Committees

Way back when I lived in the Midwest, I wasn't on committees. I liked not being on committees. While I felt slightly hypocritical to be complaining about things though not being on committees to change them, I was less stressed and frustrated. Now in Maine, I am on committees. I am not sure how this happened. Actually...yes, I do know how this happened.

Maine suffers from what is called the 'Brain Drain.' This isn't some sort of science fiction movie title (though it would make a good one). Rather the 'Brain Drain' represents the reality that young people who become educated professionals move out of Maine. Many move to Boston or New York. And I bet more than a few move to the Midwest to take up my role of not being on committees. But, when I moved to Maine, as a young, educated professional, I defied the 'Brain Drain' syndrome. I represent the movement of...'Brain Back-Up' (if you can follow my sink visuals - the more you read my posts, the more you will realize that I am a big fan of visuals).

People seem to get excited about my brain in Maine (Oh! Maybe that could be my super-hero name! 'Brain in Maine'!). In the short six months that I have lived in Maine, I have been asked to join 5 committees/groups. I am even the president of one of them! I think people ask me just so they could say they have a young, educated professional on their committee. I am very happy to do my part of my new community. The problem with being on so many committees is that I no longer have all of my evenings free. It seems that committees meet in the evenings, just the time that I prefer to be wearing my sweats, drinking wine, and hanging with the dog.

Which brings me to the other problem with being on so many committees. In my stereo-typical single girl with a dog life-style, I feel immense amounts of guilt leaving my poor Boomer alone in the evenings. Not only I am forced to be away from him during the day working so I can buy him premium dog food and more toys (which I buy to relieve the guilt of leaving him alone - I am beginning to recognize a deadly cycle), but now I have to leave him alone during evenings. In reality, it is one evening a week, and I am usually home by 8pm. But he doesn't know that. I can just visualize him (remember, I like visuals) staring at the door, wondering if I don't love him anymore and thinking he will need to ration the remaining food in his dish to last until I return to him. It is good-old Catholic guilt and I am not even Catholic! I blame my mother - because that is always a good excuse - and the Catholic guilt she passed onto me genetically.

So, I am now on committees. And I go to the meetings in the evenings. And poor Boomer is left alone yet again. I will just keep buying Boomer more toys to alleviate my guilt. Besides, he has destroyed most of his old ones anyway - there isn't a squeaker buried deep in a stuffed animal that he hasn't liberated. My mother has seemed to have outgrown her Catholic guilt - so there is still hope for me.