Goodbye Corporate America

Some things just don't make sense . . .

1. Quitting a high-paying (albeit boring) corporate job you are good at, before they get a chance to lay you off and give you a severance package.
2. Buying a new iPhone and a new (used) car just before leaving said high-paying corporate job.
3. Starting a new job with a huge cut in salary at a tiny startup software company before actually leaving the first job.
4. Loving your new job at said startup, even though most of your co-workers work with the lights off (one of them has a really long goatee and calls his tattooed self "Cookie"), and your office sits behind a gas station and looks like a cheap motel.
5. Loving your new office space even though it's missing carpet, came with a mysterious kid-sized jacket hung on the wall, and only had furniture when you bought it at IKEA and put it together yourself.
6. Working for said software company even though your ultimate goal is to do hardware, and not for iPhones, but in telemedicine.

Some things just feel right and feel happy, okay? Especially when you are newly thirty-five years old, charmed, charming, and gorgeous.

Rich officially quit his job at Freescale Semiconductor after working there for 9.5 years--the only job since he got out of college. He stuck around until Monday to lay off seven of the guys on his team, and now works for InMotion Software, which has about 8 employees. The owner of this company is working with Rich to help him get his telemedicine ideas off the ground. In exchange, Rich is helping him do some work with iPhone apps and hardware.

And in the end, we got the severance package and health insurance for a while. Amazing how many blessings are showered on us so often.

So wahoo! We've cut the apron strings and are now masters of our own destiny. And speaking of destiny, this opportunity with InMotion came through a temple prep class we taught at church, and the deal was sealed the week of a stake fast for rain and employment. Divine destiny, I'd say.

Happy Birthday, Rich! I didn't really like actually being rich anyway . . . I'd much rather have the man himself, and have him happy at work.

Me Estoy Desmayando

That's my Spanish word-of-the-day. Desmayarse=to faint.

I came home from a great, short trip to Utah with Graham. It was just nippy enough there to be cozy, the leaves are flaming reds and oranges, and there's lots of wonderful family and friends, a new baby named William, and temples all over.

When I came home today to a spotless house, I almost fainted with joy. Rich hung the mirror in our bedroom, folded and put away all the whites I'd washed before I left, and finished a big chunk of the deck. All while nursing Isaac who had a 24-hour flu. He's the greatest.

But I wasn't home for long before I started feeling crappy. Hot and sticky. Grumpy. Like I was going to faint. Why in the world people chose to settle in hot places, I never can understand. I also likely felt this way because I had been up since 4 am to catch our flight home. So I took a nap while the boys played outside (never good sleeping), and woke up sweating like crazy. I finally went downstairs and looked at the thermostat. 83 degrees and the heater was on! I remembered then that Rich had said it got cold enough over the weekend that he had to turn the heat on. And had not turned it off, apparently. Amazingly enough, five minutes later, with cool air blowing on me and the temp at only 2 degrees cooler (81!), life looks much better in Austin.

But I still sorta want to move back to Utah. Sorta.

The Death of a Delusion

Rich bought this car today. We are now a two-car family again. And I'm in mourning.

Yeah, it will be dreamy to have a car to myself, and not have to negotiate daily about who gets the car. But this luxury means the death of a dream/delusion.

You see, when we had one car, we were different. We were making a statement that the American Dream does not need to include two gas guzzling cars. We were hippies and nonconformists (or so we thought). We have bikes, and we can pedal our way all over the place. Never mind that this is Texas suburbia, which isn't all that bike-friendly. We find our own safe (circuitous) ways to get places. In theory, I can get everywhere I need to go on my bike--school, library, grocery store (never actually tried it . . .), doctor, dentist, church, Sonic (fast food carries less guilt when you burn calories to get there!).

Not to mention, the buff body of my true love, who was riding 22 miles round trip to work a few times each week. I love the concept of getting exercise outside without having to schedule it into my day or get a babysitter while I do it. Being a one-car family meant that not only did we save the money that second car would cost, but also the money we might spend on a gym membership, since we get our exercise by actually using our energy to get places. I love it that when we go out the door to go somewhere, Graham heads for the bike first, not the car.

Pride you say? Well yeah, I guess you could call it that. And lack of discipline. Both are vices.

So after much discussion over some recent life-changes (more on this later), I gave into the idea that this car is pretty much a necessity. Though only two families in our branch in India even owned a car, we need two. Though I can get most everywhere I need to go on my bike, a car in the driveway "just in case" is wise. We can serve better and carpool better this way. We can stop the marital discord that negotiating over the car can cause. We can stop relying on friends and family to bail us out when our one-car world is too small. Rich can be more successful at work with a car to get him there. We might actually guzzle less gas because I won't be dropping Rich off at work or picking him up on rainy days or late days. The disappointingly pragmatic list goes on . . .

When in Rome, do as the Romans do. We live in (suburban) America now, so after almost 1.5 years living here again, we should probably act like we're part of it. Will I continue to ride my bicycle as many places and leave that minivan in the driveway? We'll see. I hope so.

Can you hear me singing that Queen song?

I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike!

I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride it where I like!