Work, family & refrigerators

I’m finding it awfully hard to blog in the United States. In Lesotho, I had plenty of time to write and plenty of issues to write about – HIV/AIDS, culture shock, racism, discrimination, sexual harassment, colonialism, medical tourism, and my Afrikaner neighbors painting my house peach with maroon trim. Writing about my Peace Corps stint had relatively few ramifications since hardly anyone had access to the internet and, even if they did, they wouldn’t necessarily care enough (or have the bandwidth) to monitor my words.

Here in the U.S., though, the ramifications of blogging through pesky, if not completely self-indulgent and whiny issues can be more serious. See, I’d love to explore work-related issues, from the Dilbertness of working in a nearly all female department to the less-than-ideal nuances of quality-based healthcare payment programs, but I may quickly end up in an unemployment line if I do. I’d also love to blog about family relationships and how connecting with extended family and old friends over Facebook drudges up past insecurities, making me wonder what kind of monster I was as an adolescent and why my parents couldn’t connect more warmly with their siblings and parents so that I could have developed closer bonds with my cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents.

But everyone is a monster as an adolescent, many people have issues with their families, and most people I know vent about their work at least once a week. Other people are just plain smarter than I am: they don’t process everything on the internet (or they may not process much at all). Too many people I meet these days don’t have a burning desire for their work to be personally fulfilling. Or, if they do, they appear far less fussed about shelving their aspirations to find meaningful work and/or explore the planet.

The rest of us who don’t know how to relegate these dreams to “nice but too lofty status” walk around with tortured souls as our families urge us to settle down or, once we do maintain a three-year holding pattern, complement us on maxing out our Roth IRA contributions each year and meeting our 401k employer match. Kudos are also given for transitioning from renter to home owner, which only means that instead of spending $1200 on a trip to Nicaragua, you purchase a 19.7 cubic feet French-door bottom freezer refrigerator with a four-year warranty. Besides, here in the U.S. we don’t get enough time off to take a trip to Nicaragua anyway.

This is all very responsible, yes, but it’s not exactly exciting. Fortunately, I have married a wonderful man who is a fellow traveler and hates Minnesota winters as much as I do. Both of us are open to the idea of quitting our jobs and putting the house on the market by the time the next World Cup rolls around so that we can move to Germany for a few years. And when I say, “Joe, in ten years when the dogs die, let’s quit our jobs and travel around the world for a year,” he doesn’t seem phased at all. That is, aside from the fact I’ve acknowledged that the dogs will die.

So that’s life in Minnesota. Joe and I are gearing up for our belated wedding reception, which will take place at our home later this month. So far it is turning out to be a lovely experience as we connect with extended family members, many of whom have warmly welcomed Joe and me into their families. Each time a cousin, aunt or uncle tells us that they’re coming to the Twin Cities for the reception, I have yet another Sally Fields moment, “You like me, you really like me!” Oh sure, Joe and I were strongly advised to create gift registries for the event, but honestly, the biggest thrill for me about the reception is the opportunity to foster connections among family members and friends. Yes, a La Creuset pan is always nice, but having family and friends surrounding us is much more fulfilling. In a way, their presence confirms our decision to settle down in Minnesota for a while longer and our excitement over new appliance purchases.