Blog Challenge Day 2: Home is where the...

Google's street view of my house (well my mom's house I guess I should say)

Wait. At this point in my life, I feel like the expression should read "home is where?"

I went and did it again. I moved across the country and set up shop in a new place. Now as I have before, I feel the tug between here and the "home" where I grew up. The last time this happened, I was 18, a recent high school graduate and ready to take on the adventure of college. Instead of "adventuring" somewhere within driving distance, I figured I'd go as far as I possibly could from my home. (OK, this wasn't my intention however my "dream college" happened to be just outside of Los Angeles, California.) My freshman year was fun and exciting. I met a lot of people from all over the country. I made some friends and was able to travel most of the west coast being lucky enough to make my way from San Fransisco all the way to Ensenada, Mexico. Although I was enjoying my adventures "on my own," I missed home dreadfully. I had gone and fallen in love the summer after my senior year and being so far away from him was so difficult (Luckily I've since married him so we should never be that far apart ever again!) I missed my family, high school (life-long) friends and the east coast. The west coast is fun and exciting but with all its flair, it loses its homey-ness. This is the way I felt anyway. I loved being there but never felt at home.

I ended up having to move home and transfer to a more local college and although it was nice to be home, I really did miss what I had left in California. I had come to terms and gotten used to the idea of living at home again when I had to travel back to L.A. right before school was set to start because 1) I had bought a round trip ticket the previous spring and 2) I had to pack up the stuff I had left in a storage unit to ship home. When I got there, all my friends were moving into their dorms and getting ready to begin classes. I so badly wanted to be there that I went to the financial aid office and pleaded with them to find a way for me to stay but unfortunately it was not possible. I never expected to feel the way I did upon returning. I had known for most of the summer that I was not returning to that school but once I was there, I felt such a desire to stay.

Over the course of the next few years, I slowly stopped missing my west coast experience. I fell out of touch with friends as everyone moved on with their lives. I had moved on as well and had created another new life for myself at the university I attended in Connecticut.

When I finally graduated, the downturn of the economy was just beginning. Suddenly there were no jobs in CT, so I my best option seemed to be to go back to Orlando, FL where I had done an "internship" during college. As much as I enjoyed being in my home state, the prospect of starting a career and another new adventure got to me again. So I convinced the boy to come with me this time and we left on our adventure. Well, since recessions don't leave much room for adventuring, things were not as we expected. After dealing with about a year of difficulty in trying to find permanent work, we thought maybe it was time to move back home. But (of course) a job opportunity presented itself here that we could not pass up. It has been a few years now and we've started to feel at home here.

Now I am stuck yet again. We are not in the position to move for another couple years but have begun talking about where we want to make our future especially if we start a family. I have gone and made friends and created some semblance of a life here but still feel so strongly tied to where I grew up. I hate being to far away but I don't know if I'd be happier moving back home.

Which brings me back to where I started...

Home is where?

Thanks for reading.

BC2-7/31

Blog Challenge Day 1: I'm Baaaaaack

Dancing fool status at my wedding

So instead of giving you a long list of excuses as to why I haven't blogged for almost 8 months, I'm just going to dive right in.

I recently had a performance review at work and was told that it seemed like I had gotten into a rut. That couldn't be more true. Not just at work but honestly in all aspects of my life. Last year was very intense for me. From going full time at work, moving, oh and um planning my wedding and getting married! So after the initial "newlywed" phase coming down from all that, I think I've gotten a little stuck. I've been just kind of coasting through life. At first this was a good thing after last year. I had more time to relax and spend quality time with my husband which has been so great. Being a newlywed is really wonderful and we love marriage so much that we really couldn't be happier right now. But in terms of the "coasting through life," relaxation has turned into laziness and complacency. Womp, womp. So after my reality check at work, the person giving my review challenged me to really step it up, so I am going to take her challenge into other areas of my life as well because God knows I need to.

First up is the blog. So I was going to do a 30 day blog challenge. As in, write a blog post everyday for 30 days. But then realized I really want to have this done before I start graduate classes in August. I want to be able to give the challenge my full attention but I want to make sure it doesn't interfere with school. So then I decided to do a 25 day challenge which would have started yesterday but of course I forgot. So, now in true Ellie fashion of never doing things the conventional way, its going to be a 24 day challenge, starting...now! I am going to do my absolute best to write and publish a post everyday until August 22nd. Yikes!

I have some ideas on post content but if anyone would like me to write about anything in particular or has any ideas on something to write about, please let me know. I'd love to actually get a following on this blog (I know it helps if I actually write posts) so I'd love to write material people will be interested in reading.

Thanks for reading.

BC1 -7/30

"Light the Lamp! Not the Rat!"

This is the third holiday season since I moved away from my family and friends in Connecticut. Because Christmastime is the single busiest time of year at Disney, as a Cast Member, they own my soul from Oct. 31st to Jan. 7th. Literally, we're not even allowed to request any days off during that time frame. Anyway, since I have very little seniority with the company, I have not been able to travel home for the holidays since moving here. I always miss my home and family during this time, but especially my sister.

I was blessed with one sibling. A younger sister born about two and half years after me. Although after joining a sorority, I've been lucky enough to have many wonderful women to call my sisters, I only have one true, flesh and blood sister. I'm sure many of you share your most treasured holiday traditions with your family as well. But being that we lived 3 hours away from our closest relatives, I usually spent the holidays with my immediate family only. We created many traditions and memories over the years but the ones I remember most fondly are those I created with my sister.

She is the only person who understands that it is an absolute requirement that we not only watch, but quote and sing every word of The Muppet Christmas Carol on Christmas eve and she knows my exact favorite part of the movie and that I fall over laughing every time.

She knows that on Christmas eve we'll try to make a fire in our fireplace which usually ends in a lot of smoke and a sad little flame while we open our 1 present.

She's knows that Jeff (who is a tree and not a person) spent every Christmas in our kitchen sitting atop the (unused!) wood stove. And she remembers the first Jeff and how he came to be in our house.

She is the only one who knows all the melody parts of which I know the harmony on the Amy Grant Home for Christmas CD that we sing along to while driving around looking for the craziest Christmas houses after church on Christmas eve.

She is the only person I've gotten trouble with during the Christmas eve service at Church. She also lets me freak out every year about her lighting my hair on fire during the candle lighting even though she's never come close.

She is really the only other person who understands my mom's love for A Christmas Story movie and will leave the marathon on, all day Christmas day.

She knows that although our dad loved How the Grinch Stole Christmas and pretended he felt the way the Grinch did about Christmas, he really loved making it magical for us and our mom.

And she is the only person who will drag her mattress across the hall into my bedroom so we can wake up together Christmas morning. <3

 And I could go on and on. My sister and I are very different people and have never been the closest of siblings but I always miss her so much during the holidays. I hope that my children create holiday traditions and memories together that they will cherish as much as I cherish the ones I have with my sister.

Here we are at Mickey's Very Merry Christmas Party in 2005

Thanks for reading.

So this one time I got married

For those readers who personally know me (aka. all of you) you know that I started dating my husband eight years ago at the tender age of 18. We did have a teenage whirlwind romance but came back down to earth as the years trudged on. We always knew that we'd get married someday. As the years went by, I built engagement and marriage up in my mind to a somewhat ridiculous level. I realized my guilt in doing this to myself after a few years and wondered if I'd feel a sense of disappointment once the engagement and impending marriage finally took place.

Engagement was more difficult than I expected but not a disappointment. No matter how many people tell you or many many silly wedding tv shows you watch, it doesn't prepare you for the stress and pressure of planning a wedding. And I had a lot of help. But I am happy to report that marriage is so far from a disappointment compared to what I had built it up to be. In fact, marriage has exceeded my expectations (which I honestly didn't think was possible). Eight years of build up is a lot. I will say, it is different than I expected but in positive ways. The level of comfort I feel with my husband is something I haven't really experienced with a person before. Also, marriage (so far) is much simpler than our dating relationship ever was. Of course I'm still very much a newlywed and only have about 3 months of marriage under my belt. But I believe marrying Duncan was truly one of the best decisions I've ever made in my life. And I'm confident that we'll run into struggles, road blocks and tough times but I really do have faith in our love and our marriage.

Thanks for reading.

(Apologies for the terrible grammar and bad writing in this post. This is what happens when one does not practice their craft...I'm working on it. But as promised I am posting a piece that I am not very happy with because the more I write, the better I'll get, right?)

Invaders!

I knew moving to a warm climate would be an adjustment. I assumed however, outside of Florida's super hot summers and missing New England's four seasons, it would be a welcomed change. Plentiful sunshine, warm air, palm trees, never having to drive in snow or contend with sub-zero temperatures all sounded great. However, one of the warnings I received before moving to my Floridian "paradise" was about the bugs.

Considering I'd lived in a 200 year old house in rural Connecticut for most of my life, I was used to seeing bugs - even inside. Every spring we'd have the invasion of the flying ants between the floor boards of our living room. Sugar ants in the kitchen were also a normal occurance. They were annoying but easily taken care of with a few applications of Borax. Even in the fall when the survivors of the first freeze would try to move inside for winter, I could handle it. I expected a similar experience and relationship with my insect friends in Florida. I was wrong. Beyond the giant bugs that the animal programs cast had on display at the front entrance of Disney's Animal Kingdom, I don't think I'd ever seen a real live cockroach. A little back story on my relationship with roaches. I HATE them. I don't even refer to them as cockroaches. They are so awful in my opinion that I only refer to them as "F-ing Roaches" (not the actual obscenity mind you...exactly as that is written). The way the arachnophobic population feels about spiders, I feel about roaches. I'm not necessarily afraid of them, I just despise their existence. And no, Wall-E's cute little roach friend in the movie, did not change my opinion of the real deal...sorry.

One morning, I stumbled out of bed at 6am and made my way to the kitchen to turn on my coffee pot. This is now part of my morning ritual and being that I am rarely actually awake at this point, its usually done in the dark. After waking up a bit more, I went back to the kitchen with the intention of pouring the wonderful, hot cup of coffee to enjoy before I started my day. I switched on the kitchen light and squinted as my eyes adjusted. Probably due to the harsh light created by those fluorescent bulbs, I looked down toward the floor. Suddenly my eyes were fully adjusted and I was wide awake...and on the edge of what felt like a heart attack. There he was, probably blinded as I had been, his antenna darting around the floor. The floor that I had just walked across BAREFOOT IN THE DARK!! His large dark brown body contrasting with the tan floor tile just made his existence more prominent. Considering it was 6am and I hadn't had the pleasure of enjoying my caffeine-filled morning beverage yet, my reaction time was not at its peak, to say the least. I stared at the intruder for a few moments in disbelief. The bug, that "f-ing roach" could not actually be in my house! My half asleep mind swirled with thoughts, 'I don't leave food out! My house isn't dirty! Only people who don't take care of their homes have roaches!' I was at a loss. However, upon realization that he was in fact there, on my kitchen floor, I tried to think of what to do. My husband was still asleep and hates bugs even more than I do so I decided to spare him of this experience. Of course as everyone knows, roaches tend to scatter when the lighting suddenly changes from dark to bright. So before I could actually come up with a plan of attack (yes, attack!), he took off under the stove, not to be seen again. I felt relief for a moment. He was gone. The fact that my insect invader had disappeared out of my sight didn't really give me solace for long however. Where did he go and would he be back?

In an attempt to put aside the apprehension of the possibility of the invader going home and telling his roach-y friends that he'd found them a new home, we called for pest control. Days went by and there was no sign of our insect intruder...until this week. It seems that despite my effort to prevent another invasion, (including vacuuming nearly everyday, never leaving food out or dishes in the sink etc.) the intruders seem to have deemed my little apartment a good place to hole up for winter. I saw a small one in the kitchen, then a large one in the kitchen, then a HUGE one in the bathroom. The fact that they were all dead or dying honestly didn't make me feel any better about the situation. I'd had it. I was on edge every time I'd wake up in the morning or re-enter my house after being gone for the day. I'd think about those stupid bugs while at work, on my way home, when trying to sleep. It was when I saw one crawling up my shower drain WHILE I WAS SHOWERING that I thought enough was enough. I stocked up on roach baits and spread them all over my house.

Enjoy you're poison roaches!! Eat up and bring it home. Happy Thanksgiving to you!

Oh and pest control is coming again today. In the broken English words of the front desk agent with who put in the pest control request. "Seen little roaches and big ones. SPRAY GOOD!"

Thanks for reading.

I am not a writer

Ok world,
(aka. Mom, Mom-in-law and my few sweet friends who will actually read this)
I was thinking about this blog and how, as much as I want to keep it current, I clearly am not making it a priority. Granted I was a little busy over the summer, you know getting a full time job, planning my wedding etc. but the time for excuses is over. I'm going to level with you. The real reason I don't update this more often is because I'm too much of a perfectionist especially when it comes to my writing. I want so badly to I be a writer but if I continue avoiding writing, I AM NOT A WRITER. What kind of writer doesn't write?...all the time?...as much as possible? Ask anyone who's published. I guarantee you that one eighty millionth (is that a number?...or a word for that matter? lol) of what they write actually gets published. Either way, I will try to put my desire for perfection after my desire to write. Besides, I'm not Julie...this blog ain't gettin' published...we all know that. (Especially with that grammar ha!) So I really have no excuse. So write I will...finished, polished, "perfect" or not.

Thanks for reading.

The renewal of my Passport

In August I am getting married and we have decided to honeymoon in Mexico. I am very much looking forward to this but leaving the country, or more importantly the prospect of being allowed to re-enter the United States has required the renewal of my passport.

My passport expires this month. How I am old enough to have something that is 'good' for ten years expire is still unbelievable to me. I was sixteen when I got my first passport. My family planned a wonderful trip to Paris and all four of us needed new passports. My sister, being under the age of sixteen received a passport that would expire in five years. But because I had turned sixteen earlier that year, I was eligible for the real thing. An adult passport that would not expire for ten years! It seemed like an eternity at the time, especially considering that the expiration date read 2010. That honestly seemed like a futuristic, space travel date to me back then. So we went to the passport office in Stamford and applied for the books. We received them, just in time apparently, as I remember that we traveled to France two weeks before April vacation from school. My picture is absolutely ridiculous but honestly, ten years later, I don't really look any different.

Here is the original.

 

Although my looks have generally stayed the same, so much has changed. What I didn't know when I received that passport and went to Paris with my family was that would be the one and only time we would travel across the sea out of our country together. It would be the last time we left the country, probably left the state, our last trip, last vacation as a family. Cancer hit my family like a ton of bricks and before I was eighteen, we had lost my father to it.

The last decade has seen so many changes in my life, I can hardly view them all in one thought. So strange that I am now able to view life in terms of decades. Until recently, I always looked back on time in school years or semesters. No longer seeing my life segmented into blocks of fifteen weeks has taken some adjustment. I think that came from the desire to continue that life which had become so comfortable. I was good at being a college student and then suddenly, the robed vice president of my university proclaimed what he assumed was my name over a loudspeaker (it will come as no surprise to anyone who knows me that it was not my name at all), handed me a piece of paper and I was supposed to figure out who I was and what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. This, I believe is why you are "supposed" to complete your undergraduate experience in four years...otherwise you'll never want to move on into your "real life." I'd rather postpone the inevitable, thank you.

But I digress...

While reading through the instruction for passport renewal (which I read at least ten times for fear of mistake), I discovered that one is supposed to give a "neutral" expression in the photo. I suppose that makes sense seeing that most people do not flash a smile while going through customs. However, I find it a strange way to, for lack of a better word, "create" one's identity. Essentially that is what a passport is. It is the only document that can always be used to identify yourself. Gone are the days of only needing a passport to travel. Try leaving (or re-entering) the country without one, applying for a job, a marriage licence. You need to prove that you are who you say you are and our government has deemed a passport the way to do so. I find it ironic that when I'm feeling like I'm in a time of my life where I'm trying to find my identity, I am forced to renew the one document that is my identity. On top of that, this will only be my identity until August when I will become someone else. I do not believe much of myself will change but to the rest of the world, I will be someone else. Someone's wife, a Mrs., a Currier. I will change my name once I am married and with that change the name on every tangible thing that proves who I am. What a strange concept.

But yet again, I digress...

We arrived at Charles de Gaulle airport on a chilly March morning. That flight; that interminable flight from New York to Paris was when I discovered the true meaning of claustrophobia and the fact that a overnight flight of eight hours combined with a seven hour time difference makes it feel like it has literally taken you days to get somewhere. Regardless, we had made it there and I was excited to use my brand new passport to get through customs. What I expected and what happened when I forced open the stiff pages of the little book were entirely different. Apparently, I assumed that the customs agent would just know how much of a sentimentalist I am and open my little book to page one. Then he would place the stamp that I knew I could only get where I was carefully in the first little box on the page. He would do this so I could always open my little blue book to page one and see where I had been. I was wrong.

This is the result of what actually happened.

I'm not sure it is really noticeable in the picture but not only is the stamp on page ten, it is in the middle of the page and upside-down! How disappointing. Every time I looked at it from that day on, it upset me. Why, could that agent not have taken the extra second to find the first page and put the stamp where I would have liked it? Now I realize, it is because, 1. he did not care about where I wanted the stamp and 2. he did not have the time to place it just so. But if only he had.

And now I have given up that passport. I don't know why the government needs it. The sentimentalist in me wants to keep it, forever. So I won't forget. But I have sent it away to Philadelphia where someone I've never met will process my application; process me. Then someone will most likely shred that passport, shred page ten with my one upside-down stamp and issue me a new one, a new identity. An identity that will bring me to the age of thirty-six. Again, I feel as I felt at sixteen, that that time is an eternity away, that there is such little possibility that that expiration date can even exist. But it can, and it will and as the little life experience I've had tells me, it will be here all to soon. Who will I be at thirty-six? Will I have found out who I am? Will I have an identity?

Here is my "new" identity.

Thanks for reading.

Post. Script. April 17 I wrote this before I sent in my application for my passport. Much to my surprise, the day I received my new passport in the mail, I also received an envelope containing the old one. The government punched holes in it making it invalid for travel, however, as you can expect, I'm very happy to have it back. I'm happy that page 10 was not shredded or lost in some government file. I'll get to keep that passport and remember those ten years of my life.