Living Life En Pointe
Posted by honestpoet on November 8, 2007
The way those ballerinas go up on their toes…they make it look effortless, as if the very word “heavy” were foreign to them, but the truth is it takes strength, a ton of practice, special shoes, and it hurts.
My husband was terminated last Friday from the network (the paycheck part — his medical privileges are intact and he could choose to transition to vendor), on All Souls’ Day, by the senior vice president in charge of finances, officially without cause. 60 days pay. We’d just refinanced over the summer, with crappy terms, so we could buy a third car and let Jess use Maj’s old one. (He was making enough for a big bonus due in two months…hmmm.)
In the meantime, I’ve been working like mad on this butterfly tent exhibit. It opened two weeks ago. Three more days. I was interviewed yesterday about butterfly gardening for a local TV show, and tomorrow I’ve got another with a print press rep. Everyone has loved it. It’s really something to see children walk through something you’ve put together and point up, in wonder, agape. But to also have adults say, breathlessly, “I’ve never seen anything like this,” really makes you feel like you did something nice for the community.
So we’re taking the opportunity to relocate. We could stay, but why would we want to? Welcome to the brain drain, Bible Belt.
Maj already has some good leads. We’re looking way North, places like Missoula, where we can get off the grid, raise our own food (or participate in the community garden), cob our own house, and have friends who’ve done the same thing, all while he can still practice medicine and help people who need it with the specialized knowledge he’s taken so much time and energy to accumulate (and then there’s the money spent, too).
Up in the Rockies, I’d get a large number of hummingbirds we don’t get here, or even on the eastern seaboard or northern New York, where we’re also looking.
Yep, I think I’m going to pull a Jeffers, except I’m not going to go all the way to the ocean. I’ll settle for sky.
The lady I’ve been working with over the past few months on this State Fair thing, the county agent in charge of that half of the building, is a really nice middle-aged twice-divorced lady who’s in the process of seeing her 90-year-old mama out the door. Mama’s a devout Baptist, and Terry and I have been having some really nice conversations, about faith, and all that stuff. In the face of death, everything else just falls away as unimportant.
I’m supposed to be worrying about Thanksgiving dinner right now. I’m not.