9.26.2007

Transition

I'd give you an update on the office-to-massage-therapy switchover, but I'd hate to return to posting with a big ol' bang o' boring. Let's just say it's... going. In less than a month I should be able to answer the "what do you do" question with one simple response: "I'm a massage therapist." Pretty exciting. And also? Totally frightening, since Monk and I are still housing a fugitive, ahem, my brother, and spending money like we're rock stars. Or at least like two people secure in the knowledge that another paycheck is just around the corner.

I know I just need to forge ahead, trusting that I've done as much preparation for this next chapter as possible, that Monk and I will weather whatever financial storm comes our way, that my client base will grow each week, and that this is what I'm meant to be doing, regardless of how very "performing without a net" it may feel some days. Anyway.

Last week I obtained my lead climbing certification at the rock climbing gym. This basically means I am now allowed to climb the routes while clipping the rope in as I go, instead of being attached and secured the whole way. It also means I am now risking a 10-30 foot fall as opposed to a 2-4 foot one should my sweaty little fingertips lose their grip on the edge of a handhold (or should my foot decide that it is indeed attached to a big clumsy ox and therefore has no business holding steady on a walnut-sized lump bolted into the wall).

Saturday Climbsalot and Co. invited me to meet up with them after my massage appointment for a lead climbing extravaganza. It was a lot of fun, a little humbling, and extremely sweaty. On one particular climb, I'd successfully reached the 120+ ft "summit" and gave the order to be lowered down. Nothing happened. I yelled again "okay, take me down!" Silence, and then, from somewhere down below I heard "uh oh. Um, hold on!"

You know what happens when you climb all the way up a 120+ ft route without anyone checking that you have enough rope to loop over the anchor and be lowered another 120+ feet down to the ground? Yeah.

Turns out the best way to get out of this jam would be to swing over and grab onto another route's top rope, tie it into my harness, untie the original rope from the harness, hope I've looped the second rope correctly and tied the second knot right (while hanging onto a wall), let go of the first rope, then cross my fingers and trust that I would be lowered down without incident.

Did you get all that? Don't worry, it took ME a couple 'wait, WHAT do you want me to do's before I sorted it all out, too. Basically I needed to be confident in my balance and strength, and not be afraid of the fact that I would be securing myself while clinging to the wall (120+ feet up!), without Climbsalot to doublecheck my ties and loops, etc. for safety.

I needed to trust my knot.

Would you like a visual? Here I am, right before the 'uh oh.'



Did I mention this was 120+ feet above the ground? I hate to over-emphasize it, but...



Once, back in my college days, a friend and I were driving 90 mph down an old farm road in Iowa over winter break and we decided to swap seats. While driving. Please don't ask me why this seemed like a better idea than actually stopping and switching places. Some sort of crazy Iowan logic is my guess.

Folks, tying in and out of a harness in a concrete silo, 120+ feet above the ground was every bit as awesome.

It made me realize: If I can do THAT without panicking, this career transition thing should be a snap. I've spent two years planning and studying and networking, etc., and as stressful as it might become at times, it's not impossible. I can do this.

I just have to trust my knot.

9.11.2007

Sporadic

So my replacement at the office is... not quick. Not quiet. And not Quinn. But hey, I'm outta here, so I'm working hard at finding the right balance between caring, and "not my problem, adios, suckers!"

Also, my assistant spent last week threatening to quit, so that was great. She's agreed to stay, for now, and I'm just hoping I get out before the proverbial dooky hits the oscillating blades, if you will.

A slightly worrisome development at the office is that I could swear my replacement smelled of smoke and booze this afternoon. Not sure how big of a deal to make of it, and will probably opt for the 'duck and cover' (or rather, 'keep your head down, keep going') strategy on this one as well.

This is my last full-time week at the office, and then I start the part-time, as needed, bill the company for my time (and possibly for anything even remotely resembling work time i.e., "oh! I just thought about the office at dinner... that'll be another hour's pay, please") phase of the transition. Which may take me through October after all, if the Not Me we're trying to train continues to Not Get It.

Meanwhile, I have no office and no computer (and no desk, and no place to put my stuff except the cardboard box sitting in the middle of my boss's office- woo!), and therefore (and most devastating) no internet access (priorities, people), so posting will be sporadic- please don't forget about me in the meantime. And I promise to put some sort of (boring) recap of our beach weekend up here soonish.