The Things We Do For Love

My husband Scott is a space nut. The boldly-go-where-no-man-has-gone-before kind, not the I-need-my-space kind. His web browser opens to space.com, he's done an internship at Goddard Space Flight Center, and he planned our honeymoon around a lunar eclipse. Well, I suppose that's not entirely true because I set the wedding date. It just so happened that the eclipse coincided nicely with our plans – and Scott is the type of man who would bother to know that it did.

In an effort to cater to Scott's space passion, I explored Space Camp for Adults, which allows the young-at-heart to be astronauts. Participants simulate shuttle missions, eat astronaut food, and experience lunar gravity, among other activities. That all sounded great, right up until I saw the picture of the multi-axis trainer. It is as bad as it may sound – spinning upside down, round-and-round, and sideways. After some hesitation, I chided myself for avoiding a task that kids one-third of my age revel in. So I booked the trip for two and revealed his birthday present well in advance.

Scott was as giddy as his scientific mind would allow, but he knew that training was in order. Motion training, to be precise. What better way to get such training than through passes to Cedar Point – known to coaster enthusiasts as the home of the tallest and fastest thrill rides around. As a kid (i.e., under 30), I would have joined in the fun. But I was convinced that my body fundamentally changed as I entered my fourth decade. Unfortunately, my lying-on-the-bench, soda-cracker-eating episode after riding The Wicked Twister was convincing proof. My aunt remarked that I must love this man, or I wouldn't subject myself to such torture. Truer words were never spoken, particularly when I faced the shame of watching the stage shows at a world-famous amusement park. Aren't they only for old people? We made it to Cedar Point twice that summer, just enough to get Scott worried about our adventure.

Not one to back away from a challenge, I embraced Space Camp with gusto, vowing to attempt every task presented to me. In a stroke of luck, a scheduling snafu sprung the multi-axis trainer on us on the first day. I quickly volunteered to be the guinea pig, knowing that I'd back out if I watched someone else. There was no turning back. The last thing the instructor said as she strapped me in was, "Keep your eyes open!" And open them I did. In fact, my fellow astronauts were amused by how wide my eyes got during the ordeal. I clung onto the handle bars as if my life – or at least the contents of my stomach – depended on it. At the end of the longest 30 seconds of my life, I was thrilled that the worst was over and I had come out grinning.

Above is a picture of me hanging out in the multi-axis trainer and below is one of the trainer in use (though not by me).

Mandatory Fun?

I'm pretty intrigued with my husband's company right now, which mandates an annual day for all employees at Cedar Point (1/2 on Tuesday and 1/2 on Wednesday of this week). What this means in practice is that an employee must either show up at work, or show up at The Point (i.e., it is not a vacation day).

The company certainly makes it easy to say yes to fun, including free tickets, food vouchers, and parking passes. So unless one really hates amusement parks (or, I suppose, really loves your job), I suspect most people will take advantage of the offer.

If I'm not mistaken, the last time I was at Cedar Point, Scott had me in "training" for Adult Space Camp, but I shall save that for another post. In the meantime, I am grateful that the chance for rain is diminishing while the projected temperature seems to be rising modestly. With luck, I shall avoid motion sickness and enjoy the carefree day. Have a great Tuesday!

Not Really Worth a Million

Last weekend my husband and I visited the Medina County Parade of Homes. For those who are unfamiliar, a Parade of Homes is typically sponsored by a particular Home Builders Association and involves local builders showcasing new (or fairly recent) home construction at various price points. The purpose is publicity for builders, of course, and to show the public what is new and exciting in home-building. Parades can either be single site (where all builders focus on a particular street in a development) or scattered (anywhere in a county, for example).

This Parade was our first scattered-site event, so we spent two afternoons traveling to various parts of Medina County. We hit 7 of the 17 homes on the tour and felt it was time well spent both to introduce us to builders we might like to work with, and to refine our opinions of what is and is not necessary in a new home.

Which brings me in a roundabout way to the point of this post - how a million dollar home can be merely "okay". Note, of course, that this judgment is both a matter of personal taste and is relatively speaking. To someone who is living in a very modest two-bedroom bungalow, any of the homes on this tour would be considered a fabulous upgrade. However, we've been visiting model homes for more than five years now and have come to realize a few things:

1. Million dollar homes aren't necessarily any nicer than $400,000 homes (for example) - they merely contain the same finishes applied to more square footage. If it is space you are after, then that might be the house for you. But if you want better finishes applied to a more intimate space, then you have to go a different direction.

2. Sometimes million dollar homes have a lot of money sunk into other features which aren't really our own cup of tea. For example, we've now been in two homes which contained a double depth basement (meaning the basement itself had a lower level) in order to accommodate a sports court (e.g., basketball, racquetball). The wow factor is certainly there, but unless that lottery pans out, perhaps that's not the best use of my personal house budget (which doesn't come close to a million dollars, thanks!).

3. Four and five thousand square foot homes can, indeed, feel small. This has to do with design and layout, and trying to cram way too many rooms and functions into the space. Some people may find a 10x10 bedroom acceptable in the midst of 4,400 other square feet, but we don't.

Who knows where our own home-building process goes from here - we are still in the middle of costing things out and determining what we can live with, or not. Luckily we know what we want and we know what we can afford. If we cannot come close to achieving both of those visions, we have the strength and fortitude to walk away.

In fact, if you pressed us for an answer this very second, we would say that we are NOT building. Once most people have gotten this far in the process, they are too caught up in the idea of a new home that they heavily compromise either their vision for the home or their financial peace of mind. We are willing to do neither. This does not mean we are out of options - we are exploring some alternatives that still might meet our criteria. But that is a slow process that will take time to pan out. Until then, we will have a bit of fun critiquing others' design choices!

Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda

I am at the Ohio State Bar Association Annual Convention, which is a gathering of lawyers, not bartenders, so it is not nearly as fun as you might think (though it is amusing in its own right, to be sure). I am a 1996 graduate of the CWRU School of Law, though I do not make my living practicing law. I do maintain my license, however, for both intellectual reasons and so that I would never be subject to a claim of "unauthorized practice of law" (no matter how remote). Thus I keep my license current, which includes a requirement of continuing legal education. The Convention offers the cheapest CLE credits around (a whole year's worth for about $300 not including lodging), and so here I sit, every spring.

Interestingly, the Convention always surfaces conflicting emotions in me, though some background might be in order. When I first graduated from law school, I went to work at Ernst & Young in a client-serving role. I was not "practicing law" per se (for legal reasons I don't need to explain here), but I was serving in a tax technical role performing most/all of the same tasks as a "real attorney". Sadly, I hated it.

Perhaps I didn't give the law enough of a chance (e.g., would it have been different in a law firm vs. an accounting firm? would it have been different with another area of law?), or perhaps I didn't have enough confidence in myself to trust my work (see my earlier post about the Imposter Syndrome).

Despite the attractiveness of the profession, I simply could not get around the fact that I was uncomfortable dispensing advice (which is pretty much the nature of legal work, don't you think?). Even with caveats and disclaimers, someone was paying my company - and, by extension, me - to tell them what to do. I found I was so much better at identifying the exception to the exception (that helps you do rather well in law school) than I was in making a recommendation to a client based on what really happens the vast majority of the time.

Think about it this way: if you get 90% right on a law school exam, you get an A. If you get 90% of the client answer right, that is malpractice. Puts it in perspective, doesn't it? The pressure on myself to be perfect was too much to bear, though admittedly the pressure is probably less than in healthcare, a profession I simply never even considered for that very reason. So I looked within E&Y for another position.

Yet I struggled mightily with the concept of doing something else other than legal/"tax technical". I've found that lawyers, more so than many other individuals, have their identities wrapped up in their profession. Not just their "job", but their fundamental definition of who they are as human beings. When I moved into a project management and communications role at E&Y and someone would ask what I did for a living, more often than not I still found a way to work "lawyer" in the answer. It is somehow more accomplished in most people's eyes (like doctor, engineer, professor) than "communications." If you think that sounds fairly obnoxious and self-important, you are probably right.

I finally realized one day that nobody could take that achievement away from me - I still graduated from law school near the top of my class and served on the Law Review. Changing jobs was not going to change that. As I explained once to counsel during voir dire (prospective jury questioning), "I am a lawyer - I passed the bar and maintain my law license; I just happen to not make my living that way." I think I saw the understanding, and perhaps a hint of envy, in their eyes. Or maybe I was just imagining things.

So every time I sit in a room full of lawyers for training, I can't help but wonder what woulda coulda shoulda happened if I had made some different choices along the way. What if I faced these issues every day - would I be any happier in my life? Better compensated? More intellectually satisfied? Or perhaps more stressed and even more neurotic (yes, that is possible!), when you consider the fact that lawyers have some of the highest incidents of alcohol and drug addiction, mental illness, and suicide. At times during the sessions I feel exhilarated as I identify legal issues for analysis (don't forget, I was always a very good student, and I aim to please!). Other times I sit there and think, "Thank God I don't have to worry about this stuff all the time!"

Overall, I am happy with the balance that I have struck, having a loose connection with the profession and a law degree in my hip pocket, while simultaneously pursuing my mission-driven job at Padua Franciscan High School. It's just that some days you wonder what might have been, you know?