I haven’t written in this blog in awhile, so I decided to get back into it by writing about our recent trip to Yellowstone. We had a really great time on our trip!
We started our vacation on Sunday, the day before Valentine’s Day. We drove east, taking in breathtaking views of Snoqualmie Pass. Once we got to the other side of the pass, the landscape became very familiar, very high desert…much like Victorville actually. It was a bit boring to look at, not what I think of at all when I think of Washington state. I’m so glad we live in the Puget Sound area and not further east.
We had lunch in Spokane, at Chili’s (yay Southwestern egg rolls!) and then continued on to Idaho Falls for gas. I haven’t really spent any time in Idaho, and I didn’t on this trip either. Before I knew it we’d crossed over into Montana. We stopped for the night at a Holiday Inn in Missoula, then found a yummy little hole in the wall Mexican place that was very generous with the tequila in their margaritas.
On Valentine’s Day, Monday, we slept in and found a local diner that served us fabulous bacon, as well as french toast for Paul and eggs for me. We began driving across Montana. The state is a pleasant mix of pretty mountain areas and flat grasslands. We stopped for lunch in Bozeman, and found a Johnny Carino’s, which is another one of my favorite restaurants. There’s one in Mt. Vernon but we don’t get up that way very often. We split a family-portion of Spicy Romano Chicken so that we would have leftovers to eat for dinner, and in the spirit of Valentine’s Day, got a raspberry tiramisu to split for dessert after dinner.
After about another eighty miles of windy, riverside road, we made it to West Yellowstone. There isn’t much open this time of year, but I did spy a few restaurants and stores with their ‘Open’ signs lit up. We parked and checked into our condo and hauled our massive load of stuff up to our room. Our room is fabulous. It has all this cool woodsy-looking furniture (which was actually made in Seattle, go figure), and lots of nice comforts, including a full kitchen so we could prepare our own meals if we didn’t want to go to a restaurant.
On Tuesday, we had our guided snowmobile tour. Not gonna lie, I was nervous. I’ve never driven a snowmobile before and I was intimidated. Paul and I went to the office of the tour we’d chartered, and once we’d checked in the staff began outfitting us. I’d had no idea this would be happening. I’d worn warm clothes: thermal shirt and pants, jeans, hiking boots, sweatshirt, and heavy jacket. We were provided with snow suits that were a lot like the one-piece driving suits my brother wore for drag racing, as well as helmets, heavy-duty mittens, and boots. I hadn’t realized how warm the suit would be or how little I would need my jacket, and we put our coats in the back of the Jeep. Our guide was Cynthia, a smiling woman who knew her way around Yellowstone and around a snowmobile. She walked us through the operation, and it was actually remarkably easy.
Paul drove first, and we headed into the park. Not too far into our ride, we spotted some elk on the bank of the Madison River and pulled over to look at them. Once we were back on the trail, we spotted a bald eagle sitting in its enormous nest. Cynthia told us that the eagle was about four years old, then asked us how she would know this. Paul correctly answered that she knew because the eagle’s head was white, and eagle heads do not turn white until they’re about three to four years old. He grew up around eagles in Washington so he knows this stuff. I was just impressed to be with the person who knew the right answer.
We quickly discovered that we would see a LOT of bison in Yellowstone National Park. See, bison seem very unfazed by snowmobiles, and are content to lumber on down the road whether there are vehicles present or not. Cynthia would guide us to either ride past them, keeping very close together, or to stop and get off our snowmobiles, standing on the opposite side of the bison and keeping the machines between the animals and ourselves. We had a few opportunities that day to put these instructions into practice. I was in awe of the bison. They are truly amazing animals, and up close, I could really tell how big and powerful they are.
We stopped for a quick lunch and a viewing of the eruption of Old Faithful. I’d never seen a geyser go off before, and was pretty impatient to see this one. When it finally launched water in the air, I was amazed at this natural phenomenon. Old Faithful is way, way better than the fountains at the Bellagio, to say the least.
After Old Faithful it was time to make our way out of the park. We did make a detour to see a waterfall off of the Firehole River. It was a sunny evening, perfect for seeing the waterfall. After that we continued on the main trail back into Montana (most of our park viewings were in Wyoming), and back to the rental store.
Our first few days of vacation have been amazing. I will continue writing about the trip soon.

Our trip is over and I went back to work today…what a crazy weekend!! I traded shifts with Bob on Friday so I could be off by three thirty, which gave me just enough time to stop at Costco for cat litter, take a shower, and pack my stuff. We were on the road by six, with a quick stop at Wendy’s for dinner. Paul did the first round of driving. I ate my dinner, and tried to fall asleep early (which should have been easy, since I woke up at five-thirty that morning). The sleeping didn’t go so well, so I dozed at best until about two-thirty in the morning when we switched places and it was my turn to drive.

I happened to take the wheel just in time to drive through the Siskiyou mountain range. This can be a nerve-wracking place to drive in the winter, as it’s prone to snowstorms. In fact, outrageous snow in that same mountain pass was the reason we got stuck in Redding on our move up to Washington. That morning, though, it was free of snow but full of fog. I had to slow down considerably to be able to see where I was going, and despite downing a Red Bull and a 5 hour energy shot, I felt myself fighting sleep by six-thirty and had to trade places with Paul. He’d already driven for eight and a half hours, but he dutifully took over and I passed out in the passenger seat.

I woke up about an hour later, when Paul was pulling into a Starbucks. My knee was throbbing, and I was worried that I’d hurt it during my workouts all week. I really hoped it’d loosen up once I’d had sleep in a real bed and resigned myself to pain for the remainder of the day.

Please note: this did not stop me from complaining about the pain in my knee periodically, just to let Paul know that yes, it still hurt.

I drove the rest of the distance into Newark, a city south of San Francisco. We met up with Andy, Kristen, and Jesse in the parking lot of their hotel, and Kristen and I took off to get coffee while the boys started the install of the new Jeep bumper. It was a beautiful, sunny morning. Latte in hand, I spent the morning soaking up the sun while the guys worked.

All too soon, the bumper was on, pictures had been taken, and it was time to get out of town. We bid goodbye to our friends, and I felt sad leaving them behind. Andy, Kristen, and Jesse are three of the nicest and best people I’ve ever met. Moments like that sometimes make me a bit sad that we moved away, because weekends with them were really one of the best things about our old life in California. Sigh. I love living in Washington, but sometimes, it surfaces for me just how much I miss people we left behind.

I volunteered to drive since Paul had done most of the overnight driving. I stopped at an El Pollo Loco so we could have lunch. El Pollo Loco is one of our favorite restaurants, and since it’s not in Washington, we have to grab it when we can. Delicious! After lunch I got back on the highway, took a wrong exit, and took us through city traffic. It was a warm sunny afternoon and I started feeling sleepy instantly. Fighting drowsiness, I rolled the window down to get some cool, fresh air. It definitely felt more like a spring day than one in mid-January.

I drove for hours, until we finally reached Medford Oregon (we did make a stop at a BevMo to stock up on cheap booze and at a truck stop Wendy’s to say hello to Paul’s cousin Jennifer, who works at the fast food restaurant and is super nice). We had a quick dinner at a diner next to our hotel, then settled into our room for some sleep. We’d talked about going to Crater Lake on Sunday, but the weather forecast was calling for heavy rain so it wouldn’t have been very pretty. We decided instead to just sleep as well as we could and then get back on the road.

It wasn’t the best bed in the world, and the pillows were far too poufy for my taste, but it felt amazing to be lying down in a real bed and not curled up in the passenger seat of the Jeep. I fell asleep almost immediately and didn’t wake up for about ten hours. When I did awaken, I’d completely forgotten where I was and thought I was in my bed at home. It took me a minute to remember that I was at a Best Western in Medford. I returned to sleep, and didn’t wake up again for about another hour. The pain in my knee had subsided, and I was in good spirits.

We checked out of our room and hit the road again, and I was very excited that we made it to Eugene by lunchtime and that there was a Chili’s (yay, more food we can’t get in Washington!). We had soup and split an appetizer of Southwestern Egg Rolls and spinach and artichoke dip for lunch. I beyond love Chili’s and ahhhh I was happy to get to eat at two of my favorite places on our trip.

So now we’re home. It was a whirlwind trip but we had a blast and I’m glad we did it. The Jeep looks awesome, we saw some of our dearest friends, and we got to enjoy sunshine, warm weather, and delicious food. Now I’m looking forward to our next adventure, our vacation to Yellowstone in February.

Happy New Year!!

The last few days have gotten incredibly cold and clear, which for the Northwest means icy. Temperatures have been in the teens and twenties, and it’s making everything slippery. New Year’s Eve, Paul and I stayed in out of the cold. We didn’t exactly party hard: we had one margarita each along with our plates of enchiladas. We watched South Park, Family Guy, and Robot Chicken. I took a bath and finished a book while Paul napped on our bed.

We were both asleep by midnight, although I did wake up around that time because the neighbors were shooting off fireworks. And to me, it was a great night.

New Year’s Day, I tackled my most hated project: the un-Christmasing of the house. I took down all the garland, all the bows, all the cute little figurines. I put the Nutcrackers back in their boxes. I stripped the tree of its topper and ornaments, and enlisted the help of Paul to jam the thing back into its narrow box and put it back on its high shelf in the garage. I discovered that my cats had been taking soft little beanbag characters out of their display place in the downstairs bathroom and systematically removing their hats, hair, and heads. This devious work had been hidden under the Christmas tree skirt. I put all the pieces away, leaving them for my future self to deal with in Thanksgiving of 2011 when next I put out Christmas stuff.

Once the house was back to normal, Paul and I loaded up plates with the festive foods he’d made: Chex Mix, fresh cut veggies, ham and turkey, crackers, and cheese. We spent the afternoon relaxing and watching Food Network. There’s a show we’ve discovered called Worst Cooks in America. I love that show. It’s beyond entertaining. While we watched, I baked and decorated some cupcakes. I think I’ve finally figured out how to frost them the way I like: I cut out the middles, then using a star piping tip, I fill the hole and then just keep on piping to make a perfect little plop of icing. Beautiful! I only wished I’d discovered that sooner than I had, as I only had three cupcakes left at that point. But, point being, something finally clicked for me. And anyway, who doesn’t want a cupcake that’s stuffed with frosting?

Angela and her hubby invited us to their house for games and food, so Paul made another batch of his awesome Chex Mix and I loaded up the cupcakes. We ended up having a blast playing a game. There were eight people total, plus an undetermined amount of excited children who were continually being shooed upstairs away from the adults and our game.

Great New Year’s. I ate waaaay too much last night but Angela and I decided that the eating part of our resolutions could wait one day.

On this, the last day of the year, I know it’s the time to reflect on all that’s happened, good and bad, and then charge forward into the new year, with intentions to make it the best one yet. Today, I really believe that is possible.

A year ago I sat on the floor of our living room, playing with our kittens, while Paul and I discussed a move to Washington. We’d tossed the idea around all fall and had come to the conclusion that we should stick out our lives in California. But, on that first day of the new year, we talked differently. A decision was made. It took us three and a half months to make that resoluion a reality, but we did it.

We rock. We really do.

My goals for 2011 do NOT include a major relocation (thank goodness), and I see us staying in our cozy townhome, making changes along the way so it’s more comfortable and more us. Really, as far as resolutions go, I don’t have much.

1. Lose all the weight I’ve gained since I was at my lowest last year.

2. Pay off my 401K loan.

3. Be as positive and happy as I can at all times, because I have a lot to be positive and happy about

4. Have lots of fun!!

I love the new year. I love the clean slate it gives, the fresh start. I’m big on fresh starts. I like saying, okay, brand new starting today, and launching myself fully into whatever I want to accomplish with this new start.

I know there are people out there who hear others’ good news, and just feel amazing because there are good things happening to those others. And for the most part, I try to be that person. I am genuinely happy when people I care about get the things that they want. But when they COMPLAIN about the things they are getting, the things that I want…it’s hard. It’s so, so hard.
Case in point: over the last few years, several of my friends have gotten engaged and married. From the ones who loved every minute to the ones that bitched their way to the alter about how stressful planning was, I want what they have. I know that the life I chose is with Paul and he told me years ago when we got back together that he didn’t ever see himself getting married. We’ve revisited the topic, but his feelings remain the same, and I can’t picture myself with anyone else. I love him and I do want to be with him, even if it means I can never have the wedding and marriage I want. His decision is tough for me though, and sometimes it’s hard not to let my feelings get hurt when he doesn’t want to take the plunge and get married. But for the most part I try to remember that it’s just how he feels, it has nothing to do with our relationship, and that not being married is growing to be less and less important to people around me. I don’t wonder if he comes home at night to me because he wants to or because he just can’t find a good divorce attorney. So there’s that.
But, still, I’ll never have it the way I want. That makes me sad.
I want the fairy tale: dress, cake, ceremony, beautiful photos, honeymoon in a fun place. I want Paul to beam when I walk down the aisle, knowing that he is thinking that he is lucky enough to be with this girl. Maybe it stems from an insecurity, that I sometimes wonder if he feels like he is lucky to have me, since he is after all a guy and doesn’t express emotions to me like that. He doesn’t have a mushy personality. He doesn’t give me compliments and he certainly doesn’t look at me like he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to be with me. He’s not the type to tell me how much he loves me all the time, or hold my hand, or send me flowers.
I know that he loves me. Well, he says he does. He’s still here, he points out, whenever I feel insecure and confront him about the state of things. And things have gotten better over the years. We don’t argue nearly as much as we used to. But from the man who doesn’t show emotion or affection, is it so much to ask that he give me the gesture of marriage?

I woke up Sunday morning to a beautiful sunrise. Clouds were rolling in, bringing with them the promised several-day-long rainstorm. I took a shower and got ready, then borrowed Dad’s Escape and drove out to the Parkers’ house for brunch. I love Paul’s parents and they’ve been great to me. I know how hard it is for them, having us living far away. Paul’s mom Kathy and prepared a feast – quiche, sausage, muffins, and fresh fruit. Paul’s dad Wayne and I played with the cats. They have six, and they range from super friendly to shy. The oldest of the bunch, a handsome muscular orange cat named OJ, walked calmly over to me to ask for petting and attention. Doyle, the six-toed gray cat, rolled around for my delight on the countertops until Kathy shooed him away (something about cat hair in the food). And the youngest, a little striped kitten named Tiger, is a little terror who gets into everything. In his desire for my affection, he proceeded to climb my leg to get my attention. He now has a full mane, looking more like a lion than a tiger. He was so cute, I wanted to stuff him into my carryon and smuggle him home.

The Parkers’ good friend and neighbor Vicki Ostermann came over to join us for the brunch. I miss nights playing cards or dominoes with the Parkers and the Ostermanns. Since everyone had lived in the Northwest, they know where I’m talking about when I tell stories about places I’ve discovered and they always enjoy reminiscing.

After brunch I made a quick stop at Albertson’s for cooking spray and then headed back to my parents’ house. It was time for Christmas baking. This is a longstanding tradition in my house. Every year we make a variety of cookies and other Christmas treats, all together in the kitchen. I love it. When I got to the house Dad was making another batch of fudge, and I licked myself into a semi-sugar coma with the bowl. Then I had some of the pressed cookies Mom had made while I was at brunch. I love pressed cookies. They’re buttery and delicious, not too sweet, perfect with a cup of coffee.

Steve and Shannon arrived and joined me and Melissa in the kitchen to decorate sugar cookies. We started off by putting white frosting into bowls and coloring it with food dye. Steve decided he was going to combine red and blue to make purple frosting. As he added the colors to his bowl he sang a made-up song. “Red and blue makes purple,” he crooned. “Red and blue makes purple.” We all cracked up.

Once we had our colors mixed, we went to work spreading the frosting on the cookies with butter knives. I wasn’t thrilled with the effect I was getting so Mom brought out her pastry bags and different decorating tips. We each filled a bag with frosting and began piping the frosting onto the cookies, making designs and passing the cookies around until everyone had put some different colored frostings onto each. My favorite cookie was the one I posted the picture of, because it’s one that we all worked on.

We finished up our cookies and piled into the car to go to Chili’s for dinner. After baking all day, nobody wanted to cook dinner, and besides I wanted to go to Chili’s since we don’t have that restaurant in Washington. I got my usual order: the Triple Dipper Appetizer (yes, I would routinely eat an appetizer trio for dinner) with southwestern egg rolls, chicken crispers, and spinach artichoke dip. To drink I ordered a Blue Pacific Margarita. It was fun watching the server try to figure out my birthday on my out of state driver’s license. To be honest, I still can’t find my birthday on my license at a glance either. We had a nice dinner, then headed outside into the rain.

When I woke up Monday morning I was a little in shock. The weekend had gone so fast! Was it really time to go home today? Melissa had to go to work, so I spent the morning sitting in the living room talking and drinking coffee with Mom and Dad. Maui was trying her best to be good, but it was obvious she was bored from being cooped up inside because of the rain. She nibbled Dad’s legs, chased the cats, and tried to stick her head up my pant leg in some game I didn’t seem to know how to play correctly.

We went to Target to get a couple things Mom needed for work and then Steve came over. He was fresh from job testing and pretty optimistic about a position as an assistant principal. Since it was my last day in California, Dad said I should pick someplace to go eat that I can’t normally get. Now, the tourist would’ve picked In N Out, but I wanted El Pollo Loco. I got my pollo bowl and devoured it. I may or may not have chased it with a piece of every kind of fudge Dad had made and several cookies.

Melissa got home from work and we got to have about an hour together, our whole family. All too soon it was time for Dad to take me to the airport to catch my flight home. I hugged my siblings goodbye and then turned to Mom. I hugged her hard, kissed her cheek, hugged her again, and told her over and over how much I loved her. I was incredibly sad and didn’t want to leave her and go home but I kept it together. I didn’t want her to see me leave sad. So I put a smile on my face, got in the car with Dad, and waved to her until we’d pulled away and she was no longer in sight.

The storm raged and rain was falling hard but we still made it to Ontario airport in record time. Dad parked and walked with me to my terminal. We stood for a bit and talked, since I was still pretty early. Eventually I had to go to my gate. I hugged him, then hugged him again, told him how much I loved him and how glad I was that I got to spend the weekend with the family. I kept smiling as I went up the escalator, waving to him. I went through security and then as I walked to my gate, two huge tears dripped down my face. I hadn’t expected it to be so hard to leave.

I didn’t want to stand in the airport crying, so I knew I needed to distract myself. I wiped my eyes, took a deep breath, and found a gift shop where I got myself some cool ranch Doritos, a bottle of water, and a trashy celebrity gossip magazine. Nothing takes a mind off saying goodbyes like reading more-than-likely-made-up stories about celebrity agony. My flight was delayed, so I was glad to have the stupid magazine.

When my flight finally boarded, I accepted a request from a stranger to trade him seats. I think he wanted to sit near people he was traveling with. Either that or he preferred my aisle seat to his window. Although I’d had no anxiety at all on the flight down, after takeoff I found myself incredibly nervous. I felt like the plane was going to drop out of the sky any minute. Bad, bad thoughts. Maybe it’s the window seat that gives me anxiety, which sucks because I like looking out when the plane descends into my destination. I opened “E”, the awesome book Bob had gotten me for Christmas, and read almost the whole thing by the time the plane touched down at Seatac.

I walked through the terminal, paid for my parking (all $112 of it, thankyouverymuch) and found my car. I was still feeling pretty down as I got on the freeway and headed north. I did feel a bit cheered up when I drove through downtown Seattle, saw the Space Needle, and felt the familiar excitement of living here rush through me. I want my family to visit me here. They would love this place. I know they would. I’d show them the best places.

There wasn’t much traffic, and I got back to Marysville without any trouble. I parked in the driveway, pulled my suitcase out of the trunk, and took a deep breath. I’m home, I thought. Would the sadness persist, would I be unhappy missing my family, or would I settle back into a routine?

I stepped inside. The townhouse was warm, bright, and comforting. As I s
et my things down, the cats rushed to greet me and purr their delight that I was back. I stroked their soft, fuzzy heads and the purr chorus grew louder. Above my head, I heard movement on the second floor.

Paul appeared on the landing, smiling at me. He walked into the kitchen, gave me a kiss, and folded me into a hug. At that moment, sadness evaporated. I had my kitties and Paul, I was home, and I was happy.

We knew when we moved that it would never be perfect, that living far away from our families would be tough. We also knew that coming here was the best thing for us and our futures. Since we’ve been here, we’ve grown closer and spend more time together, have paid off some bills, and I’ve gotten a job I love and made friends I couldn’t imagine my life without. So even though those airport goodbyes are never going to be easy, I’m going to be glad for the time I do get with my family, and embrace the memories and look on them with happiness.

So I got home from California on Monday night but I was just too tired to write about it. Last night, well, no excuses, just didn’t feel ready to process it in words yet. But tonight here I am. I can’t really see putting the whole trip into one post, so I’ll do different days in different ones.

The trip was amazing! I didn’t oversleep: in fact, I got up in time to have a shower, dry my hair, make a cd to listen to on the drive down, double check everything I packed, and swig down a protein shake. The drive to the airport was easy, with hardly any traffic. I found a parking spot at the terminal and got checked in without any trouble. I went through security, got a latte, and found my gate with plenty of time to spare. The flight was on time, and I didn’t have any anxiety at all during the trip.

When I got to Ontario I was beyond eager to get off the plane. I couldn’t wait to see Mom! I finally was able to grab my carry-on suitcase and bust out of there. I know Ontario airport pretty well and knew exactly where to go. I got on the escalator to go down to the exit and I could see her waiting. That was, hands down, the LONGEST FREAKING ESCALATOR RIDE ever. Finally I hit the floor and walked over to her. We hugged, and we both teared up but didn’t full on cry. She took my suitcase and we walked to her car.

We got up to the desert and she took me to lunch at Farmer Boys. It’s this awesome homestyle restaurant that I loved when I lived there. Normally I would get breakfast foods no matter what time of day, but I was super hungry so I got a chili cheeseburger with fries. I kept just staring at Mom, memorizing her face, her smile, her laugh, to keep with me. I was so happy to be there and have lunch with her.

After we finished eating we went over to Verizon so I could see my former coworkers. I didn’t get to see everybody, of course, but I did see a lot of very dear friends and my mom was a trooper for going along for the visit. I miss those people but I love my new coworkers too. How could I get along without Angela and Bob and Maggie? And I have made so many other CSSC friends too. So I left feeling good that I’d seen familiar faces, people I dearly love, but I was still feeling comfortable with my decision to move and make a change. And they’re happy for me, my Cali friends. That’s another reason I love them.

Mom and I went to the house and Maui, her dog, was beyond thrilled to see me. I love Maui so much, she’s the sweetest boxer dog with a huge personality. She became my instant best friend and stayed that way all weekend. I hung out with Mom, drinking coffee and talking, and Melissa came home and joined us. After awhile, the early morning caught up with me and I took Maui with me to take a nap. I was staying in Steve’s old room, which had been my old room. The twin bed in there was beyond cozy and warm and I had a good nap, Maui at my side. She loves to cuddle. She wanted my arm around her at all times, and if I moved she would stick her head under my armpit and move my arm until I was hugging her again. It was a very sweet gesture and I loved snugging her.

Not long after I woke up from my nap, Steve came over and Dad got home from work. He had flowers for me, which were so beautiful. I took pictures of them and posted them on my Facebook. He also had my mom’s Aloha necklace. It’s her favorite, and she’d worn it so often that the jewelry had worn too thin and broken. She was heartbroken when that happened, so Dad snuck it out of the house and got it fixed for her for her birthday. I really thought she was going to cry again, and that was definitely a cry moment, but she didn’t.

We all sat down for a nice warm dinner of stew. Mom had made it because the weather forecast was predicting cold rain and we were all hungry for comfort food. We all talked and laughed and enjoyed catching up.

It was the pefect first day back.

I knew this week would be crazy. In fact, I have to reflect on the craziness that I feel, and wonder if it would still feel crazy if I hadn’t been expecting that this week would be crazy.

Yeah, yeah, I know, I sound a little crazy right now.

I’m working four days this week, ten hour shifts each day, which will allow me to take two days off without having to use up vacation time. I’m going back to SoCal, to celebrate my mom’s birthday with my family. It’ll be a whirlwind trip (I’m flying in on Friday and back home on Monday), and the only thing keeping me from looking forward to it is my current focus on things at work. Well, and of course my knowledge of the craziness.

My plane leaves Seatac on Friday at seven in the morning, so I’ll have to be up super early to get to the airport. Once I land, it’ll be worth it: I’ll have practically the whole day to spend with my family. I just don’t do mornings well, and the knowledge that I have to wake up early usually causes me to be anxious and fear oversleeping, thus not sleeping well. I’ve had similar trouble this week with my longer shifts. Instead of my normal ten o’clock start time, I’m going to the office at eight, so I’ve been waking up at six in the morning. Six isn’t really that early, but still, I worry that I’ll oversleep.

At work, I’m focused on trying to be as productive and helpful as possible while also wondering how long I’ll be on the Jeop Desk, if I’ll have to go back on the sales floor, when…the endless unknown is driving me a little mad. I wish I knew what was going to happen. I’m not ready to go back, since I had been promised a six-month loan and had not anticipated going back to my old job until at least February. Since nothing has been confirmed, I’m trying to stay optimistic and hope for the best. I’m also trying to keep a low profile and just do my work (although I did take a quick break from this when I changed Nancy’s computer language preferences to German today).

In between anxiety over my alarm clock and work stress, I have moments where it hits me, really hits me, that I’ll get to see my family in just a few days. Then I find myself feeling wildly excited. I haven’t seen them since July, and while we text, call, and email, it’s just not the same. Dad lives in Ojai during the week to be close to his job in Santa Barbara, while Mom is still at the Apple Valley house full-time and working her job at city hall in Victorville. Dad comes home on weekends. My sister still lives with them, but my brother Steve lives with his girlfriend Shannon in an apartment across town. Since everybody is scattered about, I’m so happy that we’ll even be able to get a few days all together. We’re going to do Christmas baking, celebrate Mom’s birthday, and have a laid-back few days.

I think I need a nice, relaxing bubble bath tonight. That will help soothe my nerves and help me sleep. I only have two ten-hour shifts to go, then an early morning flight. The weekend is so very close.