A Year in Kentucky.
It has been a year since we moved to the Bluegrass State.
Somehow, the short span of time we spent in New Orleans between Utah and moving here seems like a strange dream. And after meeting my husband at the Louisville Airport twelve years ago, Utah and the Grand Canyon are beginning to seem like strange dreams, like we've made some kind of big circle in our lives and we're back to the beginning. Other things have happened to me since being here that make it feel like 1996 all over again, but they are too personal to divulge.
It's strange living in a deciduous climate after living in the desert for so long. I forgot about my allergies; they were really bad this spring. But I LOVE the big thunderstorms. I will never get enough of the atmosphere in an unsettled state.
I've held down two extremely interesting office jobs, one of which I literally carved out of the ether at the law firm; the other was offered to me because of me being...well, me. I couldn't say no since I'm still the only person in our household that is working. It pays a lot more than the law firm, the office demands are liberal, and the office itself is beautiful. No contest there. My very specialized work history in the outdoor/federal bureaucracy/tourism field seemed to be the very thing that the architecture firm found desirable, something that I NEVER thought any reasonable corporation would respect as valued experience. But I don't work at a regular architecture firm. I work at a firm specializing in historic renovation, and the stuff they work on is amazing. I'm proud to work there, as I was when I owned my own thing.
Not that the law firm didn't respect my former life; in fact, I think people there were fascinated by my landing in Kentucky after such a weird, wild, freewheeling adventure owning my own business out west. I was something of a whispered celebrity in the firm...the girl from Utah that knows HTML that got hired by sheer will and hard work as a contractor for six months that used to go backpacking in the desert. Oh yeah, her. She got hired? Wow. I loved my coworkers, and I still do. I didn't know if they loved me for leaving for a job that gave me more money and a cool office, but they called me for lunch last month and I discovered that they still liked me and actually missed me, too. I will be forever grateful for the opportunity to work there, and for the people I got to know.
We've lived in two very different areas of Louisville. The first rental was practically in the country out of town. Wonderful, but then I found work downtown. And then I found my old buddy Robert at the Cathedral downtown. And then I was spending most of my time downtown, and the rest of it commuting. It got old. And when gas started to push $3 a gallon, we moved downtown into an old, ultra-bohemian/urban neighborhood with wonderful old architecture. Since we've moved here in March gas has gone up $1 a gallon. So we've already saved a few hundred dollars a month just moving here. We live in a really cool carriage house converted into a loft apartment. It's really the most "us" place we've ever lived. It's also the first place we've lived without the dog.
That was a sad, sad chapter in the Kentucky part of our story, the day we put the dog down. It will have been a year on August 1st that I told her goodbye.
The reason we're even in Kentucky, which is also sort of sad, is because of my husband's grandmother. She's really, really old, and is now getting ready to close the book on her long life. She is mortally ill, and it's only a matter of time for her. I've been in this family for twelve years; for that entire time she's lived in assisted living or nursing homes, and the family just never knew when her time would come (all these death euphemisms are ridiculous). Now, we're all pretty sure that her time is drawing to a close with the latest word from the doctors.
We've enjoyed our time in Kentucky, but after grandmother is gone, I don't know what our plans will be. I will stay and work at this cool job as long as I have it. Louisville is a great town, perfectly sized with nice people, and easy to get around. I love the farms in the rest of the state, too. Country drives always make me so happy. We are considering buying a farm for a fun getaway place, but I think husband wants to go country full-time again. I'm not so sure about that.
I always try to understand what he needs, but I have needs, too. And as much as I love the country, country living full-time is not the rosy dream that so many people think that it is. Small towns are weird. The sheer monotony on most days, and the lack of amenities nearby like, say, a hospital or a pharmacy, are also a big drag. You learn patience, quality home repair, and cooking, which is good, but you also learn about longing and yearning, which I'm not so sure is such a good thing. Hoping, perhaps, is the positive antidote to longing. But hoping has never made anything happen. Will and determination and energy always make things happen.
I don't know if I have it in me--the will--to live full time in the sticks again. Only time and circumstances out of my control will tell. If I keep having 1996 moments while I'm here, something really big is going to happen to me before the year is out that will change my life. I wonder what it will be...whatever happens, I am always up for a new adventure. Within reason.
Somehow, the short span of time we spent in New Orleans between Utah and moving here seems like a strange dream. And after meeting my husband at the Louisville Airport twelve years ago, Utah and the Grand Canyon are beginning to seem like strange dreams, like we've made some kind of big circle in our lives and we're back to the beginning. Other things have happened to me since being here that make it feel like 1996 all over again, but they are too personal to divulge.
It's strange living in a deciduous climate after living in the desert for so long. I forgot about my allergies; they were really bad this spring. But I LOVE the big thunderstorms. I will never get enough of the atmosphere in an unsettled state.
I've held down two extremely interesting office jobs, one of which I literally carved out of the ether at the law firm; the other was offered to me because of me being...well, me. I couldn't say no since I'm still the only person in our household that is working. It pays a lot more than the law firm, the office demands are liberal, and the office itself is beautiful. No contest there. My very specialized work history in the outdoor/federal bureaucracy/tourism field seemed to be the very thing that the architecture firm found desirable, something that I NEVER thought any reasonable corporation would respect as valued experience. But I don't work at a regular architecture firm. I work at a firm specializing in historic renovation, and the stuff they work on is amazing. I'm proud to work there, as I was when I owned my own thing.
Not that the law firm didn't respect my former life; in fact, I think people there were fascinated by my landing in Kentucky after such a weird, wild, freewheeling adventure owning my own business out west. I was something of a whispered celebrity in the firm...the girl from Utah that knows HTML that got hired by sheer will and hard work as a contractor for six months that used to go backpacking in the desert. Oh yeah, her. She got hired? Wow. I loved my coworkers, and I still do. I didn't know if they loved me for leaving for a job that gave me more money and a cool office, but they called me for lunch last month and I discovered that they still liked me and actually missed me, too. I will be forever grateful for the opportunity to work there, and for the people I got to know.
We've lived in two very different areas of Louisville. The first rental was practically in the country out of town. Wonderful, but then I found work downtown. And then I found my old buddy Robert at the Cathedral downtown. And then I was spending most of my time downtown, and the rest of it commuting. It got old. And when gas started to push $3 a gallon, we moved downtown into an old, ultra-bohemian/urban neighborhood with wonderful old architecture. Since we've moved here in March gas has gone up $1 a gallon. So we've already saved a few hundred dollars a month just moving here. We live in a really cool carriage house converted into a loft apartment. It's really the most "us" place we've ever lived. It's also the first place we've lived without the dog.
That was a sad, sad chapter in the Kentucky part of our story, the day we put the dog down. It will have been a year on August 1st that I told her goodbye.
The reason we're even in Kentucky, which is also sort of sad, is because of my husband's grandmother. She's really, really old, and is now getting ready to close the book on her long life. She is mortally ill, and it's only a matter of time for her. I've been in this family for twelve years; for that entire time she's lived in assisted living or nursing homes, and the family just never knew when her time would come (all these death euphemisms are ridiculous). Now, we're all pretty sure that her time is drawing to a close with the latest word from the doctors.
We've enjoyed our time in Kentucky, but after grandmother is gone, I don't know what our plans will be. I will stay and work at this cool job as long as I have it. Louisville is a great town, perfectly sized with nice people, and easy to get around. I love the farms in the rest of the state, too. Country drives always make me so happy. We are considering buying a farm for a fun getaway place, but I think husband wants to go country full-time again. I'm not so sure about that.
I always try to understand what he needs, but I have needs, too. And as much as I love the country, country living full-time is not the rosy dream that so many people think that it is. Small towns are weird. The sheer monotony on most days, and the lack of amenities nearby like, say, a hospital or a pharmacy, are also a big drag. You learn patience, quality home repair, and cooking, which is good, but you also learn about longing and yearning, which I'm not so sure is such a good thing. Hoping, perhaps, is the positive antidote to longing. But hoping has never made anything happen. Will and determination and energy always make things happen.
I don't know if I have it in me--the will--to live full time in the sticks again. Only time and circumstances out of my control will tell. If I keep having 1996 moments while I'm here, something really big is going to happen to me before the year is out that will change my life. I wonder what it will be...whatever happens, I am always up for a new adventure. Within reason.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home