The End of Eden

I’d consider the last week or so somewhat of a holding pattern. I’d been busying myself with everything wedding-related for quite a while now, but due to the (un)employment situation I’ve been forced to put those things on hold, if for no other reason than to preserve some sense of emotional control.

The truth is that it would be a ridiculously stupid move to continue with the plan of spending five figures on a single day with the economy in such peril and the chance of me finding a job that paid as well as my last slim to say the least. The other side of that vicious coin is that at this point my wedding day is like a movie I’ve seen a million previews for and can’t wait for opening day of. I see the details in my head: the flowers, the decorations, the ridiculously expensive but highly coveted candy buffet at the reception. I can almost hear the Swarovski toasting flutes clinking together and I’m starving for this wedding.

So, the solution is one that I’m not completely excited about but have essentially come to peace with: I have to interview for my previous job back. While I am grateful that my old boss (same corporation, but individual company rather than corporate as I am now) immediately broached this when she heard of the imminent demise of my job, (and has even agreed to make it a lateral move salary-wise) I am still not warm and fuzzy about the proposition of having my old job again. To be fair I think that 99.9% of this apprehension exists solely due to a past supervisor who is no longer with the company, and everyone I have spoken to has assured me that it is much different there and that my return would be celebrated, but there is still a part of me that feels very defeated and angry. I won’t elaborate on the work situation and persons involved in the dissolution of my job as this is a public blog and all I need is the wrong person to stumble upon it, but I will say that corporate politics are not for the faint of heart.

So, heads – I get the job, I pack up my office here and transfer to a desk a mile down the road, and our wedding is on as planned. Tails – one of the other ten million people interviewing for jobs right now takes the position, I pack up my office sometime soon (I’ve been given no final date), and our wedding takes place in a bowling alley in Glendale.

Cross your fingers for me – I hear the coin toss is taking place sometime next week.

There I was, minding my own business...

Life is funny. One day you're stressing about pomanders and monograms and cake tier flavors and the next you get hit by a bus on its way to the unemployment office.

Unfortunately, this morning I was invited to join the ranks of the other 7.5% of our dear countrymen who earned the privilege of being "let go" from their beloved employers. "Let go" in itself is quite the awkward phrase as it infers that you beseechingly begged permission to be separated from your paycheck and they, being ever so willing to grant your every wish, allowed you to do so.

Of course, the timing could be much better as I'm just about an inch away from a complete nervous breakdown as far as wedding planning and expenditures go, but I'm doing my best to hang in there at least until the boy gets back from his ill-timed work trip to Texas tomorrow morning. Tomorrow I can stress and cry and blubber "why me?" into my pillow. Tonight, I'm resilient.

My darling old friend Curly was so cute to say in a comment on this blog that I should be a writer, but I'm disappointed to find no monster.com listing for "random story-telling cynical blog author". Eh. I doubt it would have a corporate credit card anyway.

In any case, I just thought I would practice some "Secret"-type theory and put it out there into the universe that I would like to find a job that I can do from home and that involves baking cakes, sewing, cooking dinner for the boy, and giving appropriate attention to studying the "Lost" island and discovering all its secrets.

What's that? Oh, it's my mom calling. She says that the job does exist, but it's called a homemaker and it pays...well...nothing. Square one, I'm back.

To the Great Recession: I know I've been skeptical of your existence in the recent past but you've converted me into a believer. You can now rest assured that your goal of creating mass havoc on the working class has been accomplished. Please feel free to go bother Dubai at this point and leave America alone.

Happy New Year!

Saying goodbye to 2008 was simultaneously a thrilling event as well as a melancholy one. The year that gifted us with three surgeries, one chronic disease diagnosis, and a heartbreaking family funeral also came bundled with one beach vacation, two job promotions/transfers, and one ‘official’ proposal of my dreams.

But our own little world has endured nothing when compared to the trials and tribulations of the global environment: economic crisis’, health epidemics, malevolent acts of terrorism, poverty and human tragedy, coupled with bias-defying elections, random acts of kindness in the wake of natural disasters, miracles, and the constant presence of God/fate/karma/whichever higher power you may believe in.

As I think back over the past 366 days (lest you forget it was a leap year) I notice that although I can distinctly remember days that seemed they would never end – no matter how hard I begged for them to – now, looking back, they all seem to have raced by. Was it not just yesterday that we were saying goodbye to 2007? I can close my eyes and smell the hot cocoa from Zoolights in January, and the iodine in the operating room in May, and the Origins’ sunscreen mixed with ocean air and barbecue smoke from the beach in August. I can remember trying to catch my breath from laughing so hard playing Monopoly on the bedroom floor and from sobbing on the verge of hyperventilation after my Nana died. Each memory brings with it the feeling of: I will never be this happy/sad/scared/tired/heartbroken/relaxed again – knowing full well that those emotions will return again the moment I least expect them.

Welcoming 2009 is an emotional event in its own right. The year we will get married and (God willing) conceive our first child. The year Corey will turn 30. The year I will get so close to 3-0 that saying I’m in my mid-twenties will become less of a stretch and more of an outright lie.

I have no preconceived notions that 2009 will bring nothing but sunshine and lollipops and rainbows. I’m sure I will find myself sobbing in Corey’s arms uncontrollably, frustrated beyond belief at one or more doctors, and clutching the armrests of at least one jet thinking to myself that there is certainly a lot of turbulence on this flight. I will be petrified to bring a child into this screwed up world and I will be horrified by things I see on the news. I may even burn something in my ever-moody oven.

But there are also things that I will bring with me from 2008 to ease the transition:

1. A tetanus vaccination that will last until 2018 (a late night Christmas
present to myself)
2. Our wedding account which due to our copious saving attempts (and my
generous parents) is nearly complete.
3. An employer that has thus far offered me nothing but stability and room to
grow.
4. The world’s best mattress (at least compared to our old one).
5. The knowledge that using a coupon will neither kill nor deface me with a
permanent scarlet C (for cheap).
6. Enough of an emergency fund to feed/clothe/pay our bills for a while, or
just to run off to Fiji.
7. The daily reminder that no matter what else is going on, I was lucky enough to find the one person that makes it all worthwhile.

So although we are certain that 2009 won’t be any closer to perfection than its predecessor was, we welcomed the new year with open arms last Wednesday night and hopes that it will at least improve on the good that is already here. And just to be sure that 2008 went out on a sweet note, we dined at Coup des Tartes (which is our tradition, and also the site of our wedding reception) and enjoyed a four course meal of roasted sweet corn soup, brie brulee, pomegranate encrusted filet, roasted winter vegetable tagliatele, and various other wonders. It was the perfect way to usher in 2009 and say goodbye to 2008.

We hope you all had a sweet start to your new year too.

The Spirit of Giving

To those of you who would normally be receiving something from us this Christmas – whether it be a card, a plate of home-baked goodies, a gift in the mail, or a trip to see you, we are sorry. This year we chose to do something a little different with our Christmas money, as I alluded to previously.

Neurotic as I am, I constantly worry about what-ifs and this year there seem to be quite a few people sharing my concerns. We have friends and family members with depleted retirement funds wondering what will happen if the market doesn’t come back. We have coworkers and acquaintances wondering what will happen if their company can no longer afford to pay wages. We know people with children on the way that are wondering what they will do when the bills come in the mail next month.

Suffering is everywhere, all the time. This year it took the form of a recession to let us know that none of us are immune to the ebbs and flows of the economic environment. In years past we have chosen angels off of Christmas trees, and contributed to company fundraisers. We have served food to the homeless, and tutored underprivileged youths. But this year it seemed important to Corey and I to help someone a little closer to home.

I will acknowledge that our adopt-a-family project didn’t go exactly as we had planned. After a deep breath we decided that there was a reason we were compelled to go down this path and we were going to do everything in our earthly power to make sure that someone else’s Christmas was a little merrier because we were involved.

So, we are happy to tell you that in lieu of the things I mentioned above, there is a family in our community that has warm coats for their children, Christmas presents under the tree, and some necessities that will hopefully take a bit of spending burden off of their shoulders in times to come.

Unfortunately we were not in the position to grant miracles, and I wish that there was more that we could do, and for more people. However, we really feel like each gift is wrapped with the thought behind it and we hope that when we deliver our packages tonight, on Christmas Eve, the family feels the joy and love that we have to spare in our family.

On Christmas morning when we are opening our gifts we will also make sure to spend a few moments thinking about the family, and about the two children in the Philippines that will be opening (technically they will have already opened due to the time difference) our Operation Christmas Child boxes and ask that they are blessed in the many ways our family is, none of which have to do with wealth or tactile prosperity.

I want to thank all of you for graciously accepting (whether consciously or unknowingly) the sacrifices we have made on your behalf to make these things happen for other people. I also want to note that while it is a little more stressful, shopping for Christmas presents on a budget creates a unique opportunity that I daresay I enjoyed. Chagrined, I think I spent about 20% of what I spent on Corey last year, and I am happy to note that there will be no discernible lack of presents or the Spirit of Christmas in our living room tomorrow morning.

We hope that all of you have a beautiful day tomorrow and that the spirit of the season extends long after the sun has set on Christmas 2008.

With Love,
Corey and Christina

The Gift of Christmas

It’s been hard to get into the Christmas season this year. Wedding plans have taken over all free space in my brain, and the boy has been working a longer schedule with classes on top of that so he’s not exactly running around the house in a Santa costume (although that would be cute, yet slightly strange and creepy). By this time last year we had a beautiful sparkling Christmas tree in the living room, most of our presents purchased and wrapped away in the guest rooms, and I was baking cookies like the food network iron chef judges were about to peek in my Christmas tins.

So far this year I’ve hung a wreath on the front door. And you know what? I was damn proud of that wreath last Saturday when I finally managed to perch it over our 12 foot tall front door.

Since my family is actually celebrating Christmas in Pinetop the weekend before the traditional holiday, Corey and I will be home on Christmas Day. Thinking this would be a great opportunity to give back to some less fortunate people in our community we began calling soup kitchens and homeless shelters and offering our volunteer services. Unfortunately, the karma train has a lot of people worried right now so everywhere we called was full of volunteers. Dejected, I thought about spending a quiet Christmas at home alone with Corey.

That sounds awful, but I’m not sure how to word it differently. What I mean is we were so excited about giving back this holiday season. Back in my single days when I had more time I volunteered quite a bit more than I do now and I miss it. I also felt like this was really our chance to show people that there are still some of us out there who care about how our neighbors and fellow men are doing - especially now when layoffs can happen to anyone, even those that have been very fortunate in recent years. Not willing to take ‘no help needed’ as an answer, Corey and I brainstormed a bit and decided to enlist the help of a man Corey works with and who does quite a bit of volunteer work on his own. Fifteen minutes in his office was productive enough to get in touch with a school guidance counselor and ask him to find us a family that could use a little help making their Christmas bright this year. Wish granted. This week we are going to be matched up with a family and we have the opportunity to make their lives a little better, even if just for a little while.

I can’t express to you how excited we are to be ‘adopting’ a family for Christmas. I find myself walking through stores wondering how many kids our family will have and what kind of presents they will like. Is there a little girl that needs these adorable pink winter gloves? Maybe a boy who is tired of wearing a hand me down jacket and dreams of a new one (probably a Dallas Cowboys jacket if I imagine hard enough)? I’m sure there will be a mom who will be able to use the bags of groceries to make a feast for Christmas dinner.

Our resources aren’t unlimited, but we’ve budgeted the amount we’re allowed to spend on each other (which usually gets ridiculous and needed to be reigned in anyway) and with a few savings techniques that we’ve picked up over the last few months, I hope we’ll be able to provide a family with a day to be thankful for. And in doing that, this family will have provided us with the opportunity to do a good thing and to remind ourselves that how rich we are has nothing to do with money in the bank or items under the tree. On Christmas Day I will be safe and warm wrapped up with the one I love on our couch watching “A Christmas Story” over and over. How can I even begin to ask for more than that?

If you have been like me this year and have found it a little hard to get into the swing of things, I urge you to volunteer your time or resources somewhere to someone in need. Something as small as a can of food in a donation bin can bring food to a family that wouldn’t have it otherwise. Please try to remember that when we are all sitting around Christmas trees with our families opening presents of abundance, there are those that are cold and hungry. And selfishly, making a difference in someone else’s life is the best feeling ever.

The curse of the SunDrop

It’s almost too unbearable to write about, but I feel I must share this with the world to perhaps spare some other poor soul from the torment: The body is physically unable to process SunDrop without a gall bladder.

Sad, but an undeniable fact.

To those of you that are unaware of the existence of said soft drink, apparently you’re missing out. I first learned of this liquid gold from an old friend from Wisconsin. He spoke of SunDrop like a Costa Rican speaks of coffee, or the Swiss speak of chocolate. While acknowledging the existence of other highly caffeinated and sugar injected lemon-lime thirst quenchers, our Mountain Dew and Mello Yello simply have nothin’ on this stuff (so the addicts say). I’ve heard it mixes well with Jack Daniels, allows you to stay up studying for three days without sleep, and cures cancer (although no claims have been proven). So, as a birthday present, I had a case of the stuff shipped out from Wisconsin. And because I made such a gesture I was allowed to taste the product of my intense google searches. To me it tastes like a sweeter (if you can believe it) and less carbonated Mountain Dew. Unfortunately for me, I said so. Immediately I was shunned by the group of Wisconsin-ites and I learned to never again speak of my true feelings towards the elixir.

Cut to a year later when I met Mr. Confederate. Early on in our relationship (so early he hadn’t yet seen me without makeup or with my hair in a ponytail) he mentioned something about missing home and especially missing a drink he could get in Tennessee. So for the second time in as many years I was subjected to a monologue on the virtues of the drink of the gods – also known as SunDrop. This time however, my heart began to race. I’d already wooed Corey with my lasagna, banana bread, and inside-out German chocolate cake, but this would seal the deal for sure. I raced home to place my order and 72 hours (and $80 in shipping costs later) I approached his door with what felt like 100 pounds of aluminum cans under my arms.

To this day I’m convinced that is the exact moment he fell in love with me.

It has been a while since I’ve ordered the stuff – partly because it has approximately 800 calories per can and partly because I’m pretty sure I have the guy wrapped up (at least I’m honest), but I knew that when we traveled back to Tennessee for Thanksgiving he was sure to fall off the wagon once again. Sure enough, the first stop when we entered his parent’s house was the refrigerator. I had personally been worried about his digestion and this trip for months, mostly because they deep fry their butter in Tennessee before serving it. Little did I know the real culprit would come from a glass.

I’ll save you all the gory details but apparently the absence of a gall bladder does not affect the ability to digest deep fried chicken parts, pizza, nachos, cheeseburgers, macaroni and cheese, corn pie, fried turkey, French fries, country ham, or fried pie. SunDrop is however, completely indigestible. Order was not restored to the world until we reached a cruising altitude of 42,000 feet somewhere over Arkansas.

Let this be a warning to those of you who may be considering consuming the liquid crack. Back away from the can and instead have a glass of what the health freaks drink in Tennessee – sweet tea.

Operation Christmas Child

With everything else going on, the holidays have really snuck up on us this year. I actually saw something this morning that taunted me with “31 days until Christmas” and I laughed like crazy until I consulted my calendar and realized that it was telling me the truth. A month? That’s all I have?

Because we’re so far behind we almost missed out on something we’ve been excited to do for months: participate in Operation Christmas Child. I’m not sure how I first became aware of the program, but after reading the website and watching the videos I was in tears and knew it was something we had to do. To sum it all up, people all over the world in countries like the US, Canada, UK (traditionally more privileged nations) donate and collect shoe boxes full of Christmas presents for children who otherwise would probably not receive anything for the holidays. We won’t know if our Christmas boxes are headed for El Salvador or South Africa, but in a month there will be a child somewhere who will sit with our Christmas shoebox in his lap and wait with his friends until the volunteer signals them to rip open their packages. Inside he will find Matchbox trucks, bouncy balls, crayons and coloring books, a stuffed frog, and other various toys along with toothbrushes, toothpaste and soap. In many cases, this will be the first time the child has ever owned a toothbrush. As I sit here and check my 401k with concern it’s hard to wrap my brain around the fact that there are children without access to clean water, medicine, and even more heartbreaking, without love. They may be orphans living in a state hospital, or working in a sweat shop to help provide food for their 14 member families. I have no idea what hardship is compared to these poor kids. But it’s nice to feel that for a few minutes on Christmas they will know that someone cares enough to send them a present.

We had a blast shopping for our shoeboxes. With my baby fever running rampant anyway I was able to go crazy in the toy aisles and purchase as many girlie trinkets as I could fit into my old (but newly wrapped) Bini shoebox. I picture in my mind a little 5 year old girl prancing around on Christmas, her shoulders draped with a pink and purple boa, tiara gleaming in the sunlight as she adjusts her lipgloss in her shiny makeup mirror. She might share her bracelets with her friends, but the cashmere soft teddy bear is all hers.

I know that our Christmas boxes are not going to change the heartbreak that these kids have in their lives every day. New lipgloss is not going to feed families, and toothpaste, while necessary, is not going to save any lives. But Christmas isn’t about saving lives for any of us. It’s about putting smiles on people’s faces, and letting them know that on that morning, along with so many other mornings, you’re thinking of them and praying that God takes care of them. It’s about celebrating the good and letting go of the bad, even if just for a morning. And if we can give one boy and one girl a morning without tears just ONE day this year, I feel like our Christmas will be more special than any other.