Time for a change?

I'm having a quarter life crisis. It's not like a mid-life crisis- I'm not freaking out about my hair going gray or having lost my youthful good looks (which I don't have to begin with so I anticipate that one to be very easy one day) but I have hit a different crisis nonetheless: I'm starting to wonder if I made a wrong move back in college.

I enjoyed my journalism classes, I love to write but to be honest why I wanted to be in the magazine industry is beginning to be overshadowed by the feeling that I should have gone with my first love: teaching.

Becoming a teacher was always the "plan" growing up. I decided I wanted to teach the 3rd grade, when I was in about, oh the 3rd grade. I counseled at camp, babysat, and worked at the church nursery. Then when I was 16, a couple of friends and I took up teaching a 1st grade Sunday School class. I thought it would be glorious. It was hard. Guess what? Six year-olds can be tough, they don't have much of an attention span and a few of them could have cared less about this guy Jesus we kept talking about. And guess what? Sixteen year-olds (including myself, ahem) can be tough too and I got frustrated and figured that teaching wasn't for me because I wasn't patient enough.( I look back on that now and just wince. Of course I wasn't patient enough. I was sixteen, I could barely pay attention outside of movies and pep rallies. Sermons at church seemed endless. I can only hope that the last decade has taught me a little something about the virtue and if nothing else, dealing with staff members complaining about Sharpie marks on their chairs and not socking them in the face is a testament to this fact.) And that was the end of my teaching aspirations and a few years later, my writing bug had taken hold and I end up in the journalism program, which I really did love.

As you may noticed from the last few posts (or as Casey put it the other day,"I read your angry blog today." Yeesh) things have not been going great at work. Two years after graduation, I am still a glorified receptionist. Now don't get me wrong, I am more than willing to pay my dues but I am starting to wonder if I have a hit a proverbial wall, stuck in a spot that is very good for the company (a receptionist/office manager/writer/web editor at a very small salary) and not very good for me. I'm beat down, I'm angry and I am really tired of being take advantage of.

But perhaps maybe the most discouraging of all, I miss making a difference, I miss feeling like what I am doing matters. I miss watching children's eyes light up when they "get it". I miss having a purpose outside of directing phone calls. I want to serve God and I wonder if maybe he is calling me to do something else. Or maybe I just want to escape this situation and do something I really love. And man, I do love kids.

So there it is, my mid-20's crisis- to teach or not to teach? To hang on to the magazine dream or finally, finally let that one go? A part of me wants to wipe the slate clean and start over, to do something that I was maybe too scared to do 6 years ago. The other still desperately wants to be an editor at Seattle magazine. We'll see, but in the meantime, I am praying that God will give a clear-cut sign either way even if I have to wait for it, though it may test my newfound patience. All the more fitting because if I am going teach I'll probably need even more of that one.

A Love Letter

I realize that for a blog named "The Newlywed Game" I haven't spoken much about my newlywed status but today that's going to change peps. Today, Casey and I celebrate four months of wedded bliss. And I mean that, bliss. I suppose the most cynical of people would declare we are still in the honeymoon phase, and perhaps we are. But I never have been more fulfilled, more content and more ecstatically excited about life than I have in my four months with Casey.

We've learned a lot about each other in the last couple of months, which after dating for nearly 4 years, you would think we would know all there is to know, but I continue to be surprised and delighted with the man I married. And to be honest I expected the transition into living together to have a few bumps in it but it has been very smooth, full of laughter as we have observed each other's quirks. (I'm allowed to say this because on our date this weekend I asked him, " You know we haven't had any real fights since we got married. Did you kind of expect there would be more of a transition and that it might be tougher?" He looked up and gave me a sheepish grin and said, "Is it okay if I say yes?")

Yes, I am sure we are still getting the hang of this thing called marriage and it won't always be this easy but every day I am amazed at how I love my husband more each morning than I did the morning before- even when he's grumpy and sleepy in the early morning and, like this A.M., does especially funny things like yell at his alarm clock "ALARM OF SATAN!" as he turns it off.

This is my, albeit very public, love letter to him. Thank you for loving me unconditionally, for challenging me and always supporting my hair-brained ideas (Friday: "I want to learn how to make a cheesecake!" Sunday: "Let's move to Latin America so I can quit my job!" Monday: "I'm going to become a teacher so that I get MLK Day off!") I love you and can't wait to see where life takes us.

Your wife

A break from the insanity

Okay fine, I don't have any more excuses for being so deplorably absent from my blog. First it was the office move prep that kept me busy, and then we were out of town for the holidays and finally, the new office is trying to kill me and rob me of my sanity. But by what I believe has to be divine intervention to get me to slow down for a second, I have come down with a nasty cold that has me sounding like a frog as my head threatens to implode. So, since I was ordered to go home today by my boss because I think she got tired of me trying to rasp out words and coughing all over the place, I have been given the much-needed time back to catch up on my blog.

And of course, I'm not really sure what to say. I admit it, my job is officially kicking my ass at the moment. Those of you who know me well know that I am a creature of habit, I don't particularly enjoy change. I like it to come gradually and not surprise me with something life-altering out of left field. As much as the office moving isn't exactly earth-shattering it has been enough change to have me feeling all off-kilter. I drive to work now after being a faithful bus rider for three years. I don't get to go by my old coffee shop in the market anymore where they knew my name and knew what I would order before I got to the counter. I have to learn new coding systems, keys and alarm codes. The part I like best about my job- the writing and editing- is on hiatus until I can get the office up and running.

I know, I know, I can hear you all grumbling now, and if you are actually still reading this, I'm actually impressed. But I just feel as if I am in a little glass snow globe that someone decided to shake up a bit. I'm still rooted in place, but there are all sorts of stuff flying around in the air I am trying to reorganize all over again- someone has thrown off "my groove" and it is exhausting trying to get back into again. Maybe its a little post-holiday let-down, maybe its the fact that its still blasted cold here or maybe just because I have a frog voice, but at the moment it seems like every ounce of energy is going towards this job (which most of you has never been my dream career, but rather the way to work into the dream job and what is okay for now) instead of things I love- my husband, my friends, writing, blogging. And as you can imagine, I don't like it.

I don't know what I need to fix it either. I mean I know I need this whole office move to be done with it, but I could use a swift kick in the pants at the moment to get myself going again. Any volunteers?

To the faithful...

Dear faithful few readers,

I have not died, though you might not know it given the sad, neglected state of the blog. Though I have plenty of material to write about, I'm afraid the great "Seattle Magazine Moves to SODO 2009" project (short explanation: my office is moving and somehow, since God has a sense of humor, I have been put in charge of the whole thing and having to learn to be patient and cling to God for support. It's good for me, but boy, is it painful at times) has taken over most of my waking hours and the precious few left are reserved for the hubby and trying to escape for the holidays to see family. So, I am taking a short, self-imposed break but will be back in the New Year with lots of updates and being my usual, smart-assy (is that a word? I like it, so whatever)self. Many happy wishes and have a lovely holiday season with your loved ones, catch you in 2009.

A Bed For One

It's funny how quickly you can get used to certain things. For 23 years of my life, I slept alone except on those rare family vacations where Kelsey and I would keep each other up all night kicking one another in the hotel bed we had to share. I like having my own space to sleep, to stretch out as much as I like and have the covers just as I liked. I slept well, I dare say great even.

After just 8 weeks of marriage, I've found out I can't sleep without Casey in the bed with me. He's been gone for 2 nights on business and I have slept like crap. Last night, I read until my eyes were about ready to fall out of my head, but as soon as I turned out the light, I tossed and turned for what felt like an eternity, all alone in my big bed.

The ironic part is that we don't even touch when we're sleeping normally. He has his side and I have mine but I know he's there. And of course, even though he's gone I can't enjoy the luxury of sleeping in the middle of the bed, I have to sleep on my side so when I look over there is a big gapping hole in his spot where he should be, cuddled up with the covers thrown over his head when he's trying to pretend his still asleep in the morning, and usually a leg hanging off the side.

I would understand it if we had been married and sharing a bed for decades but its been 8 weeks- its pretty amazing how quickly the little habits of marriage seem right and natural and anything resembling your single life is completely foreign, and for me at least, non too pleasant anymore. Come back hubby so I can get some sleep!!

The word of the day: CHEF

I am such a culinary goober. While other people might get excited and drool over themselves when they run into movie stars and sports legends, I get completely tongue-tied and dorky when I see celebrity chefs. Maybe its because, lord knows, I love food, or maybe because I'm envious of their talent, or maybe because there has always been a part of me that wanted to go to culinary school. The day I met Tom Douglas still ranks among my best days ever (don't worry not above my wedding day or anything but definitely better than my rain soaked college graduation) and if I ever saw a Top Chef contestant I would demand an autograph.

So, as you can imagine I just about peed my pants last night when I met two of Seattle's best chefs: Scott Staples and Matt Dillon. I was playing bouncer to one of our uber-swanky work parties and as soon as I saw their names on the door list, I started to cross my fingers, just hoping they would actually show up. And oh my gosh, I may have mentioned this before, but I was such a goober when they did. When Matt Dillon walked in, I didn't even wait for him to say his name before I thrust out my hand and said, "Hi! I'm Kate and I love your food." No joke. Word for word, like I was teenage girl you just saw the cast of High School Musical. I had to repress a girlish giggle even. I'm not sure whether he was flattered or thought I was like a stalker but he laughed so oh well. Scott Staples and I had a less embarrassing moment but at the end of the party I marched up to him and told him point blankly that we loved Quinn's and had a great time and managed not to be quite so well, gooberish in doing so. I think. Possibly. Actually probably not. Oh well.

But seriously, people you would thought have I'd died and gone to heaven- I was that excited. My co-worker looked at me with this look like, "Seriously? That wasn't Justin Timberlake you just met or anything" And then, to make it all this even better, I am still on Cloud 9 today because tonight, TOP CHEF premieres. OH yeh, baby.

It's official...and in other news....

... I am now a Calamusa! Well, at least as far as Washington state is concerned. Saturday morning we drug ourselves out of bed to get to the Greenwood DMV before it opened and managed to get out of there with a name change and a brand-new Washington state license for Casey in less than 30 minutes. (Non-Seattle folks, this is an amazing feat, I have never, never gotten in and out of a DMV so fast nor actually had a friendly person help me who actually managed to stay cheery when I asked dumb questions like, "So do I sign with my new or old name?") Now I just have to find the Social Security office that is supposedly downtown somewhere so I can change the name there. I can't imagine I would get lucky enough to get through THERE in under an hour with cheery help so I suppose there will be an entire post soon on that fun adventure....

..... I worked in the children's department at church yesterday which I do every couple of weeks and we had an odd collection of just little girls and no little boys. We were asking them what they wanted to be when they grow up and all three piped up, "A MOM!" I had kind of forgotten that at 3 years old outside of being a princess or a ballerina that is pretty much what all little girls- including myself- want to do and I started to wonder at what point in our lives do we start to get it hammered in to us that we have to do MORE than that, that we can't be just moms, we have to have a career as well.

They asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up (which I love the idea that I am actually not grown-up yet but as we discuss car insurance and perhaps buying a house, it seems less and less likely we are still kids.) I told them I wanted to be a writer when I grew up. I got a whole bunch of blank stares. One little girl named Ella crinkled up her nose and said, "But is that any fun?" in a tone that clearly stated she didn't think it would be. I told them that it was a lot of fun and that I got to write stories about people and sometimes I even made up stories for the book I was writing (oh gosh, confession time, see below). This seemed to appease them a little bit and after that Ella decided she too would like to be a writer but only if she could still be just like her mom as well. Sounds good to me kid.


..... And following up on the aforementioned book, yes I am writing a book or least trying to. I hate to even post it up here because I am really embarrassed that I have the audacity to think I am even capable of writing one, but I have to try. It is something I have always wanted to, in fact, the life dream would be to stay at home, drink coffee and write and ACTUALLY HAVE SOMEONE WANT TO BUY THE MANUSCRIPT. I have been working on an idea for several years actually and unfortunately haven't written a thing in months, but as part of my "official" post, I am official vowing to start working on it again. Really. Someone ask me every once and a while how its going just to keep me accountable. This means you Mom. This is your "Mom Job"- nag your daughter and make sure she actually gets something down on paper instead of randomly blogging about trips to the DMV.