I was happy all day on my birthday. Have been pretty happy all week.

I blame all of you and all of your lovely emails, cards, and tweets for my good mood.

And Perfect Tommy, of course, for buying a me a teapot to match my teakettle, for taking me to a wonderful dinner, and for having the brains to get me a black forest cake.

I’m so glad it’s Friday and that next week I will be in Hawaii that I don’t even care that my skin is breaking out and I’m totally off my diet.

Plus, we’re getting to go to Pappy & Harriet’s and Pioneer Town for a Saturday Adventure with The Kleins and the Woodcocks.

I’m going to try to fit in a screening of the Dark Knight somewhere on Sunday or Monday… WEEEEEE!

So working full-time plus a 1 hour round trip commute is basically making life impossible.

I know other people have longer schedules with worse commutes, and those people are men with wives. I am a woman with a husband and, even though Perfect Tommy is probably in the 99 percentile of husbands, husbands ARE NOT AS HELPFUL AS WIVES.

Here are the things that I’m feeling about working full-time:
- My house is messy and I hate it.
- Laundry piles everywhere and it sucks.
- I’m tired all the time and I want to sleep.
- I’m pretty sure I’m not actually making any money.
- I don’t have any time to myself.
- I feel like Tom and I are living completely separate lives and I could have stayed in Seattle for that.

The actual job is fine. It’s pretty good and it’s all stuff I’ve done before and is pretty easy for me, the people don’t completely suck, and the people in my office are my age-ish. If I could work less hours or didn’t have to drive so far, I think I would be happy about it.

But the truth is most morning I feel like I’m going to burst into tears as I’m leaving my house, and I know it’s because Tom’s off for the summer and I’d really like to be with him, and if he were going off to work too I wouldn’t feel that way, but he’d be getting off earlier than me anyway and I’d want to be there then, too.

And maybe it’s weird that we’ve been married for almost 8 years and together for 11, and we’ve been basically been inseparable the whole time, and I still want to be right there with him whenever I can. But I don’t think it’s weird. At least, not any weirder than some of the shit that you internet people do (and you know who you are).

So, next week I turn 30. Then the next week we go to Hawaii. Then it’s back to this. Whereas, normally I would just quit and find something else to do, this is a small town and if I quit after 2 months, I would be burning a very big bridge. And Tom really wants to buy a home and even though my dreams are put on hold for everything all the time because I refuse to be selfish, I can’t let myself be the obstacle to Tom’s dreams. I feel like my role as his partner is to make those things happen. These are not tough choices for me, but it can make things feel a little bit out of my hands sometimes.

Today is Nathan’s last day here. I’ve been working the whole time that he’s been here, which sucks. So today, I’m taking him to the airport and skipping out on work this morning.

We had such wonderful intentions - I was going to invite a bunch of people out to the desert to hang and meet the boy, but I was so tired at the end of the work day, that nothing really happened.

Someday, I will just make things work, and not let anxiety or indecision cripple me. Maybe after I turn 30.

Having a really bad head cold when it’s 115 degrees outside.

You know what makes it 10x worse? When it’s during your first week at new job.

Just an FYI.

It’s on days like today, when everything is going well, the way things are supposed to go, that I feel the most trapped. The only thing that could make me feel worse is if I owned this condo.

And now, a picture of a rock that kind of looks like a butt.

Clearly not as poufy as the winning cut from this post - but I don’t blow my hair dry in 60 degree weather, let alone in the desert heat.

Bow before my gorgeousness.

All goodish things must come to an end - I’m starting a new full time job on Monday.

I’m actually really excited about the company, it’s a marketing firm, I’ll get to do a lot more than just plain ol’ admin work, but I’m full of that dread and anxiety that comes with any new commitment. Especially when you consider that I’m going to be doubling my work day, which is what it is. I’ve lived the luxurious life of a consultant and part-timer for almost three years and I’m not sure that my mental and physical health are really that much better for it. Slightly improved? Yes. But totally transformed? No.

I think the most valuable thing that I can take from the good life is that my time is valuable and that I’ll have an easier time saying “no” when I need to. I’m much better at setting limits. If I can remain in this consultant’s mindset - be a little more mercenary - it should be more interesting and worthwhile.

I will miss the time to myself, though.

I keep coming back to this photo and marveling that this cholla skeleton… it’s just kind of perfect.

I was going to write serious post, about the Democratic convention or the US opting out of the cluster bomb ban, or even about racism. And I have no reason not to. EXCEPT MY HAIR IS DRIVING ME NUTS.

Apologies to whoorl and Hair Thursday, but I’m stealing your format. Sort of.
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Tom and I ran some errands this weekend - payday equals a new t-shirt and groceries! - and we took a couple of hours to look at some open houses in the area.

We’re not really looking. We can’t afford it.

But it’s interesting to see what’s on the market right now since everything has gone to shit with the Senor Cardgage Mortgages. And it seems like everyone is going into foreclosure and doing a short sell. Bad times.

Also, they all installed hideous granite countertops and yucky kitchen cabinets. I think in most cases I would rip it out and put in Ikea. SRSLY.

Tom and I saw one place way out of our league (too much house by a third, it had two full master suites with spa bathrooms) but it was the first place that Tom and I ever agreed on as being desirable to live in. ZOMG. We have common ground.

But it got me thinking… I don’t really know what I want in a home that I would own. I’ve been renting for so long. And I’ve never really lived on my own surrounded by things of my choosing. It’s been compromises for as long as I’ve been living in places. HOW WILL I KNOW WHAT I LIKE?! WHO AM I? WHY AM I HERE? WHAT ARE MY FEELINGS ABOUT DOUBLE PANE WINDOWS?

And suddenly, all of those magazines that I see at the bookstore with titles like “ABODE,” “SHABBY STACK,” and “TREEHOUSE STYLE” are starting to make sense.