quick, big chunk o' life

What a week it's been.

A week ago today at this time I was driving through Pennsylvania in the middle of a blizzard. After a twelve-hour trip, we finally made it to Michigan, where the skies were blue and the snow was safely already on the ground and melting.

The weather remained friendly until Monday morning, when it was time to head home. It took us over an hour to get through Detroit (normally a 20 minute trip) due to a fresh, heavy snowfall. I didn't think it was possible, but the drive through the mountains in PA was even worse on the trip back. There was more slush and ice, this time around.

After another twelve hour drive and a quick eight trips up and down the stairs to carry the loot into the apartment, we were back safe and snug in our apartment. Sadly, we'd missed the snow in New York — which I love.

Tuesday my hamstrings were tight and I was exhausted. I'd finally gotten through to this man I was playing phone tag with at a large publishing company. I'd been recommended by a friend to a guy who knew a guy at this company. I'd sent in an email saying "hello" and that I'd heard they were looking to fill a design position, and pointed to my website about a month ago. Lo, and behold, this guy was now calling me regularly, and we were playing phone tag.

The conversation took place in a nearby McDonald's (only place I could think to go and sit where it might be quiet). I told him I was at a Starbucks when he asked about the noise (which began about five minutes after I sat down). He told me about the position — which, it turned out, was an Art Director gig — and I did my best to disuade him from talking to me about it further. I explained my lack of a managing skill-set, and that I didn't have all that much experience designing the type of books they produce (business books and trade stuff). After a couple of minutes of this I told him I'd send my resume and the salary requirement he requested within the hour. I came back to my desk and IMed with a designer friend asking him what he thought would be a good amount for the job. We agreed on a number that seemed really damned high. But, continuing on in the "well, I don't think I'm really right for this job anyway" vein, I decided to ask for the moon.

Twenty minutes after my email went in, I had a message from him asking me to come in for an interview the next day.

Holy hell.

I waffled and hedged — I really, truly needed to be in at work (deadline for a project of mine, plus my boss was going to hand-off her project for her usual four-day weekend). I came really close to saying "I can't," but then a co-worker who is also planning on leaving to move to Paris for the hell of it next year said to me "you have to take care of YOU."

I called him back after work and said "Yes. I'll be there at 9:30 a.m." So this necessitated me going through my clothes — most of which I am now too fat for — and finding something to wear. Settled on my suit and a light black sweater under it (casual — no tie — but formal — suit) which actually fit me okay, still. I also had to find my portfolio and update it a little bit. And I had to lie to my boss. I used the pregnancy as an excuse ("Amy really wants me to go to this doctor's appointment with her tomorrow...") 9:30 turned into 10 a.m. and I didn't even get out of the interview(s) until 11:30, and back to Workman until noon.

It went well, I think. After realizing what getting the new job, and it's new paycheck would mean, I started thinking about actually doing the job, and then I started wanting the job. The man who I'd been playing phone tag with (and who would be my immediate boss) was my interviewer. He said I asked good questions. He loved my samples. He said they'd definitely hire me as a freelancer, regardless of whether or not I got the AD gig. Then I met with his boss. She loved the book. She loved that he said I asked good questions. She liked that we were having a baby, it seemed. And then I went to see the HR person. Filled out an application, but couldn't get in to see her — she was in another meeting. But we have a meeting set up next week.

To talk about what? Money, maybe. I'm not sure how this goes. Holy shit, I might end up with a real job. A real, honest-to-god if-it-works-out-I-could-be-there-for-years "career" kind of job. Holy shit.

What does that mean with the rest of my life? Writing? Fuck if I know. All I know is that it's a great job — everything they told me about the job and the company just got better and better — and it would solve a lot of problems for us if I got it.

So, the next day —yesterday—I was pretty worn out and had tons of work to do. Then we had our second Lamaze class, which included a tour of the facilities. It's getting more and more real. More and more exciting. More and more scary. Quite a year of changes. I'm looking forward to a night on the couch with my girls, catching up on some of our tv shows.