Neuroses

In a rare moment of calm, as I sit enjoying a hunka chips and salsa in my pajamas, it has come to my memory that the following excerpts of e-mails have been sent to Aaron, by me, within the last two weeks:

"Oh my gosh bud, I just bought this dress online for $51.99. I was waiting for it to get back in stock and then it did and I don't know what I was thinking I just bought it! Is that ok? Don't worry. They have a good return policy."

"Babe, help me! I really want to go to Zumba tonight but I promised Vanessa I'd chat with her on the phone after work and I want to have enough time to talk to her but I don't want to go to Zumba late but I want to work out today because I feel lazy. Serioulsy, what am I going to do?"

"OMG bud I just wrote on (someone's) facebook wall and I just know (they) are going to get mad about it. Why did I do that?! Are you mad at me?"

And this one's just glorious:

"BABE:

ADLSKJSLDKFJSLDKFJSLDKJFSLDKFJLSKDJFSLDKJFSLDKF
that is my whiney voice. Please take five moments of silence and hear it in your head. Here it is again:
LKAJFLSAKDJFLSKJFDLSKDJFLSKJFLSKJFLKSDJFLSKDJLKJDSF
MY NECK IS SORE AND MY THROAT HURTS AND I WANT A RED VELVET CUPCAKE BUT I DON'T WANT THE CALORIES."

(that was the entirety of that one.)

And here's the thing, people. With all that blathering, borderline-frightening crazy up there, I get responses like this:

"Babe, I'm so glad you got that dress! I can't wait to see it on you!"

"Hi love! Why don't you just talk to Vanessa in the car on the way to Zumba. The worst case scenario is that you miss the very beginning of class, and that won't be so bad."

"I'm not angry at all, little girl! Don't you worry about it! What you wrote was great."

And, well, to that last piece of literary perfection, he replied:
"RIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. That's how I feel."

They can't all be winners.

But he certainly is. Give him a medal. And for me...maybe some ritalin?

Identity Crisis

Last night I stopped into Chipotle after church. As church ended (we go to an evening service here) I looked at Aar and said ..."Chinese food?" And he gave me this goofy look like...who are you kidding? We had missed our weekly Chipotle Night on Thursday because my throat was wanting soup that night. So I went to pick up our signature three-soft-tacos for Aar and burrito-bowl for me.

When I got up to the lovely lady that was going to make our yummy pseudo-Mexican feast, the first thing she said to me was, "are you a Mom?" I was nervously puzzled for a split second before I remembered that it was Mother's Day. Once I stopped double-checking that my single chin hadn't turned into a double chin, and once I stopped judging her for her over-enthusiasm, I said "nope, not yet." She was sweet though, and asked if I had a puppy. I said yes, and she wished me a Happy Mother's Day.

I could've told her that we have a strict no-referring-to-our-dog-as-our-son rule at the Baer house, but I'm trying to work on...you know, my general sourness, so I left it alone.

But I threw a little fit in my head while I watched this bouncy woman put pico de gallo on my mountain of barbacoa. (Now I'm hungry.) No, I'm not a Mom. No, I don't eat only organic. No, I don't paint or sketch or, I don't know, do pencil drawings. I don't do graphic design, I don't have my own super hipster photography business with my own totally original website. I generally don't do Yoga on mountaintops on Saturday mornings and I don't create my own jewelry. I'm not visiting 11 countries in 12 months and I'm not in Africa holding orphan babies. I'm not in Nashville giving myself a go at being a starving musician or clothing designer or poetry writer or coffee barista with my lip pierced. I'm not thinking of starting my own church or painting a mural downtown. No, I'm not a Mom.

But that's ok, right? Don't I still have something worth saying?

You know, after the Last Supper, when Jesus was trying to be plain as day to his buds about all the crap that was about to rain down, they started this ridiculous argument about which of them was the greatest. (I feel embarrassed for them even typing it.) It's bewildering, though, ridiculous as that sentiment was, how forceful it can be.

Tulips; Yellow and Purple

Yesterday I bought some purple and yellow tulips. I had just taken a shower so my hair was half wet and half frizzy, and I was wearing my token OU Football T shirt (went to one game in 4 years, ladies and gentlemen, but darn it all if I don't love that shirt) and my gray gym shorts with the paint stain on them from the Great Funeral Home Paint of 2007. (Aaron and I took all odd jobs that summer, together. We painted, we camp counseled. We watched movies in my basement. It was glorious.)

Anyway, my point is that when I bought the flowers I didn't look like a person who would be buying flowers at a grocery store. At Lowe's, maybe. Because you could've assumed that I was doing housework in my grub clothes and the flowers fit into that. But I wasn't at Lowe's, I was at Basha's, where the flowers are way overpriced and where the home-owners certainly do not go on home improvement shopping sprees.

And the flowers were most definitely overpriced. I paid like, $7.99 for each color. One bushel of purple, one of yellow. That's like, almost $15, man. (Full disclosure: there was a giant pause in my typing before I got that number out. I haven't taken a math class since 2005, so it's ok.)

I hadn't planned to buy them. They weren't on my neat, yellow, college-ruled list. The other thing about the flowers was that I didn't really have a purpose for them in mind, other than putting them in my little purple vase and in the center of my clutter-filled kitchen table. Also regarding live flowers: they don't live forever. You have to have these things in mind when you are shelling out $15 on something. Especially when $15 could also go toward dog food, or laundry detergent, or Chipotle.

The best part about all of this is, though, that I bought the flowers. I had one millisecond of "oh, I shouldn't" but I took that thought captive, ya'll. And Aaron didn't even blink a beautiful eye of his. He looked at them and said "Oh Ria, how beautiful!" and when I said "they're kind of expensive" he looked at me like I was speaking a different language, and we just paid for them at the register.

This Easter morning when I got up, the tulip blooms had started to open up, and the swirl of purple and yellow that I saw out of my still-sleeping eyes was just so sweet and sugary. I went out on my porch with my mug of orange juice. (Orange juice is my coffee, but I still pretend it's real coffee.) And I sat and stared at this gorgeous sunrise, and I read the resurrection story in Luke and John, and I thought about my Aunt Cris, and I realized that buying flowers is a little thing, but if in doing so you can stomp on a little tiny fraction of the larger-than-life swarm of useless anxiety that we allow to surround ourselves every single minute, well, then that is really something. It is like a little bit of Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Easter that's all your own. And that was only made possible by the real Easter.

My weird, anti-intellectual, but ever-present anxiety died in a moment, and then a sweet, flower-smelled peace resurrected that couldn't have otherwise. And the victory is delicious.

Happy Easter!

Chevere

So yo escribo completemente en espanol, lo leias? Espero que si.

Pero probablemente no.

Si mi hermano aprendo el lenguaje como El dijo, El podria leer este. Pero, no. Cobarde!

La otra cosa es, yo necesito mas puntuacion, pero yo no se como en Blogger. No te importa, yo se.

El problema es yo tengo miedo porque no estoy hablando espanol a mi trabajo nuevo. Y yo se el frase - si no lo usas, lo pierdas. Entonces yo estoy escribiendo eso. Tambien, compre un libro en espanol por Pablo Neruda. Me olvido el titulo en este momento. Pero estudie Sr. Nerudo en el colegio - es un Chileno con mucho talento. Voy a leer el libro despues de lo que estoy leyendo ahora, "Water for Elephants."

Ok, ok. Lo siento, mis amigos del ingles.

Por favor si lo entiendes ese post, digame! Podemos ser amigas de espanol.

Que tenga.... sabes el resto.

Second Visits

Last week Mom and Papa Fisher came to sunny Scottsdale for a visit. Actually, what's funny is, it wasn't so sunny. Mom didn't find that funny. (These rhymes are unintentional.) I felt terrible, because obviously, one comes to Arizona expecting rays and heat and palm trees. And that is our norm 364 days a year. Mom and Dad just happened to be here on the annual week of clouds and gloom and rain.

The horrible part: I loved it.

It made me want to curl up and read and snooze and watch movies. And actually, for a lot of their visit, that's what we did! That's what's great about Second Visits. You don't have to have the traditional "let's go see the sites" kind of time together. You can have REAL time together. As if they lived down the street, and we happened to take a Saturday to shop at Tempe Marketplace.

That's my backwards way of saying I'm trying to bamboozle them into moving down the street.

(Although I don't think that would be too hard, honestly. The excessiveness of Dad's "oohs" and "ahhs" at the scenery and his endless references to foreclosed homes was telling. AHEM.)

On an honest and more somber note, I can't describe the yuckiness of the ends of Mom-and-Dad visits. I've blogged before about how I'm not cut out to live this far from them. When they leave, all I can think about are these pretty childhood memories that I wish I could grab back.

But homesickness ain't nothing a little bitta Aaron Michael and Biggest Loser can't fix, right? At least temporarily.

So this week got off to a tear-filled start when Mom and Dad caught their return flight on Monday morning, but it's looking up now. After all, it IS the 99th anniversary of the Titanic's voyage. Coolest week of the year. What have you been up to?

Monday Nonsense

Ok, friends. Here's the dealio, as Michael Scott would say. Due to the 'political' nature of my new job, my boss is a bit wary of me having a public blog. (They were burned in the not-too-distant past by an employee with a weak social network filter. Ahem.) However, upon hearing that, after I got over the initial devastation (not really) I researched and found a way to have an invite-only blog. So for now, you all and I share a secret. :)

That being said, I didn't start this post with a lot to say. Just wanted to be in the blog world again.

So, my sweet Mom and Dad are coming out to ol' Scottsdale tomorrow for their yearly April visit, and it feels like Christmas Eve. Aaron and I just completed the Baer Apartment Deep Clean of 2011, and that feels lovely. We blasted Mute Math, John Mayer, and Eisley. Also the vacuum joined in on the noise factor.

While I was cleaning the shower and Aaron Michael was sweeping the furniture, I had one of those existential moments where I realized I was actually having fun, and that Aaron is just the stinkin' bee's knees. Sometimes I think people imagine the 'domestic' parts of marriage to be anti-climactic. I certainly used to, before we got married. But I would trade the awkward tension of dating for the happy hum-drum of cleaning together almost any day.

We were born in different states. We literally never knew of each other for the first 18 years of our lives. Now we are inseparable and we clean our apartment together in music-filled silence. Who could've known?

That reminds me of a line in "Memoirs of a Geisha," which I just finished and have been mulling over all day. But I can't quite recall the line right now. It is about the rhythm of life and how our destiny is like a stone falling toward the earth... it's the most beautiful line and I'm butchering it. But this is where I tell you that if you really want to hear it, you'll have to go read the book. Then, of course, call me so we can chat about it!

Alright, time for my nightly glass of cranberry juice (girlfriends: jump on this train. If you'd like to know why, Google it or e-mail me.) and then a little bit of reading. Tonight I'm starting "Water for Elephants."

I have to say a thank you before I go, though. I was nervous putting myself out there to have an e-mail only blog, because I wasn't sure if I'd have any takers. But ya'll made me feel very loved and I'm so glad we can share this together. And hey - if you have a blog too, would you mind leaving it in the comments? I really really want to follow you.

Goodnight, friends.
Maria

Bullet Points

I haven't blogged in a while. Since before a bunch of stizz-uff went down. And not blogging was a conscious choice, because I didn't know what to say. You know, during a lot of the stizz-nuff. I've had a really interesting month and the dust is settling a bit, so I want to start up on sharing again, blog-style.

This blog calls for bullet points because of how much I want to say. You're welcome.

1. Quitting
This is why I haven't been writing. I quit my job at The Phoenician and my mind has been a storm of thoughts and doubts and smiles and frowns since then. It happened in February. All during the time from then until today, I've been wondering how I would write about it in here. And today I decided that I'm not going to tell you all about my boss. Because that's not the kind of person I want to be. Lately I keep finding myself making all these decisions about "the kind of person I want to be." I think every decision we make is that kind of decision, but lately I have been acknowledging that, and it's a lot of pressure sometimes. Like now. I'd love to vent and scream and bring you all into the ring with me on this one, but I don't want to be a person who vents on blogs about other people. Especially when other people tend to be sad and hurting so much of the time. So I won't.

I'll just say this: The Phoenician was an unhealthy place for me. I was treated with a strange, confusing, ferocious dislike, and eventually felt very threatened. I hadn't found a new job by the time I quit, but I had sat crying in the bathroom with the Lord enough times to know when my time was up. It's a shame, because I liked what I did there and I liked The Phoenician family. And I think I did a good job.

My letter of resignation was short. Because I had spent enough of me in that office. And I sacrificed my health, and I sacrificed the respect with which I know I should be treated, bottom-of-the-totem-pole though I might have been. But now I am not there anymore. And our God ushered me out with his sweet breeze of a whisper, and I haven't looked back since.

2. Since then
Since that day in February, things have been even more of a whirlwind. Literally the day before I quit, I got connected with a sweet friend of Aaron's who started her own PR Consulting firm a year or so ago. It turned out they needed some part-time work for a few weeks, organizing their 'books.' I started there the Monday after I left The Phoenician, positively wide-eyed that God provided for us like that. I had a paycheck in my wallet that Friday, like always. We never even missed a Chipotle night, friends.

I was with Serendipit for about 3 weeks, I believe. As that was a temporary gig, I spent a lot of my free time then furiously applying for jobs.

[Regarding job searching: my friend Caitlin, kind of an 'expert' in the
biz, says as long as you're serious about it, you'll find something. That's
why I love Caitlin. And that's also why I love Jesus. Also, the free market.]

Then, I found another job.

I was hired as an HR rep for an awesome little company called Dependable Health Services, Inc. They have a giant staff of nurses who provide in-home care for patients across the valley. The first day I started there, we had a 'team meeting.' One of my coworkers shared a problem they had been having with one of our clients. Problems with clients are not good. I couldn't believe how unlucky I was to have my first day be on a day where the boss was going to have to hear terrible news that there was a client problem, and then, obviously, get angry at whoever caused the problem. But do you know what happened?

He listened as my coworker described the problem, and then he said: "Listen up everybody. If [the client] ever talks to any one of you like that ever again, you just give the phone to me. You all do an incredible job, every single day, and I am so proud of you. Don't let anyone tell you different."

And you know what happened? I cried. And I couldn't believe my poor little heart had been bracing for an angry tirade. Isn't it sad that I was conditioned for that? Not anymore.

Also at Dependable, there I have found such a sweet friend. We went out to a movie after my first week. Do you know how that feels? I feel so stinkin' grateful I could do jumping jacks. She is just awesome. Although, not too great at Words with Friends. (See that? That's trash talk.)

Then.

I got a call a week and a half ago from U.S. Congressman David Schweikert's office. They had gotten my contact info from Aaron's boss (we now owe her both our incomes. Do you think a bouquet of flowers ought to do it?) and wanted to interview me. So they did. And then they offered me a job as a staff assistant. Then I told them I wanted more money than they offered me. Then they said "ok." Then I said "ok."

And now here I am, working out my last week at Dependable, ready to start my new gig in politics on Monday.

Would you like a little peek into my brain? Here we are.

I'm sad to leave. I'm excited to go. I'm so bummed to leave my friend. I
feel guilty for leaving a company that put so much work into training me. But
everyone has been so nice about it. This is the right opportunity for me. I
can't believe this is happening. I can't wait to work in politics. I don't want
to leave. But the offices are right down the street from each other. I can still
visit for lunch. Mmm, lunch. I want a ham sandwich.

3. Here I Raise My Ebenezer
When I was at the Focus Institute in 07, I went on this beautiful women's retreat in the late fall, deep in the mountains behind Pike's Peak. "Deep" as in, in a town with little stores that had animal-skin rugs and cowboy jackets with leather fringes. My sweet friend Lindy gave a talk at the retreat, and she spoke so much truth to me that it hit me like a semi and I buried it deep, deep in my heart. And I kept it for times like now.

Do you know the song "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing"? Well, in it, you find one of my favorite lyrics of all time:

"Here I raise my Ebenezer: 'Hither by Thy Help I've Come.'"

Lindy taught us what this lyrics meant. Nestled way back in the old testament is a warrior of a chapter called Joshua 4. The Israelites are passing over the Jordan River, carrying the Ark of the Covenant. And when they make it safely, Joshua tells each tribe to plant a stone at their resting place for the night. Then he said:

"In the future, when your children ask you, 'what do these stones mean?'
tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant
of the Lord. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off.
These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever." -Joshua
4:6-7

This was their "Ebenezer." Joshua knew how precious it was to taste, to see, and to remember how the Lord has provided for you. Let's face it: the future did not hold peace and harmony for the Israelites. But if ever a doubt was to trickle into their meek hearts, they could look back on their stones and remember the God that dried a river for them.

I'll say it again - how precious it is to remember! So here is my Ebenezer: A month ago, I was completely torn up. I felt guilty, hurt, anxious, and angry. I came home from work with tears and stomach pain. I exhausted all the resources I had and tried to take the straightest path. But that only made it clearer that I had to quit my job. I didn't know if/when I'd find a new one, and what my husband and I were going to do for money until then. The next day, I had a temporary job. Then, I got a full-time job. Then, I got another full-time job that included an incredible raise.

Hither by thy help I've come.

4. New beginnings!
This bullet point is intentionally left blank. (nerd grin.)