Post-August Update

I don't know where to start.

Sunday August 23rd was my 30th birthday, and my family pulled out all the stops to make it my best birthday ever. Mostly because nothing could be better than having most of them in one place together, just being their down-to-earth, obscenely generous, witty, wildly attractive selves. With balloons, silly string, four-wheelers (I nearly got Brent killed by assuming he'd been on one before), and lots of food. (Morgan not only made my favorite cake with my favorite frosting [Rainbow Chip], but she also -- detail-oriented miracle worker that she is -- came up with my favorite tortilla and potato chips and moose burgers, and Mom made her potato salad, baked beans, and smoked trout. SHEESH.)

This event came on the heels of a week the likes of which I've rarely experienced in my life, a week of highs and lows (and really, it's been that kind of year) so extreme that I'm still recovering. Monday the 17th I left home at 4:30 a.m. to make a round-trip journey to Sacramento, California for a job interview. It went ridiculously well but the day was very long, and I rolled Puck into the driveway just after midnight, feet throbbing from the high heels I had to wear because the pants I had my heart set on wearing are just a little too long. I will have them hemmed forthwith, because that Vegas airport is roughly the size of France. Anyway, I'll stop complaining because I'm sure I am not the first person to embark on four separate flights in one day on top of a three-hour round-trip drive to the airport.

The job would be in the water industry, dealing with source water protection for rural communities, and would allow me to live anywhere in the state. The executive director, who is just the kind of guy I want to work for (not that I don't want to work for Jeff anymore; I just don't want to work here, and I can't take him with me), called Friday the 21st to say they'd had a very hard time deciding between two of us, but they'd finally gone with a girl who had a hydrogeology degree. (Who does that? What? That's the degree I was considering? Oh.) I was disappointed (OK, devastated), but he seemed genuinely sorry to deliver the news and gave me a glimmer of hope by promising to keep my resume at the top of the pile for a position he may have opening up within the next two or three months and insisting that I had impressed them very much during the interview. I'll take it. (But in the meantime, I've put in for the same position in four other states, including this one. It's right up my alley and I need a big change like NOW.)

I got to pick Brent up at the airport that night and he promptly fixed all my hurts, you know, like he does, but I had to take him back Monday morning so he could make his niece's 16th birthday party back in Kansas City that evening. On the way home from Salt Lake, I stopped at the Zales in Park City to have my engagement ring resized =====SCREECH! No, what? Really. He whipped a little black box out of his bag at the bottom of the airport escalator, in the spot where I always stand under the overhang of the convenience store with the stacked stone wall so I can see his Reeboks and his hand on the rubber rail, and he can see my feet (in a variety of shoes) before we actually see each other. He didn't even ask; he just said, "See if it fits." Which was fine, because he already knew what the answer would be. Best. Birthday present. Ever. My family was thrilled.

Luckily, we only had to wait a couple of weeks to see each other again. I picked him up at McCarran in Vegas last Wednesday night, and we left Sin City the next morning (reluctantly, because our room at the Motel 6 in Vegas was the coolest little time-travel pod ever) and drove to San Diego. Labor Day weekend in San Diego gets its own post, I promise, because we did too much and saw too many people to detail in an update that's only trying to make up for the bulk of August's neglect. I got home late again last night after a 12-hour drive, which is why I'm brushing my teeth while I finish this post and heading to bed early.

But I lived to tell, and even though September shows no signs of slowing down (especially if I jump into a new job like it's a coupe with welded doors and peel out down the road), I'm ready for it. We had a short, cold, sort of crummy summer (come on, global warming!) (I kid) that didn't do much for me until the end of August, which is hardly summer here anymore anyway, and autumn is my favorite season.

So bring on the crunchy leaves, the hot fruit pies, the long walks in sweaters, the evening bonfires, and Halloween. And bring on the changes. I'm ready.