One Year Ago

It was about one year ago that I was sitting in my psychologist's office having a minor panic attack. A couple of weeks earlier, I had gone on a job interview at my alma mater and was waiting to hear back from them about whether or not the job was mine. They had promised to tell me by July 1 so that I could give a month's notice to my current employer before leaving. Now that the moment of notification was upon me, I was completely freaked out. If I got and took the job it meant leaving behind my life of the last seven years. Leaving behind most of my friends. Leaving behind Boston, a city I greatly enjoy. Leaving behind an inconstant lover. Leaving behind a job I hated and an employer that was doing everything it could to gut itself and chase away everyone doing good work. Leaving behind the safe and familiar, which is comfortable no matter how much of your soul it sucks.

And so, the visit to Dr. Sid. Who I adore and whose advice I do miss. And after pouring out my heart, my fears, my what ifs to him for an hour, he had one simple question for me. Would you be disappointed if you didn't get the job? And the answer was yes.

So, on that Friday a year ago, they called me and offered me the job at a decent if not spectacular salary with assurances of moving help and housing for at least the first year. And I jumped. And i didn't give a month's notice, either. In fact, I gave less than two weeks and they should have been happy I gave that instead of walking out, entirely. By the first week of August, I was here, north of Chicago, working at my new digs.

It has not been easy. I did leave behind my friends. Most have since left for other parts of the world themselves. The few who remain do keep in touch, and those who don't? Well, I guess I can't expect anything else. It did hurt to leave behind the inconstant lover. Even though I knew he had to go eventually. Even if I pretended to myself that he didn't. Leaving him behind has been made even more difficult because I am finding nothing, just nothing, here in Chicago. Not even a friend with benefits. I seem to be attracting only liars, closeted homosexuals, fat chick baiters, etc etc etc. Not-So-Dear-John may have been a liar and a slut, but at least he was never deliberately cruel and we always had a good time....

Still, even as difficult as it has been, life is much better for me now. I am paying off my bills slowly but surely. I enjoy my job most days. I wish I could accomplish more than I have been, but it has been a good experience for me to learn that I am only one person and only a human, at that. I have my own home, something I never good have had in Massachusetts by myself. And, yes, I am fatter than before. But, nearly every day, I wake up wondering excitedly what will happen. Unlike in Massachusetts, where I woke up and asked myself how soon everything was going to implode.

Words That Describe Yours Truly

A friend sent me a fun little game to play yesterday - the One Word Game. This is where you ask all your friends to describe you in just one word.... thus far here are the descriptions I have received of me:

enjoyable

eudaimoneous

brillant

empathetic

fun-loving

unique

giving

engaged

What's terribly funny is this: how people see me is totally related to our relationship. My intimates (family and lovers) see me as kind and companionable while my friends see me as eccentric. smart, and socially engaged, except for Blaise who believes me to be akin to a kindly otherwordly messenger somewhat like an angel but slightly more sinister.

Moving Frustration

As my many dear readers (all two of you) know, I recently moved from Foxboro, MA, to Lake Forest, IL. This has involved oh so many changes and adjustments - including getting used to living in upperclass-obtuse-topia, getting rid of a lover (be nice), selling the rollerskate, and other very stressful things. But of all the things I knew I would have to get used to, all of the changes, I never expected that I would have so much difficulty with grocery shopping.

Grocery shopping here is excruciating and involves multiple trips to supermarkets that are very far away. Yes, I know that there is a Jewel Supermarket and Don's Finest Foods (little boutique market) here in Lake Forest, but neither can really met any of my food needs. I am fussy about my produce and neither local option is acceptable to me (yes, I am a fruit snob). So, I end up heading south to Sunset Foods, which is ok, but fairly limited, west to Dominick's which is cheaper but the fruit and produce doesn't last very long, or even further west to Cub Foods, which has a good ethnic selection but is otherwise a crapshoot and about to besold to Garden Fresh locally (maybe I will get lucky there). I can also go even further south to Whole Paycheck and I even found a Trader Joe's, so at least I can get good frozen stuff. I certainly miss Russo's in Watertown. I regularly cry because I can't go to Russo's on a regular basis.

All in all, though, as much as I whine, I can get by, even if my diet is heavy on apples, which I don't much like. But what has really been bothering me is that I can't find yogurt here.

See, I have to really watch my sugar intake and most yogurts have too much sugar. In Boston, I used to get the Columbo Light, which was decent and low-sugar. Here, there is no Columbo. There is Dannon (full sugar and fat), Yoplait (ditto), and Stonyfield (ditto but with the added evil of inulin, which I am allergic to). Even going to Whole Paycheck is not a treat. Compared to the 100s of varieties at Whole Paycheck in Boston, there are only about dozen choices, many of which are soy or goat milk - almost everything has full sugar, full fat, and/or inulin.

I may have to breakdown and start making my own again.

Yes, yours truly makes yogurt. This causes a lot of surprise. For example, a lover was once visiting me at my place in Foxboro. While sitting at my kitchen table reading the newspaper, he looks up and goes, "What's that?" Well, that was my yogurt maker.

"You make your own yogurt?" This was said in a tone filled with both respect and surprise. But the look on his face was saying something different. That look said "What is this? Little House on the Praire? Has she fed me any of that stuff?"

But, I may just have to suck it up. Plain yogurt is no fun for plain eating; I generally use it only for cooking. But dammit, I need my yogurt fix!