I'll be honest.
Every day that I was away on vacation, I thought about Deana. Especially the day that I watched this magnificent sunset and I thought about the harsh reality of a woman, not yet 40 years old, dying to a brutal disease that she was diagnosed with, 11 months prior. I thought about her leaving behind a husband and two little boys who are not yet five. I thought about Deana and I thought that what happened to her, (and her and her) could have just as easily happened to me.
I thought about how life can throw some real curve balls our way and nobody knows what tomorrow will bring. I thought about our children and how blessed and lucky we are to have them and, how blessed and lucky Charlie and I both are that we - and our children - are in relatively good health.
Sure, my husband's back goes out every now and again and it might hurt to climb a flight of stairs. Or, sometimes my knees make noises like a bag of potato chips being crushed and I'll be momentarily crippled by a rogue muscle cramp. But we're here and we're healthy - and as far as our doctor's are concerned - we'll all still be around several years from now.
These past few days, I've been at a high intensity business meeting. I'll be going to another high intensity business meeting next week that will involve a judge, a jury and several lawyers who have been tasked with making me look like a raving idiot.
Since I've returned from vacation, I have been buried under almost 1,000 work e-mails and associated fire drill situations than I can count on both hands and feet.
I am trying really hard to not lose focus of what's important in life.
My children. My husband. My physical health.
Charlie has been officially laid off. He will be hired as a contract employee for his company - so he has work if he wants it, but trying to juggle his part time schedule with my more than full-time schedule, is proving to be very difficult.
Unfortunately, and as much as I'd love it, at the moment, moving to the southeast isn't an option for us. Of course, we could just move on our own - but then we'd need to find new jobs. And from the limited research that I've done, I am well aware that the chances of me (or Charlie) finding a position even slightly comparable to what I have now is completely null.
And, if we were to move on our own, we would take a significant hit on the loss of equity in our house. Fortunately, we are still in the black. But that "black" is more like "a very light grey" when you consider the resale value now, to what it was two years ago. Meanwhile, I know for a fact, that my job in California will dissolve over the next few years - so we are currently facing a great unknown.
Over the past week - more than once, we have openly discussed what is important to us. We have reflected on the fragility of life, the unimportance of material possessions and the knowledge that we only come around this way, once.
It is for that reason, at the moment, we are seriously contemplating selling off everything that we own and buying a sailboat that we will take up and down the inter-coastal waterway, while reveling in the waves that splash off our bow and the bottle nosed dolphins that jump in our wake. Once we've had enough boating, we'll move in to a one-bedroom apartment in South Carolina and live off of noodles.
But before we do any of that boating and one bedroom apartment stuff, I need to complete a three-day breast cancer walk.
More information will be coming soon, but for now, our team will be The More The Merrier Walkers for Knockers (Walkers for Knockers was already taken) and currently, there are almost TEN women who have committed to joining us. I'd love to have more.
This is an invitation.
Do you live in Southern California? Or, would you be willing to take a trip? Check your calendar. The dates are November 20-22, 2009. Check out the button on the left in my sidebar - or click this link to see the website and learn more about a three day walk, that will cover sixty miles, and will raise a lot of money to cure a disease that claims the lives of 7.5 million people a year.
There you have it.
That's what's in me this week. A whole lot of instability, a probable mid-life crisis, coupled with an overwhelming desire to cure cancer.
What's in you?