Changes afoot

Part of the reason I’ve been so tongue-tied here lately is because there’s been something big going on that I haven’t — couldn’t — blog about. When so much of your thoughts, imagination, pondering and wondering are caught up in something you can’t write about, it’s hard to generate much for the things you can write about. So, without further foot-dragging, here’s the news.

I’m leaving my job for a new one.

Like this - I never could do these
Like this - I never could do these

What? You don’t think that’s earth-shattering? That’s because you’re not the one doing it. I feel like I’m doing one of those puzzles where there are 9 slots with 8 tabs and you have to reorganize them to make a smiley face. I’ve been working at my current company for 7 and a half years. I was 23 when I came. I was employee #6. I’ve watched every stage of development and invested my energy, enthusiasm and imagination. I and my coworkers have grown into adulthood together, and started families. It’s really hard to leave. But I am ready for some new challenges, opportunities and growth. And I have been offered a fantastic new position, which I’m going to take.

I think this is good news for me and hopefully for my family. I suspect, however, that it is bad news for you. Changing jobs requires lots of energy. I’m expecting to go into this position and spend my days working really hard. I’m looking forward to it, actually. But one of the places that new energy is going to come from (let’s be honest) is right here. Now, I’m not DROPPING the blog or anything crazy like that. I just suspect that the posting frequency (and possibly length) will go down significantly, at least for a while.

And one of the huge changes, which probably deserves it’s own post because by huge I mean completely ginormous, is that my sons can’t stay in their current child care environments. That commute does not compute. So (and I have to tell Grey this weekend!) I’m pulling the boys out of Abuela’s, their beloved daycare provider. I’m super-duper-uper sad about this. I also feel terrible about leaving her with open slots. Happily, it occurred to me that maybe I could use my Blog powers for good (instead of for potty training updates), and I made her a website: Rubertina’s Daycare in Lawrence Mass. If you HAPPEN to know anyone who needs fantastic childcare in the Lawrence area, I can hook you up.

I have a few weeks before I start, so I’m not going to make you go cold-turkey on updates. But eek! Adventures ahead!

My walk to daycare

The other day I took my camera with me as I walked to daycare. On that one mile, I pass through and past so many different stages of Lawrence: the historic 19th century mills (and bridge), the renovated future with offices and transportation centers, the incredibly depressed and depressing present of boarding houses and neglect, and the remnants of a modest suburban immigrant town.

I’ve created this album so that you can walk with me.

Connect the Dots

When I graduated from college, my parents came out to New England for the first time since they dropped me off as a freshman. Much to my surprise, my grandfather and godfather also accepted my invitations. It was the first time my grandfather had flown in like 30 years. He was 80 at that point.

After graduation, we wandered around New England for a few days. I remember a breakfast in which I shocked my godfather by paying for it (in sort of an “I’m not a kid anymore and get to be in on the fighting over the check” move on my part.) That same breakfast, a woman at an adjoining table asked if we were part of a history club. I love my family for that.

We also stopped in this Northern Massachusetts mill town, and had a ball doing the whole museum thing. I remember my grampa on a scooter listening intently to a discussion of 19th century work practices. We all really enjoyed it, and my godfather had a brief obsession with fabric factories in the period.

My company recently moved to a Northern Massachusetts mill town (NMMT) — into a mill building no less. While I’ve thought desultorily a few times about that trip, I never buckled down and thought. I figured that the tours had taken place in Lowell — I didn’t remember the name of the town from the visit, but Lowell is sort of NMMT central. (Isn’t it strange, on a side note, when you visit some random place and then find yourself living there much later? It’s a sort of surreality of perception.)

Well. My parents are going to be here soon soon soon! And by here I mean my office. I gave them the address and told them my chances of getting to leave before 5:30 were quite slimmish. So they decided that if they were early, they’d go revisit that museum.

You know, the one we visited four years ago?

The one that is two blocks away?

Which, in my working here for four months, I had never realized was the same one?