Closing a Chapter

We've been working on purging our house, making more room. We won't be getting a new au pair next year. Our current one departs in October. RocketMom is still working for my firm part-time, about 8-10 hours a week. She's getting a new laptop next week, to facilitate more working at home. We really don't need full-time childcare. Yes, we're home schooling, but the boys are mostly self-directed in that regard. We plan to hire some part-time help to cover the hours Rocket is in the office, some time for her to get away and be herself during the day, and some time at night or weekends to cover for both of us so we can have a date every so often.

We'll be reclaiming one small bedroom once M leaves. We've been listing things on Craigslist and Freecycle: a weight bench; a second mixer, a couple old kitchen cabinets. We're thinking of unloading our piano (the first piece of furniture we bought together), and getting a smaller electronic keyboard. In the dining room there are still two large bookcases covering an entire wall, that hadn't anywhere else to go. They cramp the space, and are less than half used at the moment. Over the years, we've discarded, sold, given away, or donated, on the order of 500-1000 books. One (even larger) bookcase remains upstairs in the hallway, packed to overflowing. I've got a full bookcase at my office with just about everything related to my present vocation. There are also several large filing cabinets with articles and documents, as well as personal materials.

So, I was revisiting a bottom shelf of one of the large dining room book cases, filled with music: scores, xeroxes, handwritten manuscripts. About 60% now rests in a pile a couple feet high or so, to be donated, discarded, sold, or given away. I . am. no. longer... I... I am... I am no longer a singer! at least not professionally, at least not for a career. There I said it. It's done.

That was... difficult! More difficult than what follows, which to you who have been reading is not news: I am no longer an academic... at least not for now... not for the foreseeable future. What need do I have for obscure bits of music, that I don't plan to sing, or write about? None is what I concluded... and so they stand in a stack two feet high, awaiting another residence.

A Good Week

It's been a good week so far. I'm beginning to settle into things a bit more. It's still a surprise to me to head into the office, and know that I'm the boss, that I'm responsible not only for my ideas, and my work. I'm responsible for a staff, and I'm responsible to my clients to deliver.

Today I submitted the third monthly report on my newer project. (The report due dates are staggered a couple weeks, so I flip flop between the two efforts). We're half way through the first stage contract on the second project. That's all that's guaranteed on this one.

At the end of six months, they get to decide if they want to fund us for another couple years. I think we've better than a 50/50 chance to get the two-year extension, but there's a lot riding on what we deliver over the next few months. Can we convince them that we're really onto something, something untried, but potentially transformative?

It's a new area for us as well. There's certainly a link to the work we've been doing, but the issues are broad and deep. Can I successfully make the case that the problems are extensive but that we've something useful to contribute to their resolution? Only time will tell.

But it's a wonderful position to be in to know that even if not, I've got signed contracts sufficient to sustain myself and my staff (perhaps even another new hire or two) for a couple years.

Yes, I've come to realize that there must be a plan beyond that. I need to see this company to long term viability. At the moment, there really isn't another option (shy of shepherding in New Zealand).

So, I look ahead, and keep on keeping on. Meantime, I'll enjoy my Monday off, and I look forward to a few days or a week at the Lake House in July. All in all, life is pretty good.

Waiting ain't what it used to be

Yes... I'm still waiting. But, waiting with a great deal more confidence and enthusiasm. Is there not always something to anticipate, something new? I've sometimes considered the tragic flaw of characters from my real life their attachment to a worldview of "same old same old". What a pity their lives must be.

No, things change in life. Each morning a new sun rises; each day a new person looks back in the mirror. There's a bounce in my step these days, though not one immune to ups and downs. I still complain, and bristle at the waits.

It's been nearly one year since I completed my first six month contract as an independent researcher. It was about four months later that I received the green light for the second six month contract (supposedly transitional funding to get to the two year). And now it's been more than a month since that contract expired. I wait for the big two year in hand. Someday soon, I suppose.

It's been more than five months since my firm was selected to receive a separate six month contract from another agency. I wait too for that contract to be issued (perhaps today, tomorrow?). I grumble, yes. I haven't paid myself since November. I'm floating credit cards for a month or two, because we don't have the free cash to pay them off.

Last week, I was finally notified that we would be receiving a low-interest rate loan from the state to cover the gap between our expenses and the payment we'll receive on these (still pending) contracts. A loan in the end, not a grant. Funny thing, the loan is because we're further along (i.e. grants are for those companies waiting to hear about selection). We've already been selected to receive funding, so they suppose we'll be able to pay it back more assuredly.

I can bemoan these things, or just accept them. In light of where I am, how far I've come, the opportunities that loom ahead of me, the chances to pursue my passions, and hire and support others in that endeavor, it hardly seems appropriate to dwell on negatives.

So, I wait... but I fill my time with tasks, myriad tasks, administrative, and some creative. I'm thinking ahead to my next 5-10 year plan. I wonder if that will be reached in three like my last one?

Transformation

Yesterday, I had the task of deciding and informing a candidate that the fit just wasn't right. I found it entirely unpleasant an experience, even if an educational one. There I was on the phone with a very nice fellow, intelligent, capable. But it wasn't right.

How many times was I the receiver of that information? It doesn't make it easier.

Yesterday, I also received a call that the contract offer for my new project had been approved. I was sent the offerer's "position" for acceptance, because they had to make some modifications, to accomodate an additional cost item they were asking for. Their modification came in the form of a reduction of budgetted hours.

I have no objection because I'll likely be able to realize some cost savings elsewhere, without having to compromise the hours needed to accomplish the tasks. For one, I have accepted offers from two new hires, at a slightly lower pay scale than I had budgetted for (assuming I might need to negotiate with them). Those two employees are starting in about a month. One more full-time position remains open.

This contract is structured, unlike the two-year, as a fixed price contract, meaning I invoice based on the work accomplished rather than my expenses. So it all works out in the wash. I expect the contract itself this afternoon for my signature.

I expect the big two-year contract to arrive within the next two to three weeks. As far as I understand, everything has been approved. We're just waiting for the various signatures and processing to take place before the final draft is presented to me.

I'm ready for the transformation, if but a bit apprehensive about the changes. A few years ago, I was salivating over a possible dean's post at a community college, which there was a snowball's chance in hell I'd get. Now what I've got, in just about all measurable terms, exceeds what that position had to offer.

I wrote then about how it might side-track me from my mid-term goals. Now I've met them. I looked at that pay scale then as all but unattainable. Now I've exceeded it. I worried about being a manager. Now, I'm not only the manager, but the chief executive.

But the real transformation is about to begin. I crawled into this cocoon a caterpillar. The next two years will see if this butter can fly.

So Odd

The applications have been trickling in. Tonight I received my second application from a standing assistant professor. It's so odd to be receiving materials, to be on the hiring end, to get these respectful, deferentially worded letters—Dear Dr. Dad... thank you for the opportunity to apply...)—eager, enthusiastic, hopeful. I remember so well the effort I put in. The one I received tonight shows enormous energy, and impressive credentials.

I wonder how many more I will receive before the deadline in a week and a half. Will I really be able to hire the best? Will I pale in comparison to their accomplishments and potential? How many nearly-best applicants will I have to pass over, simply because I haven't the funds (like so many departments) to hire more? Will what I have to offer them actually satisfy? I thought I'd be vetting unemployed PhDs, those like me who've spent inordinate effort for nothing. But I've yet to receive an application from that sort. Either they've just finished or are about to finish their doctorate (in one case, only a Bachelor's degree), or they're already Assistant Professors. Where are the mes of the world?

I've created the post I was looking for. But I'm no longer applying; I'm the boss. How odd. How truly odd. And the chickens are not yet home to roost. Something could always fall through. The two year contract may be delayed, or fail to get finalized. I don't expect it (at this point it's highly improbable), but I've grown leery of overconfidence, and I've gained a rooted sense of pragmatism. I know that whatever occurs, I'll be fine. The boost in my confidence and the validation of my research that I've gotten over the past couple years is enough to sustain me for quite a while.

Even in the worst case, however, we won't lose our house. I'd still be able to cover the mortgage on the new office building downtown for a couple years. I worry about those hopefuls whom I'd be forced to disappoint, the ones who by right I ought to hire, whom to be honest I would be thrilled and honored to work beside.

I remain confident that things will continue to progress. I have this second project commencing in the next couple months. I have transitional funding from my first project through the end of the year. And the two-year follow on contract remains only a few (albethey significant) formalities away.

If all goes well, I will be hiring some of the choice candidates in the coming months. I will move into my new office in the next month. I will have stable and rewarding employment for the next couple years.

Joni Mitchell's words and Judy Collins' voice best sing my life today:

Moons and Junes and Ferris Wheels,

the dizzy dancing way you feel

when every fairytale comes real...

But now friends are acting strange

They shake their heads and say I've changed

Well something's lost, but something's gained

in living every day...

Letting go?

Those of you who have been following my journey these past several years will recall how I struggled with the choice to leave academia. And yet, I still hold on, a bit at least. I still check to see if that post across the sea has been reopened. Will I reapply? Should I? Part of me wants a good reason not to.

I can't quite explain why my recent success is not yet enough cause. Though it's getting close. What is the appeal? Sure, it's a five year fixed term, with the possibility of tenure. That's attractive in itself. I may be entering the realm of two-year contracts, but the sand beneath my feet remains uncertain. The life of an entrepreneur is not known to be secure. But, as RocketMom points out, working for a large university, even as a relatively independent research faculty member, would be worlds different from my current state.

At present, I am in so many ways free. But then... aren't we always? We so often get stuck in our ways, believing ourselves caught in a life, when the choice is most often our own. I believe in large part it's because we wish to have our options limited, since endless possibilities are daunting. They represent, as Douglas Coupland put it (when he was still a good writer), "options paralysis".

I am... afraid. Exhilirated, yes! But afraid nonetheless. I fear that this present mode, this current life, which appears so wonderful, so many scoops of ice cream above the once empty cone that was the sum total of my life after the PhD, is but a phantom, on the verge of vanishing into the ether from which it emerged.

You see, beneath the veneer, I feel pretty much the same on both sides of this door. My old mentor, Tasse Plein, paid me a related compliment, when I recently called on him out of the blue in The City, where he lives and works. He was thrilled for my recent run of success (even before the latest news).

I mentioned that I was so accustomed to disappointment in my professional life, that I was having some difficulty accepting what had every appearance of being success. He kindly put in that he thought I'd manage, that I wasn't the sort of person who would change much from it.

But if I haven't changed all that much, how do I make sense of the world around me changing? And so, I hold on to a bit of the world I knew for so long, the world of academia, as still a possible home, but a home that I wish the freedom to accept or leave. I want that choice, the choice that was denied me for so many years, even if I might choose not to take it.

Oui, ça change, mais ce n'est plus la même chose

Change comes indeed!

I will be buying a building downtown as office space for the business that has emerged remarkably from the ashes of my career. They have accepted my offer of $165k, for a 3300 sq. ft. space, including a 1500 sq.ft. upstairs apartment, which I'm not yet sure what to do with.

Assuming no unexpecteds, I'm on the hook now for a commercial mortgage. Each time we think we are closer to being debt free (which represents for me freedom), we follow Harry's clarion call: once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.

I'm raw tonight, after two margaritas and a glass of wine. I wonder at the changes. I think of the image of a transforming background, while the foreground remains unchanged. Am I different from the man I was a few years ago, desperately seeking faculty employment? I think not... not in essence. My commitments remain; may passions remain; my drive remains.

What has changed is that now I have some income, and the prospect for a few years more to continue to pursue those ideas that set me alight. Oh, and by the way, enough to hire a few others to keep me company on the journey. Coal is black, yet it burns. Even ashes provide energy, when properly set.

So I remain, Articulate Dad, father of three, husband, lover, scholar, researcher, innovator, entrepreneur. Yes, I will do what is required of me to be allowed my freedom to think, to do, to be. Damn the torepedoes; full speed ahead.

A new chapter begins. Wow, this life is becoming quite the book!

R&R

I'll be heading out to the lakehouse this weekend with RocketMom and the boys. My wife's family often gathers at her grandparents' lakehouse to celebrate national holidays, most prominently American Independence Day. Since no one lives there year round any more, it's pretty much free for us to stay on as we like. It's about two hours or so from us, and more like 20 minutes from most of the family. We'll spend the week there, down a dirt lane, alongside a small lake, surrounded by trees and frogs (and mosquitos).

The place has a lot of meaning for us. A couple years ago when we joined the family, from our remote residence in southern California, we made a decision that we'd be happier nearer family, with access to such a beautiful and peaceful refuge. Until then, we had an inkling that we'd be moving on, to start over with a house and a home, but we weren't really sure where.

During the past year since we moved here, we've been there a few times, relaxing, rejuvenating. Returning from there a year ago was when I first heard of my selection to receive a first stage contract to support my research. Yesterday, I got a call from one of the mid-level administrators at the agency that will be funding my second stage, apologizing for the delays, and indicating that they are doing everything they can to expedite my transitional funding, which she expects to be in place before the holiday.

This is such a different world that surrounds me from the one I knew just a year or two ago. But I'm not sure I've much changed, except in regaining my confidence. It's as if I've been dressed in black, first hidden by the darkness of night, then emerging from a background of red, and finally in full relief against the white. My raiment has remained unchanged, but my appearance has become transformed.

I'm looking forward to this week, and to what comes after.

And so it goes...

I've had little energy for blogging of late. Partly, I'm in a new phase in my life, and I'm not sure where blogging fits in. Partly, it's been a rough patch. But a "rough patch" today hardly qualifies as an irritant in my yesterday. I feel so blessed and lucky to be where I am, that it feels like whining to complain, to delve into concerns, and doubts, and fears. But it's been a few months since I received any income. After an initial shock and joy at receiving a research contract, I've revisited the old familiar territory of Wait-and-See.

Suffice it to say, the rough patch has ended. I am (or soon will be) truly in business. I've gotten an invitation to proceed to the next level with my R&D. Meaning, I will be getting a six-month extension to my initial contract as soon as the paperwork is filed (albeit a few months later) and will shortly enter contract negotiations for another TWO YEARS after that!

And I don't mean just two years of me hanging on, getting by. I mean, come the fall, I will most likely be HIRING two or three full-time employees, paying them not a fortune, but an amount I would have been delighted to receive when I finished my PhD (if I had gotten an Asst. Prof. gig) .

And, since my home office just won't serve for three or four, I'm looking into buying a small office space downtown by the water. It's an amazingly depressed market, but a really lovely downtown, in sight of sailboats in the harbor. One of the reasons we chose this particular city was because it was affordable, by the water, and beautiful. The thought of me being a part of revitalizing the city, my fondest but not quite believable hope when we moved here, is almost beyond words.

I can't express how good this feels, and how I still wonder whether it might not just vanish, a phantom, an image, a dream. But it feels quite real. I got through the first gate. I passed the test. And now, finally, they have decided to push the envelope and invite me to produce a prototype solution to their problem. They had given me six months to prove my concept feasible and, despite bureaucratic delays, they've become convinced that I have succeeded.

And so, I step lightly, but swiftly! There's a lot I have to learn about running a small business, on top of a good deal of work on the research. Wish me luck.

In other news...

Just thought I'd update you on the business front. At the beginning of this week, I issued a press release on my firm's recent contract. I had a telephone interview yesterday with a writer for the state entrepreneurs' network. I got a couple calls from the business reporter from the main newspaper in a large city nearby. She wants to do a couple interviews with me, and try out a new mini-business plan feature with my firm as guinea pig. Also, got word this morning to expect a call from the business reporter from my own city's main paper.

There's a lot of excitement about my (albeit moderate) success. It's amazing to me how vested local parties are in the growth of my company. How different this feels from the complete and utter neglect I got from my doctoral institution, from my old department. How different this feels from the shame of the four years post-doc that I spent applying for one faculty post after another, and receiving mostly silence.

Talk about the economy! Why is it that this great nation has such little regard for teachers and professors and educational institutions? Why is it that the administrators of supposed institutions of higher learning haven't the courage to stand up and set priorities where they ought to be (to be clear, I mean that the priorities of colleges and universities ought to be focused on teaching and research, not on buildings, courtyards, and athletic events.) The number of faculty across the country should be doubled, and salaries should at least keep up with reasonable expectations for someone with the level of educational attainment and apprenticing that PhDs have.

I'm doing the research. I'm finally receiving income commensurate with my training, and in line with what I'm working towards. I'm getting support for that. But it's been a long and painful road. And I'm not out of the woods yet. My current contract is short. There may yet be lean times ahead. Who knows: someday, perhaps I'll be able to teach again as well.

Flying High

I'm heading out of town on Monday for my initial meeting with the funding agency that has issued me a contract. I've been working full days of late, keeping track of everything. I won't get paid for another couple months, but I'm definitely on the clock. It feels good. But it leaves me little time for blogging.

I had a conversation this morning for over an hour with a fellow I met a while back at a conference. I wrote a little about him in my old blog. I had contacted him recently to formally ask if he'd serve on the Advisory Board to my firm. It was a great, free flowing and supporting conversation. I'd say there are a lot of similarities between us, though he's a few years ahead of me. He received his PhD in 1991, and founded his own firm in 2002. So, he makes a perfect mentor to me. Even better, our work is complementary, so there should be many fruitful collaborations down the pike.

I just thought I'd poke me head in here to say, I'm still around, and still cranking ahead. I think back to a post I wrote nearly two years ago, about striking out on my own, and the commentary there that pressed me on what that might mean. It's been a good couple years.

Abundance

Abundance is a good thing to have. I can't say that we are wealthy, but we have enough. Luckily, thanks to our savings and the generosity of state-sponsored benefits, we have enough to survive as a family in relative comfort for a few more years, without worrying too much about when and how much income. It is a luxury for which, though I think we are worthy of it, I am truly grateful.

What it gives us is an abundance of time. It's ours to choose how that time is spent. I'm plugging away at my business plans and research. I've realized that while I've been placing a priority on developing the materials for a patent application, what I really need is to develop some proofs-of-concept. These are complementary enterprises, so I'm not too concerned. It's just good to keep priorities in mind.

Time. To some extent, time is on my side. I'm in no rush. There is little to be gained from rushing through a patent application. Without the proofs-of-concept no one is going to take me and my technology seriously. That's an advantage as I see it. The only real threat is if there is some maverick or outsider like me out there who either gets whiff of what I'm doing (not terribly likely) or who is developing such things concurrently and happens to reduce to practice before I do. For now, I'm discounting that possibility as rather unlikely, since I think it takes an odd and eclectic background and interest (as well as the means to spend a great deal of time on the project) to get where I am and where I'm going.

I'm planning to keep up with my schedule this summer. I've actually worked out a fuller and more detailed plan in the past week (which incidentally includes this book chapter I agreed to write--a promise is a promise). I've been playing with Gantt charts (which I first used in my recent grant proposal). But I'm also planning to keep my life in perspective. I'm moving ahead my plans to get a workstation dedicated to the research and software development. I might go for it in the next few weeks. I'm planning to run a flavor of Linux (any recommendations or cautions... I'm leaning toward SuSE at the moment), and pick up some powerful (possibly expensive) industry-strength software for prototyping and algorithm development. It's time to get serious in that regard.

It's not all work though. Today, I cleared out much of the garage, enough to park our car in there alongside our minivan. We've been here three months, and this is the first time. This morning, I finished putting up the ceiling tiles in the basement family room. All that remains is staining and putting in the baseboards and the doors, getting an area rug or ordering carpeting, then organizing and cleaning up. I also consolidated my books and papers in the office onto one large bookshelf, and moved the second large bookshelf into the living room, to store games and toys. It's a big improvement for both rooms, and gives the office more space which will be needed especially when I get the second workstation. More cleaning and organizing tomorrow, and I've committed to keeping the home projects end up, even if it eats into some of my workweek hours. In the end, I'm sure my work time will be more productive (and my life more fulfilled).

As soon as the family room is finished, I can set up the exercise room. I'm feeling my age (or worse). I'm 40. Too many people die young. I think of Tony Snow. No fan of his, I assure you. But no one should die at 53! I think of Douglas Adams. I am a fan of his. My wife and I heard him speak about a week before he died in 2001, at the age of 49! My dad was 69 when he died of prostate cancer. Give me 30 more years, that's all I ask. But it's a tall order I know. It's best I do my part, meaning exercise for one.

Late in the Season

I finally got the vegetable garden set today. About three weeks ago, I dug up the sod in a triangle bed just outside our back fence, along one edge of the driveway leading into our detached garage. It seemed a useless patch of grass, too small to play in, good for little more than an extra four minutes of weekly mowing. Silly, I thought... but it has a nice warm micro-climate, sheltered and insulated by the wood plank fence, and warmed by the concrete driveway, with a full-sun westward facing. Today, I finally finished with separating the soil from the roots, tossing the dying grass in a pile by the worm-bin, and tilling up the soil in the now vegetable patch.

We had bought a bunch of seeds to start the garden (along with some still languishing bulbs and tubers) that populate our back stairwell. I decided at this late stage in the season, it'd be better to plant some seedlings than to start seeds. The Inventor and I headed out to a couple garden centers. Tomatoes we found in abundance, but sweet peppers were hard to come by. Many varieties of hot pepper, but I could only locate two types of sweet (both oddly enough purple). So, we have a half dozen tomato plants, five hot peppers, four sweet (purple!) peppers, one bean plant, and three strawberries. I also bought a few packs of lettuce seedlings (which it's certainly too late to start from seed) in hopes that they'll provide us with a month or two of baby salad greens. I'll plant them along the inside of the fence tomorrow.

Still a little room in the triangle patch. Maybe I'll put in some seeds, or purchase a couple other plants (eggplant? more beans?) Not really enough room for cucumbers or zucchini there. I might find another spot (though I'm not sure it'll be this season). There's a lot to do in the garden besides. I was also planning on starting a small bed or two inside the fence, and have half a notion to plant some corn in the greenway along the street. We'll see. Anything that doesn't get done tomorrow will have to wait.

We'll be taking off for a few days starting on Tuesday. My wife's grandparents own a remote house near the Wisconsin Dells, on a dirt road, alongside a pond ("the lake house"), which is the venue for occasional family gatherings, most traditionally for the Fourth of July. We'll be heading up a couple days early, and staying on a couple days past.

No computer. It'll be five days without email, or internet. RocketMom promised she'd try to plan enough activities and outings so we wouldn't get bored. And I promise, I'll try to just be in the moment. Vacations are good... I'm just not always so good at being there.

Slow & Steady

The choice I face today as an entrepreneur is how far/how fast. What are my requirements, my needs, my hopes, my expectations? I'm at a pause. Not that I'm standing still. It's more like I've hiked to a vantage; I'm taking a few deep breaths to survey the scape around me.

We made this choice as a family to leave behind HELL.A. (the "hel" is silent), to find a nice place in the midwest, where we could afford to be home owners again, near family (at least my inlaws), near the water (so we could go sailing again sometime), where the air is cleaner than we had, where the pace is gentler, where neighborhoods have sidewalks, and neighbors say "hello" to each other, and lend out garden tools just because. We've found that place. We're very happy here, enjoying the spring (despite the frequent heavy rains).

But where to, and when, and how? A week ago, I submitted a grant proposal for funding to support the work I'm already doing. I've been honing and focusing my efforts. If I get the grant, that buys us another year or two (at least for us alone, though it won't allow me to hire employees). I'm working on my patent application. Patents are like diplomas, they're nice to have but relatively meaningless in themselves.

What I need is a product. What I need is a plan. I remind myself of a debate that I've summed up before as the opposition in outlooks between the composers Haydn and Dvořák. Haydn for his part viewed the essential task of music, its mark of genius, to reside in devising a fine melody. Dvořák considered the melody the easy part, believing rather that musical genius was in the treatment of a melody, not its creation.

Both of these masters were abundantly skilled at producing memorable melodies. I find myself more in the latter camp however. It's interesting to note the differences of their circumstances. Haydn spent a career as a court composer, sustained, supported, directed by a wealthy patron. His freedom to compose derived from his relative lack of worries. Dvořák toiled. He picked up temporary and part-time gigs, applied for grants and stipends to permit his continued efforts.

They present not only a difference in philosophy, but a difference as models for an entrepreneur. Do I wish to seek the comfort and stability that comes from raising capital (or taking a job), in exchange for releasing some of my creative direction, or do I wish to continue along a path of great freedom, in exchange for releasing financial comfort and stability? In the end I may reach the same point. Both masters' music lives on.

There are as many journeys as there are feet to tread them. For now my path lies before me. RocketMom is here to hold my hand, join the discussion at times, offer her advice. She begins to say we rather than you (as in "maybe we're not ready to hire someone full-time" or "we can wait a couple months to see if we get this grant"). I like that.

Perhaps I'm a bit afraid that if I leap too fast (by seeking investors now), the research and its applications will get away from me. It's not so much that I fear delegating, that I'm afraid to share decisions, that I don't recognize that others may be better qualified or equipped than I to make certain sorts of decisions. It's more that I don't wish to be hasty. It's just not yet time. There is no rush.

Ah... I think I'll take that path over there down the mountain. I like the way it looks.

Almost a family room

All the wall board is up. The wires have been pulled. We'll put up the last wallboard (outside the room, to set up a wall of shelves for our "pantry") tomorrow. I'll have a neighbor do the seam taping. We purchased all the ceiling tiles and hardware today. Still waiting for the second light fixture to come back into stock. Maybe we'll put up the doors tomorrow as well. Then it's painting, and a floor, and moving in the furniture. I can't wait for this to be done (but I'm quite proud of the project). I'm just ready to concentrate on patents and grants.


Good news (at least of the temporary kind) came yesterday though. We qualified and have been approved for state-sponsored health insurance. With my necessary expenses so reduced, I can concentrate a bit more freely on research and building my business, which should have a far greater positive effect on that society than leaving me in the dust to wallow in unemployment (or perhaps worse adjunct servitude).

Whenever you close a door...

A couple days ago, I received an email from the director of a workshop/institute in Canada, who had initially contacted me a year ago inviting me to participate as a speaker. Because of conflicts I was unable to take part, but we left the possibility open for future collaborations. The recent letter was rather thorough, with an update on what has been happening with the institute, and with her invitations and talks in the interim. She wrote in particular to ask if I'd be available to meet for a couple days this summer with some of her colleagues to discuss possible links between my work and theirs.

I am wondering whether you might be interested in having a conversation about possible links. I continue to feel that your work and background would suit a fruitful interaction.

I wrote back to say it was nice to hear from her, to update her a bit on my status, and to say, yes, if she could arrange it, I should be available to fly in for a two-day meeting.

She wrote back immediately:

Good to read from you. Yes, it's a tough road to find the sort of position you're looking for in academe. We're in the midst of trying to make a pitch for some of that here, and [the institute] is a centrepiece of that plan. Out of curiousity - does your news about stopping the frustrating job search mean that you would not take a position if it fell into your lap? (not offering, but in a longer-term sense things may emerge here...)

And so, the saga continues. I've learned however to count on nothing (except myself, and my family). That said, of course I'm intrigued by her continuing interest in my work. Would I consider a position that fell in my lap? Surely. Would I take it? Depends on the position.

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Meantime, our house is almost in order. The basement begins to look less like a city dump, and more like a work-in-progress. We've framed the entire family/entertainment room, and are ready to start putting in the electrical. Another couple weeks? My father-in-law comes over about two days a week, for us to work on it.

We're almost done with all the unpacking. We opted to keep the Painter home for the remainder of this school year, then start him in first grade in the fall. We were rather unimpressed with the next school over, where he'd need be sent for the rest of kindergarten. This will give us some chance to visit the zoned school (and possibly others in the district if that proves equally uninspiring).

I'm wishing very much that I could have a normal week of working again. But moving takes time. It's good to be here though. I can say that with confidence. It's good to have a home again, to own a home again. It's good to have a sense that we're on a solid footing, that we're taken care of for a while, that we need not worry too much about finances, and can focus on life. One step at a time.

Dust settling (or is that snow?)

Why yes, it has snowed, a couple times since we got here. Yesterday, flurries. Meanwhile it's touching 90F in our old haunts. I don't miss them.

I'm a chameleon, I guess. Roll with the punches. I'm still sad (and a bit bitter) about the state of affairs that pits education at the bottom rung of our societal ladder. But I recognize part of the fault lies with any of us who are willing to accept those conditions without a fight. I walked away, not simply because it allowed me to retrieve my dignity and self-respect, but also because I think it's the best thing to do for a broken system, to let it falter, then help rebuild it (when the time comes). Perhaps I'm a bit too grand, but the drama helps me through the frustration, aids me in accepting the difference between where I have power to choose, and where I do not.

Meantime, I finished our tax return, and discovered with pleasure that we'll be getting a handsome refund. I made preliminary application for some state support (in particular health care), which if it comes through will save us a pretty penny, while I work to build my research into something viable and supporting. Then, we got an apologetic call from our former landlady today, saying she's putting our security deposit refund check in the mail in the morning, and that she's returning most of it. I already got back the bulk of the security deposit on my office rental. We have two more "paid family leave" checks coming for Rocket. The moving expenses are already covered.

Looks like it'll be mid-summer before we need to take more cash out of savings for expenses. That's welcome news. We're still settling in, unpacking, organizing. My father-in-law and I are still working to finish off half the basement. We've got some more details to work out with registering the Painter for the fall, and enrolling him to finish out this year of kindergarten if we can reasonably.

Otherwise, I'm about ready to dig into my research and coding, undistracted (or at least with fewer distractions). Life is good.

Prelude to routine

Beethoven's The Creatures of Prometheus plays mildly on a portable boom box on my office desk, cluttered by random piles of papers and miscellaneia that haven't found a permanent location yet. The CD was one we had lent a friend, returned the day before we moved, so it was readily accessible.

The window shades are opened, so I can look outside, rather than at the brown walls (which I will repaint someday to brighten up this room). The door is closed. I'll have to work out a signal with the family to indicate when I'm actually working. A closed door should serve for now.

The sounds of the boys bounding up and down the stairs (just outside my office door) are only slightly muffled by Beethoven's Opus 43. Perhaps when the basement is finished, they'll spend more time down there. We shall see.

The sun shines brightly on this new week, beckoning us to invention (and reinvention).

Perspective

Ah yes. There is indeed a floor in this house. The moving truck arrived on Wednesday morning. Rocket, the Composer, and I spent the night before in an empty house on an air mattress in what is now our bedroom. Our car and van arrived Wednesday as well, at my inlaws' house. They drove them (and the two older boys) over in the afternoon. It's been a hectic more than a week, what with travelling, and waiting, and finally FINALLY unpacking.

We've a home again. It's ours. At least as much as any home is really one's own. I've realized (at least at this point in my life) the difference between renting and owning is a somewhat subtle distinction. It means we can do what we want with the house (barring local regulations to the contrary) without asking anyone's permission. Yet that subtle distinction makes a world of difference.

But we don't own it really. It's 80% owned by the bank. The window coverings are someone else's residue. The rusty or leaky pipes are someone else's neglect. We've simply inherited it, like some forgotten uncle's vineyard. The changes, the choices now, are our own.
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We've heard every day the same question: So, uh, why'd you move here? And though we struggle, just a bit, to clarify our reasons (even if we simplify them), the question itself is validation somehow that we are keeping perspective, that we have prioritized our lives, that we have decided what we value. And that makes a world of difference.

I sit now, at my reassembled black-brown Ikea galant corner desk with its two extensions, in a too-darkly-painted 10'x10' room, with stacks of boxes, two large bookcases, and three printers. I type on my friend Moose, the computer that has succeeded my old laptop DI in my affections. This is my office. I've set up the wireless network. In fact, the first appliance we brought to the house was the cable modem the internet company installed on Tuesday morning.

My father-in-law and I had been working on finishing off half the basement, until unpacking became the order. We've got a 12'x10' room mostly framed, which will serve as the entertainment center/family room/playspace once its done. The living room contains two sofas, an arm chair and two large book cases. The piano is in the dining room. We removed the second fridge to the garage (in California they rent houses without most appliances, so we brought our fridge, washer and dryer with us). [Don't worry, Tracy, pictures are coming. I promise.]

Many little details still to attend to. I've our taxes to finish in the next week or so. The Painter will take his entrance testing tomorrow for the local school district. I'll talk with them to find out what our options are for the rest of this year and for next. Bit by bit. The bills come due in the next few weeks to cover our moving expenses. The last large chunk for our choice. Then we settle into a budget, and a routine.

Life is clay on a wheel, ours to spin and mold to the content of our hearts' imagination.

Home owned!

No longer packing. No longer flying. No longer toting (three boys, three car seats, three cats, luggage). Movers should arrive in about a week (hopefully less). Car and van are expected on Monday.

We signed over a large bank check to the mortgage broker today, received a much smaller refund check from them for the difference, and a stack of papers including a warrant deed for our own nice little property in the midst of a wet snow flurry. A welcome greeting. We're still with the inlaws... but I think we're finally HOME... for a time at least.