Optimist Under Siege

I cooked an early Thanksgiving dinner for my mother and husband this year. I admit that I didn’t actually make a turkey (which I don’t really like that much anyway!), but we had sweet potatoes, stuffing, apple pie and other yummy stuff. It was actually rather satisfying putting it all together (yeah me!). And we got to use the good china and wine glasses…woo hoo! Here are some pics.





And this is what my husband did for most of the occasion…

A good time was had all around!

Let me tell you about a scary situation I recently found myself in. This past weekend I attended a baby shower for my aunt who’s having her first child in October (a boy, name TBD). Since she is having kids later in life, her peer group of friends and family also tend to be a bit older than your average baby shower attendee. Coupled with that is the fact that she is the youngest in her family, making her siblings older.

What this means is that the baby shower basically had three groups of people: the parents of the mom and dad to be (obviously on the older side), the friends/family of the mom (as I’ve explained, they were in the forty/fifties age range), and the nearly grown up kids of the aforementioned people (a 17 year old and a 19 year old).

And then there was me, at a happy medium of 29 years old. And why did this make the baby shower a frightening affair?

Think about it. At baby showers, a bunch of women get together and gush about babies. One of the things they like to carry on about is who’s going to have the next one. Given the age groups at the shower, unless the 17 year old decides to shock her parents and get pregnant (don’t you dare!), I was basically the only candidate. Yikes!

As such, everything I did was interpreted as significant. I wore pink stripes, which matched the baby shower cake filling (oh no!). I won the nursery rhyme competition (hey, just because I know Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater doesn’t mean I’m having a baby!). And oh yes, my husband picked up the package of diapers (to learn about their marketing gimmicks). Obviously this all means we’re destined to have a kid any day now.

It was a scary, scary day!

When you work at home, especially engaged in an occupation like affiliate marketing or website design, and older relatives (like mothers) aren’t very internet savvy, you often find yourself being asked questions like, “Oh honey, are you still doing that computer stuff?” As if it was a passing phase and doesn’t count as real work. I doubt I’d be asked the same kind of question if I was doctor or lawyer, “Hey dear, are you still doing that surgery thing or are you over it?” Compounded with that question is the assumption that I quit my full-time office job so that I could have kids. Nope. I’m not saying that may never come up, but it was not a motivation.

I do realize that there’s a difference between the doctor’s profession and mine and that my mother’s question isn’t meant with any ill-intent. But how long do I have do this or what else to I have to do in order for people to understand that YES, I do work for a living? I admit that I do take advantage of my flexible schedule to go grocery shopping, make dinner, go to the gym, and attend the occasional dentist appointment, but otherwise I work during the day. There are no bonbons and no soap operas (thank goodness on that second one!). Once in a while, there’s ice cream, but it’s usually eaten in front of the computer.

Interestingly enough, the most supportive person (besides my husband who has been pretty great) is my mother in law. When she’s around she’s the first to take up my defense and explain that I work plenty hard. I appreciate that.

This was my birthday chocolate! Even the writing is edible!

So Wednesday was my birthday. I officially turned 29, still safely a gal in her twenties (thank you very much!). I received the requisite singing of happy birthday from my mom, which has always been an especially funny tradition considering that most of the members of my family (my mother and myself both definitely included) can NOT sing. Seriously, there’s no carrying of tunes going on at family gatherings. Except for my Aunt Linnea, but that’s cheating because she married in, being lucky enough to get her singing genes from somewhere else!

Anyway, this whole birthday thing made me reflect upon what kinds of things I would actually want to receive as gifts. I very much appreciate the fabulous dinner and rich chocolate my husband was good enough to shower upon me, and I will certainly appreciate any other gifts which come my way. But I realized that what I wish my family and/or friends would give me for my birthday is, as they say in the American Express commercials, “priceless.” Instead of gifts, I wish people would agree to participate in and comment on one my sites, blogs or forums, say twice a month. This would be better than any other gift I can think of, just to get the website ball rolling a little faster. And to make me feel that all my thoughts are not just being lost in the void of cyberspace.

That would be an amazingly thoughtful birthday gift. Sadly, I’m a little afraid to ask because I know that in today’s society time tends to be more of an issue than money. It’s a good idea anyway! So if anyone wants to get me a gift and happens to read this, now you know what I want.

P.S. This would work for Christmas presents too! *hint hint*

I just got back from a slightly disconcerting visit to my aunt, uncle, and cousin out in Minnesota. Now don’t get me wrong; my husband and I had a great time out there. We went to the Minnesota Rennaissance Faire and the State Faire (needless to say, we ate a LOT of faire food…maybe that’s why I’m now craving salad!). We had the opportunity to spend time with my aunt and uncle and my 16 year old cousin who just started her junior year at an art high school. She seems really happy about it, which is great.

So what was the disconcerting part? Part of the timing of our visit was to coincide with what my uncle affectionately calls, “Andercon,” as in the gaming “con” of the Anderson family. Every year around labor day my uncle has a slew of his gaming friends drive or fly in to play strategy games pretty much non-stop for a week.

The disconcerting part was watching my husband, uncle, and his gaming friends interact and realizing that I may be looking at what my husband and his friends will be like in another twenty or thirty years! What a crazy thought! Although, as my aunt pointed out, it’s not a bad thing. Instead of drinking beer and watching football, they play strategy games and drink soda (or, excuse me, “pop!”).

My husband fit in just a little too well…

It’s funny to me how people have such different relationships with airports. This occured to me as my husband and I were traveling to the airport this morning to fly to Pennsylvania to visit with his parents. We just have such different attitudes toward airplane travel.

My dad used to travel semi-regularly at one of his old jobs and so he had a working relationship with airports. To him airports were essentially part of a particularly long commute to work. They could be useful, but also frustrating, and certainly commonplace as a part of his normal working experience. Growing up, my relationship with airports was influenced by my dad’s business travel with the wonder of frequent flyer miles. My dad, who actually didn’t like to travel anywhere for vacation (he prefered staying home and relaxing outside by our lake, rather than going to see new places), would give us (my mother and I) his miles. Using them, my Mom and I visited such places as Disney World, skiiing in Colorado on a couple of occasions, or even just extra trips to New York to visit family. As a kid, it was a thrill when I was finally old enough to travel to New York by myself (of course, I was picked up and dropped off by adults on either end!).

And my rapport with airports hasn’t really changed all that much since then. I still get a kick out of going to airports because it has always represented an exciting trip, whether to see Mickey, go skiing, or go gallivanting in New York City with a cool Aunt. Even if I’m just picking my husband up from a business trip, I can’t help feeling a bit of that excitement and anticipation just by virtue of being at the airport.

My husband does not share my particular view of airports. He has done more traveling during his lifetime than I have, goes on business trips fairly regularly, and in general just takes a more pragmatic view of the purpose of airports…to get you there, with as few inconveniences as possible. I’m sure most people who travel regularly have this relationship with airports, but personally I still can’t stiffle the thrill of going to the airport regardless of the destination. And I guess there’s no real reason I should try. I’ll just enjoy it as long as it lasts.

My husband and I went out to dinner last night with my mother and my Aunt Jill. It was a lot of fun. We had some wine, some good food and some good conversation. The funny thing is that coincidentally, earlier in the day yesterday, I had had a conversation with a coworker involving my Aunt Jill and it gave me an excuse to reminisce about one particular occasion we shared.

The conversation at work sprung up because one of my coworkers was complaining about her boyfriend who will pretty much only eat chicken. She likes to go out and explore different and new kinds of food and it’s a bummer that she can’t get her boyfriend to experience those things with her. I, of course, was prompted to say that I’m willing to try most things food-wise and that there probably wasn’t any one restaurant out there where I couldn’t find at least something to order which I would enjoy. Then, I realized that I wasn’t telling the whole truth. There was in fact one restaurant I could think of which really had NOTHING I wanted to put in my mouth, a restaurant which I believe may have scarred me for life!

This is where my Aunt Jill comes in. On several occasions in college I had the opportunity to travel with my Aunt Jill. She visited me while I was studying abroad in Paris (and also in Madagascar, which is a cool experience I’ll have to share sometime), and we found ourselves in Europe together after I graduated from college. We’re pretty good travel partners because we’re both flexible; we enjoy going to ruins, museums, historical places; and we both appreciate good food!

While traveling together in Nice, France, Jill found a seafood restaurant which was highly recommended in her Fodor’s guide. Fodor’s had steered us well in the past and we decided to try it. I’m not personally a big seafood fan, but I figured I could have some shrimp or whatever and I certainly wouldn’t want to deprive my Aunt Jill of this excellent French seafood opportunity.

So we went to this restaurant. There wasn’t much on the menu which appealed to me, but I ordered something and that was fine. Aunt Jill, of course, selected some kind of variety plate which was a house specialty. After a nice glass of wine my food arrived first. It looked a bit more seafoody than I would have liked, but I was determined to give it a try. I ate a little, but was not particularly happy with it and figured I could just grab a snack later. I continued to nibble at it a bit.

Then things changed. My Aunt’s meal arrived and I’m not sure I can do any justice to what it looked like! There were mullosks in big shells, medium shells, little shells. I could see many eyes looking at me, many mouths whispering “eat me.” There were forms of seafood in every color, every shape. This could have been straight out of an undersea video or someone’s very elaborate aquarium. It was fascinating and scary all at the same time, and yet nothing I would want to ingest!

Not being a seafood person the arrival of my Aunt’s entree quickly precipitated a complete stop in my eating. I was done. I was happy to stick with my glass of wine and perhaps find some ice cream later. No culinary Seaworld for me! Yikes! On the upside, my Aunt claims that it was quite delicious and I certainly couldn’t have asked for a more…um…unique experience!

My Aunt laughed last night when I reminded her of this strangely marine dinner. Of course, there have been other funny culinary episodes with my Aunt. There was the infamous cheese plate incident, but perhaps that’s a tale best told another day!

I was talking to someone at work today about board games and the subject of Boggle came up. I’m actually quite a Boggle fan (yes, I admit it!), although I don’t have much opportunity to play. I had a couple of friends in college I used to play with, and it’s a favorite game at extended family gatherings. Anyway, it all made me think of my Dad’s famous Boggle story. Whenever the subject of Boggle came up, he LOVED to tell this story (which was very cute!). I may not be able to put the same dramatic emphasis on it that he did, but I’ll do my best!

My dad used to play Boggle with his buddies at work during their lunch hour. On one particular incident there was an exceptionally difficult combination of letters. Boggle games vary with each shake of the dice and this was a hard one. There were lots of letters like Z and Q, and too many vowels. By the time the sands in the Boggle timer had run down, most of the players breathed a sigh of relief. The torturous round was over!

But not my Dad! He had hit the Boggle jackpot. My Dad had composed the unlikely word, squeegie, a definite Boggle triumph. But, as my father would now remind us as we waited with bated breath, that’s not all! Not only did my Dad make it into Boggle legend with squeegie (already a five point word), he also found squeegies and squeegied.

After that Boggle would never be the same! The Boggle bar had been raised, the Boggle gauntlet thrown down!

Easter is this weekend and it’s made me nostalgic for past Easter holidays. My family was never particularly religious, but we had a wonderful time celebrating the Easter bunny, Easter eggs, and Easter candy/toys! The highlight of the holiday was always my Uncle Bruce’s Easter egg hunt. He used to devise an elaborate, very well planned, massively scaled Easter egg hunt. On Easter afternoon my entire extended family would descend upon his house and ready ourselves for the challenge.

Now, the egg hunt was by no means simply a matter for myself and my three (and later four) cousins. Oh no! This hunt was for everyone, from the small girls to the big burly male adults (burly might be a bit of an overstatement here!). Each family member had a specific egg color assigned to them and those eggs would be hidden by Bruce as was befitting your skill level. If you were 5, your eggs were probably scattered in the grass. If you were 45, your eggs were probably just barely visible and possibly 6 or more feet off the ground! In addition to the candy you would find inside the eggs, there were also eggs containing slips of paper with numbers written on them. The numbers corresponded to prizes ranging from Godiva chocolate to cases of beer (again, age appropriate!). Then, there were special eggs that anyone could find. That put an added twist on events!

One of the best things about Bruce’s annual Easter egg hunts was the participation of the adults. One of my favorite pictures of my father is from the Easter egg hunt. Here’s my dad, over six feet, a big guy walking through the yard hunting for Easter eggs with a cute little pink basket! It’s such a funny image, and it just goes to show how good of a sport he was!

Well, I hope everyone has a fantastic Easter! Prepare yourselves…the bunny’s coming!

Okay, my bad…I know I haven’t posted in a while, but I’ve been preoccupied in a positive way. So while I’m sure I’ve been missed (ah yes, the epitome of humble), it’s all been for the good.

And what has been preoccupying me so much? Well, since no one likes to read a twenty page blog entry, let me summarize. In a nutshell, I’m doing sort of a life and career revamp. On the life side, I’m really reflecting on what I (and my husband as well) enjoy and want out of life. I’m not necessarily trying to figure out what we want our life to be like in 20 years. It’s more of a matter of what makes our lives better right now.

So I’m cooking more often (or trying to) and making healthier meals (while trying to accommodate my husband’s environmentally based desire to eat less meat). I’m booking theater tickets, organizing dinners with friends and continuing to push myself for more flexibility, strength and balance in several classes per week of yoga (and may try a martial art too…we’ll see. My husband really wants me to become his personal ninja bodyguard. Again, we’ll see!). Recently, we’ve gone snowboarding, did a puzzle (which I hadn’t done in years!) and toured a chocolate factory. Hey, why not? It’s all interesting, thought-provoking and fun.

On the career side, I’m working toward a similar transformation. This in and of itself could take up a lot of space with explanations, reasons, thought processes and goals. Again, in a nutshell, let me just say that I’m learning to be a career counselor, something that I think I’ll be amazingly good at and which is already bringing me great joy and satisfaction (and giving me the energy to do all the life enriching activities I mentioned above). I’m doing an internship to get some practical experience at a university, reading every book I can get my hands on, talking to people in the field as often as I can and even offering my services for free to get practice and experience (hey, if anyone needs help with figuring out what they want to do, job search strategies, resumes and cover letters, interview practice, self-assessment, I’m your woman!).

The moral of the story is: Things are good. They’re good and it feels great. It’s not like anything huge has changed in our daily lives, not outwardly at least. And yet it has. This post, as I reread it, seems a bit too preachy and is implying more of a sense of finality and of having found the perfect solution than I had intended. I understand that everything is a work in progress and in order to keep things going requires work and diligence. But for now, life is good! And I hope it’s good for you too!