Feeling Sick

Hope I don't have the swine flu!

The End of an Era

When I got up this morning there was a song by the Smashing Pumpkins going through my mind "Today is the greatest day I've ever known'. I was giddy, thinking today is the day I get to quit my job. Dan and I anxiously waited for my boss to come in (his was already here) but he was sick. So, I told my other boss. We basically whipped out our resignation letter and waited for them to read it. At first they were stunned. They asked us what we were going to do and we said move to Kauai. Do you have a job? A place to stay? Dan says no, were going to look for open doors. They were really happy for us, gave us hugs and everything! Right now, I am exhausted. The energy expended today on talking about it leaves me longing for a nap. Dyanne suggested celebrating at lunch and some warm sake later, I have laid off my spots and finished for the day. It's only 3:00 and I am pooped! In a great way though!

It's closing time!

We are standing in front of the title company, smoking the last 10 minutes away. Curiously, we are not as anxious as we were Tuesday. Dan is checking the weather in Kauai on his iPhone (upper 80's all week) and setting favorites across Kauai. Hanalei, Kapaa, Poipu, Koloa, Hanapepe, and Waimea. Looks like it's warmer on the north shore this week. Time to do this thing...




Dan signing papers, the title lady, our realtor Karen and the buyer's realtor David.

The whole process took 35 minutes. Turns out David used to live on the Big Island, so about a third of the time he was giving us helpful tips.

How do we feel? Dan: mixed, relived that the process is over, scared "Holy cow! This is happening" but happy because this is happening! Me? Even though my palms are sweaty and my stomach is churning, I'm kinda flatlining. I am very surly supressing. I am really looking forward to going and it was great that David talked about it so extensively (did you know if you work over 20 hours a week for a company in Hawaii, you get health insurance?) it reminded me of why we are going. But it's still a ways off. As of now, we are renters. Signed the lease for $1.00 and we will leave her one of the lazy boys, the grill, extention ladder, dining set and a lamp. We get to stay until January 10th, 2010.


Tomorrow morning we turn in our resignations!

From Seth Godin's Blog

Thanks again to John, this was in my inbox this morning, just what I needed!

Apparent risk and actual risk
There are people who I will never encounter in a restaurant.

That's because when these people go out for dinner, they go to chain restaurants. These are the tourists in New York who seek out the familiar Olive Garden instead of walking down the street to Pure.

That's fine. It's a personal choice.

But it got me thinking about the difference between apparent and actual risk, and how that choice affects just about everything we do.

The concierge at a fancy hotel spends her time helping tourists and business travelers avoid apparent risk. She'll book the boring, defensible, consistent tour, not the crazy guy who's actually a trained architect and a dissident. She'll recommend the restaurant from Zagats, not from Chowhound.

Apparent risk is what keeps someone working at a big company, even if it's doing layoffs. It feels safer to stay there than to do the (apparently) insanely risky thing and start a new venture.

Apparent risk is what gets someone who is afraid of plane crashes to drive, even though driving is more dangerous.

Apparent risk is avoiding the chance that people will laugh at you and instead backing yourself into the very real possibility that you're going to become obsolete or irrelevant.

When things get interesting is when the apparently risky is demonstrably [less safe] than the actually risky. That's when we sometimes become uncomfortable enough with our reliance on the apparent to focus on the actual. Think about that the next time they make you take off your shoes at the airport.

Nerves, Nerves, Nerves!

I get up at 5am to do my yoga and I notice my mind is all over the place. Throughout my practice I am reminding myself to come back to the present. I don't even remember what I was thinking about, a lot of random thoughts. Usually, by the time I am done with my practice, I am calm and centered. Not today. I got upstairs and my mind turns on me. I have been backsliding on smoking am I'm really starting to feel it in my lungs so I decide today I won't smoke, I'll wear a patch instead. I am fully aware that this is a big week. Thursday, we will no longer own our home. Friday, we will be giving up our safe jobs that we've had for over a decade. My resolute determination is wavering, falling to the background. I barely remember why we are doing this as I think about how this will make or break us. Will we remain together? Is he going to tell me he's gay and leave me? I have no doubt that Dan is not gay, but my mind plays back all the Oprah shows where women are talking about their husbands leaving them for another man. I get out of the shower and put the patch on and feel better. Those thoughts leave me while Dan and I quietly get ready for work. I go downstairs to start breakfast, my stomach churning, and Dan joins me moments later. Still, we are lost in our thoughts, saying nothing, going about our work morning routine. Finally, I say I'm freaking out and he says he is too. He says we will no longer own a home or have reliable jobs, jobs we've had for a long time. I ask if we are going to make it? Will you tell me you are gay or something? He laughs, says he has no doubt we'll make it. I ask him for a hug and to tell me that everything is going to be alright. He gladly and lovingly obliges. He says I'm crazy if I think I can quit today or this week for that matter. I take off my patch and we go out for a smoke.

Harvestival

Our CSA Grant Family Farms celebrated the harvest season with Harvestival. A weekend filled with speakers on organic farming, music, local food, clothes and art. Wednesday, when we unpacked our weekly goodie box we found a bottle of Harvestival beer and tickets. We wanted to go when we found out about it to check out the farm and see David Grisman play. Dan is a big Grisman fan, he had played with Jerry Garcia and Dan saw the two of them together 3 times. But the tickets were $28.00 each, it's past Ft. Collins in Wellington and we have our sights on Kauai. Now armed with tickets we decided to go. Grisman wasn't going on until 6pm so we got up there around 5. The farm was covered in 5 inches of snow. There was parking in a field and Dan thoroughly enjoyed sliding the jeep around in the snow and mud. Buttoning up our jackets, we trekked through the ice, snow and mud to to redeem our tickets, where we found out that we had received a ticket for Saturday and one for Sunday. After buying a ticket we went to exchange our token for a free pumpkin. The pumpkin field was covered in snow and loaded with pumpkins. After digging around for a few minutes, Dan uncovered a beauty! Big, orange and round except for one side, which turned to the back you'd never notice.



Toting that back to the car, we found Dan a Harvestival hoody because he needed a hood to keep the wind from freezing his ears off.





We got ourselves some Harvestival beer and some local pulled pork sammies and went into the art barn. It was warmish and sheltered and we looked at some fantastic art as we wolfed down our food.

We trundled down to the stage.



The band included a stand up bass, Grisman on mandolin, a young guitar player from Colorado, a flute player and a drummer who also had congas. The adults did the redneck boogie while the kids played in the snow and on the haystacks. Grisman and his band played for 90 minutes freezing their fingers off before we headed back home.

Resignation

It feels better than I thought it would to write my letter of resignation!

Just watched "Forgetting Sarah Marshall", funny movie and it takes place in Hawaii!