to the far side and back. Of course, she did. Of course, my heart hitched a bit as I watched the ease and abandon with which she ran.

These have been quiet days, good days. Kate continues to mend, more slowly than she'd like but faster than many would. (does anyone ever heal fast enough to suit themselves?  no one I know...) I do my part by doing the housework, laundry and any lifting. (her weight limit is still 10 lbs.) I wake each morning to the cheerful sounds of Alexandra starting her day.

Last weekend, we went to my niece's long-anticipated wedding. It was beautiful; I cried my way through it, just because the bride was so happy. Her whole being sparkled with joy. As a bonus, all of my siblings were there - it so rarely happens we took a picture, for proof.

The weekend before was another family reunion; I spent time studying the faces around me, fascinated by the marks time has left on the once-smooth faces.  My cousins and I are now the ages our parents were when we were teens.  How can it be?

Ordinary days, good days.  These are the days I'd hold tight if I could figure out a way to keep them close.

A Good Place to Land

Kate was not so sure about moving into graduate student housing. The buildings do not have the character of the apartment we've left.  However, it hasn't taken her long to adjust to the new digs. They're small, but the space is functional.  There are some good-sized closets and while the space isn't notable, it's clean and well maintained.

Things are a bit snug here; the three of us are sharing two bedrooms.  As we were moving boxes in, my brother pointed to one of the closets and said, "if I was Alexandra, I'd want to sleep there!"  The closet in question is a 3/4-closet; the floor is about two feet above the rest of floor level.  It's a perfect cave for a small person.  When given the option to sleep there, Alexandra jumped on it.  One of those win-win situations: She gets the coolest bed ever, and the room feels bigger with just one bed taking up floor space.

One of the best parts about this place is the overall building layout; they're set up to form rings, with a large green space behind each set of buildings. It's green, it's quiet, there are no cars, we can watch it from the dining room windows. For the first time ever, Alexandra can just go outside to play by herself.  (She's not quite sure she likes the option.)

This will be a good place for Kate to stay while she finishes up grad school.  The other place had more character and some gorgeous woodwork, but was it decaying, and surrounded by decay.  The landlords around there are more interested in making money than beautifying the neighborhood. I didn't realize how much looking out dirty windows at rotting roofs and peeling paint bothered me until I was giving the place a final cleaning. I was sad for the fading beauty, I wanted to stop and fix it and make it all better; give it something more than the cheap cover-up fix the landlord will give it. *sigh* It was once a good home; it's for sale - perhaps it will one day be beautiful again.

For us, moving on, I think we have landed well. This will be a good place to study, to heal.  A temporary, but well-suited home.

Sometimes, the Universe knows what it's doing when it starts nudging.