Photo: Kevin

Warning: Long Post Ahead (but the ending is good)

I am frustrated. First of all, I still am not sure what I’m doing about going back to college. I had totally settled on a career/education path, which probably would work fairly well for me. A good balance of having to deal with others, and not. Creative. I get to work with “things”.

But about ten days ago, my husband and I were talking about his current pursuit of a social work degree. He is so passionate about helping others. And frankly, I’ve always thought that I’d make a really good helper (under the right circumstances). I’ve always wanted to be a helper. I am a helper. I am a behind the scenes helper.

His sureness and his passion made me think twice about what I’ve chosen. I still haven’t found something that stirs my passion. I really would like to do something that means something. What does “means something” mean? I have no idea! Grrrrrr.

The point is that I am confused again. And pretty unhappy about this. I almost feel like I am so seriously trying to find the right career, that I am screwing up my prospects of finding any suitable career. Because I am really worried that I am going to pick the wrong thing. And folks, it’s not as if I’m 18 trying to figure this out. I’m halfway through my life here!

There must be something wrong with my brain. I am making myself jump through hoops of fire.

Sigh.

Oh, and this is funny. A friend of mine, who is a manager at a nursery asked me to help out for a couple months–just a temporary thing. So in another couple weeks, I am going to work at a nursery. I’ll be the girl behind the counter helping landscapers get their Stella D’oro daylilies and yews for the day’s generic yard project. I can handle the plant aspect of the job. I actually know a lot about plants and landscaping and that stuff. But the cheerful girl behind the counter in the wholesale department? I am gonna give it my best shot.

Plus, I am frustrated with my neighbors. Yes, those neighbors. The snow has melted to reveal a pile of discarded furniture and overturned garbage cans in their yard. OK. I am not the neatest person in the world. But seriously. If your dog knocks your garbage over, pick it up. Don’t leave it there for days (no I am not making this up). And if you have overturned garbage cans in your yard, then I apologize if I’m insulting you right now, but that’s just not right! Pick that stuff up!

I am devising a plan to create living fences and boundaries that make it harder for me to see their crap, and harder for their kids to venture into our yard uninvited. Do I sound like a curmudgeon? Because I sure feel like one.

I have been fantasizing about setting up a fence with spiky things at the top, and possibly skulls (fake of course) stuck on some of the spikes. But I’m not sure I could get away with that. So I’ve been thinking about planting very prickly shrubs. But I’m not sure that’s right. So I’ve softened my heart and am now considering fast growing, but non-picky shrubs. If that’s not a sign of a kind, empathetic, helper type, I don’t know what is.

Now, on a more pleasant, and certainly less whiny note: My oldest grandson is celebrating his fourth birthday. He is my little introvert.

Yesterday, when we had his party (with a cast of thousands), he walked into the place where the party was being held and immediately froze. I knelt down and asked him if he would like to go say hello to everyone, and in a small voice he said “no”. So I stayed down at his level and he and I chatted together about a small toy he’d brought with him, as he curiously and cautiously looked over my shoulder at the crowd.

I could see he was trying to decide if, when, and how he wanted to join the chaos. Finally, he and Grandpa and I took a seat at one of the colorfully decorated tables and he eventually began to smile broadly. It wasn’t long thereafter that he joined the other kids on his own terms. The beauty of this whole scene was that no one in that place pressured him.

Sometimes life is pretty good.