What’s the opposite of “when it rains, it pours”?

So after months and months and months of back and forth and waiting and pestering and more waiting, Mr. D. has his dream job. A final offer for same. (OK, a verbal final offer for same, with the paperwork to arrive sometime early next week.)

Though I have known we were moving since I accepted my dream job last month, it suddenly just got real. Mr. D. starts his new job in four weeks. FOUR WEEKS.  In ANOTHER CITY. Suddenly all the planning and preparing and presenting of hypotheticals about how we would manage living apart for some period of time, what our housing arrangements would look like, and how we’d get our stuff from one city to another in two separate stages — well, suddenly all of that has to happen, like, NOW.

It’s a little stressful.

The good news (I guess?) is that Mr. D. will be between jobs for about two weeks, so he’ll have that time to pack up his stuff — the stuff he’ll be taking with him when he leaves, when he’ll be (probably) subletting or living in temp housing for a few weeks or a month. And he’ll pack up books, pictures, movies, other heavy stuff he can drive out there with him. And that’ll help me get our current place tidied up, since our landlord is putting it on the market.

But the bad news is that he’ll be leaving two months before I will be. And I’ll be on my own dealing with movers and the dog and finding my own short-term sublet (because our lease ends three weeks before my job ends) — and did I mention that I’ll be on my own for all that?

No, really, in the grand scheme of things, this is all very good.  Mr. D. has been waiting for this for so long and he deserves it so much. And he’s getting it right when his current gig ends (his contract is up at the end of the month). And did I mention it’s his dream job? For all my complaining, I’m actually pretty happy right now.

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Word

None of these things merit an individual post, but all of them are worthy of note.

***

Despite five days of vacation in the land of lard (that would be Texas, where I ate Whataburger twice in 28 hours and more homemade flour tortillas than I want to count), I have managed to maintain on the weight loss front. Granted, I haven’t been on a scale since returning, but my clothes are continuing to fit in that lovely, slightly-loose way, so I’m not going to worry about the numbers on the scale.

***

My grandfather, who is ill and who is the reason we spent five days in Texas, is doing far better than expected.  He’s still dying and likely won’t make it through the summer, but he was well enough to spend several hours chatting with us and playing take-your-nose with my cousin’s kids. I had been told he was doing very poorly before we left and so didn’t expect to be able to interact with him much while we were there. But he was not only alert and mostly compos mentis, but also was mobile — getting out of bed and up and down from his chair, moving around the house. Since I’m 99% sure this visit was the last time I’ll see him, I’m glad it was a visit where I could actually talk with him.

***

Couch-to-5K is going so well I solicited a commitment from a friend of mine to run with me in the Race Judicata later this summer.  It will be my first 5K and, bonus, it’s the big fundraiser for the legal agency where I did a summer fellowship after law school. If I’m going to give money to any organization, I’m glad to give it to them — and to run my first 5K for them, too.

***

While in Texas, I saw this fun bag at my hometown surf shop, but wasn’t wild about the colors so I didn’t buy it. But I love the style and thought it would be a good shape and size for work, so I looked around online for it. Lo and behold, it comes in many other colors, including a very nice dark brown/gray. And that lovely color was available on Amazon for $22.  Bonus: eligible for Prime! So I bought it.

***

That dreamy interview I got a while ago? I went on that interview, had a great time, felt like I was a perfect fit, and then didn’t hear anything for a while. So I got stressed and applied for another federal job (one I was actually interested in, of course).  Three hours after hitting “Apply,” I got the call — I got the job. The dream job. “Relief” is too understated a word. Not only am I extremely glad to have any employment, I am ecstatic to have employment at a place where I feel like I fit in so well, both personally and professionally.

***

So it’s been a good month.

If the outcome were negative, I’d call it irony

I sent my resume to a dream employer last week; they probably got my stuff Monday. Although I realized my expectations were completely out of whack, I really had this idea that they’d call me, like, Right Away, as in, like, Monday.

And they didn’t. So I realigned my expectations. No big.

Today, I rejiggered the cover letter I wrote for that job and sent it off for another job–less dreamy, but better than many of the alternatives and probably a pretty good job all considered.

Five minutes after I sent my resume off for that second job (via email, not post), my phone rang. I honestly thought the second job employer was calling.

No, it was the first job employer. Calling to ask me to come in for an interview and tentatively scheduling that interview.

I don’t know what literary term applies here–irony doesn’t seem to fit–but whatever it is, it’s Good.

Caving in

I’ve been trying to grow the dye out of my hair for a while now—say, about the last four months.  It’s been working pretty well, particularly considering I’ve been having my hair cut shorter and shorter with each trip to the salon.

But yesterday, my dear spouse looked at the top of my head, wrinkled his nose, and said, “The top of your head is getting pretty gray, honey. I think it’s time to color it again.”  I replied that I was trying to grow out the dye and he nodded and then repeated, “It’s getting pretty gray.”

Women in my family tend to go gray early.  I found my first gray hair at 23.  My mom was totally silver by 55. Both of my grandmothers, too.  So I’m doomed to have a full head of gray hair at a relatively young age; I get that.  And I am, to a certain extent OK with that. Philosophically.

But in practice, I don’t really like the gray. It stands out against my (pretty mousy) medium brown hair, it’s coarse, it doesn’t style well, and worst of all, it ages me.

And I think it’s that last one that bothers me the most. I tend to look much younger than I am—and thank you, Mom, for beautiful skin and some early lessons in how to care for it—so the gray really does stand out as a visible sign of my age. It’s not just a vanity thing, either—I don’t mind getting older and I certainly don’t pine for my youth.

No, more than vanity, I worry about its effect on my career. I’m an attorney, and a relatively newly minted one.  But I didn’t go straight to law school after college—I spent six years doing other things, six years I never regret. That means, though, that I am competing on the job market with 25 and 26 year olds.  My resume already marks me as older; the gray, though, I think, really makes that concrete. Jobs are scarce enough as it is and I don’t need potential employers downgrading me because of my age.

Still, though, I thought I’d try to grow it out. No one at my current job cares how I look—I don’t meet with clients and I rarely have to be in court. This seemed like the perfect time to let the dye grow out and see just how gray I’d gotten and then decide what to do with it.  Maybe I’d love it! Maybe it would look good. Maybe I’d be happier just being myself—mousy salt-and-pepper instead of from-a-box-red. I was trying to put my philosophy about my hair into practice.

But after hearing yesterday that it was looking pretty bad, I started to get concerned. I am in heavy job-search mode right now and I’m hoping I’ll have some interviews in the next month.

So I bit the bullet and bought another box of color. I did go with a semi-permanent dye, so hopefully it will grow out more softly than the stuff I’ve used in the past. And while it grows out, I’ll continue to muse on how exactly I feel about dying my hair—whether it’s necessary or just expedient—and hope I can stop dying it soon.

Tuesday night list

  1. My husband tells me I’ve lost weight in my neck. I’ve lost about 6 lbs. Was I developing wattle?
  2. Sharing an office makes me unproductive. It’s that or my chronic procrastination.
  3. I still don’t have a job to go to when my current gig ends.
  4. My dog has a slow-growing, probably inoperable nerve tumor under his eye. He’ll live for a while yet, but we know his life is shortened because of it.
  5. I have gum recession on some of my upper teeth that has caused me to avoid chewing on one side of my mouth for the last five months.
  6. While I love my job, sometimes the stuff I have to deal with is really depressing.
  7. An organization I think very highly of is advertising my dream job, but because it’s a temporary fellowship and pays peanuts, I can’t even consider applying.
  8. This list is a total downer.
  9. Despite that, I am pretty content.