Tough Times

These are tough times. Tough times with tough choices.

In the past few days things seem to have gotten a bit tougher, in many ways.

The first way is the one that we all know about -- the money way. Brian came home from work a bit stoned from it all; the company's not doing well. At all. And while he still has his job, he's not sure how much longer there will be a company to go to. It wouldn't be a laid off thing -- it would be a "whole shebang goes down" thing. So while we're thankful to have what we've got -- a job -- it's not a particularly stable one at the moment. And in just a matter of weeks they will finish paying his tuition, which they promised to pay almost two years ago. We're just praying that those few weeks go by without comment, that the payment is made, and that we're not responsible for the remaining *gulp* ten grand.

But all of this anxiety over the job future sparked a different sort of anxiety in our house, when Brian broached the topic of moving. Leaving our fair city. Well, let me back up a bit. I like where we live rather well, although if I had my druthers I'd be somewhere a bit bigger, with a Trader Joe's, and with slightly less dramatic winters. **Where** is global warming when I need it?????????? On the bright side, though, we have a house, church, and friends that we love, I have a little teaching job lined up, and we have great schools. Our family, filled with all sorts of ailing people, are close enough to get to in an afternoon but not so close for unexpected drop ins. Our children love and are close to their grandparents -- a real plus. And generally speaking, we're happy here.

But this job fixation caused Brian to do that often unhelpful thing: looking at how green the other guy's grass is. And this sparked an awareness of how much more he might make elsewhere, how much more interesting the opportunities might be. And I cried.

I cried because while I'm not sure I want to be here forever, I certainly know that I don't have it in me to move now. Because there's so much labor that he doesn't do in a move that ends up being mine, and mine alone: looking for schools, for churches, for friends, for doctors, for dentists, for.............. Indeed, the story of the last eight or nine years of our life has been moving somewhere, Brian traveling with work or being so tied up in work that I barely see him, and I tend to the details -- for years, it seems. And sometimes that is truly how long those details take.

I cried for the kids' lovely little preschool, for the ice cream shop within walking distance of our house, for our church filled with lovely, caring, insightful, and interesting people, for the guys at the hardware store down the street who've worked there for 30 years and who know the answer to everything, for the three huge, huge, huge oak trees in our front yard, for the hundreds of plants I've planted to make our own little Eden. And for telling our kids that they can't see their grandparents much anymore. And for approximately 10,000 people here.

While that conversation is somewhat resolved, and while neither of us now anticipates a move in our near future, it did make me wonder what a good criteria for moving on -- in anything -- really is. Brian pointed out that fear is not a good reason to stay anywhere, and with this I must agree. But I'm also struck by the fact that having all of the good things here that we love and appreciate and are thankful for in some way each day is so much more than many people have, that it's almost something of a snub to turn your back on that. In fact, I have reminded myself many times when I get cabin fever that the "California Leslie" -- the one living in a small condo with a child, no backyard, no room, and a public sidewalk so close that we sometimes had to turn up the TV in our own living room to hear over the sounds outside -- that person would be beating down my door now to trade places. And it was to get all of the things that I now have.

So here I am. We are. And where we will be for awhile, I bet. I hope. I think. Frankly, I'd be more certain if we could get that Trader Joe's situation resolved.....

In other traumatic and thought-inducing news, our dog Jake has taken a turn for the worse. Jake is a 12 year old dalmatian whose sibling/wife, Elle, died almost exactly one year ago. Jake hasn't been the same since. He constantly whines or barks, sleeps all the time, won't let me out of his sight, and has growled a few times at the kids. As you might imagine, this just about sends me over the edge. But it's not as easy as just separating them, for Jake wants to be with us -- just not all of us. And when Jake is inconvenienced in any way now, he barks. Incessantly. Through and despite a bark collar.

And did I mention that he's both bowel and bladder incontinent -- usually I'm cleaning up dog pee or poo once a day -- and that he appears to be senile, too? And that he's got a back condition that causes him some moderate (although not severe) discomfort and that occasionally causes him to fall?

And that despite this he appears to spring back to his old self about every third day and chase squirrels in the yard?

Sigh. Tough times. Made even tougher by stepping in dog poo in your own house.