Rylan Thomas Monk

Well, it's official. The Monk family name will now live on because my "baby" brother now has a baby. Rylan Thomas was born at 6:15pm on Tuesday, January 22. He weighed 6lbs 10.8oz and was 20 inches long. He is tiny. He easily fits in my brother's hands and he has the cutest little dimple in his chin. I can't wait to get to know this little angel. He's perfect! And I am so glad now that we moved out here, because now I can be a part of his life and maybe make up for not really being a part of my brother's life when we were growing up.
As for the move. Well, we are settling in. I spent my last week off painting and spending way too much money at K Mart (it's the only "department" store in Jackson) trying to set up our little home. I didn't mind staying indoors all week as the temperatures never went above 0. That's right. Our outdoor thermometer doesn't work out here because it won't register in the negative! It's so crazy.
But anyways, I start my new job tomorrow. And if the huge fever blister on my lip didn't key you off, well let me just go ahead and tell you, I am nervous. I am scared. I am terrified.
This will be the first job I have ever had that is important. I am going to be expected to use my brains and my skills and my knowledge. To learn and to perform and to speak in front of groups... And my salary... well, it's kind of important too. I just hope I can do it and that I don't screw up. I'm so scared of failing and of disappointing Michael and my dad and my professors... I have to go back to NYC in May for graduation and I want so bad to be able to say that I have succeeded, that the program is good... I want to set a good example and make a good impression. Show that I am more than what I always thought I was, that I'm good and worthy.
I'm off to church. I need a little help getting through this.

Listening and learning

For the last two weeks or so Michael and I have been bunking in the spare bedroom of his best friend's house. We have been sharing the house with him and his new wife.
This would not be so bad except...
Well, this man is still the same guy he was in college. A good guy. A guy with a heart as big as, well, Wyoming. A guy who would give you the shirt off his back, rescue you from a fall, save you from drowning... drink you under the table, smoke a joint with you or two or ten, drive in the snow and ice after doing all of the above... pass out in the hot tub after doing all of the above... This guy is now a 30year old frat boy with a Barbie Doll wife who packs his bowls for him after smoking her own, first thing in the morning, at lunch, for an afternoon snack, and always before bed. She is 32.
Michael has been away on business all week and I have been left in this Never-Never Land house alone with the "happy" couple. Listening. Listening and learning.
Listening to them complain about being broke. After taking out a loan to buy a hot tub and buying a pound of "totally gnar weed," and cancelling jobs because there is "killer powder!" Learning that I am so grateful to have outgrown them and become an actual contributing member of society.
Listening to them talk to each other. Guy is a smart (although, less smart than when in college due to a downsizing of the brain cells) man. He reads and is cultured and enjoys politics, Barbie is not. She is sweet, but I have learned she is also incredibly stupid. And she is an enabler. Guy is a manic depressive, and she feeds his depression with drugs and alcohol. She loves him, but she loves to get high and to party and she does not read, she is not cultured, she is a child in a porn star's body. Listening to Guy talk down to her for her lack of education...
Learning that "if you haven't grown up by thirty..." well, it's not too late.
And they are so pathetic. A 30 year old ski instructor and a 32 year old massage therapist, still supported by Guy's parents, eating stoner food and getting high every night, unable to grow up.
I can't wait to be out of here.

Run Cirrus, Run!

This might actually be construed as a slight form of insanity.

Patience

I've always imagined myself to be a patient person. I take my time, try not to rush, enjoy the little things in life, smell the roses...all that crap. But most people that know me, I mean truly know me, would probably disagree and say that I am in fact one of the most impatient people you will ever meet.
I am always in a rush, always juggling multiple jobs and projects and deadlines. I'm always going going going. And very rarely will you ever see me actually sit down and relax and do nothing.
Again, I don't agree with this view. Because what am I doing now? Nothing. Well, I am blogging, but that to me is nothing, so see, I can relax.
However, I guess this could be construed as nervous blogging. Because I am in fact trying to distract myself from the anxiety I am experiencing over still not having heard from the company that supposedly wants me to come work for them. I was supposed to receive an official job description and offer of employment via email today by 5pm. It's 2:52pm MST and still no letter.
I am starting to freak out.
I went skiing in the hopes of burning some nervous energy. Didn't work.
Went to the library to distract myself. Didn't work.
Went to the Post Office.
Shoveled snow off the back porch.
Did laundry.
Blogged.
Still a nervous wreck.
Where are the little blue pills when I truly need them?!

Happiness?

So, we moved to Jackson Hole.
This is not the first move for our little family, and it will probably not be the last. But for some reason, this move has a lot more permanance to it than the past ones. Maybe it has something to do with driving cross country in a moving van with all of my earthly possessions in tow.
Watching the time zones change, the trees change, the landscape get flatter and wider and snowier... I don't know. But whatever the reason, this move feels real. And until last night I wasn't sure how to feel about that.
I will admit I have been struggling.
See, ever since I graduated from college I have not really felt settled.
I've gone from NYC to Knoxville to NYC to Atlanta to Knoxville to NYC to Kingsport to NYC to Crossville to NYC... Beginning to see a pattern? The one constant in my life for the last eight years has been New York. And now that security blanket, the one stable place is only on the Today Show and in my Red Dress Press novels. And I'll admit to being a state of withdrawal.
What about Michael? Yes, he's been a constant in my life too. But, he's also been the source of all this constant upheaval. Not that every move has not been a joint decision, it has, but in the end, each move has been based on what we feel would be best for his career or his happiness or his home life. Bad jobs, work stresses, bad neighbors, work aspirations.... each of these have led to new jobs, new aspirations, new homes... always seeking the next best thing, bigger and better, elusive happiness. And I, have foolishly thought that I could base my own happiness on the happiness of my husband. Always believing that this next dream would finally bring that smile to his face and that would project onto me and I too would be happy.
But even now, in this place that he has dreamed of now for eight years, will happiness finally be ours?
I keep catching small glimpses of it.
A twinkle in his eye when he looks at the sun rising over the Tetons on our morning drive, a small laugh when the dogs tackle each other in the snow, a quiet sigh when he sips his local beer at the brewpub...
Is it enough? I don't know, I guess we will just have to wait and see. I am trying though to not mess this up. Because even though I am homesick and lonely and sad... I still hope that happiness will win out. That his heart will once again fill up and be able to sustain me on all these cold snowy nights. I hope that we will both be able to find our way out here in this extremely foreign and rugged and frigidly cold land.
And that we will both be happy.

Can anyone really resist this face?

We have two dogs. This is Maya.
Our other dog, Cirrus, is a Siberian Husky and is freakishly beautiful. He is tall and lean (and mean) with blazing blue eyes that could melt the heart of a killer. He is quite amazing. And he knows this. And everyone that sees him tells him and us just how beautiful he is. He's a sucker for attention. A true attention hound, if you will.
Then there's Maya. She is a dog, plain and simple. She is brown with brown eyes. She is brown dog. No one ever tells her how beautiful she is. In fact, she is often pushed aside so that the glory beast's face can be viewed without distraction. And she is never fawned over the way he is. Again, she is dog.
But this dog has a heart like no other and a love for us that is immeasurable. She is a sweetie and an angel. And honestly, looking into those big brown eyes, could there really be any other dog?
I don't think so.

Fun with Snow

Now that we are living in the Tundra we are finding that sometimes it's OK to just go out and play. In fact, that seems to be a way of life out here.
It's nice to live in a place where people value life over money and possessions. Where it's OK to be 30 years old and to still build phallic snow sculptures in the backyard!

Yea!! We made it!! finally.

5 days. 24 hours of driving in 5 days.
Hotels, snow, closed roads, coffee, popcorn, chocolate, more coffee, more snow, rain, more coffee, more snow.... But, no accidents and a safe arrival in Jackson just in time to ring in the New Year.
New Year, new home, new life.