Calling Nancy Drew or Sherlock Holmes . . .

It was 'strongly suggested' that I take Thursday, May 3rd and Friday, May 4th off from work. Being a smart girl, I read between the lines and did so immediately. (Who could question that deep, strong yet gentle voice?)

I was then told I'd better be prepared to get up early to catch the plane on that Thursday, with bags packed and ready to go. Not much would be needed, I was informed, as I'd do just fine with a light bag packed with nothing but my swimsuit, sunscreen, and a hat. Aloe might be a good idea, and my passport is a definite requirement.

So . . . where are we going? It's still a mystery to me . . .

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I need swimming lessons.

I need help. I simply don't know how to stay afloat anymore...

Of course, I'm not talking about water. I'm talking about life, and specifically, work. Yesterday I finally hit my breaking point, and I fully admit I cried much of the day. Today I managed to limit my tears to my lunch break.

I don't want to go into too many details, however I'm at the point where I'm finding it harder and harder to keep it together. I'm tired of getting yelled at by those I'm trying to help. I'm tired of being blamed for things I didn't do or say. I'm tired of being reprimanded for not giving answers I'm not authorized (nor able) to give. I'm tired of bending over backwards to make a complicated process go smoothly for someone, only to be told I'm not bending far enough. I'm tired of being asked to take responsibility for a slow government approval process stateside and at the same time, for the decisions being made by a Communist country half a world away. I'm just really tired.

While those close to me know what's been going on and have been able to see the change in my world, I've been putting on a good face for most everybody else, being rather unspecific about the stresses related to my job and how I've been feeling lately. I guess I just don't want to seem overly pessimistic about things.

Although I'm usually a fairly positive person, I think I've begun to see and (sadly) expect less-than-positive things in my work life. Frequent great days have slowly become frequent good days and have since slipped to occasional okay days. And some weeks it seems that I have more not-so-okay days than the okay ones.

And all this stress is starting to take a toll on my health. I'm physically exhausted, I've come to expect semi-intense headaches at least twice a week, and I haven't had a solid night of sleep for close to a month. My evenings and weekends spent with those I love are so precious to me, yet I'm finding myself not at the top of my game during those moments either. I'm emotionally sinking.

The strange part is, underneath it all, I still like what I do. At the foundation of it all, adoption is good. And I think for the most part, the families are good. The social workers are good, and the orphanage workers in China are good. There are usually good intentions by all involved. Perhaps that's why I struggle so much. I fight the current that keeps pushing against me, all the while understanding and believing that the water I'm standing in is bringing about a positive change to all hearts involved and in the bigger picture, to the world.

Still, feeling undervalued, unsupported, overwhelmed and unappreciated does not feel good. I know that for the most part, I just happen to be the only one folks have to direct their energy to during this stressful time. Intellectually, I know I'm doing a great job and am serving families to the best of my ability and that what is coming at me doesn't really have anything to do with me. Still, it hurts the heart.

I'm tired of working so hard to keep myself from sinking beneath the surface. I can only tread water so long. If I don't figure out how to swim soon (and swim in a way so that I again enjoy all that I love about this work), I may have to exit from this water and find some other pool to play in.

I have a stalker.

I have a stalker. A serious stalker, yet I'm quite okay with it. Let me explain.

It's been four full days since Valentine's Day, and I'm still smiling. Contrary to this time last year (see my previous blog titled "All this pink and red is turning me GREEN!" for more details), for weeks I was actually full of gleeful anticipation for this holiday and was excited to see what it would bring. The gift(s), I was sure, would most likely come . . . but it was the time I would spend with the man I love that excited me the most!

Well, first of all, I was sent to work with a sweet kiss, a beautiful arrangement of bright fuschia orchids, and a cute little heart box carefully packed with chunks of homemade fudge, cleverly shaped in little "x's" and "o's," single and paired hearts. How much better could the day possibly get? Well, after a long day at work, I managed to make my way through two hours of traffic and snow and as soon as I pushed open the door and saw his face, I knew. This is what Valentine's Day--and everyday we get to be with those we love--is all about.

We played a fiesty game of racquetball (I kicked butt, for all those who are curious ), came home and made dinner (as usual, Chef Raleigh rocked my world with a more-than-delectable meal), and then sat and talked on the couch. Simple pleasures, I suppose, but I wouldn't change it for the world. It was perfect.

The celebration continued after February 14th as well, as just a couple days ago I noticed some bright red particles on the floor surrounding my desk at work. I casually pulled out my checkbook to write a check and smiled, as it was clear my purse was filled with hundreds of little red confetti hearts. I sent a text questioning how so many hearts might have gotten in my purse, and was told that "cupid must have run out of arrows," so that was that. I was hit right where it counts, and it continues to be as true now as it was nearly a year ago . . . I am in love.

So as we continually choose it to be, every day is as special as Valentine's Day. Not because we give each other random gifts or send surprises back and forth, but simply because we are together and enjoy every minute we get to spend in each other's presence.

So . . . I don't know if he gets paid overtime or not, but Cupid often comes with me to work and follows me home, finds me in the grocery store and at the gym . . . the little bugger really seems to pop up everywhere. That's more than okay with me though, for as long as Raleigh's the other target, Cupid can follow me anywhere.

Four Eyes and a Prayer

My brother is the only one in my immediately family blessed with perfect eyesight. Lucky boy. My parents have both worn glasses since I can remember, and I've had glasses since I was in the first or second grade.

As any person who has had the wonderful opportunity of wearing a second set of eyes in their youth knows, most of our eyewear (especially as children) are not the cool type. They are often the chunky kind (with thick frames and even thicker lenses), or the funky-shaped kind that make your eyeballs look out of place and/or your head a goofy shape. I had several such pairs growing up and have many photos to prove it.

That being said, as an adult I promised myself that I would never have a pair of non-cute glasses again. I wear contact lenses most of the time, and in fact, do not wear my glasses unless I have absolutely have to. I don't wear them out of the house unless there's some reason I cannot wear my contacts, and have never worn them to the grocery store, never worn them to the gym, and certainly have never worn them to work . . . until yesterday.

The girls in the office (all avid glasses-wearers) asked why I never wear my glasses. I responded it's because I don't think I look good in my glasses (even though I thought the latest pair I bought were both classy and cute) and due to my strong perscription, feel that my eyes look super itty-bitty when wearing them. "Mouse eyes," is how I think I referred to them. Anyways, the girls all said this was preposterous and assured me that my appearance with glasses was not as I was imagining. They dared me to wear them to work.

So . . . I did. And although it caught some people by surprise (remember, no one at work has EVER seen me in glasses), I never heard a single negative comment throughout the day. I was told they are adorable, very cute, classy, sophisticated, fun, and so on and so forth. I became self-conscious of them at various times throughout the day, however I continued to remind myself (and had the support of all the Divas) that I AM adorable and cute and classy and sophisticated and fun and that my eyewear reflects this well and totally fits my image. :)

Thanks to my experience, I've adopted this attitude as well. Now, I highly doubt I'll wear my glasses all the time, however I'm sure I'll choose to wear them more often and at minimum, won't be so hesitant to put them on my face when I do. :)

So thank you to the girls in the office who pushed me to do something I really didn't want to do in order to resolve some childhood trauma and believe in my outward beauty (with glasses) once again. From one four-eyed beauty to you others, I really appreciate it.

On a completely unrelated subject . . .

My alarm went off this morning . . . and I continued to sleep. I woke up on my own, realized that I'd snoozed a bit too long, and began the crazy frenzy of getting ready for work. I did pretty good in terms of getting myself ready quickly, and actually ended up heading out the door only about 10 minutes after I normally would have.

When I got to my first major intersection, I saw there was going to be a problem. There were 4-5 police cars with lights flashing blocking the road, flares on the asphalt, and a line of cars as far as the eye could see waiting to get around the mess. My first reaction was sudden irritation knowing that I was already going to be late and now was definitely going to be even later. I then saw the folks that were in the accident--standing beside the road, hugging and comforting each other--obviously shaken up by what had just transpired.

It suddenly hit me--if I were at this intersection just a few minutes earlier, it very well could have been me in that mess. I said a quick prayer thanking God for keeping me safe, knowing that He knew (and continues to know) all that I don't and perhaps I was supposed to be late for work today for a reason. :)

Even the snow didn't keep Santa away!

Ok, so here's the scoop: I came come tonight after nearly a week away from my house (I alternated my stay during the snowstorm and then Christmas holiday with Raleigh and my parents) and to my surprise, found 4 beautifully wrapped packages lying underneath the Christmas tree and a card propped against my bathroom mirror. I was so stunned, that I almost didn't notice the note scrawled into my dresser mirror (with window markers), that indicated although I'd already received my gifts for the holiday, Santa had managed to find my house as well!

The card was a beautiful note of love that warmed my heart instantly and held the gift of a relaxing massage and the gifts under the tree were equally as wonderful. I cried for several minutes at the sheer cleverness of the whole thing (I'm still scratching my head wondering how he pulled this off and once he did, how he managed to keep quiet about it!) and the realization (yet again), that someone I love and care about with all that I have loves me the same. Actions speak louder than words and again, I'm blown away. The ginormous smile that emerged from my face after this evening's discovery, I'm sure, reflected just that. :)

What a very merry end to a very merry holiday with a very merry (and special) man! :)

The Black Eyed Peas have said it before . . .

Seriously . . . where is the love?

I know that most folks here in town were cooped up for days because of the blizzard, and that many are simply more irritable during this time of year because of regular holiday and family stresses, but is that really any reason to behave as I've seen the masses behave over the past day and a half?

My analysis of the situation (after my not-brief-enough Christmas shopping experience earlier today) reveals that there are obviously three key components missing:

1) Common Sense--Don't expect it, because it's gone. Drive the right direction on a one-way? Keep whining, crying, cranky, tired kids at home? Walk on the sidewalk instead of the street? Nope . . . not this time!

2) Common Courtesy--This, too, seems to have disappeared. This time of the year it's ok to drive in two lanes at once, block the entire store aisle with a shopping cart (and NO intention of moving), cut in lines at shopping centers and gas stations, and leave unwanted items (carts, products, trash, etc.) where it doesn't belong simply because.

3) Grace--Where some may have existed before, expect absolutely none now. The little bit of random kindness and charity that is usually extended to older folks who have trouble walking long distances, single parents with their hands full of groceries and bouncing little kids, hardworking people who shovel the walks, plow the streets, stock the store shelves, and deliver the mail . . . all seem to get the short end of the stick this time of year. Why are they suddenly overlooked, forgotten, and/or ignored?

It's almost as if the public's motto is "Everyone out for himself/herself" or "Who I am and what I want is most important and nothing (and/or nobody) else matters."

So the question still stands; where is the love?

First Ski

I finally did it! I snow skiied! :) Hooray, hooray!

The day began with me getting up at the crack of dawn, getting dressed in many layers and gathering all I would need for the day. I had pants and hats and boots and skis and gloves and sunglasses . . . Heck, I even had special socks! Maybe I went a bit overboard, but I figured it'd be better to do this right (and stay warm and dry all day) the first time.

After the truck was packed and I had fuel in my belly (Thank you, Chef Raleigh!), we left town and headed West.

Now, half-day ski school at Breckenridge begins at 10am. When the clock was quickly approaching that special hour and we were still over 20 minutes away, a quick decision was made and we decided intstead to invade Keystone. We parked the truck and headed into the village to register me for class. :)

For those who don't know (as we clearly didn't), Keystone doesn't offer half-day morning ski school . . . they only offer afternoon classes! So instead of learning how to ski with a half-dozen or more other first timers late in the afternoon, I opted for a private lesson. :)

My crash course on snow skiing began with me stepping into my skis and letting Raleigh push me 50 ft. or so up the hill. He turned me around, taught me how to point my skis so I could stop, then walked back down the hill to watch me in action. I must not have done too badly as my lesson only involved another 20 minutes or so (learning how to turn, lean, and lift my skis) before we hit the gondola to go to the top of the mountain.

I ended up making 4 full runs that day (with only one really good tumble), and at the end of day, I was beat. My legs were so sore I could barely walk, and as the sun started sinking below the mountains, the air chilled rather quickly.

Overall, I had a wonderfully wonderful day and couldn't have asked for more. I had an excellent teacher who was patient and kind and supportive and encouraging . . . and helped made the experience as fun and as special as possible.

Granted, there are many things I'm still working on. For example, how to walk gracefully in ski boots, how to perform an emergency slow-down without eating snow, and how to carry my poles and skiis at the same time. Oh, and so far, the chairlift is considered an uncharted territory, so that item may require additional assistance later on as well.

Point is, I'm now officially a snow skiier and look forward to the days when I'll get to practice and then perfect my skills. Bring 'em on! :)