How You Know

There are not subtle cues that one needs a longer vacation outside of the home and Michigan when several things happen:

• When you are gone from the house for a little over 24 hours and it feels like a lifetime: This means you have been the house for entirely too long and need a longer vacation asap. Preferably some place where your toes will finally be warm. Without wool socks on.
• You talk about how balmy your walk in the woods is. The problem with this is that it is Michigan, in March, with about 8 inches of snow on the ground, and it's probably only 37 degrees.
• The highlight of your Saturday is running sap, metals pails, and spiles.
• You are inordinately excited about the hotel bed. You have never slept in anything so wonderful. You ponder how to strap it to the roof of your car to take home.
• You cry when you return to your beautiful custom built (by you and your partner) home and realize you'd rather be back in the 565 sq ft hotel room.
• Your tears intensify when you further realize you could live in said hotel room every day of the month for less than your current home costs you per month.
• And finally you know you better stop crying because a new class starts tomorrow and it's going to be an intense five weeks taking a six credit class dealing with acutely ill people, so you better try and get a small blog post in quick to let people know you are still alive (for now), your kid is still charming you, and your albatross of a house is still for sale.

Oysters and the World Of: Open to Suggestions

In my previous career, the illustrious world of English doctoral studies, the living was, well, not easy, but certainly different from the new career I am seemingly embarking upon. There are a number of pros associated with a life spent engaging in research in the Humanities, and many of those things I miss dreadfully right about now. Especially as one of my classes has to do with research in Nursing, and guess what? It sucks. I'd rather do my old research over this crap any day.

However one of the best things about this new career in nursing is the job market. Unlike having a PhD in English, a mere BSN in nursing, and especially from a top tier school, offers one the option of having a job just about anywhere. Whereas a hard fought struggled to find a tenure track or even just full time job with benefits is de rigueur in my previous field, it's not even an issue for me now. I regularly get recruiting emails from all over the country and this has started us thinking. About moving. I can almost guarantee it won't happen, but still. We're thinking.

We live where we live for a number of reasons. One, and the primary one that will most likely keep us here, is that we live near both our families. Even though we're about an hour away, it's close enough for family to rally if, say, one of us were to go into preterm labor five weeks early. And I think being close to family is a good lesson for Cricket. Now, I lived less than a mile from my Gramma growing up, which was super because anytime I fought with my mom in high school, which was alarmingly often, I'd trek over to her house. It had to be nice for my mom, in a way, to know right where I went. She might not have appreciated the fact that my Gramma often took my side, but to know where I was, well, talk about one less thing to worry about. But we live too far for that to happen with Cricket and subsequent kids, unless we move over and up one county, a move I'm actually pretty loathe to make. Our little town we live in now has its share of pretensions, but I'm ready to live with those pretensions over the obsession with money that exists in the town where I grew up. I'd rather my children grew up pretentious about being liberal Democrat greeny recyclers than obsessed with what car, jeans, coat, etc they are wearing. So, that's another reason we live where we live: the political atmosphere here is good for a two-mom family. And good for a kid of a two mom family.

So when fantasizing about new places to live, here's some of the criteria I've made about that fantasy location:

• Liberal enough that Cricket et al won't ever feel funny about having two moms and that fact of having two moms won't be looked at askance by a majority of the population in said town
• Must be a big enough town to still have a city like feel. I must be able to buy gourmet grocery goods like good cheese, fancy mustards, and British tea, namely, Typhoo.
• I will be able to get CBC on some sort of cable so I can keep watching Coronation Street. I'm not kidding. I love that stupid show.
• Will have a top notch medical system where I can expand and challenge myself in my new career.
• Ideally would not have super bad winters, but I'm willing to compromise on this for other trade offs.
• Is not too far away from Michigan. Unless it's Europe. But a language barrier persists. I don't speak French quite that well. (Plus, I'm really too fat to live in Europe.)
• Is not plagued by massive wildfires, avalanches, earthquakes, or mudslides. (California off the list.)
• Is not grey for 350/364 days of the year, like Michigan.
• Does not carry the worst economic status in all of the United States, like Michigan. It's hard when you are depressed to shake out of it when the whole damn state is depresssed and f-ed up. (See Detroit scandel number 1,045.)
• And some other crap I can't remember right now.

So, here's our fantasy very short list with small explanations on why we pour over google to look at images, job postings, and real estate in these areas:

1. Toronto: Added benefit-- Be Canadian! Okay, I get Toronto is cold, colder than here for sure, and would never really ramp up to the heat factor I so depend upon, but there are good hospitals. Granted, nurses don't quite get paid what they do here, but we would be recognized as a family unit. That in and of itself is pretty spectacular. And we'd get to be Canadian! I'd get my Typhoo and wouldn't have to leave Coronation Street behind. We'd be easily acsessible to family via train. We could have one car and rely on city transportation. And we'd be Canadian! Enough said.
2. Some liberal like place in North Carolina which I previously thought was Ashville until someone told me it was pretty small town: I can't live in a smaller town than the one I am in. But I believe in some small liberal part of North Carolina around Duke or Chapel Hill we can be lesbians and our son won't be teased to death. Added benefit: great weather! Shorter drive to the ocean! Con: No Corrie.
3. Okay, this odd, but Cleveland. I don't honestly think we'd leave Ann Arbor for Cleveland, but there is the Cleveland Clinic, which has all it's own prestige. But I'd really just be leaving behind UM, which is just as good, right? Con: No Corrie. I don't think. Do people in Cleveland get CBC still?
4. And finally, Boston. Another place where we'd be recognized as a family, for now at least, and a number of really super hospitals where I could be challenged. And definitely I'd get my British tea. And considering that every 4th person in Boston is probably my cousin, I might feel at home soon enough. (Calling all micks, calling all micks!) Con: No Coronation Street.

I know there's other options to add to the mix. Any suggestions? It really is far too much fun to know we could, if we wanted, go anywhere we wanted. Rally for your location now! Where is your personal oyster? It doesn't have to be where you live!

Now, back to studying meta-analysis of evidence based practice nursing research. Ho-hum.

([No] Blues) Traveller

I thought I should post a little update about the Cricket in flight since I got such great advice from everyone. Cricket is a flying champ!

First of all, the plane we went on was smaller than we are usually on, only 13 rows of two seats. Pretty small. When we got to the gate, carrying the car seat in hopes of a free seat, we were advised by the surly agent that the flight was fully booked. "No chance of the bulkhead then?" I asked.

"I told you: We're fully booked."

Northwest really wins on customer service sometimes, eh? We got on the plane while those around us eyed with a mixture of disdain and suspicion. Cricket was getting a little kvetchy since it was time to nap. The man sitting across from us was the ray of light though, telling me how Cricket would be okay as long as I nursed him, and that this was easiest time to fly with kids, and all about this two kids and one on the way. I really liked him. I wanted to take him home with us.

And then we pushed back from the gate and I started with the breast. I was a little worried I was premature since there was a line-up for take off, but it was perfect. He nursed himself to sleep, and sleep he did, all the way to the gate in Charleston. At that point, all those around us who cast the evil on when we embarked, remarked upon how cute and good he was as they disembarked. Trial by fire, what?

I tried to make nice with the air hostess the whole trip, the same pleasant lady who told me the Flight. Was. Fully. Booked. At one point, I asked if she pronounced her name "Sha-von"; she said yes and then I chirped, "Oh! That's a real Irish name!" She glared at me and said, "Yes, I know. But I don't spell it like they do." Listen, lady, I'm the they you poo-poo. I decided she was hopeless. All that worrying about Cricket and his possible unpleasantness, and really my biggest hassle was obnoxious flight personnel.

With our dreamy flight into Charleston, I wasn't so worried about the return flight to Detroit. Incidentally, NW redeemed themselves here by getting us onto the earlier flight out, giving us the bulkhead, and not charging us at all to change the flights. Cricket, it's true, really did look bad at this point, so I think we got the "pity fare." Nice to know it still exists. Actually everyone at NW on our return was great. When I called the airline to see if there were seats available, the woman I talked told me how much it would be to change through her on the phone ($238), but then told me to just go the airport since there were seven seats left and we'd have no problem getting on. Once at the airport, the rep told us it would cost $25 to verify our flight there, or we could go standby for free. She said we should choose standby since she was sure we'd get on. After I agreed to that, she booked me anyway. I really felt good about NW for the first time in years.

Once on the plane, he wailed. Screamed. I knew all I had to do was offer up the breast and with the first suck, he'd pipe down, but I was saving the boobs as my secret weapon for take-off. It's a good thing I held out a little because it took some time to push back. Once we started moving, he fed and again there were no problems. What a champ. Once off the plane, a young man told me how good Cricket was. "For a minute there I thought we were in for a nightmare," he said. Yup. Me too. Of course, don't forget how Cricket was masquerading as lobster at this point, deep in the throes of his sulfa-allergy outbreak.

Things were so good with him on the plane, I'd even go so far as to say, it helped my own phobias too. Here's a picture of our little traveller. How could he not charm the pants off anyone?

I also think this picture really highlights how small those damn seats are. Cricket is a mere 16 pounds here; he's got some room in the seat, but for how much longer?