An Embarrassment of Riches

The last four days have been nothing short of miraculous. Even if, as I write this, I can barely talk, am totally exhausted and am reasonably certain that I have finally capitulated to The Crud.

Tuesday Night:
I "enjoyed" a 5 1/2 hour white-knuckle drive through two snowy mountain passes (the last occuring at night, on a road I've driven only once ... during the day ... in the summer). As much fun as that was, my favorite part had to be lying down in profoundly nasty snow to put on snow chains, only to lie down a couple of hours later in deep powder, to take them off. Good fun. But soaking in the jacuzzi hot tub and sleeping in the middle of a pillow-topped king-sized bed in the Inn at Goose Creek, TOTALLY made up for it.

Wednesday:
As I ate breakfast, I reviewed the copious notes I'd made about the position I was interviewing for that day. I was a little bit nervous. But a rather surreal calm descended upon me: I just knew that I had what it takes to not only do this job, but kick ass at it. I'd even identified the external resources I would need to help me navigate the bits I'm a little weak on.

So as I drove towards town, I simply focused on taking in the scenery. It's a lovely little town, literally in the middle of the state. There was snow - both fresh and old - covering the wide valley, and ... the best part ... it was SUNNY!!

Anyway, my interview day went as follows:

10:30 - 11:30 Interview with Search Committee
11:30 - 1:00 Lunch with Search Committee
1:00 - 1:15ish A partial campus tour
1:30 - 2:30 Meet with one of the VPs
2:30 - 3:30 Meet with interested faculty and exempt staff, for more questions

The whole day felt like one long conversation, in which I carried myself pretty well. I made it clear that I'd not only researched the school and the resources available at the school to help me do the job. But I'd also researched the federal requirements that dictate much of the position, regional and national resources that could support broader campus initiatives and had looked up the history of the community where the school is located (i.e. addressing the Elephant in the Room: are there black people in Central Washington, or would my moving there significantly change the statistics).

The two interviews about which I was most nervous, were the last two. After all, the VP has the final hiring decision. And anyone with any sense knows that if the Staff aren't happy, the School isn't happy (universal truth). Overall, the VP was most concerned about my ABD status. I explained that my degree progress was kind of hindered by an 18 month freak out over my fibroid, followed by employment instability and criminal assaults on my home. But I am sick of being ABD and am making steady progress (even though, I admit I've been a bit bad about communicating with my committee). I will graduate by summer. It's time to move on. He agreed.

With the staff and other faculty, there was pretty much one person who grilled me the most. Which makes sense, since she's the interim program director and was instrumental in the school winning the grant.

But, as luck would have it, there was another Search Committee meeting a half hour after this last interview started (this one for a Provost), so we cut my last interview a bit short.

As I drove home, racing to beat the incoming storm (I made it ... barely), I realized that in the course of the day, there were many folks who made comments like, "When you come.." or "Oh, you'll want to work with so-and-so...," you know, like I had the job already. But I didn't let it go to my head. After all, this was a position I almost didn't apply for because I'd thought it was out of my league. It took getting the interview and really scrutinizing the expectations of the position for me to realize that I am totally suited for it. But I worried: if my initial suspicion was that the job was beyond me, what did they think?

But, I did not have a lot of time to worry about it.

Thursday:
Between 8:00am and 1:30pm, I had 13 one-on-one student conferences, and taught my lit class. Then I had to go home and grab some professional-looking clothes, because by noon, I had received TWO interviews for the next day at nonprofits in the Bay Area! And not just any nonprofits, but two of the three that had really jazzed me.

So, after grabbing some clothes and patting the cats so hard on the head that Chester actually swiped at me, I broke some serious speed laws to get to my 3:45 flight to San Jose. I got there in time ... just barely, sat in my seat and began drafting Thank You notes to my interviewers from the day before.

But I was a bit confounded. Every time I'd try to write a simple "Thank You," it turned into an action plan, with specific things I would do if given the job. I guess it makes sense, because they need someone who can start asap. But still, it's not like I'd been hired, yet; no need to come across as presumptuous, or desperate. So I changed gears and flipped through Alaska's magazine (now I dream of staying at a lodge on the Copper River).

As we approached San Jose, I looked out the window and was stunned by the cloudless sky, the bright setting sun and the pall of smog. The woman sitting in the row with me made similar observations, and we began chatting about our respective experiences growing up in the valley back when it was mostly orchards. Though she's closer to my mom's age than mine, we had a lovely conversation and I learned that she lives in Selah, a small community a mere 30 minutes away from where I'd interviewed. She'd also graduated from the school, as did her son, and had nothing but wonderful things to say about the experience.

We talked so effortlessly and amiably with each other, that we didn't even notice we had effectively closed the plane, until the flight attendants began to smile at us with a little too much urgency. When we got to the terminal, we exchanged contact info and she offered to be a neighbor and a guide to central Washington, if I do get the job. Oh yeah, and her name is Grace.

When we parted ways, I checked my voicemail. The VP had called me during my flight. I called him back, and got his voice mail and immediately began to panic: Is he calling to tell me that I got the job? Or maybe he needs more information? Or...? So I did what any sane person would do: I called my mom and proceeded to analyze every bit of intonation in his 10 second message.

Then my phone died. What does that mean? Did I get the job, and this is God's way of telling me to chill? Did I not get the job and this is God's way of telling me, "Psych!"

I wasn't any calmer by the time I met up with a dear friend for dinner. But I couldn't freak out too much because I had the finishing touches of a presentation to put together for Saturday and two interviews on Friday.

Friday:
As I organized my notes for the two interviews, I received a call from the VP: I GOT THE JOB!!!!

I was still riding high off of that call, when, like 10 minutes later, I received a call from a third Bay Area nonprofit, FacingHistory.org, offering me an interview with them. The voice of caution in me told me maybe I should go ahead and interview, because until I have a written offer, the offer doesn't legally exist. But when the interviewer explained that their hiring process would take 6 weeks and 3 rounds of interviews, including one at the headquarters in Boston, I turned down the interview. Instead, I turned on the networking. The work that they do resonates with the work done at PSEC, and I plan to put the PSEC director in touch with the new Program Associate in Seattle.

As for the other interviews, the first was very short. He discerned, really quickly, that though the position is for a Research Assistant, my research passions would be better served in academia than as his Girl Friday. But again, I totally respect the work of the organization.

After a brief attempt to walk up Telegraph from Oakland to Berkeley (man, I'd forgotten just how huge the Bay Area is), I caught a bus to Berkeley where I walked around, soaked up some very nice 66 degree sun and plopped down at one of my favorite Berkeley cafes to do some more work.

But as I sat there, alternately people watching and working, I realized ... I am complete with the Bay Area.

I still love the plethora of amazing restaurants and cultural events. I covet the diversity of dance classes. And the sunshine ... my Lord, I was walking around in a tank top in FEBRUARY! Hard to beat.

But when I looked at people going by, you'd think they were all at a funeral. Living in the Bay Area is a hard-scrabble life: it's more crowded than ever, and only getting worse; it's ridiculously expensive (what $650000 buys in Oakland vs. Ellensburg); and it's dirtier. So, I decided: the best way to love the Bay Area, is from afar, with occasional pilgrimages (like for Stern Grove). Nevertheless, I still went to the interview and learned a lot more about the organization. It's definitely a group that I want to support however I can, as they provide basic Green job training for young people and are poised to join the Ella Baker Center's Green Collar Jobs Campaign.

Anyway, the day wrapped up with my friend treating me to yet another dinner and some kick-ass Turkish desserts (I love all things with rose water. Seriously).

Then, at like 11:30 at night, I finally got some substantive feedback from my colleague and tried to finish the PowerPoint for today's presentation. Due to my financial limitations, I wasn't able to register in time, so I will be there virtually. I tried to narrate my presentation, but about 1/3 of the way through, my voice gave out. For some strange reason, my body seems not to like it when I go from a plodding pace to a frenetic one, in the midst of cold and flu season. At any rate, I should find out later today how it went. Right now I am WRECKED.

I need to take a nap and then resume grading. I'm also going to have a double shot of Emergen-C, because I REALLY want to meet the new baby some of my church friends recently had.

Recap:
So yeah, in the last few days I have been blessed with:

• Traveling mercies;
• Four interviews and one seriously awesome job offer;
  
• Providential encounters;
• Time spent with a dear, dear friend; and
  
• Clarity about where my home and heart should be.

Here's hoping that I will shortly be blessed with a soothed throat and perfect health.

Transforming "Maybe" Into "Yes!"

Last night I completed a manifestation collage that represents the major milestones and foci for 2008.

And today, I received an interview invitation for a position I applied for just last night!

Woo hoo!!

Why I Like Spokane

I like Spokane because:

1. Getting from the airport to the Hospital Zone, is effortless with mass transit. One connection - made in a nicely laid-out transportation Plaza with a very cool waterfall, sculpture - was all it required. And, it only cost $1.
2. Madeleine's Cafe and Patisserie provided a truly delicious Feta, Tomato & Olive Quiche that I will have to recreate very, very soon.
3. It is the home of Dr. Steven Brisbois - a truly gifted surgeon, and very kind man. After my HSG, yesterday, he told me that he looked forward to receiving a picture of my yet-to-be-conceived baby. If my husband-to-be agrees, I hope to give our child the name "Steven" or "Stephanie", in gratitude for Dr. Brisbois' skill and patience. Well, maybe as a middle name.
   
4. The people there are SO nice. They make the Seattle Nice pale in comparison.
5. It's always warmer there than it is in Tacoma. Yesterday, Tacoma was in the 50s, while Spokane reached the mid-70s.

In previous visits this summer, I also enjoyed the Riverfront Park and Spokane's proximity to Lake Coeur D'Alene.

All told, it's a town I'd actually like to visit again, though hopefully not for any more medical issues.

When Writing Retreats Become Culinary Disasters

Since I didn't have any interviews scheduled for this week, I decided to join a friend up at Birch Bay for a couple of days of writing and resting (it's amazing how exhausting job searching, dating mishaps, housekeeping and basic life management can be).

We were blessed with very little traffic (a minor miracle considering we left Auburn after 3). En route, we checked out a quilting shop in Mount Vernon (R's a major quilter) and then popped into Wedding Belles, since R's wedding is next August and I'm her M.O.H.

Since R has already found her gown, it was my turn to play dress up. And let me tell you how much fun that wasn't given:

• Bridal designers uniformly design small
• The samples in the store were in some pretty interesting colors
• I'm woefully out of shape.

But we did find two designs that actually looked lovely (the two designs, in gold, made me look like QUITE the princess): one from Bella by Venus, and the other from Alfred Angelo.

And then we got peckish.

I've already bemoaned the dearth of healthy eating options along the I-90 corridor. Suffice to say, the I-5 corridor is no better. And our dinner at a Mexican eatery with overly-potent margaritas kicked off two days of Relapse Eating.

Granted, if I'd been on the ball, I could've made some nut milk and other healthy eats (I did bring the leftover paella). But I wasn't. So we had to stop by the local grocer in Birch Bay. I don't think I saw ANYTHING organic or genuinely natural in there.

Instead, we bought ready-bake Tollhouse cookies, pre-made sandwiches (because the fixin's added up to more than the pre-fabs), and muffins whose ingredient lists included multi-syllabic rejects from a toy chemistry set.

Needless to say, I paid for this relapse. My GI tract was not amused. The only redeeming detail is that I AT LEAST remembered to bring some dried fruit and almonds from home, so my snacking (when it didn't involve shoveling Tollhouse Crackies down my gullet) was fairly tolerable.

But, I am definitely getting back on track this week. So long, Tollhouse and thanks for all the guilt.

Common Sense Hippiedom v. New Age Narcissism

Wow... I have REALLY been a.w.o.l. from this blog.

It's "funny" how much time and energy the end of the term, end of the school year, end of my teaching contract and end of my roommate's lease have taken up.

I'm "a little" stressed at the moment. I suppose unemployment, combined with health issues, and the loss of my supplementary income (roommate) are making me a little crazed. That and the lovely side effects of the Lupron I am taking to help shrink my fibroid for operation number two.

That's why I am VERY glad I'd booked a trip to Santa Cruz months ago, for last week. Southwest had a crazy fare sale, and it only cost me $70 round-trip to go back to Cali for five days.

I spent a surprisingly small amount of money while there, thanks in large part to my friends' generous hospitality. But also, I realized that there was very little about Santa Cruz that I missed, and therefore little incentive to spend like a credit-crazed nut-job.

Santa Cruz is way too expensive for what you get. I mean, the Rite Aid charged $11 for a generic 5 subject notebook!

And the town is a little over-stuffed with New Age Narcissists, the majority of whom were (at one point I'm sure) well-meaning, Agape-Gaia loving hippies.

Back when they were hippies, they articulated a solid dose of common sense:

• pay attention to what you put in and on your body, who makes it and under what conditions;
  
• the Golden Rule is a universal maxim, best embraced by all;
  
• the environment matters, because without it, we're all dead.

Just good, common sense.

But then some of them went off the deep end.

In the pursuit of deeper, more "authentic" truths, some folks cultivated a special knack for gourmand navel-gazing. They borrowed lingo and practices from every non-white tradition they could find and/or "discovered" they were one of the exponentially-improbable heirs of the Druids or the Gaels; but it all seemed to serve the higher purpose of ... the Cult of Me. What do I want? What is my purpose, independent of others? What is my journey?

Don't get me wrong. These are good questions. Vital questions that we all need to examine as we live out our lives. I just take issue with the over-emphasis on the "I" to the point of selfishness. The myth of New Age Narcissism that I remembered and witnessed in Santa Cruz, is the myth of the self-made wo/man who is not beholden to silly little things like social mores, loyalty and genuine generosity of spirit.

The poster child par excellence of this is K, a guy I once dated (that's my pathetic disclosure), and who went on to date and totally head-f*ck my dear friend, M (who, ironically, I met through K - that's my happy disclosure).

I admire folks who manage their resources well, and always seem to have enough time, money and sanity to live a well-balanced life. I aspire to that myself, having fallen off of ALL of those wagons to varying degrees over the years. I used to think K was like that. But then I got to know him. K is stingy - with his time, money and emotional availability. When I met him, I didn't really care as I was rebounding and was really only interested in a good time. But the times with K really weren't all that good. Then I began to care more about his stinginess as I got to know M better, and saw the toll his crap was taking on her. Sure, she could've left him and not gone back. But Santa Cruz is one VERY small town, and in a lot of ways, K was one of the better options.

I also admire folks who know how to set boundaries, so that they don't end up over-extended. But there is a clear difference between "boundaries" and "the Great Wall of China." K is a wall-builder. Inside his wall, is a little boy trying to figure out how much money, property, and tight young ass he can amass, while outside the wall there's ... well who cares, it's outside the wall. Unfortunately, M was outside the wall.

And it all came to a head when he made a proposal-that-wasn't that actually trumped the proposal-that-wasn't I had received from a wall-builder I dated back-in-the-day.

Finding himself in a potentially sticky tax dilemma ($45k liability) with the impending sale of his house, K suggested to M that they should get married, as that would significantly lessen the tax hit. He would give her $8k "for nothing" and once the paperwork went through and a reasonable time had passed...they could get divorced. Uh...yeah. Just what his girlfriend of four years wanted to hear. As if his earlier suggestions that they have an open relationship (all the rage in Santa Cruz, you see) didn't already convey the scope of his selfishness, he then turns around and does this. WTF?!

But here's the clincher. M is the one who feels guilty. For actually expecting a commitment. For daring to think that she deserves a relationship with someone who actually thinks with his heart, instead of just his wallet or his dick. And it doesn't help that so many of the Santa Cruz N.A.N.-crowd suggest that perhaps she should just learn to embrace an open relationship and not take things so much to heart. Let him "bring the energy home," they suggest. Which is double-speak for, "let him bring his girl-toy home, and you can enjoy it/her together." Shame on M for not being inclined to share.

Eck! Eck! Eck! And yet, as annoyed as I got with the K saga, I managed to have a nice time in Santa Cruz thanks to a $15 private tub and sauna, delicious food and hanging out with M, who had a lot of other things to talk about other than N.A.N. K.

Now I get that the B.S. with K tickles some raw spots in my own emotional baggage handler. I also get that in the time it has taken me to write this, I have had two lupron-induced hot flashes and am vacillating between tears, nausea and feminazi fury. But even taking these "little issues" into consideration, I still think he is a textbook example of New Age Narcissism, and why, so often it does more harm than good.

And with that, I'm going to lie down.