Handle your sh*t

Aaaaaaannnndddd I'm back!

I know, I know, my last post was a bit of a Debbie Downer. I apologize.

Actually, no, I don't, because everyone has experienced those days.

Those days aren't pretty, but they're real.

And you've just gotta figure out a way to handle the fistfuls of crap life throws at you sometimes. So I did just that.

Well I can officially confirm that things are better now!

*happy shimmy*

My freelance project is chugging away nicely. Or, as nicely as can be expected given that the client keeps adding to and changing items on the scope. I'm about one third of the way done with it. Taking a break right now for a cuppa tea and a breather, because I was starting to feel overwhelmed.

(No, I won't attach yet another '10 Things I Hate About You' reference)

(Though, if you didn't automatically make said reference, clearly we aren't meant to be friends)

(I think you can in Europe)

(Couldn't help it, sorry, done now)

I digress.

Work is back on track. Still tiresome. Still thankless. Still waiting for that big break. But in a better state of mind, which makes all the difference.

Dishwasher is still broken. Repairman came out, said 'yep, I can't fix this, have to special order a part' and left.

So in 7-10 business days, I will hopefully get to stop hand washing dishes and wreaking havoc on my poor skin. Because sandpaper knuckles are not pretty.

But, again, attitude is everything. Washing the evening dishes has become a nice time for Hubs and I to chat about our days. Because positive spin.

We also solved the vehicle crisis. Sold the Passat. Less than what I wanted to get from it, but more than Hubs expected to get, so I guess it was a win. Especially for that piece of crap!

And we bought a new, not broken, not-going-to-be-broken-for-a-long-time car!

(Fingers crossed, knock on wood)

It's a Certified Used 2014 Chevy Traverse.

It's white, which is slightly unfortunate, because I always swore I'd never own a white vehicle. On account of almost every single person I've ever known who owned a white vehicle was a d-bag.

But I'm not a d-bag, so maybe I can effect positive change for white vehicles. Or their non-d-bag owners. Or something like that.

Anyhoodle, the Traverse came with a 3-year/36,000 mile warranty, which we quickly and gladly upped to a 10 year/100,000 mile warranty. Because mama ain't gonna play that game of Russian Roulette ever again!

The dealership we purchased from also offers a "drive forever" warranty on all of their certified vehicles. Basically, if anything on the powertrain breaks, ever, it's covered. For as long as we own the vehicle.

Throw a piston?

Covered!

Engine seizes?

Covered!

Transmission gives out?

Covered, bitches!!!

Which would have been nice to have this summer with the Suburban.

Or the truck.

Or the Passat.

Seriously, we've had some pretty lousy luck.

Anyway, the point is, we got it figured out. And I love my new car. And its fantastic gas mileage. And its new car smell.

And while, yes, it will tighten our budget for the next few months, we can handle it.

And better yet, unlike with the truck, I actually want to make it work, because I don't resent the vehicle in the first place!

I think this is what emotional maturity feels like? Let me just bask in this moment for a sec....

And it passed.

You're welcome ;-)

Back from the ether... With lemons

So it was brought to my attention quite recently (thanks Boppa!) that I haven't been blogging very frequently lately. Which is... totally true.

Especially here on Muddled Lemons.

About a month and a half.

Eesh, sorry!

Life has been hectic of late. 80% in a good way, mind you. But hectic nonetheless.

Continuing to build my writing career (yes, I still giggle awkwardly at calling it that). Working on the novel that has been bouncing around in my head for a number of years. Producing freelance content for clients. Occasional writing on my other blogs. Applied for my first 'big girl' writing job with a pretty big news/gossip site (which I totally won't get, but it's the putting-yourself-out-there that counts).

On top of that, Hubs has been busy climbing the corporate ladder at his new job, and loving every minute of it (except when he had to fire someone, that part sucked). And the kids have kept me busy with their eight million extracurricular activities. I clearly missed my calling as a chauffeur.

I also was recently hired to produce the content for a start-up website. Well, kinda. It's a long, cluster-f*ck of a story. The first client, K, contacted me to write the content for a site they want to go live in mid-November. I wrote the first article for them, and they were really impressed with it and recommended me to their colleague, S.

S contacted me a few days later, describing two upcoming health projects they are building, both of which are huge in scope, and they said I could have one or both if I wanted.

Well, of course I jumped at the chance. I know little to nothing about the topics of these projects, but that's nothing a little research can't remedy. You can't turn down that kind of an opportunity! As Tina Fey says, "say yes and figure it out later".

So things were chugging along all fine and dandy, when the second client, S, emailed me asking if they could contact me via my personal e-mail, rather than through the host site.

I politely said no. Because privacy.

They then asked if I would be willing to produce this content via another host site, citing cheaper commission rates on the other sites.

Again, I politely said no.

Because here's the thing: the site I write through has incredibly stringent author protections in place, reducing the likelihood of being ripped off by a client. Which is a huge issue in the freelance world, and the exact reason I don't just query clients on my own.

(Yes, you could make more money querying on your own, but there's no guarantee of payment, so you could have wasted your time and had your work essentially stolen.)

By asking to contact me outside of the host site, and asking me to move to a competitor's site, this client not only basically asked me to break protocol, but was also essentially putting my standing with the host site (standing which is quite high), as well as my personal security and chances of even getting paid at risk.

All to save them two percentage points (maybe $20) on the host commission.

So now I don't know if I will be continuing with these projects. I'm currently working on the first article for the first health project, because the client had already deposited the money into their client account (one of the assurances the site takes for their authors as guarantee of payment).

After that? Who knows?

The whole thing left me feeling pretty dejected. For every decent freelance client out there, it seems like there are a dozen shady ones looking to score as much free or low-paid work as possible. It's quite disheartening.

Yes, I am technically a paid writer. Yes, you have to claw your way up in this industry. Yes, you have to pay your dues. Yes, there will always be lousy clients or rejection letters or doubters or people looking to take advantage of you. Yes, you will eventually make something of yourself through sheer hard work and determination. But some days it honestly doesn't feel worth it. Some days, I feel like I'm just wasting my time and getting paid peanuts in the process.

(Aren't I just a sparkling ray of sunshine?!?)

So for now, I plug away at the menial tasks of being a newbie freelancer. And for now, I just hope that at some point, preferably sooner rather than later, someone will give me a chance to prove my worth. And make a livable writer's wage in the process.

On top of dealing with the emotional quagmire associated with freelance writing, we've had a few other out-of-left-field curveballs. Because life has a sense of humor, apparently.

Our dishwasher broke this week. You know, the brand new dishwasher that's less than a year old. Yep, that one. So I've been 50s-housewife-ing it up this week.

I know, I know, First World Problems.

But it's annoying nonetheless.

Especially since the only reason we bought our appliances through this particular store was because of the apparent "wonderful customer service" as assured by our builder.

Well that customer service apparently means you have to wait over a week for them to even come out and look at the appliance in question.

I swear, if they try to renege on the fact that it's still under warranty, I may be inclined to throat-punch someone.

Just sayin' is all.

Then, the other day my husband's car finally gave out. It's a 2004 Passat. And if you know anything about VWs, you know that they tend to crap out pretty epically.

We've dumped more money into that damn car over the last few years than it's even worth, most recently paying almost $1000 last month to replace the fuel pump.

And then it just ups and dies.

Bastard car.

So we're figuring out what to do now. We can't go into winter without two reliable vehicles. However, we just bought that damn truck this summer because our Suburban blew up. Can we really take on ANOTHER car payment? Or can we really keep dumping money into a piece of shit car that has virtually no trade in value or financial worth?

I'll be honest. I'm damn sick of dealing with vehicle issues. We've dealt with more vehicle issues in the last, what, four or five months, than we have pretty much ever.

Pretty much sums it up.

I've also been incredibly anxious for the past few days, but not in terms of the writing stress or the car stress. It's another beast entirely. I can't quite put my finger on why. And it's made it near impossible to get a good night's sleep or have much of an appetite.

Some days I feel like the gods look down on me and smile. And point. And laugh. And throw things.

Life's little curveballs keep things interesting. But sometimes life's little curveballs get pretty tiresome. And sometimes there's nothing more soothing than a good cry. Or six.

Usually I'm like this:

And some days I'm like this:

But today? I'm like this:

This hippie is high on life

So let me just preface this post by saying that I do not do drugs. I've never smoked weed or dropped acid or dabbled in any sort of mind-altering substance. 

I'm also not religious. I was raised by an ex-Catholic Earth Mother Pagan type, and while I have attended various Christian-based services in the past, I quickly discovered they are not my "thing".  

(Although I think I could get on board with the Flying Spaghetti Monster. Seems like a pretty cool dude. But I digress.)

My personal spirituality is sort of an amalgamation of Eastern and Norse philosophies, tied together with a tree-hugging, wool sock-wearing, organic granola-munching, love-the-people, humanist side. I dig Pope Francis and think he's a pretty awesome dude, but I also think it'd be cool to have tea and chat with Richard Dawkins. 

I'm open-minded, but not in the "expand your mind by eating 'shrooms" kind of way. I've never been the one in the corner contemplating the meaning of string and watching the walls pulsate; I've likewise never striven to speak with God, or gods, or any sort of deity really. I rely more on science, less on blind faith. 

Okay. So we've pretty much nailed that one down, yes? Mind is not altered, nor is it influenced by a monotheistic worldview.

Okay, we can move on now.

So earlier today I was listening to the 107.7 The End app on my phone (because there aren't really good radio stations in this neck of the woods, at least in terms of my musical preferences) and Lana Del Rey's song "West Coast" came on. The vibe of the song always leads me to picture a sepia-toned 8mm video of the California coast in the 1960s (ironically, the video is actually in black and white, though I didn't know that before writing this post).

Anyway, I suddenly found myself immersed in this strange, unfiltered train of thought:

The 8mm film of the '60s is like the cell phone videos of today, or the stone carvings of ancient times. The modern tools we use to capture a moment in time. A moment that is fleeting. A moment that will soon pass and never been felt or experienced again. The people that experience these individual moments will find themselves surrounded by new technologies that the next generation will use to capture their also-fleeting moments. These moments are important and pivotal to our existence at the time, yet in the grand scheme of things they also don't really matter, because the human experience is fluid and in constant forward motion. The individuals throughout time who have sought to capture their moments have all passed on, as we all will someday as well....

...Pass on. What happens when we pass on? We exist in this consciousness, this awareness of our awareness. But what happens when we die? What happens to that consciousness? Is it like falling asleep? Are we somewhat aware that it's happening? Or is it like a light being switched off? Instantaneous. We just suddenly cease to be aware, cease to have the capacity of awareness. Our light is just snuffed like a candle wick. Is it just over?...

...Our consciousness is an energy. Our consciousness is what makes us human. Otherwise, we'd be like an earthworm or an amoeba or a piece of kelp. Our consciousness is what the human experience is all about, what has transformed society into that which it is today. So what happens when we die and that consciousness stops? If energy can be neither created nor destroyed, what happens? Are we aware that our bodies have died? Do we pass on to another plane within the universe? Does our consciousness continue in a new life, but only in flashes of deja vu, or are we cognizant of having lived before? Do our conscious minds continue after our bodies have perished, like some sort of cosmic audience to the passage of time? Do we watch our children, and our children's children, and each subsequent generation of humans? Do we continue to exist along the space-time continuum, expanding with the universe and experiencing an awareness that our simple human brains cannot fathom? Is this what people see when they have near-death experiences? Is this what the tunnel of light is; our consciousness passing through to another realm? Is this what people perceive as Heaven, or Valhalla, or Brahmaloka, or Nirvana?...

See? I'm telling ya folks, I don't need mind-altering substances to trip myself out. I just need a few moments of silence and some musical inspiration!

Happy Labor Day!!!

I hope everyone has a safe and happy Labor Day!

Movin' and shakin'

This weekend was busy busy busy, but in a productive, happy, and delightfully exhausting way.

Since moving is off the table for the foreseeable future, we are now moving forward with plans we've had for the house. Hubs started building us a deck off the dining room a couple of months ago (in between thunder storms, anyway), but it was put on hold for our vacation up to Washington. Since getting back from our trip, we've been busy and distracted and the deck sat neglected for the last several weeks.

Additionally, I've been planning on painting a few rooms in the house and putting my personal stamp on it. My first project was the guest bathroom. It has this fun paisley-patterned shower curtain in it, and I wanted to play off the colors in the pattern. All of the colors are fairly bright, so I knew I'd only do one wall so as to not cause blindness or epileptic seizures in my guests, and I decided to go with a warm, burnt orange color. I had carried the sample paint chip around in my purse for almost a month, but when it became apparent that we may not be here as long as we'd thought, it clearly didn't make a whole lot of sense to spend the time and money putting my personal touch on the house.

Well, now that we know for sure that we're sticking around for awhile, we spent the weekend working on these projects. I finished the bathroom:

Before...

During...

After!!!

Hubs finished the skeleton of the deck:

View from the eventually-to-be-landscaped backyard

Soon-to-be entertaining area

Soon-to-be steps down to the yard

We used reclaimed wood for the frame, since we're hippies from Seattle and that's just what you do. We're going to seal it with a couple cans of Rescue It (I'm thinking either the Timberline or Russet colors, since that'll complement the house), and then use new, pressure treated decking boards for the top. We're also going to get solar-powered post caps, because again, hippies. Weather permitting, it'll be done (or mostly done) by the end of this coming weekend, and we can spend a few weeks enjoying it before winter comes early and ruins the fun.

I'm planning on putting two potted dwarf junipers on each side of the steps, for pretties. I'm also going to repurpose a set of end tables and a coffee table that we have into planter holders, again for pretties. I'll post pics of the finished product!

Besides helping Hubs with sealing the deck, my next project will be to paint the wall around the front door. Our front door is gorgeous, but it sort of blends in with the wall around it, and I want to make it "pop". I'm going to choose a more neutral color for that; probably something in the toasted almond range, since our living room accent wall is a pretty bright red, and while I love color, I prefer any one visual space to not clash and give people headaches!

That'll pretty much be the end of my painting projects until the basement is done. At that point, we'll be painting every surface down there (the older kids are already contemplating colors for their rooms... oldest is going with a Seahawks theme), and I'll be turning the front bedroom into a guest room (which I'll be painting) and moving my little guy into the center bedroom (again with the painting). I also want to paint the master bedroom, but in all honesty, that's the last thing on my list. Mostly because I want to paint the wall that our bed rests against, and our best is freaking heavy, and I'm too lazy to make the effort. Just being honest.

Everyone calm the f*ck down, mmmkay?

In my last post, I discussed the random challenge we were faced with in receiving two competing job offers in one day. Well, given my overly-caffeinated inability to focus coupled with my mental and emotional exhaustion, I apparently didn't explain the situation particularly well.

Because of this, and the blowback I have received regarding our "decision", let me clarify a few things:

No, we don't hate living here. We just love Seattle and the plan was always to move back in a few years anyway. It's not a waving-the-white-flag situation, so keep your "I told you so" to yourself.

No, it would not have been "selling [our] soul" had we taken the Seattle offer. We knew it wasn't perfect, and that it would have been career-limiting, but it would have gotten us back up there (which was our only reason for considering it). Also, no, I don't make my decisions based on [this individual's] opinions. But thanks anyway.

Financially speaking, it would have been challenging and borderline irresponsible to move back. Moving 1200 miles is friggin' expensive! U-Haul, gas, food, hotels, and oh yeah, buying or renting a house; it adds up. Also, while we would have been able to sell our house quickly, we would not have even made back our down payment since we haven't lived here very long. All of that was a major 'con'.

While our heart may be in Seattle, sometimes you have to be a grown up and consider the responsible choice. Staying here and taking the local offer is the better career move, as well as the financially responsible move. Facts don't lie.

What I know everyone is thinking when
they say "I understand"...

Yes, I would rather live in Seattle than Wyoming. Duh.

Yes, I can be a Seattle girl even if I live 1200 miles away. I will always love Seattle. It's an amazing city filled with incredible art, culture, music, food, and people. And coffee. (God, I miss good coffee.) The climate and geography are amazing. The perpetual green is beautiful. The ferris wheel is... well, terrifying for me, on account of hating heights. But still. Living sandwiched between the ocean and the Cascades is where my soul is fed. Seattle is an incredibly special place.

Yes, I was looking forward to coming back. I had already made plans to spend my birthday up in Victoria with my childhood bestest friend, having high tea at the Empress (delicious!), roaming the cute little shops and bakeries, and hitting up a few of the 8,000 Irish pubs down by the harbor. I was going to kidnap other bestest friend, Ginger Jesus, and their kids for Thanksgiving. I was planning the annual Halloween party with my mom. I was invested in this.

And yes, I was heartbroken when it didn't work out.

But I truly believe everything happens for a reason, and apparently staying put is what we're meant to do for now. Hub's new company will provide him the valuable experience, marketable title, and global platform to grow his career in ways the Seattle job could never have. So while I miss my family and friends terribly, I understand that things worked out for the better. 

I'm sorry I let everyone down by dangling the carrot and then having to take it away. 

But we will be back. That much is guaranteed. 

And until then? We enjoy the journey and the experience. Next stop, Mt. Rushmore and Carhenge!

Like sands through the hourglass...

Yep, these are the days of our lives... The crazy, out of left field days of our lives.

So here's what's been going on. As you know, a little over a year ago, The Husband was offered an outstanding job opportunity here in Wyoming, resulting in our big move from the greater Seattle area to Cheyenne. However, after getting down here and getting settled, it quickly became clear that the job was not what we had been promised. In fact, The Husband had been bold-faced lied to about the job: its future, its duties, even its title.

Over the course of the past year, Hubs was put in charge of a project that was doomed from the start (when the management company includes a clause in their contract stating they do not have to finish the project if they don't want to, that should be a red flag, but Husband's company's CFO signed it anyway). Since then, they cycled through four different project managers (none of whom had previous PM experience), pushed back the project three separate times (it's now slated to go live a full year after its original date), and had the management company remove 80% of the original project items from scope. Husband was the only one at his company technically skilled enough to handle the demands of the project, and therefore more and more duties and responsibilities were dumped on his plate.

On top of that, continually more duties and responsibilities of his core job were piled on as well. It became the go-to to expect Hubs to 'handle it', even when the time constraints made it truly impossible to do so. As the expectations exponentially grew, so to did the lack of respect or appreciation (or even basic civility). Hubs became the fall guy for everyone else's issues (particularly when the Payroll Department didn't feel like doing their jobs). Hubs' manager did absolutely nothing to ease the situation, not even bothering to show up to meetings or update himself on the status of the project. All of the warnings Hubs gave regarding the quality, integrity, and success of the project were ignored, even when all of them came true. And still no willingness from Hubs' manager to give Hubs the job title, pay grade, or even public recognition and respect befitting his massive responsibilities.

Finally, the tinderbox erupted. It became clear that Hubs not only had no future growth within the company, but there was a chance he would be left holding the bag when the project inevitably failed and created a PR, logistical, and corporate nightmare. Hubs and I both reached out to our networks and pursued job opportunities for him, both here and back in Seattle. Some leads went nowhere. Others seemed promising but resulted in bupkis. After our hellish summer of family health crises and vehicular drama, we became all the more aware of our need for a reprieve. Mentally and emotionally, we both were exhausted, and put it out to the universe that hey, we need a break!

Well, be careful what you wish for, my lovelies, because apparently when it rains, it pours!

Last week, Husband received a call from a contact back in Seattle, offering him a job position. It wasn't an ideal position, but it would have afforded us the opportunity to get back to our home turf. Some negotiations still needed to take place, so we knew we had a few days before anything was final. However, we were given verbal confirmation on several occasions that yes, this was going to happen, without a doubt.

Well, yesterday we were supposed to have received the official job offer. By then, we had discussed the situation with our families and a few closest friends, and everyone was incredibly excited about the prospect of having us move back to Seattle. As we awaited the job offer, Hubs received another interesting phone call. A local job prospect that he had interviewed twice with and then didn't hear back from finally called. The president of the company wanted to interview him that afternoon! He went in, and 30 minutes later they offered him the job.

So, now we were facing two competing job offers: one that wasn't great but would have brought us back to Seattle, and one that would have kept us here in Cheyenne for the foreseeable future, but was an awesome career opportunity. It was a genuinely mind-boggling situation that we had never predicted having to face, and we were at a loss.

Cue the DEFCON 1 levels of stress.

Being the slightly OCD, anal-retentive, Type A person I am in a challenging situation, I proceeded to make in-depth pro-con lists. We then took the kids out to dinner, both to celebrate Hubs' new opportunities and imminent escape from his hellish job, as well as to inform the kids of the difficult decision we were facing and get their input.

(Oldest son wanted to go back to Seattle, daughter was good either way, and little guy was sad at leaving his best friend Percy Jackson...)

By the end of the evening, we had pretty much come to our decision, but were still awaiting the official job offer from Seattle. By this morning it still hadn't come, and we found out that the CFO and HR manager of that company had decided it would be more fiscally advantageous to stick with local candidates whom they could hire for much cheaper (because they notoriously pay below market whenever possible).

So that was that. The decision was made for us (though, in truth, it was the decision we were leaning toward anyway).

Hubs starts his new job the day after Labor Day, and it couldn't have come at a more perfect time!