Tuesday, October 22, 2024
Honbons: And Other Soothing Balms
Monday, October 7, 2024
A Summer Sumry
Friday, September 27, 2024
I Quit The Dream Job
I wrote a whole big thing about this, but as has been a theme in my little blog space, I really can't publish it here on the very off chance that it is discovered by the people, places or things I'd be lambasting. Or in the case of writing on the dream job, there are a few pieces to the puzzle that I'd rather them not stumble upon.
But I'll go ahead and tell you that things took a surprising and difficult turn. It bothered me a lot, and made me lose too much weight, which upset my parents. I hemmed and hawed and toiled before just finally throwing in the towel. It wasn't a towel I wanted to throw on account of how much I believe in the mission of the wonderful organization that took me right in with open arms, found me strangely impressive, and understood all the things I hate without me having to explain it.
Brett and I frequently muse on the different types of people it's good to have in your circle. You need the challengers and the comforters and the comedians. But the one we want most, and we've yet to find, are the ones that are looking through the same lens you are on the things that matter to you most. And it's not just that they're looking through the same lens, but they've also spent time doing the research to make sure it the right lens. A lot of us just borrow the lens that our parents or coaches or school peers gave us, and we never step back to analyze it, consider the other options, and confirm that this is, in fact, the lens that gives us the clearest view on life. (And of course there are multiple lenses for multiple topics for all the multiples of people.)
When the thing you care most about is something that most people don't want to know about and will argue with you over even though they've never done the research, it can be especially exhausting to move through the world. People are personally offended by my food choices - and they want me to know it. The irritating bit is having heard all the "retorts" people give me on why I'm incorrect or being silly, possessing the knowledge and data and research to nullify their concern, and still being written off as unreasonable because they don't want to consider anything that might upset their lifestyle or belief system. And I do understand that - these are known as the theoretic paradigms of cognitive dissonance - which every human has, but folks don't like when I try to explain that. (It was one of my favorite topics in grad school. "People invested in a given perspective shall—when confronted with contrary evidence—expend great effort to justify retaining the challenged perspective" without truly considering the evidence provided.)
Anyways, over at the dream job, everything I wrote up there is already understood, and the work we were doing started from there. So if it goes well, we understand what a huge win it is, and if it goes poorly, we don't have to explain any ounce of why it's such a loss. They just get it. They're looking through my lens. And Brett and I don't have that in our in-person friend group - so that was a hard thing for me to let go of - in addition to all the food system progress I might have made for people in Charleston.
Therefore subsequently, I am unemployed, and I'm on a bulking cycle because I can mostly eat all my meals again, which I've learned is something I took for granted.
So I'll just be here, eating my protein oatmeal and scheming my next big thing...
Saturday, September 21, 2024
Other Summer Bits
If my blogging skills were suffering prior to having a real job, they've sure taken a deeper nosedive. Don't think I haven't noticed. I haven't had time to observe and muse, which leads the blog to offering only the pithy update. Now that the occupational threat has been neutralized (more on that later), the pressure is on to save this sinking ship. So let's get caught up. Where were we in the story... the big Italian adventure, Brett got a surfboard...
Let's start with babies. We've gotten a good crop yield this year. In order of appearance; Cormac, Heath, Margot, and Logan.
Small photo because these are not my babies to be posting to the interwebs.
Which reminds me, we had a beautiful baby shower for Ari. Nevermind the new human, I was particularly thrilled to get to play with flowers again.
Back in August, Brett and I went up to Richmond VA because he needed to do an inspection. Someone hired him to wander around an abandoned high school to determine it "past repair." Brett said the place was so scary that he didn't even go into a few especially dark corners. I've never seen Brett scared of anything ever - so it must have really been a doozie.
In fact Brett and I found ourselves on Zillow lookng at the houses for sale just because they were so cute.
"Do you actually want to live here?"
"I don't think so."
"Me neither, but I bet life in that house would be pretty good."
"Oh for sure. You just wouldn't have real problems if you lived in that house.
We explored most of the different neighborhoods in Richmond - some industrial chic, others more bohemian. We must have visited 75% of the area's lawn care stores looking for something as atrocious as Wilhelmina Pigglesworth to leave on Will and Katie's front porch, but everything in town was much too tasteful. We had a few great cups of coffee, a big Jewish breakfast, a wander along the train tracks, some fresh baked cookies, and a visit to a beautiful cemetery so big that we got lost in there for a half hour. "Is this how they populate the place!" Brett declared as we spun the car in circles trying to find our way out.
Back here at home, the UniBartEnhauers chug along with Sunday dinners, unannounced visits to Mom and Dad's house in the afternoons, and days running errands with Mom. Dad maintains that he is bored, however he's always scampering around town doing things for people so we don't really know what he's talking about. Ellen and Lee are drowning in plastic toys and butter noodles, while Brett and I both consider our futures.
Tuesday, August 27, 2024
Little Has Changed
Tuesday, August 6, 2024
Two Months in Two Minutes
How about it. A whole two months without a pithy update. You must be starving.
Most commonly though, I forget whatever it is that I thought might be worth scribbling down in the first place.
Similarly, in recent months I've lost my tolerance for people that have nothing to say. I've always got something up my sleeve for when people say, "Hey Lue, what's new?" It's not that my life is an adrenaline-filled exploit, a series of wild campaigns I lead to victory. Nor am I highly dramatic and can make a whole meal out of a tiny inconvenience. (That's not true at all. Have you read this blog?) So how come no one ever has anything to say when you ask about their weekend or simply say, "What's been going on?"
Oh well, let's see.
I sprained an ankle. Something strange bit my finger. I didn't see it happen but get a load of this weird rash! Brett has taken to making blueberry pies at strange hours. A new cat now consistently arrives on our porch in the evenings demanding food. (Brett named her Stacy.) Pippa tore an ACL. I haven't heard much my from my sister. I was accused of being too quiet at work and had to participate in a defense of my natural disposition. We've watched two especially bad movies lately. I've come up with a new theory about the color of peoples' shoes. I picked figs out of our tree and made my own Fig Newtons. Brett bought a surfboard. I went into a deep work panic and came out the other side again. Started reading a few new books, looked at houses for sale in the English countryside, and have been working on perfecting a focaccia bread recipe.
So, to contradict everything I just wrote, let's focus on the bit where I was interrogated for not having anything to say. The workplace is confused about why I'm always listening. Can you believe that? They want me to contribute more to meetings. I would like that too however, I don't have anything novel to add and don't enjoy talking just for the sake of it - not in a business setting anyway. There are already enough people in meetings talking for the sake of it, and frankly, I don't want to draw out an already too long meeting. I've always been quiet - it annoyed 90% of the teachers I had in school - and foolishly, I suppose, I thought my quietness might be taken as a sign of deep interest in what they were saying, or perhaps some intentional strategizing about your words. Wisdom. Respect. Those kinds of things. What have the loudmouths ever really contributed to a meeting? It's like they've never come up on an introvert before.