South of Sunnyside

Since I haven’t been setting aside time to write regularly, I almost let this slip past, but Wednesday marked the end of my fifth year in Fresno, and the beginning of the next five. (Maybe.)

I could write a book about the things I’ve learned in that time (not to imply that anyone would read it), but there are a few overarching themes/lessons learned:

• No person is perfect; thus, no community of people can be perfect
• You get out of a community what you put into it (somewhere a former school teacher is smiling)
• Success is a relative concept
• Dogs make everything hairier

For historical purposes, I’ll offer a short overview of the move out here:

I was done with school—and with the South; Kim and I had been dating long distance for a year and I wanted to be closer; I had saved enough money to buy a truck, rent a trailer and fuel the 2,211 mile trek. What I didn’t budget for, however, was the expense of two (yes, 2) transmissions and an extra three nights in Elk City, Okla., where the first one left me and my brother stranded.

After five years, I’m proud to call Fresno home. Most of the time.

Every time my wife’s family gathers for a Sunday afternoon meal, one of the kids—it’s usually Kim—says something inappropriate that dramatically changes the mood in the room. Every. single. time.

Today’s Father’s Day lunch looked to be no different; Kim’s brother started the discussion before lunch was served, by questioning their mother’s visits to the tanning booth (evidently, all the kids have been warned about the threat of skin cancer and forbidden to tan). That conversation died quickly, so it looked like we were in for a normal meal.

We talked about movies.

We talked about vacation.

We talked about work.

And that’s where we took a wrong turn. In discussing work, we learned that Kim’s brother is facing a potential furlough at work, after a series of layoffs. That led to a discussion about furloughs, and I tried to lighten the mood by saying that my company was considering furloughs (see, I own the company, and before last week I was the only employee…).

To that, Kim responded: “Screw your company.” She’s a bit jealous that we offer such perks as Call of Duty timeouts and afternoon margaritas.

Her mom, unusually quick on her toes, explained, “Kim, I think you already do.”

Evidently, I blushed.

A memo, from my wife: