A little place called ASPEN

The Fall in Seattle this year was incredible, almost more beautiful and longer than any I experienced on the East coast.  Well , if you call "experiencing it" watching the leaves change color on the same cluster of trees perched outside my local coffee shop's window day in and day out for two months.  During the first few months of unemployment, my days were filled with me frantically resume updating, job searching, networking, website building (still under construction but coming soon ;) and thinking horrible thoughts of living in a box in Rainier Valley all my possessions packed into a shopping cart lifted from the Family Dollar parking lot or, worse, moving home with my parents (no offense mom and dad, I've just outgrown my twin daybed and flowered wallpaper).  I'd hit up every creative agency in town and even that big software company on the other side of the floaty bridge, everyone saying how impressive my experience and that they couldn't wait to work with me, but that they didn't have anything for me at this time.  A phrase I was familiar with hearing though it usually sounded a little more like "you're a great girl, I'm just not looking for a relationship right now."  That's when my search turned desperate. 

By this point, it was late Fall and the holidays were just around the corner.  The Classified section was thicker than usual, boasting Wanted ads for various seasonal help.  Many of these jobs I seriously considered, but for one reason or another, discounted them:  Event Catering - I trip a lot; Santa's Elf - too tall; Santa himself - too small and lack of facial hair; folding sweaters at the Gap - visions of Janeane Garofalo in Reality Bites which led to the repetitive singing of "My Sharona"...uh, no!   Then I found one that really did excite me...Christmas Tree sales at a local nursery.  Just the thought of myself bundled up in a North Face fleece, knit hat and Merrell boots holding a mug of spiced cider, the smell of pine needles and smiling faces of families as they picked out the perfect tree had me beaming.  I quickly tailored my resume to include any relevant skills.  Let's see....physically fit, affinity for tree trimming and caroling...uh, err, hmmm.  Well maybe if I wrote a kick ass cover letter surely that would get me hired.  I put more thought and energy into that cover letter than I had for any prospective cubicle position.  However, a few days later when I called to follow up, the owner informed me that he received over 200 applications and that all the positions had been filled.  Bah humbug.  

After this rejection, I started expanding my search criteria, not to include more jobs, but more locations.  I figured if the work didn't come to me, then I would go to the work.  This is when I flashed back to my Brazilian friend I'd met on my Mexico trip just after losing my job.  We bonded over bug bites in Puerto Escondido and became instant friends, sharing a room on our 20 hour layover in Mexico City where we got pedicures at a local mall and dined on cheap wine and stale buffet food at our airport hotel.    Though she was from Brazil, she had spent the past two years in Aspen, working in a retail shop and teaching ski lessons to beginners.  She'd gone on and on about how amazing it was to live there, slopes out your front door, an abundance of men to chose from, hoppy local micro-brews.   This sounded like the perfect opportunity to get away for awhile, lose some extra pound skiing daily, smooch some boys, and get one step closer to working on my dream event - The Aspen Food & Wine Festival.  I called her up to tell her of my plan and, as luck would have it, her boutique was hiring and there was an open room in her luxury apartment that I could actually afford.  Done, I told her I'd take the room, called the airlines to see about changing my flight that I'd booked to Ohio for the holidays, broke the news to my mom that I wouldn't be coming home this year and confirmed with a friend that I could sublet my apartment to her brother for the next few months.  Finally a weight had been lifted.  That night, I drank and laughed harder that I had in months and stopped into my friend's bar to announce to all that I was moving to Aspen.  More drinks flowed as we prepared for my departure and celebrated all the holidays that we would miss between then and my return (?) - Christmas, my 30th, New Years, Valentines Day, President's Day.

Then the next morning I received an unexpected call from my Brazilian friend's roommate informing me that he had actually already rented the room just before my friend promised it to me.  Discouraged, but not defeated, I began looking for other options but found it was too late in the season to find anything decent and affordable in the area.  So I put my dream of ski bumming in Aspen to rest and moved onto plan B - New York City.  After all, I had lived there for 6 years already and that's where all my contacts were.  I'd made it there once, surely I could do it again.  Since I'd already found someone to take over my rent temporarily and had told everyone I was leaving, I couldn't back out now.  I'm a woman of my word and if I say I'm leaving, then I'm leaving. 

 Though my tune changed from John Denver to Frank Sinatra, I was once again excited.  Excited to be reconnecting with friends in the city I once loved, and to see if maybe, just maybe, we could rekindle that romance.  I packed my bags and my apartment, arranged to sleep on a friend's couch in the city, changed my flights, found a sitter for my plant and toasted more drinks than I can count to all my West Coast friends, wondering if those cheers could possibly be the last.  Ten days later, I boarded my one-way flight to New York and set off, once again, for the unknown.