After the flood

4 REAL - This was my fortune at the Chinese restaurant we ate at our first day in San Jose.

It's so hard to write about so much has happened. On July 7th, I got a text from J that said, "Call me-- not in your office". At this point, it had been over a week since he'd gotten the job offer, but nothing final on paper. It could be great or horrible. I went outside and paced around in the disgusting Arkansan heat while the phone rang, and he answered and said, "I got it".

Commence jumping and squeeing!  I calmed myself, strode into Human Resources and tried to tell them the news without peeing on myself.  They know my current work situation, and weren't surprised that I was so damn excited. And to their credit, they were excited for me as well.  I only went to them first so the motive would be clear when my boss murdered me.

I always thought resigning would have more of a dramatic, thrilling feel, but mostly I tried to be calm, respectful and get it over with.  Fifteen minutes didn't go by from phone call to leaving my boss's office.  And to her credit, my treatment has not been any worse than it usually is, since then.  I was able to give three week's notice and I am leaving with my to-do list finished and a detailed handbook for the next supervisor. Good. Bye.

So much has happened since then, such as a reprise of all the problems I've had with moving and not having a job, but this is all I can do for now.  We're one week away from the day we drive away from here never to be Northwest Arkansas citizens again*.  We've got movers, a place for the dog**, a new apartment, some friends in the city and a lot of excitement.  The physical stuff has mostly been easy, and that's what we've been dealing with.  We haven't started to say goodbye yet.

*Maybe when we are old.
**Please, no judgmental comments about how I'm a terrible pet owner. She is going to a home that is ten times better than the shitty home life we've cobbled together for her for the past five years.  Eat me.

Graduation! Dr. J!

Car-lot party decorations for Dr. J

Me and Dr. J at his post-graduation party.  Lots of friends came by to wish him well.

My sister's boyfriend didn't walk in the ceremony, but graduated with a bachelor's.  We put J's robe on him and took some semi-serious photos he could give to him mom.  Maybe semi-serious is an over-statement.

Successes! Sort of!

The deadline for the big job is on Friday, and I've got a stack of resume/cover letter edits to perfect.  There is also another job about to open, but it is below my pay grade.  If it weren't for J graduating and on a job search, I'd go for it. I'd love working for the boss there, but it would be a band-aid solution, I think.  If there were a way to up the pay, heck yeah! But I got two mouths to feed (and one of them is 31).

I'm excited about the big job, though.  Even though I feel utterly green compared to the person leaving it (retiring), I do meet the requirements listed, and not just minimally.  It's strange writing a resume for a job within your organization. What to leave out? What do they already know? Is a level of informality ok? I have no idea, so I'm trying to play it safe.  They know who I am, so if they consider me or not, the written documents won't make or break me unless I mail them in with ketchup stains or lie about a presidential term.

I've been reading the Ask a Manager blog religiously for the past month (honestly, for the past 5 years).  The great thing about that blog is that she almost always answers your questions, even if it doesn't warrant a blog post.  I read about her on Feministing long, long ago and reading that blog has helped me land a job, keep it, get better at it and hopefully get a new one.  Thanks Allison Green!  It must be good, if I've mentioned it in my own blog four times already.

Other than jobs, my other good news is that I got into an art show with my little sculptures.

Unfortunately, there isn't a venue for the show.  It's being put on by an organization that I have volunteered and served on the board of directors for.  It has been in the same place every single time with the exception of one year, but it looks like their luck ran out.  I know it is self-centered, but why the first year I was able to submit, and get in?  I have a super sad face.

This weekend is J's commencement ceremony, and we'll be partying down with both sets of parents, my sister and his sister.  Everyone is awesome, so I'm looking forward to it.  It will be nice to have a few people to be with during the 4 HOUR GRADUATION.  Thank god for iPod touch games.  Tiny Wings, we are about to get to know each other very well.

Our Lady of Idaho

Two Christmases ago, I gave my father-in-law a potato I won on eBay.  I can't remember exactly why I did this, but he ended up thinking it was very funny and sent me out to Hobby Lobby the next day for a length of red velvet to serve as a backdrop.  He is a novice photographer, and loves a challenge.  I finally got around to framing the photo he took and hanging it very prominently in our house.

Here is the photo of said potato, where I first heard of its fame:

from The Kitchn

My alternate name for it was Mary Mashdelene.

Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiids

Two people have asked me (in just the last three days) if I'm going to have children.  Granted, one was a man from Yemen and one was a nurse, but WTF, mates?  For the latter, I'd gone in for a non-baby prescription refill and a problem with my toenail.  Babies? What?

Having children is something I've thought of. A lot.  I've read lots of books. I read blogs.  I talk to people my age and older who are parents.  I'm not shying away from the subject.  J and I talked about having kids before we decided to get married, and one of the things that attracted me to him was that he would make a really good father*.

My doctor asked me if I was thinking about having kids, and I told her I had an IUD that was good for another three years.  She said, "Well that could be taken out today!" And I replied, "BUT IT'S GOOD FOR FIVE YEARS AND THAT'S WHY I HAD IT PAINFULLY THRUST INTO MY UTERUS."  Ok, I did not all-caps at her, but I was flustered. I gave her my reasons why it's not something I personally wanted to do yet, reasoned arguments about pursuing my interests, spending time with my spouse and keeping my body mine.**  Her response and tone made me gag a little:

"Well, that's just the educated person talking".

Let me remind readers that I work on a college campus and this was the campus clinic.  She went on to say that most parents never crack a book about it and do just fine.  I couldn't shake the feeling that she was on the "Just jump in!" bandwagon.  Regardless of my want for children? Our financial readiness? Lady, love doesn't keep anyone alive. Especially in this economy.  I usually really like this APN, but she sounded judgy and I kept expecting her to say, "You'll change your mind!" which is incredibly rude.  How do you know my mind better than me?  Or worse, what if I change my mind after I have a baby?  No one ever tells a woman who wants kids that she'll regret it one day, that she'll change her mind or that she's selfish. These are common slurs tossed at childfree women.  To pull a comment from Where are the child-free role-molels?"

When I was growing up people kept saying "you'll change your mind". I wonder how many folks ever tell reproduction-inspired young women that they might someday "change their minds".

When I was younger, I never said things like, "I will never have kids", because I realized that I was still turning into the woman I'd become.  Almost 30, I'm pretty sure I'm almost a finished entity. And I'm slowly becoming more interested in spending the rest of my life with J and only J.  If that's what we decide to do, you can bet that I'll be berated but no one will probably question his decision.

No Kidding: On being childfree and really liking kids
A typical dose of judgment in which I wonder if this person is really trying to convince herself.
Why is it selfish to be child-free?
A whole series parodying that selfish "bitch" who chose not to have children!
That really depressing NYTimes article about unhappy parents (does not apply to everyone but gives me pause)
9 Reasons to Have/13 to not

None of what I'm saying is to judge anyone for having kids.  I wish I had a drive to do it, and maybe I will later.  But if I don't, I'd like to live my life happily without anyone telling me what I'm missing.  I already get that from meat-eaters.  All. The. Time.  This subject has just been so front-and-center for me lately.  All my lady-blogs are blowing up with it, people I know, friend's parents. The only person who hasn't really bugged me is my mom***.

*I was shelving books in the Parenting & Childbirth section of my library at the time, so it's not as weird as it sounds.
**I am not saying a pregnant woman or mother does not have bodily autonomy. I am frightened of mother mortality and icky American birth practices/attitudes.
***Who was put on a 5-year grandbaby moratorium the day of my wedding. She has kept her promise.

My Mom: The Original Traveling Spouse

Inside my mother's jewelry box

This is hard to write about: my mom was a traveling spouse once, but I rarely think of her as a reference and I've only talked to her about these issues a few times.  She did a great job raising us and is a fantastic woman, but something in me doesn't want to admit we're in the same situation or want the same things.  I'm sure she didn't appreciate being moved from her friends and family into a shitty small town where she knew no one, but I feel like I've got that pressure plus the pressure to do something with myself despite the tenuousness of my geography.  But damnit, didn't she feel that same pressure?

Why do I have the right to say she's trailing instead of traveling? She probably wouldn't have much of a problem with that term, except for the Human Resource-y nonsense of it, since she knew what she was signing up for getting married in a conservative area in the 70's.  My mom's public and private stance on women's rights is different, but she has unequivocally stated throughout my life that a man is the head of a house, and women should not lead in church congregations.  When I had to interview her for a class project in 7th grade, she said she did not believe in feminism*.

It's hard to reconcile these things when you've known a person to be independent, strong, argumentative and (mostly) pro-choice.  She's worked on and off at different clerical jobs and held volunteer positions on many non-profit boards, but without a good retirement fun from my father, she would be without funds or resume.  I'm not saying she hasn't worked-- she raised two children, very well and keeps a beautiful, comfortable and organized house.  Since my father's quintuple by-pass in 2000, she's been a nurse, dietitian, physical therapist and chef.  She made herself into a fixture of the volunteer community in her town, and it's hard to find someone who doesn't know her (or who hasn't heard of her).

Part of me says, "But she could do all those things anywhere," and another says, "So could you". Yet another part (I'm in lots of pieces today) reminds me that it's hard to leave your community no matter what your job was (at home or out of it).

Readers out there know there's a bit of rebellion in this, or my need to not follow in my mother's footsteps.  Her babying of my father, outright refusal of feminism and the right of women to lead religious services was always baffling to me, she who told me I could be anything I wanted to be.  Except for what caveats?  There's a huge chip on my shoulder, but it's a shared chip with all the other women in my generation.  Do what we want to do, or worry that what we want to do is just a result of society's influence on us? I want to be a mother someday (maybe....) but I don't want to be labeled as a mother.  I want to do it without the resulting diminishment in society's eyes**.

But other than the low worth given to women/mothers by our society, am I attributing negative attributes to motherhood because of my own fraught relationship with my mother?

Stay tuned, kids. This is the first time I've delved into these waters, so I think I should do it a little at a time.
 

*I did not have the vocabulary to argue this at the time, and it would be years before I would call myself a feminist.
**Oh yeah, internalized misogyny checking in.  But you know what I'm saying. This culture does not respect women, and it certainly doesn't respect mothers.

Guest Post: Freeze-dried

Freeze-Dried is a female grad student on-her-way-out-of-the-twenties. She's into SF/F, food, hugs and some (albeit very little) exercise. She is Mostly Harmless and can be reached at frozendry.at.gmail.com.

Dear A.b.,

Ever since you’ve invited me to do a guest post in this space, I’ve been wondering about what I can say as a traveling spouse that you haven’t already – incredibly honestly and eloquently – addressed.  And I’m convinced that I can’t do an abstract idea-post related to being a traveling spouse*. My solution, forgive my indulgence, is to focus on me.

A couple of years ago, I decided to follow my partner, (not just because it is the right thing to do**), but because I wanted to***. At the time, although I was in a job that I thoroughly enjoyed, I hadn’t really begun to think of it as a career. After an initial wave of uncomfortable dependence (that passed with support from the spouse), I eventually maneuvered my way into my first unplanned “home-maker” year. I learnt to cook. I also learnt how not to trip over one’s laundry, and how to fold clothes (no, it is an ancient art, really) and sometime down that road, found out that I really wanted to find a career in the academe.

But more recently - sometime over the Christmas break, actually - I discovered that a lot of who I am has come to be built around one relationship. To most people that meet me now, I’m a spouse before I’m a person, much more in fact than P is. This is significantly different from our pre-travelling situation. Back then (it does feel like ages ago), I was an individual / a woman before anything else. I suspect a lot of this difference has to do with having chosen a dependent life.

Between commuting to work, hanging out with P and getting stuff done for school, for want of both time and interest, I do very little else. Consequently, new people meet me as a role rather than as a person. On the other hand, P, given the nature of his job and of our situation still has a more independent life than me. For instance, he meets people at his workplace as a so-and-so-specialist and the dynamics of a job allow for development of (a certain kind of) familiarity, while grad school can be very immersive and isolating.

Anyway, people meet P as an individual / a man before meeting him as a spouse.

[Okay, now is a good time for that interjection: P works his job (although he’d rather be pursuing his art), so that we can have the life that we do. For this, he has my highest respect. I must clarify that this post should in no way suggest that he is insensitive or otherwise oblivious to my concerns.]

Meet my freaking-the-fuck-out moment: In my own mind, I have become a spouse who is incidentally, doing other things.

Self, meet Insecurity. Insecurity, meet Self.

For me, this realization has been attended by some seriously debilitating angst, helplessness, and – surprise, surprise, possessiveness – the kind that has, in the past, made me run in the opposite direction. Coming to terms with this idea (that despite all the things I do, even I think of myself as a spouse first) hasn’t been easy. It means un-learning some things and re-learning some others. It means walking out of this comfort zone of a secure and familiar identity (that I didn't even realize I was building) and learning to be at home with the unknown. And perhaps most scarily, it means having to do this – being a traveling spouse – without losing myself.

A dear friend (who re-appeared quite of the blue to buoy me through this very personal crisis) said, “Being possessive is okay. But what matters is what you do when they’re around and what you do with yourself when they are not.” All suggestiveness aside, that’s my new goal. Yes, with the traveling spouse deal as it is, I don’t necessarily know how, if at all, I can have a completely independent identity without going back to a non-nomadic lifestyle. Hell, I don’t even know how I’m going to work at this.

But, I’m determined to atleast try.

Footnotes: 

*’cause almost everything about being one is so personal, init?

**Which is an expectation where I come from

*** A complete distrust of long-distance relationships may also have had something to do with this decision.

(Freeze-dried)

Snow day chaser

Here's a chaser for that last post if you were already having a bad day. : (  A room full of my favorite things.

Starts and Stops

Once again, I'm feeling the drag of J's advisor halting progress.  What do you do when you can only get your advisor's attention for 15 minutes a week and they won't write your rec letters or even let you know they haven't done them yet? J's feeling pretty sheepish, as his (now) top choice asked for letters probably two weeks ago, and we're still not sure she's got them all.  He had to send her an email making sure she got them, because his letter writers won't respond to his emails about whether or not they will/have written them.  Grrr.  But-- it was the end of finals week last week, so I should have patience.  I just hate to see him get down about it.  Things got exciting for a few days and then shut down.

In other exciting news, our landlord has dropped another bomb on us.  In September, we had actual contact with him when our A/C went out and he casually told us he was thinking about using our home as leverage in a custody battle.  "I figured I'd let my wife live here rent-free, and her lease is up in June."  Yeah, only slightly horrifying.  Renters' Rights in Arkansas are pretty grim, so we had a huge garage sale and sold off maybe 1/3-1/2 of our belongings just in case he got even flakier and we got the boot.  The idea of moving and then having to move again in 6ish months was horrifying.  We decided to get lighter.

Before that  there was talk of him selling the house, which was OK since our neighbors were interested (and intent on keeping us as tenants).  That fell through when the divorce started and he never returned their calls (after they had already paid for home inspections).  J. says we're probably good because nothing moves fast and the landlord is flaky, but I don't want to count on someone being flaky in a way that is beneficial to me.

Talk is back on about him selling off his properties, and luckily the neighbors are thinking about trying to buy the house again.  I got mad at J. last week for seeming to be cavalier about our possible eviction, but he was just way too stressed/depressed by the rec letter quagmire.  Can we just get out really soon?

The current plan is finish the thesis in March, defend in April, all done by May.  And somewhere in there find a job.  I don't know what I can do at this point but be optimistic.  This blog has helped that last bit dramatically.

In happy-go-lucky news, I had a kick-ass birthday party on Friday that made me forget about my birthday blues earlier in the week.  Here are some pictures, taken by my photographer friend:

My amazing sis-in-law

I love how I look like a tarty cherub in this shot.

Our bathroom has really good light, so eventually everyone came in for some group shots.

Detail of decorations

We forgot birthday candles, so Jonathan obliged with his lighter.

My sis and her new boyfriend. It was hard to find the cutest picture, because they are disgustingly wonderful together.

All in all, it was the best party I've ever had.  My sis-in-law and best friend helped me deck the house out in pink streamers and aqua Christmas balls and decorate a corner just for photos (seen above).   There was a glitch in the karaoke system (namely a microphone and amplification) but we remedied it with a hairbrush and really enthusiastic singing.   The rest of the night was taken up with Framboise floats and photo shoots and chocolate tort.  No one got sick. No one got sad. Everyone got hugs. Then everyone went home.

Birthday Blues

Dunno why, but I'm pretty down about my birthday this year. Must've been too much planning/anticipation. Is it a sign of getting older? My dominant feelings have been self-loathing and paranoia.  I try to keep staring at the pleats of my new dress trying to feel more positive, and I don't want to announce my birthday like usual. The best thing would have been to get out of work today, but I did not foresee this dark mood.

Better notes: a friend took marvelous pictures of my sculptures, past and present, this weekend.  Here they are if you'd like to look.  I am at least one step towards a "portfolio", though I don't know what I'll do with it or who will look.

I got a new dress from a crazy Airstream vintage store. Really, a motorhome with awesome dresses in it.  When my sister told me, I said it was probably a psychopath trying to trap fashionable young women, and she'd better watch out.

My incredibly awesome sister-in-law will be in town for my party on Friday. She is a party all in herself: bartender, feminist, works at a rape-crisis hotline, teaches at a girl's rock-n-roll camp, she's in a noise band, another band called Whore Paint, is covered in tattoos and loves me to death.  Oh-- and her band, Made in Mexico, is featured in a secret level of Guitar Hero 1.  You can find videos on youtube* of people playing it and complaining about how damn hard it is. <3 <3 <3

This is a video of her playing with the band Whore Paint:



Most of my tattoos happened under her influence.  She has a different name in every state.

*Mind, this is people playing it really badly.

Hungover pre-birthday edition

Oy vey. I thought I was feeling bad from doing too much fine detail on some projects, but I now know it's last night's merriment.  I don't go out much anymore, but events are conspiring to make this a very social winter.  I just finished making my husband a stocking to take with us to my family's Christmas.  We usually have Christmas with his family, due to far-away relatives coming into town.  They are also super chill and don't have holiday drama.  I love that.  My family, on the other hand, is the reason I crinkle my nose when the word  "Christmas" is spoken.  They focus heavily on the "importance" of the holiday, but I can't tell what that importance is (not religion and not "being together", as someone always starts a fight).  There's also a heavy focus on gifts, which can be trying to the members who have significantly less money.  I wish that being areligious would help, but it makes no difference.  We have 3-5 nativities around the house, but no one mentions the J man.  Personally, I'd like a Christmas that is less uptight and obsessed with the idea of Christmas.  It sets a person up for stress and disappointment.

My mom called to solidify my birthday dinner plans tonight (real b-day is tomorrow).  I told her I'd just finished making a stocking for my husband, and there was a pause.  She said, "But I got him a stocking, we've used it for years."  I told her I know, but I made him one, because I'm his wife.*.  She hemmed and hawed about how that was really sweet, and how we could take it with us when we move, but she had a really weird attitude about it.  Is it weird that I wanted his stocking to be something I made or, heck, even bought? She's neither his mom or wife, so why is she being proprietary?  That is just one more facet to why I get stressed about my family's Christmas.

I think instead of Christmas, we should just have a second Halloween. And then in January, we can have Christmas, but we change all the traditions and make it less awful.  Cancel Black Friday. Tithe?  I tried to just donate money one Christmas, and a few people got huffy about it.  Seriously. I wasn't being in the spirit of the holiday for them.

At least I don't have to do three Christmases (I only have two).  Some friends are going out of the country for Christmas, a belated honeymoon, but they still have to observe the holiday separately with both families.  This is really stressful and time-consuming for them, and they see their family often anyway.  Not saying it's all moms, but the moms in these scenarios employ tactics of guilt if they don't see their children ON CHRISTMAS DAY.  And my mom doesn't care if I only stay a day, it has to be Christmas.  I can spend a whole week with my in-laws, but she doesn't care as long as I'm with her on the 25th.  Personally, I think that's pretty fucked up.

So, I'm going to try to nap this sickness off in time for an Indian feast tonight.  Sadly, I think I'm going to have to self-medicate a little before I go, just because thinking about my mom having a power play for my husband's Christmas memories is making me feel awful.  Is she going to make our future children's stockings too?

*Making a stocking isn't something I think is a wife's duty. But certainly if said wife is a crafter.

Holiday!

I have to work tomorrow, but the boss won't be there, so I'll be working.  No, seriously, I will be able to get  some good work done without lots of people and hostility to distract me.  And some friends have promised to come by and be silly.

We just had drinks and holiday snacks with friends at a bar, and I'm nicely lubed for the fall break.  I'm slugging water right now in an attempt to not be damaged for work tomorrow.  I can hear my husband in the back yard playing with the dogs and finalizing food plans on the phone with his mom.  It's not too cold here, we got a little tiny (real) Christmas tree, and things seem really good.  I'm gonna finish this water and pack a little bag for our trip.  I am genuinely happy.