Christmas '98 Newsletter

Dawn suggested I write the Christmas letter from Alex's point of view, but it came out something like this:

I don't know who you are, and I don't care. I've suffered from two low-grade infections this year, but otherwise I'm fine. I was locked in the guest room for two weeks during the height of summer--when I get most of my sun--and when they let me out I found a large hole in the ceiling above where I sleep. Given that an iguana's main predators (besides humans) are birds, this is my worst nightmare. Two weeks later they took out my tree, so now it's a 15-foot drop into a small pond surrounded by rocks. Somebody call the ASPCA, please.

While I thought this was appropriately self-involved, it was way too short...

The worst news, of course, was Dawn's father passed away; he'd been fighting cancer for over four years. He passed away on June 30; we were coming to visit on July 2. Dawn was really looking forward to seeing her dad again, but it was good that we'd already scheduled vacation time and so were able to stay with her mom for about 10 days. It was very hard to leave. I'm very glad Dawn went by herself one weekend in February to see her dad, but neither of us expected it to be the last time.

Dawn changed jobs in April, which I don't think anyone expected, least of all me. She received an offer from an exclusive law firm in Brentwood (former home of O.J. Simpson) as a family law paralegal. The good news is she only has to work 37 ½ hours per week; the bad news is she now spends an additional eight hours per week in traffic. She never understood why I was so temperamental when I got home; now she walks in the door and starts screaming at the wall, just like I used to do.

In June, our water heater started leaking. We discovered it in July. By then it had completely destroyed the floor of the water heater closet, and the mildew was unbearable! We still had our homeowner's warranty but, as the plumber was quick to point out, it only covered the water heater, not the incidental damage. Since we knew we had to take out the water heater if we ever wanted a door into the garage, we gave the plumber a large chunk of cash to replace the water heater and move it into the garage.

I changed jobs in September, which I don't think anyone expected, least of all me. I just got fed up with the politics and decided to go somewhere I could "lay low" for awhile. Of course it took me six months to get to that decision, but then I've never been one of those spur-of-the-moment, burn-your-bridges, get-some-emotional-satisfaction kind of guys.

I also bought a new car...well, new to me anyway. It's a Pontiac Sunfire convertible. My logic here was that I'm only going to be in Southern California for a limited time, so I'd better take advantage of the weather while I can. And what better way to appreciate Los Angeles than when I'm on the road for two+ hours every day? Dawn just said, "A new job, a convertible...aren't you a little young to be having a mid-life crisis?" I think it mollified her somewhat that the car was green and not red.

As chance dictated, the best time to quit my old job was at the end of August, but the best time to start my new job was mid-September, leaving two weeks of "forced leisure." We'd already been talking, on and off now for three years, of putting in a door to the garage, and these two weeks seemed an ideal time, so…we put in a skylight.

Not just any skylight, mind you, but a monster 4' x 4' skylight in a 6' x 8' hole in the ceiling, right above the atrium. The ficus tree we had planted two and a half years ago was barely hanging on--between Alex jumping on it, a major attack of scale and other insects, and the perpetual twilight on the northern side of the house, it was not happy. So Dawn somehow convinced me that putting in this huge skylight would save the tree. Two weeks after we finished the skylight, Dawn cut down the tree, telling me she wanted to replace it. Two weeks after that, she announced that she preferred the atrium without a tree. Personally, I feel used.

We also put in the door to the garage, "we" being John the neighbor, with me watching and occasionally taking pictures. (One day John almost fell off a ladder while cutting through the wall because I took a flash picture without warning, and he thought he had cut through an electrical circuit!) We were careful to keep the garage door shut in case any city inspectors wandered by. When we were finished, there was a spot about two square feet that did not have linoleum. I said it was good enough; Dawn overruled me. So I spent about six hours with a belt sander taking off the old linoleum, and one weekend we rolled new linoleum down. We also repainted the entire room to cover the new drywall, and replaced the light fixture which had gotten broken in the process. So ignoring for the moment the fact that Dawn got a completely new laundry room out of this, I would just like to gloat for one second and say, I GOT MY DOOR TO THE GARAGE!! Now, where's my hot tub?!

One of those days I had a few extra hours to kill, so I ripped up the front yard. Dawn, of course, was pissed, because she knew she would have to put it back together. I must say we did a great job--instead of the straight raised-brick borders, we now have a smooth curve of sunken bricks around the grass, surrounded by many different ferns, palms, and other plants. The best part is, Dawn no longer has to trim the lawn before cutting it. We also sank two hammock posts, his and hers, for when we finally find time to relax and enjoy our house. Next year, we're going to replace the roof. Dawn insists we're going to hire professionals, but I'm working on her…

(By the way, the day before we were scheduled to start all of this major work on the house, someone at my old company pointed out that I would not have health insurance during that time. Fortunately, I only needed a couple of band-aids. John, on the other hand, went through half a roll of gauze and three tubes of neosporin after he took out one finger with a utility knife, another finger with some diamond lath, and two fingers in a freak accident with a tape measure.)

I finally started my new job in September, spending the first two weeks in Massachusetts for "orientation." In seven years, Dawn and I had only been apart for a total of two weekends, and now I was gone for two weeks! We were both miserable but we expressed it in different ways--I stayed in my hotel room and sulked, while Dawn went shopping, to the movies, and visited friends. (That's not entirely true--the first few days I was in Boston I ate lobsters until I was sick, and then spent the rest of the time in my room. And when Dawn got home every night, she turned on every light in the house and slept on the couch.)

I grew a beard, my logic being that since I had a month off work (two weeks at home, two weeks in training) that I just might have a chance to grow a decent beard before I had to face people again. (Let's just say I'm "folically challenged.") It didn't work. I had to shave off the sides to keep from looking like a burn victim. Dawn just said, "A new job, a convertible, a beard...you are having a mid-life crisis!"

When I interviewed with the new company I told them I did not want to travel. When I started with the new company I told them I did not want to travel. Needless to say, my first assignment was travelling. I thought I was going to be in San Francisco, which was cool, but it turned out to be halfway to Sacramento, which is definitely not cool. It was relatively close to where my brother was staying, so I got to spend some time with him, his girlfriend, and her two kids. The therapist says I'm doing much better. I'm still stuck here, but I've been given a "tentative promise" (whatever that is) that I'll roll off by the end of December. Dawn has told me, in graphic detail, what she plans to do to my managers if they try to keep me here longer.

At the end of October, Dawn threw a birthday celebration for her truck--it turned one this year. Of course she cleverly disguised the party as our annual pumpkin-carving get-together, but I knew better. I think we had a record turnout for pumpkin carving, although we had one guest who boycotted the carving for humanitarian reasons.

For my birthday I asked for a leather jacket, my logic being--oh, who cares; nobody believes my logic anyway. Dawn bought one for me and announced, "Okay, that's it; your mid-life crisis is over. Get back to reality."

We let Alex watch "Jurassic Park" - big mistake! It took us nearly two weeks to get her to stop making "rap attacks." Now we've strictly curtailed her TV regimen, and you can bet she'll never see "Godzilla."

We made our annual pilgrimage to Tucson for this Thanksgiving. Since I've been spending so much time traveling, there was no way I was going to drive for twenty hours, so I booked a flight. (If I flew directly from San Francisco to Tucson, my company would have picked up the tab, but being a complete idiot, I flew home first.) Unfortunately everything was sold out and we ended up arriving at 6pm on Thanksgiving Day and leaving at noon Saturday. All things considered, though, it worked out quite well-- there was a police shootout at the LAX on Sunday evening. We love LA.

On a similar vein, this year we'll be flying out Christmas Eve to visit Dawn's mother; we should arrive at 10am Christmas day, assuming we don't hit any reindeer on the way. Then we're going to visit my uncle in Georgia for New Year's. Other travel destinations this year included our first cruise (a 3-day weekend cruise to Ensanada), Albuquerque for the annual balloon fiesta (I'm serious about going back in '99; anyone else who wants to go should let me know), and Yosemite. Travel plans for next year include (tentatively) Washington D.C., New York City, Dallas, and "someplace in Europe" for the Leonid meteor storm next November, which is supposed to be spectacular.