Happiness is truly priceless...

It's been a wild and crazy year. It's been nearly a full calendar year since my employment was turned upside down dumping me on my bottom. It's been a year since I've been able to comfortably exhale. There is a sense of relief to reach the one-year milestone. I'm here and I'm fine.

Around this date last year, I came into work and was told I was no longer needed. The week prior I'd submitted a request for vacation and never heard from management. When I asked about it, they told me they would get back to me. They gave me a "different" kind of vacation, one where I never come back. While I was upset at the abrupt notification and lack of professionalism, it was the best thing that has ever happened to me in my entire career. Since I was twenty-two, I've been working with non-profits all over my home town. In 2008, the landscape and scope of my work changed dramatically. With the economy slumping and growing more depressed each day, the donations and support to non-profits floundered. My position had been downsized or cut before but I always had another job lined up. This time, I did not and I went home in a panic.




Beginning of one bad chapter in life.


In the winter of 2010 I took a new position (because my current one was being downsized), taking over for someone with a long organizational history. I was already somewhat burned out but I was confident that this organization had a long standing community presence. I was tired of the panic and chaos that so many non-profits operate under. However, I was assured this was not the case with this organization. To bluntly put it, I was lied to. Everyday of work was chaos and pressure to do more with less...bring in more dollars...push...push...push...get it done.

What I took away from my year there was the idea of the manager I never want to be. I approached my manager many times seeking mentoring or leadership advice only to find that she was too consumed in her own personal life and did not want to "manage" anyone. She was constantly worried about appearing "perfect." Several times I attempted to have a serious conversation with her and she would begin tearing up. Her only advice to me ever was "anticipate the move of the other managers...really anticipate and adhere to their needs. They should never have to ask for anything." This is the worst advice I've ever received in my entire career.

Non-profit work is about relationships. I learned that early. It takes a long time to build sincere relationships. I learned a valuable lesson when I took over the job from someone else. She had 30+ years experience and when she left to retire, her relationships retired with her. People said she lived at the organization working day and night. I refused to be that person. When I interviewed for my current position, I was careful to ask many questions about the person leaving. Yes, she was retiring but my company was ready to change the position. I've rarely had a soul say to me "We used to do it like this________." That's all I heard at the other job, everyday. I was hired to carry on a job and complete it as someone else had been doing it since the late 60's. Change was not welcome, nor encouraged.

Oxymoron if there ever was one.

It has been my experience that when organizations refuse to change or look ahead, they begin to fail. They decompose from the inside out. The staff is angry, tired and used up. The programs suffer and the delivery of a product or service shows the cracks from within. Turnover rates say a lot. I asked a lot of questions before I took my new job. I did not do that before. I trusted that the organizations I worked with had the same passion for my hometown as I have. What I have found, is many of them have a passion for the dollars but not the people behind the monies.

I've learned a valuable lesson in relationships with co-workers. I enjoy working with people but constant socializing with them outside of work is not an appropriate boundary. Bar hopping and party going are not in many job descriptions and I refuse to make that a hobby. There is argument for separation of church and state for an obvious reason. There should also be a valid argument for separation of co-worker and your personal space. What are you going to talk about when you are around your co-workers constantly? Work. Guess what I'd like to not talk about all the time? Work.

What I have taken away from last year most is the need for a work-life balance. Working with non-profits, I am keenly aware that I will never make millions. I want to do a good job. I will work hard. However, I need a life outside of my job. This means, I do not need to work twelve-hour days, have late night emails or texts constantly about work. When I leave work, I like to have a social life with hobbies. I know my job may require me to work outside the nine to five parameters but not everyday. Most importantly, I like to come home not too stressed about my job or living in fear that my position may be eliminated with every passing day. I still have the passion for my hometown but I am cautious about which organizations I attach myself to. The pay is not nearly as important as the satisfaction. Happiness is truly priceless.

90 Day Countdown

Three months from today, I am getting married. GULP! Three months from today, some of our family members and friends will join us at a small farm house to share a special afternoon. This is a DIY wedding. This is not a glitz and glamour wedding. There are few, if any, bows involved. There are no tuxes, no registery, no brides maids, groomsmen, no DJ's, or sit down four-course meal. There is, however, a lot of craft time, creativity, and handmade goodness.

Our invites are hand stamped muslin fabric. All local, all handcrafted.

Someone offered to make us homemade cake toppers. We're doing something more simple.

Mom is making my flowers from her own garden. They will be wrapped with my great-grandmothers prayer gloves she wore for her first communion around 1919. This picture was an inspiration because mom assured me that we are not paying $144 for one bouquet of flowers (her words).

This wedding planning is around us. We are not working to make others happy. Right now, our wedding is personalized and financed by us. All of our simple details are all handmade so far. This wedding will have a hint of cycling with southern style. Think bow ties, old farm houses, and bourbon. This is what we wanted. I'd like to imagine that Anthony Bourdain would be impressed if he walked in on our wedding. It would be even nicer if he did some voice over work and photos with us. He's not on the guest list.

Our guest list is small, reserved for only close friends and closer family. The ceremony will be short. We do not have a plan B for the weather. I am working to keep the stress low.The best part of getting married in my thirites is I have never had a time in my life where I've been more comfortable with myself. I used to say I have no regrets but truthfully, I wish I had waited all this time to marry. My twenties were not a perfect time in my life. I was not ready for the responsibilities and work that is marriage. I was not ready for all the changes I was going through as a person. I learned a valuable lesson...be patient...be very patient. I have been quite slow to move near marriage again. It only came up in rare discussions and the one thing I was certain about was the fact that I would not even consider marriage unless the right person came along. I had fully accepted this may never happen.

When people ask me about "the one" or "how did you know?" I unfortantely have to answer with a cliche of sorts. On one of our first dates, JC and I started completeing each other sentences or saying things in unison. This did not happen once, twice or three times but many times. After nearly three years we still do it almost everyday. At times, we may say something aloud so off the wall, we really do wonder how we conjured it up. There is some reassurance when we say something obscure at the same time. At least we realize we are not alone in our thoughts. That is something special and rare. I had never been one of those girls who claimed love at first sight or swooned over the first few dates. However, very early on, we both knew something was different.

We're not pefect. We have our arguments. They are not cute. We move on after we cool down. Neither of us can imagine ourselves without the other. The trials of our relationship started early with some huge stressors. We rolled through those. In many ways we are opposites. I am the social outgoing one. He is the quiet, shy type. You have to wonder if he is having a good time at a friends house because he is so quiet. He would tell me if he wasn't. We balance each other.

JC and I at a friends wedding recently.

 We've worked out the household chores list. I cook. I cook a lot. I love to come home and cook dinner.I hate dishes. He does the dishes. He makes coffee. I handle all our fiscal responsibilities. I take care of the flowers. He keeps the cars detailed. He keeps our bikes built. We have similar passions although my aspirations of public office are my aspirations alone. Most importatnt, we know we will never be rich, have a huge house, two new cars, and a vacation home. We are fine with that. We are happier with our small home, small mortgage, loving animals and Sunday mornings on the couch. We'll see how the next 90-days goes.

Making Lemonade

The excitement of having time to ride may have overshadowed the chores I was supposed to complete this weekend. This has been a hard year to make a consistent ride schedule. It's bothered me considerably. Work keeps me late at times as do my "pre-wifely duties" of dinner making and life organizing. Wedding planning takes up most Saturday mornings. All of this to say, ride time is generally cut short or moved off the to do list because of other life necessities.

However, this weekend, I was determined to ride and not ride alone. Thankfully, a teammate offered his services of accompanying me on a ride. He has flourished this year preparing for his first race season. This means he's stronger and I can chase after him in a greyhound fashion. He lets me catch his wheel sometimes.

The plan for the Saturday and Sunday rides was to get some light hill work in and general miles under our belts. A third rider joined us post race on Saturday. She found herself earlier that morning caught in a deluge of Biblical proportions. Somewhat discouraged, she decided to join us on a recovery ride. We all agreed that although the skies were turning gray, we would press on hopefully staying ahead of the rain. The weather channel said a "chance" of pop-up showers. We took our own chance.

A chance and certainty are two different things. We took a chance. We lost. As we pedaled no more than 100 yards from our parked, dry cars, all three of us were trapped in a torrential downpour. It was the stinging rain that soaks and abuses you. The thought of turning back crossed our minds but we could see clearer skies ahead and the rain felt somewhat refreshing. Yes, I worried about my new bike being in the rain. However, it happens. We pressed on several miles and quickly found our soaked selves drying out with the tiring headwind. No one complained, so we moved along. We did not pass many other riders and as we picked up pace on a small stretch of two-lane road, it would seem the ride would progress in a normal fashion. The only problem was a small sign that caught my drenched eyes reading: Pina Coladas $2. My feet heavy from the sloshing water swirling back and forth in my shoes began to set in but the two dollar pina colada sounded refreshing.

Scott and Melinda after the first rain storm.

Scott and Jordan still dry after the first soaking.

Still smiling with water in our shoes.

We turned back. We did not reach the harder hills. We sat along the Ohio River sipping on a delicious Pina Colada in our soaking wet chamois. We looked haggard. The pop up rain storm had turned us into soggy messes. The Pina Colada's made up for the misery we avoided had we pressed on. Our internal organs soaked in a frozen coconut, rum delight, we decided to head home up a slow but steady hill. We were mostly dry at this point which was a welcome comfort. Within a few pedal strokes, the skies opened up once again soaking us from head to toe, flooding our shoes and adding the last bit of humor to our day.

The $2 Pina Colada. Refreshing.

You might think we learned our lesson Saturday. However, on Sunday, the same three riders (plus one on the back of tandem) decided to ride again with the goal to finish the route we started on Saturday. The radar looked crystal clear and we were able to get more dry mileage this time BUT the skies opened up again, soaking us. Although the storm was more brief than Saturday and less intense, we decided this time to finish. We wrapped up the ride at a moderate pace, still wet, and slightly defeated. With our kits soaked, some of us enjoyed ice cream while another headed home to dry out (I did not blame her but I really wanted some ice cream).

Although, it was not the rides we had planned, we turned two somewhat painful outings into something of a laughable memory. It will be that weekend that we joke about to each other, "Hey! Remember when we headed out for a ride in that horrible rain storm, twice?"  It's proof you can make lemonade from lemons or in this case, Pina Coladas.

Say Yes to the Bike

On one of our very first dates, I explained to JC, that I was not a "ring hungry girl." As the night in November of 2009 wore on and more beers were poured, we carved out the idea of of engagement bikes. The reality of this was sometime off in the distance. JC and I faced some interesting trials early in our relationship including a weekend road trip that stranded us in West Virginia, job changes for both of us, and the loss of some meaningful friendships. When we occasionally discussed marriage, it was something on a to-do list, an idea that was always on the table but timing is everything. However, anytime we talked about the long term, we did not talk about rings, dresses, flowers, or ceremonies, we discussed engagement bikes.

As many people around me know, 2011 was not a stellar year. An odd cosmic disruption occurred where I had to rely on JC to be my stronger partner. An abrupt career shift meant the juggling of finances, illness, and life. Although I transitioned through jobs likes glasses of water, JC was my supportive cheerleader for the "next big thing." Countless interviews later, I secured a "real job." The New Year felt as fresh and clean as a Zest commercial. We talked more about a commitment and it was fitting that his proposal was on a bike in the park near our home. There was no bended knee moment and no ring box. I could not have been happier. I said yes anyway and without hesitation. I am not the traditional fairytale type of girl nor did I want to finance a ring for 120 months. After returning home from the park to make a round of calls to friends and family, we began the work on planning our engagement bikes while discovering we both had family jewelry I could wear. I slipped one ring on and we spent the remaining evening hours discussing all the details of our engagement bikes.

Our engagement bike idea was simple: Two one-of-a-kind, very personalized bikes handmade to our specifications with intimate details for each of us. We love many of the same things about bikes so it was a rather easy design process. We like steel and traditional race geometry. A key element was to capture the love of our animals. With our wedding, comes the merging of two households; one large spastic golden retriever, and one obese but loving cat. The cat and I are a package deal. If you are going to be with me, you will have to love my twenty-two pound cat. If we were designing engagement bikes, a likeness of Victor had to be included (his bike will have a likeness of Buddy). More important, it is customary to have your name painted on the top tube. This is the first thing I've designed with my new name. It made us both rather emotional.

Frame with new name on the top tube

Then sometime this Spring, behind closed doors, in Don Walker's shop in  Buckner, Kentucky, my bike was born from a dusty box of tubes. I was fully aware it was in production but unaware of the look or feel of the final product. Cycling has become something special for me. I appreciate the craft and careful love that goes into each handmade frame. I have two other handmade bikes. They are each very special to me.  The hardest part of any handmade bike is the waiting. I waited, somewhat patiently but excitedly. I refused to look at any pictures online. I refused any texts. I wanted to see it when it was complete. I trusted JC would make all the right decisions. He did. Months of waiting have paid off. My bike is here.

New bike complete!

To many, it is just another bike out on the road with one of those crazy riders that believes they have all the rights as every car on the road. To me, it is much more. To me, it is something my fiance helped craft by hand. It represents something we love together. It is sized just right. A few light adjustments and it will be the perfect bike. While some women would squeal over a new diamond ring, I found myself doing a happy dance (with witnesses) and chills running down my spine. The craftsmanship is amazing but all the small details make it much more special than ANY bike on the road or ANY other bike in anyone's home. I will never ride the bike and not think of JC. I will never ride the bike and be without Victor or his "likeness."

The Victor "likeness"-It is dead-on

I had friends and colleagues who raised an eyebrow when I said we were getting engagement bikes. I got that "huh?!" face. I know it sounds rather odd and non-traditional. Everything that JC and I have ever done is rather odd and non-traditional. It works for us. I cannot wear the bike on my hand but it makes our story more special each time I tell someone. That's what important to us.

Me with my engagement bike! I said yes!

Win. Place. Show.

This past Saturday morning as dawn broke, a trifecta was aligned long before a single horse took to the track. Cinco De Mayo, the Kentucky Derby, and a super moon were all pushed into one day on the calendar. With little or no hesitation, my fiance and I knew we needed to leave town to avoid the masses of inebriated out-of-towners, long lines at restaurants and the thick traffic that covers every stretch of road for miles. As if we had sent out some bat signal, friends invited us to their family's farm just north of the city. So, early Saturday morning, my fiance headed out on his bike with the boys to trek some 70-miles while I loaded the fully air conditioned car with all of our overnight needs.

The track on Saturday was likely adorned with ladies parading in their designer hats, dresses and high heeled sandals. By the eve of the super moon, I found myself covered in thick mud, wearing soaking wet shoes and feeling a salty crust in my hair. My forearms were slightly reddened from the hours I spent jockeying a four-wheeler through some of the most undisturbed countryside you can imagine. With dogs in tow, we rolled through mile after mile of scenic rolling hills and tree lined creeks. However, like riding a mountain bike, my four wheeler skills are rusty and I kissed a tree ever so gently. No injuries, no fouls, we headed back for gun shooting in a quiet valley. My gun skills out perform my ATV skills.

Iggy herds and rides four-wheelers. If he had thumbs, he would drive one too.

Arguably, the culmination of the evening was an outdoor foodie feast. Although over 80-miles from any city skyline or fine four star restaurant, this crew laid out an epic meal of Greek God proportions. Grilled burgers sizzling with flavors, accompanied by two inch thick salmon burgers, country ham wrapped shrimp and steamed vegetables swirled together on everyone's plates. As if that were not enough, we pilfered a crock pot filled with homemade smoky pulled pork barbecue so tasty and perfect that sauce was only an after thought. The never ending moaning, groaning sounds bounced around the table until most of us reached a "meat coma" of sorts where we talked ourselves into cleaning off our plates even if it meant for an uncomfortable feeling around our waists.

As if the dinner feast weren't enough, the buffet was changed over from dinner to dessert in minutes and the table over flowed with cupcakes, bread pudding, and an ice cream cake that would make your toes curl with delight. The meal was only enhanced by one of the best mint juleps I've ever drank in my entire life. Forget the infield powdered sugar slushie version that is labeled and sold as a "mint julep". This Kentucky cocktail was a smooth perfectly balanced mix of ice, syrup, bourbon, and fresh mint, all muddled together to release the flavors at their peak. As conversation died down from our full distended abdomens, someone finally noticed the full super moon carefully cradled in our backdrop. Indeed, it was super.


One of the many desserts we consumed

I could only best describe this weekend as a Kentucky post card. We awoke on Sunday morning in a small country farm home, a fresh breeze blowing through the windows, with the sounds of crickets and horses playing just a few yards away. I am fairly certain most Louisvillians were still in bed waving off the hours of clotted debauchery from the night before. Then, as I poured a cup of coffee from the french press (we take it everywhere), I could not help but notice the rolling mist across fields glistening with sunshine. The view literally looked like a post card that I would buy to send my friends who no longer call Kentucky home.

There are moments where you are truly thankful and acutely aware of the good things around you. As we sat outside on the deck Saturday night, eating and laughing at all jokes, I had that moment where I felt like I was in a commercial. People came together from all over our city just to enjoy an amazing meal and good company. The jokes, like the bourbon and food, were abundant and as well crafted as each dish we sampled.

On Sunday morning only my fiance and I remained with our generous hosts. We mounted again on four-wheelers taking an even longer ride pointing out every beautiful Kentucky scenery piece we could. This time, he drove and at times I caught us giggling. We rarely get to do "couple" things because we always have other projects going on. On this Sunday, we ditched the cell phones, the deadlines and work clothes. We rode around one-thousand acres, examined hand dug wells and carefully avoided small turtles headed for the creeks. After a little gun lesson, we returned home tired and satisfied at the same time.

JC doing a little target practice.



My limo for Derby.


I love my hometown but like many locals, I do not attend Derby. The crowds, the chaos, and general mayhem are too much for me and my fiance. I've been on both sides of the track (infield and Millionaire's Row). I feel most comfortable when I can see good friends, eat amazing food, and get away from the day to day grind that takes over so often. I do not need a garland of roses or to see a Hollywood star. I need a shower, a french press, and one more mint julep.

Elbow Grease

As of yesterday, I have enjoyed my job for 90-days. When I say “enjoy,” I actually mean that I enjoy my job. I do not mind getting up early. I do not mind driving downtown. I can say, “I love my job.” Every job has it peaks and valleys. Overall, I see more peaks. My mind is engaged and I meet people everyday. Most people have been very welcoming while others have been more distant and cautious. I’m patient. I’ll wait. I am happy to be here. I did not get here by accident.


If there were a timeline of my work history, it would stretch back some 19-years. I have been employed since I was 16 years old. I did my time working retail and restaurant jobs. I quickly discovered that neither of those options were career paths. Retail and restaurant jobs are “hold overs” or platforms until the next great career option comes along. Although, the retail outlet I worked for pushed for me to be in higher management positions, I refused and realized I needed to seek other options. In high school and college, I worked full-time and attended classes full-time. I balanced more in one week than some can manage in a month. My parents taught me young if I wanted something, you have to work for it. I have worked my rear off.

Hard work does pay off. Certainly, I know people who have worked harder for things, but I have used some serious elbow grease to explore all of my opportunities. It feels good to see my work pay off. I own my home. My car is paid off. I carry some student loan debts but it’s manageable. I am planning a wedding on a shoe string budget this year. I am not taking any vacations or doing any extensive traveling. The odd thing is, I am happy. This year is focused on a rebuilding of sorts.

I’ve had to rebuild what I lost when my career path swerved into another lane. I started with rebuilding my confidence. I have worked to identify my true friends, the ones who really want the truth when they ask, “how’s it going?” I’ve worked hard to take inventory and not be around negative, drama inducing, or victimized individuals. It is so easy to get sucked in with these types. I have work to do and it does not involve cleaning up life messes. I have always heard “it can be worse.” The thing is, this is true. No matter what bad day I’ve had, someone else has endured a worse day. The things I complain about are small.



Victor likes to think in the bathroom.


I have other things to look forward to this year including a small and simple wedding. I come home to my fiancé and enjoy it. We laugh at the same jokes. We say the same things. We may never have a large house, a garage, or even a single stainless steel appliance. However, we get to spend time with each other, raise our golden retriever and laugh at our sizable cat. We ride our bikes. We eat home cooked meals. My car may be old but it has an awesome sound system and Monday through Friday when I drive home from work, I can sing as loud as I want and no one cares.

I come home to these boys everyday. I love it.

To Hell and Back

It's been awhile since I have written and not because I have not wanted to but because life took over all of my free time. By life, I mean a tornado of sorts, a storm of Biblical proportions. The best way to sum things up is through a timeline and not like the one on Facebook but one that puts order to a somewhat chaotic life moment.

Late June: While most people were preparing for the upcoming July 4th holiday, I found myself unemployed on a Monday morning. No warning and nothing was open for discussion. I cleaned out my desk and went home. I cried as all the thoughts raced through my head about being unemployed. Would I lose my house? How would I pay for gas? What about my savings egg? Mom came over, dusted me off and I went out job hunting only to find myself employed two hours later. I returned to my roots from high school...RETAIL! I worked in a resale shop surrounded by designer labels, high end handbags, and customers that I shared coffee appointments with before. I didn't care. My first week at the job, I was paid $7.25 an hour. Two weeks later, I became an assistant manager earning $10.00 an hour. I hustled hours to get enough monies to pay my mortgage and barely touch my savings egg. Customers yelled at me. I worked every weekend. I worked at night. I did not care. It was a job.

Mid-July: I was continuing to work at the resale shop, eating peanutbutter often, not buying a single cup of coffee, or spending one dime unless the purchase was absolutely necessary. Only the bare essentials were paid for and my job was not covering those expenses. My bills were few...a mortgage, a condo association fee, utilities, and basic living necessities (food, gasoline, phone). I could run the household on less than $1,000 a month. However, I was working full time and barely making $800 a month. I also was uninsured. It was time to look for another job.

Mid-July through Early August: I set out on a massive job hunt. Each night after work, I sat at home working on my resume, searching for jobs, networking my friends, and within two weeks, I submitted my resume for 18-jobs. Some of the jobs I was not qualified for but I knew if I was given the chance, I would work for a company and learn what I needed to become successful. I utilized my graduate studies and crafted each resume to the job I was applying for. There was NO blanket approach. As I sent each resume off (some by mail, many online), I knew I would begin a waiting process and I did.

Early-mid August: Tick...tock...tick...tock. Time ticked away, the summer heat sweltered and I started to worry if my resumes were received. I searched the mailbox daily to look for the thin number 10 envelope with a rejection letter. I did not see those. I waited. I called to follow up only to leave numerous voice mails. It made working at the resale shop painful. I would sit and calculate what I was making by the hour and what bill it was going to. Then, my phone rang. Interviews. Yes!!! Honestly, I did not care what the job was as long as it was solid employment with benefits. I would do hard labor, pick up trash, walk dogs. I was interested in whatever I could lay my hands on. In all, I interviewed for the following positions:

1. Meals on Wheels Coordinator for City of Louisville
2. Starbucks Supervisor
3. Grocery Store Manager for Aldi's
4. Grants Administrator for City of Louisville
5. Social Service Director for at risk youth in Frankfort
6. 911 Dispatcher
7. 3 other non-profit positions

The remaining 8 jobs I applied for responded with:
1. 3 rejection emails saying they had chosen internal candidates
2. A can letter saying they chose other qualified candidates
3. 2 emails saying they were unable to fill the positions at this time and I would be considered at a later date
4. A recorded voice mail saying the position had been eliminated
5. A post card with my name misspelled saying they had chosen other candidates

I set out on interviews with my only off day, usually a Thursday or Friday. Within two weeks, I was offered the assistant manager position with a non-profit outlet (Habitat for Humanity's retail outlet). Again, more retail but also more money and benefits. I put in my notice at the resale shop. Although, the job was not a career for me, it was not an excuse to burn bridges or leave them in a bind and walk out the door. I left that job on Friday, September 16th and started at Habitat on Saturday, September 17th at 8:30AM. I was excited, hoping to get my career on track. Oddly, I have never minded retail or non-profits, so combining the two seemed great.

Mid-September- Mid November: Habitat is a fun and sincere organization to work for and in terms of retail, a low stress one. They do great things for the community. Other than late nights, I had few, if any, complaints. The pay was "okay" and required me to dip less into my savings, which is always a good thing. However, in August, I had a breast cancer scare as I located two lumps. I raced to the doctor (still uninsured) to learn they are benign but those 2 trips to the doctor tore into my savings kitty. It scared me as I realized I was still uninsured and I postponed follow-up appointments because I did not have the money to pay the office visits out of pocket. Working in retail paid the bills but it did not allow for savings and at any moment I lived in fear if I felt the lumps grow or if I caught a cold. I knew I would have to look for another job and I hated that part. I really wanted a career. There was not a career path at Habitat nor more money for a raise. Like many non-profits, they need the monies to serve their clients. I was not in the position to make the sacrifice to work there. I was upset to say the least. In the meantime, JC and I celebrated our anniversary with a budget cabin trip to Red River Gorge. We got a cabin half off for coming mid-week. It was a much needed reprieve.

No cell phone towers here!

Once home, I began looking for new careers on my days off and I found myself called back for second interviews for the city jobs. The interviews went well and I knew the pay ranges of the positions. I could do either job well. They did background checks on me. They had me meet their staff but then, communication fell silent. The holidays approached and I worked to save enough to have a feast. I, along with my parents who have been my biggest fans, decided that we would enjoy a feast for Thanksgiving no matter what the financial future was. I had hoped I would hear something about either job but all was silent.

Mid-November-early December: I heard nothing from the city and had been told by friends that this is not unusual. Both supervisors told me they would like to make an offer but they were waiting for final approval. So, I too, waited and during that time had an interview with a large metropolitan hospital. The interview went well. I was invited back for a second. That too, went well. I was hopeful. In the meantime, I acquired health benefits (yeah!!!) and because I had stayed inside a small budget, I was able to afford a few gifts for the holidays. In lieu of things, I baked cupcakes, pies, cakes, and cookies, sharing them with whomever. I had others submit orders for sugary treats which afforded JC and I a rare night out.

Me, working retail, enjoying a rare coffee!

Mom kept tradition, finding a cycling ornament for Christmas

Mid-December-New Year: I was called back for a final interview right before the New Year. It was an all day affair. I enjoyed it greatly. I felt that at any moment, I would hear from someone! New Year's felt good. I knew 2012 would not be a year of feeling bad for myself or being sad. I refused to allow it.

New Years with friends

You can imagine my extreme excitement when I did get an offer on a Friday afternoon just after New Years. I felt tears. I felt like doing backhand springs. I felt like hugging random strangers. Now, on the 30th, I start my new job with benefits and a clear provided career path. Does this mean, we go on a mad spending spree? Invest in a home in the Hamptons? No, instead, on a rare January warm day, JC proposed to me. I cried, he cried, my parents cried. While 2011 closed out as one of the worst years in my life, 2012 has opened new and improved doors that I have worked so hard to open. I spent a lot of time this fall upset. I could not race bikes, I could not ride bikes because I had to work harder than I ever have. I lost a dear friend to breast cancer in April and I still live in fear of amassing great amounts of bills or the thought they will want to do more tests. Of all the workouts I have endured, this has been the hardest, emotionally and physically.

JC and Melinda enjoying a rare day off

My new job will allow for my frugal savings again. My new job will allow for a small, quaint wedding. Throughout this rough patch in my life, I have been able to provide just enough for myself to survive. My parents are not in a position to help financially but they have been sounding boards for me and a place for a warm meal from time to time. That is worth its weight in gold.

What have I learned from all of this? More than my years of college taught me. Things do happen for a reason. You have to ask for help and no matter how bad it gets there are still things to make you smile and laugh. I am lucky to have a supportive fiance, friends, and family. I have also learned, people cannot survive making minimum wage or barely above. Businesses cannot thrive or expect employees to have loyalty if they are paying them so little. I have always been fiscally conservative but I am a believer that there MUST be change. People cannot have a future on $7.25 an hour. I should not have to work one hour to cover the cost of a dozen eggs ($2.50, currently), and a gallon of milk ($4.00). I was proud to own my own home without the help of anyone and I was not about to let this little bump in the road slow me down or turn me into someone bitter. All along the way, I have worked with some talented, caring people. Many, I hated to leave as there was a quality working chemistry. But in 2012, you need a career path, money for retirement and feel secure. I have had some amazing supervisors. The next chapter is ahead.