I moved to Flagstaff in mid-May to hopefully escape or at least amend the aforementioned strangleholds. I'm joined by my Greggles, my brother Keith, dogs Wilhelmina and Casper, and the world's most oddly-shaped and good-natured cat, Finn. So far, life is rockin' good.
I love my animals, my Greggles (whom I will always call "my boyfriend"), music, art and pizza. And my family, for their undying tolerance and constipated forgiveness. Amen.
More about Me in the About Him section.
*Emails asking if you are one of the a-holes will not be answered.
About Him
Greg has been my passport and personal guide into the good life. Since we started dating in December 2008, I've lost my job, he's lost his job, my goldfish died, I've been turned down for countless other jobs, which may have led to a near-nervous breakdown, and he recently decided to ditch his college degree and professional notches to become a full-time mechanic to his beloved VWs.
Actually? That came out all wrong. Here..
I got canned from my heinous radio sales job in February 2009. At that time I had gained about 40 (yes, four-TEE) pounds from stress and pure, concentrated misery, combined with eating crappy food and drinking way too much alcohol. I had gotten a second job waiting tables because my radio gig was commission only and the recession was really starting to release it's caged fury on highly important fields like, ya know, corporate radio. Then, the one day I decided to work a lunch shift at the restaurant just happened to be the day that my boss came in to eat. Really? Thanks, Life. So I could have ducked out the back or tried to avoid him, but I faced it head on thinking he would appreciate or at least sympathize with my efforts to "work hard" and "do what it takes" and not renig on my mortgage and other responsibilities. This man was a former professional athlete, for cryin' out! He understands paying your dues! I'm workin' hard, coach! Don't cut me now! I walked up to his table, told him yes, I was working there, but it was just for my lunch hour and I'd be back in the office by 1pm. He stared at me like I had nine lobsters for a face and spoke not a word. True to my word, I was in the office just before 1 pm. And I was fired by 1:15 pm.
I remember my Jerry Maguire-less moment, calling Greg from the parking lot, shamed, goldfish in tow, and I remember his exclamation and bewilderment that I had actually been fired for working a second job on my lunch break. The next morning, I found out I was on the list to be let go anyway, but regardless it just made me realize what a heartless, arrogant and out-of-touch freak I had been working for. I'd given this man and that company countless ideas and several new clients. I was fighting to keep afloat during a tough time at work and at home (um hello, second job!), but when the recession started to pinch him and his lame hillbilly version of power and wealth, he kept all of my ideas and clients and told me to get lost. It took me about thirty seconds into a phone call with Greg to realize the Hillbilly Boss had done me a huge favor.
At that time of sweet emancipation I had decided to move down to Austin, where Greg was thriving in a cool town with the job of his dreams. He was working as an outdoor equipment buyer for, oddly enough, an outdoor equipment company. He looooved it so. He loved it so much he would come home at 5 pm to get his dog, grab something terrible to eat, then return to work until midnight almost every night though the week. He loved it so much he became the insufferable worker bee, completely immersed in this company as if it were his own, taking on extra projects and extra responsibility, more than any one person should ever take on unless they're in charge. But he loved it, and I'm all for someone finding their perfect fit, so I was happy for him. We were a long-distance couple, so it certainly didn't affect our quality couple times. We IM'ed and talked on the phone just as we would've if he were at home.
So I was all geared up to move to Austin. It was a great place for young, creative individuals. Surely I'd find a new gig. Just about the time I'd started to get everything in line for a move down South, Greg got the axe too. So he packed it all up and he moved to Kim-bur-lee..Tulsa, that is...apartment pools...moving cars.
In Tulsa, Greg was living closer to his parents than he had in many years. So we enjoyed lots of time with both them and mine. In fact, that time and more time with family is one of the few things keeping us tied to Tulsa. It's a major priority to us both. But that's now, back to then. Once we were together at last, in Tulsa, we dove right into the bliss of spring and summer, no jobs, no office politics, we could finally just be ourselves. We went to Bonnaroo, camped every other week, had backyard cookouts, made friend-visit trips to KC and OKC, went to Mulberry Harvest Festival, the VW show in Eureka Springs and went pool-hopping like teenagers at various South-Tulsa apartment complexes. We looked for jobs, but nobody was hiring, and we were certainly in no hurry to sign up for another prison sentence. Who cares. "Jobs will come back eventually", we said. It came to be known as: The Summer of Snacks. It was the first summer of a different way of life.
Back to now. Tulsa will always be in our hearts no matter where we end up. It's close to home, where both of our parents still live in the same town where we grew up and went to high school together (I dumped him when we were 14 - another story, another time). There are many things about Tulsa that make it so close to great. Undeniably awesome local music, great restaurants, good jobs, evidently, as long as you're not us, it's close to families and friends, and it's vastly affordable compared to a lot of other "cool" places around the country. I could've lived a happy and fruit-bearing life in T-town, but nary a morsel of work to spare for me and my good man. By this time, Greg was already flipping VWs in his dad's shop, and perfectly happy. Meanwhile I was happy to be unhappy applying desperately now for administrative work. No offense to any assistants out there, but I sacrificed some fine meats and cheeses for that damn degree! And all the while convincing myself I was "getting some good interview experience at least". I was sinking. We knew something would happen eventually, but how? When? What's wrong with ME?
Him, (Greg) always the sound mind and reassuring voice, somehow kept me off the ledge. I wish I had half of his optimism and ability to just "roll with it". He's my rock, my rational reference, my fuzzy little man peach, my Ross Geller - only with less hair gel, less hair, and more of a "hunky Jason Statham" vibe. I bet I just grossed some dudes out, but it's an accurate profile. Also, I do believe that he and Ross share the same obsession with Old World monkeys and apes, or "simians". I can't believe I just referenced Friends. I've been considerably less funny since falling in love with him.
But what brought us out here to Flagstaff?
I'm getting to that, but you should first read the part about my brother, Keith. Basically, I finally got the last middle finger that I was willing to take from the Enchanted Land of People With Jobs. In Tulsa, that is. Right back at ya Tulsa. We're outta here (for now).
About All Them
Keith
The Keeth
Unwilling Relative / Willing 3rd Musketeer
Without hesitation I replied, "YESDOITCALLME!" Or something like that.
See, you need history. Over his 31 years of living, my brother had evolved into a rare creature. And especially over the past three years, he had somehow managed to sever nearly all ties with society outside of going to his job as a travel nurse in Los Angeles. That included keeping in regular contact with my parents and I, even on holidays. BOO. My brother is a big, quiet, muscular guy, and he doesn't smile a whole lot. I worry about him. I worry about the unfounded terror of those who might meet him in an alley and think, "well, so I guess this is it", not knowing that he's harmless unless you're a good book or some bad Chinese food. And in more recent years, he's taken to employing a full-time beard that a Silver Dollar City Craftsman would scalp a face for. He's epic. I am a fan. And since I welcome any opportunity to figure out what's going on in that furry head of his, that email was like my golden ticket prize for all of the chocolate bars and laundry I'd been consumed with. (Ok that was a stretchy Willy Wonka reference at best, I know, obviously my brother's visit wasn't a reward for my being a gluttonous pig, but I was pissed about the job failures and attempting in vain to fill the hole with chocolate and other treats. At least I was keeping tidy with the laundry! Greg gets very dirty with his VWs!) Moving on!
Keith did in fact fly to Tulsa just a few days later, and revealed that he'd been thinking about moving to Oklahoma for awhile. He wasn't happy as a nurse, everything about LA was wearing him thin, in short - he needed to stop and sniff the sniffables. Greg and I, now eagerly recruiting our growing army of the happy yet unemployed, were like, "Yeah! Let's do it. We'll drive to LA, get your stuff and you can move back here with us. It'll be fun, you'll meet some good people here, you'll figure it out. We'll all figure it out." Cool. I was so happy, the Keith was BACK. I had every intention of smothering him in sisterly fun times and home-cooked meals and camping trips and any single female I could find.
The trip out to LA was as much a delight for camaraderie reasons as it was a miserable, wretched, smelly trek of a trip for obvious ones. Three people in a VW bus making a three-day trip to LA requires lots of patience, tolerance and cracked windows. On our second day, we stopped in Flagstaff, and it was lovely, and we met some nice VW folks, which was lovely too. We made plans to stop on our way back to Oklahoma.
By the time we had reached our destination, we had convinced Keith to rent a U-Haul, get all of his stuff instead of just his truck, and just make this move to Oklahoma semi-permanent. He didn't really seem to be thriving in LA, so it didn't make sense to leave any anchors dropped. The Keeth agreed steadfast. California wasn't falling into the ocean anytime soon, so he could always go back. Or not. Options.
While back in Flagstaff a few days later, we were talking to the manager of the KOA and she offered that we could work at the campsite, and live there for free. She also knew a guy who was getting ready to open an aircooled VW shop, and suggested Greg might be able to work for him. We were gracious for the offer, and the option, but all in all we dismissed it thinking we didn't have enough time to plan, we had a house in Tulsa, Keith was just moving back, and other excuses I don't remember.
Which brings me to that final middle finger I spoke of earlier. It came in the form of an administrative assistant job that I interviewed at length for three times and sent impeccable writing samples and references. In the end, they decided to hire someone who, while less experienced, had temped for them for a whole two days at some point in the past year. This other person also already had a job, which just made the finger even more offensive. Once I got that, I cocked my rifle and said, "LET'S DO IT BOYS! LET'S MOVE TO FLAGSTAFF THIS SUMMER!"
And so here we are in Flagstaff, enjoying our new air. It never would've happened without something special from each one of us. Without Greg and his VW bus, we never would've gotten our foot in the door for jobs and a free place to live. Without Keith, we wouldn't have even been in Flagstaff, on our way to LA and back. And without me, we wouldn't have been completely shunned by the Tulsa job-market! I'm just happy I could contribute something so major to something so special. Here's another picture of Keith and I way back in the good old days on Spruce. We were happy and unemployed then, too.
Casper
Casper Anne
The Lazy Pooper
Willie
Wilhelmina-Clementine-Apple Bottoms-Panda Bear-Princess-Imaginary Pony
Grandma
Finn
Scampers
