Don't Mean Dallas (Part 3 of 3)

If you do not know country music, you are confused right now, so please go look it up before continuing. 

I have been writing this post for months. Because it is sensitive and emotional. Because timing is everything, and the privacy and experiences of the other people involved matter. Because I will not be the same after saying it out loud, to many people at once. Because I had to understand it, and then I had to find my voice.

Inhale.  I am getting un-married.  Exhale.

Knowing someone like they are an extension of yourself is a wonderful thing when it benefits you, and an incredibly unfortunate thing when it does not work to your advantage. This whole experience has led to me really wonder whether people can change, or whether we just grow and learn and decide to do things differently, to evolve in the way we present ourselves to the world. Or don't. He and I are now who we have always been. The truth is that the reasons it did not work out when we were teenagers have turned out to be the same reasons it will not work in our thirties.

She works hard for the money

Y'all, this is my third day of working an eight-hour day outside the office (as opposed to a ten-hour day in yoga pants moving from my desk to my comfy chair and back), and consider my ass kicked. On Friday, I came home with take out, ate my dinner at 6 PM, then fought to stay awake until 9PM, which I managed, and slept until 9AM on Saturday. And whereas when you work from home, you can do some loads of laundry and your food prep for dinner during the working hours, regular working women have to do it when they get home. I have been dreading this part of going back to an office, and spent three months asking working moms I know how the f*** women do this.

I do like my job, though. I have very little idea what I am doing, in analytics, but we all seem to share a confidence that I can quickly figure this out. I have yet to hear any water cooler chat about the Kardashians or the Jodi Arias trial, but maybe I just have not found those people yet. Maybe there will be some Amanda Knox chatter this morning.

A House Is Not A Home (Part 2 of 3)

Here goeth the second piece of Big Allbritton News: We are selling the house. There are a number of small fixes and replacements that we need to make before we put the "For Sale" sign in the front yard, but within the next month, we should be trying to move it.

I am sadder about this and have shed more tears over this house. I am ashamed to admit neither. I AM the brown house with the blue door. It is MY blue door and no one who comes after me will appreciate it as I do, if they keep it at all. Gasp. This house gave my boys somewhere to stick to when we were living in a tornado. We made ourselves a family here to wait for their dad to come home. But, it's time for us to move along on our next adventure.

Working nine to five (Part 1 of 3)

I am going to come clean about one of the changes I have alluded to in an earlier post. On February 22nd, I left my job with the City and armed with lots of prospects but nothing solid, went to my couch for a bit. 

Why? It was time for both of us.  The commuting two days a week, leaving while it was still dark and coming home barely in time to tuck my kiddos in had taken its toll. In addition, the need to be equally attentive to my computer and Blackberry at the same time my kids were demanding food was overwhelming and ended in tears more than I'd like to recount. I had filled a specific need in the Administration when they asked me to come on board, and budget constraints and reorganization made that need obsolete.