I moved to Portland recently, having only visited a few times in my life. It was a compromise city between Josh and me. I had grand dreams of San Francisco, while he wanted to stay put in ole' Anch.
So serendipitous as it may have been, I was unceremoniously LET GO from a job Anchorage just a mere 2 days before my birthday. So nice. I was briefly bitter, but let go of it pretty quickly, embraced not getting up early and slugging away at a thankless job. Pretty quickly after I pushed for us to sell our house and move. We put it on the market in May, had two offers, one was good, and we had our closing check in hand on June 26th.
Barring all the craziness with selling the house, we had the check, were camp-living in Homer, getting ready for a trip with Josh's family on our land in Seldovia (across the water), and glad to be done with that aspect. We camped and worked building a sauna and outhouse for our land. Went beachcombing, had campfires; all in all, pretty nice.
While camped out I had a phone interview with Portland State. It was pretty surreal, all things said. Me sitting on a camp chair in front of tent, battling mosquitos, watching eagles fly overhead and Josh chop wood, with my cellphone and civilization on the other end.
I flew to Portland while the guys were still working, and had a job interview the same day. I was a bit out of my head, having just hopped off the plane, but suprisingly they liked me enough to hire me. It is the lowest paying job I've had in at least 5 years, but it is still a good job, especially in this crisis time.
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