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I finished the Juno sweater, absolutely and completely today, by sewing the buttons on it. Geoffrey says I canít wear it outside the house... it is very form fitting, and a bit shorter in torso length than I was anticipating. I have also realized that despite all my other lapses in discipline in past months, Iíve been devoted to my knitting and reading, making the time, even if it is only five minutes here and there, or sitting in my car at lunch. And it makes perfect sense as these activities are my primary forms of escape, until the garden wakes.
I heard recently that you can change your happiness quotient if you weekly articulate what you are grateful about. More than weekly doesnít seem to work, for whatever reason, perhaps it is like beating a dead horse. But sometimes it is hard to recognize what your blessings are because theyíre so obvious. And other times it is hard to actually be grateful for things that are so basic, like actually having a job, a single job that pays your bills. But imagine how miserable would I be if I had to work two jobs like this to pay the bills??
As I drown in stacks, reams of paper, I am reminded of my first job in the city Ė when I did virtually all my bossís work but didnít get paid for it. In an odd reversal, Iím doing work that is a waste of my time, talents and salary because no one really cares what I do. That seems to be the hard reality Ė as long as I donít ask for any resources, theyíll let me do whatever keeps me occupied and the auditors under control. Also, Iím a
, so its perfectly acceptable for me to do secretarial work.
My emotions are overflowing on an almost daily basis, I feel unstable. I normally can do alright with chaos and change, but I am beginning to wonder if I am remaining coherent, not at any given moment, but seen in the span of a day or a week. The guru says to surrender to the state, to consider this emotional flood as the river Nile, overflowing its banks and replenishing the soil for the next yearís crop. If that crop includes a new job before the end of May, it will be worth it, if I can ride it out.
A year ago today Merlin left us. My big meatloaf, as West called him. Monster Brat. Fang. Why is it we humans mark time by these kinds of anniversaries, the good and the bad? One year since Merlin, eight since Linnie, four since Grandpa and thirteen since Rae. My soul cries out, How can it be thirteen years?! So instead, letís mark the passing of time by the good: this will be the twentieth year in NYC, the tenth year in the house and the fifth year of knowing Geoffrey. I slowly realize its five years since Spil went AWOL.
The advice is that relationships up for review and its an excellent time to address my oldest concerns on teamwork and partnership and its time to change things that are at odds with what I truly want and value. Clearly, buying the book Verbal Judo was right on track. Recently there have been a number of comments from those without agenda that I should be doing public speaking, and inquiries about whether or not Iím available for consulting. Yet Iím trying to keep the job thatís making me miserable long enough for us to buy a house. Should I leap?
Today is a New Moon, which is an excellent time to ask the universe for change, in two parts: let Geoffreyís house sell very, very soon, at a reasonable price. And let me find a new job that seriously wants me to use all of my talent and skill, and pays me reasonably well for it, preferably in the service of arts or academia or some other greater social good. It can be in the city or local Ė but not a longer driving commute, please, Goddess, please. Although I am doing everything in my power, cosmic assistance can only help.
I have always believed myself to be very strong, managing lifeís roller-coaster ride. Iíve managed to get through some tough situations in the past. Iíve been somewhat adventurous, going to Germany, moving to NY, quitting my job to join a start-up. But Iím beginning to rethink that, as I appear to be reaching my limit with the current situation, perhaps because both professional and personal worlds are contributing in such a way that because of the personal I feel trapped professionally. Given recent events, I cannot believe it is mere coincidence that my migraines returned this morning in classic form.
Daylight Savings Time began today. I live on the very eastern edge of the time zone and the daylight, even in the depths of summer, doesnít last very late into the evening. When I was growing up, I lived in the very western edge of this same time zone, and summer evenings seemed to last forever, it was truly magical, going to bed as it was just getting dark out. Now, Iím thankful that it will be daylight when I leave the office from now on and early twilight gives me a better chance to enjoy the fireflies in summer.
Driving to work there was very little difference, but driving home tonight, in full daylight, was wonderful. The fact that traffic was light was an added bonus. I watched the sun set after I got home, and it wasnít dark until after 7 oíclock. Which means that I will have time to do a little outside cleanup if I choose to some night, working to slowly reveal the garden. My hands are itching to play in the dirt again, never mind that I feel like I donít knit enough now without adding in another way to spend my free time.
A day that I am left alone, in peace, yet I feel anything but peaceful. Less than two days in the office and Iím climbing the walls again. Yes, there are some things to do that could theoretically keep me busy. But I have no interest in doing any of it, my newly expanded understanding of the players around me indicates it is almost pointless. There is an essential lack of understanding here that I still find difficult to comprehend. As I was able to grasp this years ago working for a small company, I have to question their intelligence.
Not, it is not a good thing when you are seriously questioning the intelligence and or commitment of those around you, especially those above you in the food chain. And it isnít a question of ďjust explain it to themĒ Ė they donít want to listen and they certainly arenít asking questions (nevermind asking really good questions) and I have limited opportunities to show them by example what Iím talking about. Yesterday there were two media stories that I had to circulate, to try and raise awareness that yes, it CAN happen here, and wouldnít it be better to be prepared?
I have to ask myself, Do I want the job? The actual work would be much better, it is closer to home and probably has much better benefits, even if the pay is the same or slightly less. It is quite clear, however, that there will be a lot of politics involved in getting anything done, literally. Would it be a good next step for me? Would I be able to last in such a politically charged job for two years? I donít know. It would, however, be a way out of the place that is making me so unhappy.
I have a strange radar when it comes to his unexpected appearances. No, it doesnít always function, but more often than not, it is as if I hear some echo of his presence as we come into range of each other and I say to myself, driving home from a KnitNight, heíll be there when I get home, or as I sit in my chair and look at the phone, I donít actually dial him because I know he wonít be there, heíll be here any minute now. He probably wonít believe it, but its true and a wonderful mystery.
Waking up on Saturday with a Geoffrey, what a concept. Is this what it would be, no, WILL be like? Being able to do a mad dash to Maureenís for a very early breakfast, just because we can, knowing there will be yet another day in the weekend for sleeping in and slowly waking up together with coffee on the couch? On a north shore driving tour afterwards, we discovered a real bakery and nailed down the ďhow long to get from A to BĒ answers that help us compare our prospective home area to our current South Shore neighborhoods.
What I wanted to say is this: Iíd given up on finding you, had accepted the reality of my life. When you appeared, then spoke so easily of our life together, of kids, it shocked me. Once I got past that, I discovered that which was once contained in my own Pandoraís box had been released: hope. I now find waiting for that hope to be fulfilled beyond difficult: itís been more than two years since we sat on your back deck and spoke in terms of 1 Ĺ to 2 years to come together, which I found incomprehensible thenÖ.
ÖAnd its not the question of kids that drives all this. It is the concept of you, of building a life together, where there is no possibility for you to feel that you are a guest in my house, because it is our house. That is what I want most of all. And yes, I must admit, terrifying though it is and unfamiliar territory on top of it all, I would like to have the option of considering whether or not we really want kids and being able to act on that choice, rather than not having a choice left.
Iíve finally started the green mohair/silk blend. The two skeins I have donít exactly match; it is hand-dyed yarn and they were purchased from two different stores, about a year apart. But the color variation is producing the most amazing heathered look to the shrug, even with the lace pattern. I am hoping to have enough left over to make at least one mitt, to protect the hand that stays outside the blankets in winter. Iíve begun to ask myself, however, whether or not I will use it, as I donít stay up at night reading in bed with Geoffrey.
Although I knew I was excited by the prospect, I was unprepared by how high I was after the discussion, more of an interview than Iíd anticipated. The prospect of non-profit, and a world-class museum had every nerve end jangling. And that even was before I walked through the museum. It has been more than twenty years since I last worked in a museum and Iíd forgotten how the muted echo of art everywhere around me makes me feel. This is absolutely my first choice of next job. Will everything come together? Iíve already started working on the sales pitch.
Dinner out tonight to celebrate the Spring Equinox which will merge with the full moon this year, a full blossoming of Ostara. Yes, the earliest crocus and snowdrops have made their appearance, and the daffodils, tulips and daylilies are slowly pushing up, telling me I should spend some time in the garden this weekend, get a head-start on the cleanup. It was sunny and bright when I got home tonight, quite a change from past years. The recent blossoming of opportunities has me hoping that the new beginnings of spring might really happen on multiple levels for me this year.
Iím itchy and twitchy today. Yes, itís a full moon and I canít help remembering all those Good Fridays in school when it was a half day Ė why canít we get out of work early? Iím reminded that HFA did let us out 2 hours early on holiday weekends or eves, but that is unthinkable here, although I rebel in my own way, doing as little as possible through the day. Part of me is appalled at my defiance, that I am blowing off like this. But there is hope, Iíve made it to the next round for one possibility.
It is another beautiful day (why do they only seem to happen on weekends?) and we make our almost weekly pilgrimage to the north shore, trying to get a sneak peak at a house that just came on the market. For the first time, I feel a bit like this whole process is torture, rather than just window shopping for the next stage of our life together. Thereís a momentary doubt - more than fleeting, but not quite lingering - and deep panic at the thought weíll stay in a holding pattern for another year. Faith, where are you now?
Easter when I was young was generally spent with my paternal grandparents, going down to Gatlinburg. We would often stop at the hotel and school in Berea, which for me was marked by hot cross buns that smelled so good, and trying to eat fried chicken with real silverwear in the hotel dining room. Staying in the Airstream was an adventure, and I loved the campground outside Gatlinburg, with the brook, and water slide, although it was rarely warm enough to enjoy. Driving through the Smokey Mountains, Pigeon Forge Pottery, walking the shops and malls, it was a different world.
Candy abounds at the office today. I feel like Iím navigating a land mine every time I leave my office. Candy isnít really my thing, but peeps! Iíve been struggling a lot with discipline issues lately, and the last few weeks have been particularly difficult for me regarding food. I know the lack of control for the job and house situations are getting to me, but shouldnít that result in even more discipline in that which I can control? That was the old me, I guess, this new me has decided to be indulgent, since Iím not being frustrated elsewhere.
I am not shocked and appalled, just dreadfully disappointed. Changes are announced at a departmental meeting that I had no knowledge of from my staff meetings with the CIO and people affected by changed reporting lines had no knowledge prior to the meeting. That is just wrong on so many levels, and so avoidable. But it is such a classical indicator of why Iím leaving. With so many departures announced this week, Iíd love to be able to add my name, but I cannot do that just yet.
A very warm day, it was perfect for working outside for a while after work, clearing the debris from the front garden, revealing more early spring shoots and even an occasional blossom, which Iím sure I would have missed completely if I hadnít cleared things today. I will admit I worked like a maniac, trying to do some wholesale clearing of the top layers, it still looks pretty rough, but there is now green showing through. If the weather holds, Iíd like to get the edging done and the new lights in this weekend. Then on to the south garden!
Sheís done it again: Anneís got a handful of ďlittle nothingĒ swatches that Iím drooling over. My cream lace mohair scarf has helped me remember that I do like wearing scarves, not just outdoors, but indoors too. And these Little Nothing scarves that Anne is developing are tempting me: theyíd be relatively short projects, needing only a single skein of laceweight yarn, which would allow a certain extravagance with the material. It sparks my creativity and I want to be left alone to knit. I daydream instead: what would it be like to fill my days with baking and yarn?
After a disappointing day, I settle in to an evening alone with bad television and my knitting. Iíve got two projects that Iím working on these days, one a black cashmere stole with a simple diamond lace pattern that flows easily, and the other is the green mohair/silk shrug destined for my bedroom and those nights I read in bed; with a two row lace pattern, it is easy enough for me to focus on. I want to get started on the cashmere/silk, or the organic cotton, but they're for sweaters and Iím still not focused enough to be successful.
A drive out to Montauk, exploring the back roads, on an off-season day raises many questions. If my new job is in the city, would I give up Lina next year, become proficient on a standard transmission and drive the WRX or Honda to the train station? Would I really ever want to live by the shore as the sun is merciless even in winter? After the Gatehouse sells, do we really want to stay in New York or should we start investigating Seattle and other coastal locations? Could we make a living from the cooking classes concept weíve discussed?
Geoffrey clearly feels at loose ends on Sunday afternoons with me and Iím not sure what to do about it. Even if we donít have something to do (open house, anyone?), Iíve got my household chores, knitting, and a seemingly endless list of projects to occupy my time in good weather and bad. He doesnít really have a hobby other than trolling for watches and toy cars online. Heíll cook in my kitchen if we plan it that way but he misses his barbeque. And since it is my house, he isnít inclined to do any household or garden chores.
I feel broken today. I donít think I slept so badly last night, but it is as if Iím sleepwalking through the day. My normally ďcomfortable for a day in the cityĒ shoes hurt my feet. My shoulders hurt (that might be from pulling weeds yesterday). I want to curl up and sleep. By the time I get home, Iím not sure I even want dinner but would rather just go to bed immediately, and Geoffrey is pretty much the same way. I think we both desperately need some warm days with bright sunshine and good news about his house.
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