Fire in the Belly

In case yesterday's blog had anyone wondering, I didn't mean to condemn the corporate world.  I had lots of fun clambering over my colleagues, trying to become a bigger dog than they were.  Those were fifteen good years, more than a fourth of my life.  It's a good way to use younger years, when fire's in the belly.

"Right, clambering, sounds like you," says Virginia.

More like trying to do the best I could.  I was lucky to join a Virginia bank holding company that valued its law department, not merely as coordinators of out-house counsel, but part of the business team.  One of my first projects was a review of all the forms customers saw.  We went through them with other departments, word for word, and deleted many provisions we decided were clutter -- because they were poorly drafted, out-of-date, or likely to be relied on once in ten years.  Does that sound like something Professor Warren, head of the new Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, talks about doing?

In a way, I was also lucky to leave that company for a mortgage business that filed for bankruptcy 6 months after I arrived, and then to work for a Maryland bank that didn't expect much from its legal department.  Changing jobs develops skills you might not learn if you stayed in the same company your entire career.  Sort of like moving to a new place, people greet you with, "who are you?" and "why should we trust you?"  After locating grocery stores, dry cleaners, and ATMs, the honeymoon is over and it's time to show why you're worth knowing.  After a couple changes, you find yourself thinking both, "I know you know more than I do about this place" and "yeh, you can trust me because I know what I'm doing and I can help."

What else can explain the gumption to quit after a year in what I'd long thought would be a dream job?  Number one, a supportive spouse.  Number two, a different kind of fire in the belly and another dream.

Dispensing Our Collection

In 1994, after buying a Victorian home in North Carolina, we sold most of our things at a yard sale in St. Louis and moved, planning to buy what we "needed" to outfit the new old house.  We had enough left to fill a 16-foot U-Haul truck. Four years later, we replaced the Victorian with a bigger "country club" home and bought some things to make it look lived in.

Four years later, we had another yard sale and moved to Arrowhead Lodge and the little cottage next door, in Virginia. Allied Van Lines filled a 52-foot semi-trailer, but didn't anticipate the hill in our lane.  "Are you working today?" the driver asked.  "No."  "Could you drive your pickup up and down the lane as we gradually empty this truck?"  "Sure, Karen and I can do that."  So went the day, the scariest moments involving the transfer of my 9-foot concert grand onto our 7-foot pickup bed, with Karen driving while the two movers and I held on tight -- so much for my original plan to disappear for the piano moving.

Four years later we moved into this farmhouse, again using our pickup to transfer what we needed, but with no semi -- and the concert grand stayed.

Four years later, we aren't moving.  I don't think.  If we did, we'd probably need two 52-foot moving vans unless we had a giant yard sale or auction.  I wasn't planning to get rid of anything until today, when I read my sister's blog posting (http://steinermp.wordpress.com/) and discovered that my best friend has suggested doing it.  So I began taking inventory and discovered the job is bigger than the inventories we took when I worked for the Great Atlantic & Pacific Tea Co. (A&P).  Actually, an inventory probably isn't necessary.  We could simply start taking pictures and posting them on Ebay, not a bad idea.  Think how much easier picture-taking is these days, and so much cheaper, not having to buy film and pay for processing.

"Come now, you've got to be kidding!" says Virginia.  "You're just getting started on the greenhouse, and the goatherd has settled in nicely."

Hmmm.  It might make sense to get a head start on 2012.  Six years in one home is a long time.