I went to a lovely party last night where I was reminded of several things: * It’s possible not to see someone for actual years, yet still consider them a good friend. That probably has more to do with them being a good person – but the feelings the same. * Pigs in a Blanket are delicious. * Anyone brave enough to adopt a child on their own amazes me. * Playing tennis in 90+ degrees is a great idea if you want to spend the rest of the day sweating bullets. * I know a lot of people who aren’t thrilled with their current career choice. * There is such a thing as too much icing. * There’s nothing wrong with a late, late nap.
The party of topic was at an old friend’s house. Old in that I met her years and years ago when I first moved to Raleigh. Another one of those folks who I cross paths with often – either in person or, lately, via conversations with mutual pals.
I hadn’t talked to Gina in ages – until a year ago when I started following her increasingly exciting life via Facebook. It was a year ago that her daughter, Ella, came home. Hence the party -last June Ella landed on Carolina soil – adopted from Russia by Gina in what I consider to be one of the bravest moves ever made by someone I know.
And for the past year, I meant to go meet Ella. I really did. I thought about it just about every time a new picture popped up on Facebook. But I never quite made it there and, somehow, a whole year passed. So it was a bit embarrassing when I plugged in Gina’s address to my GPS and realized she lived a stone’s throw away. Whoopsie!
Ella is wonderful. Full of bounce and energy and curiosity – and, actually, very wise. As I learned while she explaining the need for water based on some coughing she was doing. It’s impossible to see a hint of her past life. Ella even resembles Gina with her sprightly eyes and the skip in her step.
The party, for me, was awkward at first because I didn’t know anyone. Normally this doesn’t bug me at all – but for a few minutes I had that out-of-place thing going. Thank God for the food spread as I quickly forget my suddenly misplaced mingling skills and focused on the actual vat of pigs-in-a-blanket. Did I mention I’m back on the eating healthy wagon? Did I mention how quickly I forgot that at the sight of these tasty treats? How many is too many, really? Because I’m sure I passed it.
Before long, my partner in many-a-crimes showed…fresh from a tennis match. Did I say fresh? What I meant was, Kathy was learning what happens when you try to go from two hours of hitting balls in 90 degree temps to a public place without leaving the proper ‘chill down’ time in between. What happens is – the flow of sweat that started hours ago cannot be stopped with a cold shower, cold beer or air conditioning. Don’t mind the girl in the corner – it’s not heat stroke, we promise.
We claimed the kitchen table and were soon joined by other buddies. And the topic turned to our jobs. It turned there with a screech after Kcat announced that she had walked out on hers a few weeks before. This is what I love about Kathy – to her, everything is very matter of fact. “Oh man, I’m never going to stop sweating. This is like when I quit my job at the end of May. Can I have some water? No, no job lined up – just left. How many of them little hot dogs are you going to put back?”
Yeah – she totally up and left her job because she was MISERABLE. Wait. We can do that?
Thus, the analysis started. CAN we do that? Can we just quit our jobs with no prospects because we can’t take one more day of waking up and praying to the lottery gods before slipping into our sensible shoes?
I mean, I know I can’t. What with that pesky mortgage check due every month. But if it were an option, would you? It makes you think about the misery level. I mean, I’m not so miserable that I’d just up and leave my job without something great lined up. And Kathy is a superstar – one of those people who will not only walk out of her job but walk into one that is 900 times better. We hate her.
Once we all panned our careers, I asked the question that keeps popping into my head. Why can’t a bunch of us just quit our jobs, move to the beach and open a bar? I mean, it seems like a really good idea. Especially now that I’ve become addicted to House Hunters International (on HGTV) – where most stories start out with, “(Insert Name) decided to give up his/her life in (name a place) and fulfill his/her dream of living in (insert place that is beach laden, beautiful and affordable. Or maybe not so affordable).”
People really do this – they really do just pack it all in and start over. I guess I did that when I moved to North Cackalacky. I mean, no job, no home…just a gal with her uHaul heading back to her mama’s.
What would you do? Would you trade it all in and go start somewhere new? How do you even start that process? How much do you have to have saved before you’re not considered an idiot? I’m pretty sure I don’t have that much – whatever the number is.
My brother and I talk about the day when he’ll move south and we’ll buy land and throw on some houses. He’ll have room to drive his ATVs around (I mean, when he gets them) and I’ll have room to start an animal rescue. Of course, then I wonder – what are we waiting for?
Oh right. Lottery.
This conversation continued past the pigs in a blanket and into cake time. If you know me at all, you know I have an icing addiction.
Last night, I hit my wall. Turns out that weird icing that’s all rage right now isn’t meant to be eaten in large, sticky finger quantities.
Turns out that while it’s good for making shapes and structures and turning plain cakes into master pieces – it’s not so good at, um, sitting in your stomach and behaving. Turns out that kind of icing just becomes a giant blob of goo in your stomach – no more fancy shapes – just a ball of paste.
And that’s how I ended up forgoing the conversation on what our career moves should be and finding my way to my couch for a late day nap. Because even though the sugar low was forcing my eyes to shut – I refused to give up on myself and just go to bed.
Instead, I opted for a 9:30pm nap.
Which seemed awkward what with my 11:00pm call time for bed.
But hey – if I can’t up and quit my job, I should at least be able to take a nap whenever I want to right?
Wait. Can I do THAT at my job? Will keep you posted.
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I was thrown headfirst into the world of mom-ming as a very unqualified (step)mom in 2013. Shortly after, I thought it might make sense to start documenting my story in order to provide written documentation for my (step)children's therapists.
Today? I'm mostly having mid-range success at navigating the world around me. I'd even go so far as to say my family thrives on a typical day. I find most things funny and often laugh when it's completely inappropriate...I'm not sure if that served me well or is a sign of my ongoing need for professional help.
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