eventually...

After agonizing over the two job offers, I begged, pleaded, and grovelled, and bought an extra 48 hours to make a decision. During that time, I managed to call the folks in the Netherlands, nail down some more details, and then talk with one of the guys that I'd actually be working with. Being around my age, he was able to give me a pretty good picture of what it's like to live and work in Holland and some inside information on the group at work. Not being able to visit and scope things out before actually making the decision, I really latched on to his descriptions and used them to make my final choice.

Philadelphia is the safe and comfortable choice. I know the city, was good friends with the people that I'd be working with, and have somewhat of a community there already. The job, although a few rungs up the corporate ladder, wouldn't be completely new to me. It is, however, the more logical career move for me.

That said, I decided to turn down the offer in Philly and go with the option that makes me tremble in anticipation. Just as when I was deciding between two options before choosing Boston, I picked it because it was the one that freaked me out more because there were so many more unknowns.

The strange part of this whole process is that regardless of which job I took, I wouldn't start until next spring. I have some loose ends to tie up here at the job in Boston before I can move on, and despite the fact that it's not written in my contract, I really can't take another job until my 18 months is up here. So, while I'm excited about the prospect of moving to the Netherlands, I can't actually be officially offered the job until next year, nor can I plan the details around my move.

It's like Purgatory - only I know I'm getting out eventually.

decisions

Sunset over the rocky ledge of Pemaquid Point lighthouse in Bristol, Maine


Climbing across large rocks and poking in tidal pools along the beach in Maine, collecting flat stones and large pieces of driftwood which have been worn smooth from years of being swept by crashing waves, Jo and I spent a relaxing weekend getting away from the insanity of our lives. Hers, being a university administrator during the start of the fall semester, and mine, trying to hold down a full-time job, a concurrent large project in Philadelphia, and trying to decide between two job offers.

Fortune was in our favor as we stumbled upon a cozy little bed & breakfast in Walpole which had a room available because of a last-minute cancellation. Not having planned the trip far enough in advance, we spottiness hopped in my trusty RAV-4 and drove north with no destination in mind, aside from a general agreement that we wanted to visit Maine. With the cooperation of the sun and the rain clouds, we managed to explore pockets of the state which weren't overflowing with long weekend tourists and managed to consume satisfying amounts of fresh lobsters and littleneck clams. Drenched in a bowl of hot butter and served with chowder and corn, each meal was messy, yet a veritable seafood feast.

As I type this entry, I've just finished reducing some wild blueberries on the stove with granulated sugar and Grand Marinier, which makes a decadent topping to drizzle on top of a bowl of cold vanilla ice cream. The berries were purchased at a roadside stand on the drive back and weren't sweet enough to have been finished off in handfuls in the car, so I saved them to fashion into tonight's dessert. Armed with spoonfuls of delectable sweetness, I'm ready to contemplate my future.