Tuesday, May 31, 2005

The usual emotional rollercoaster

Memorial Day, as usual, was fraught. Found myself tearing up at the aged WWII vets, my typical practice when confronted with anyone who looks like my dear departed father. The guy wearing the three-sizes-too large shirt really got me--my dad wore shirts that fit him 60 pounds ago till the end of his life. Was he frugal or in denial?

Trust me--he was in denial. Mother cornered the frugality market in our household. The Great Depression was a cataclysmic event for her--she went from relative luxury (well, Midwestern Calvinist style--still wearing a hairshirt, but it was of wonderful quality) to relative penury overnight. Made her distrust money almost as much as Republicans.

Dad's working-class family likely didn't see any change in their fortunes, Depression or no Depression--they muddled along on the same barely-making-it strata their entire working lives. As a result, Mother worried about money, Dad's experience taught him that no matter what crunch they found themselves in, it would somehow work out. To say they had different money styles would be, as the old saying goes, a "masterpiece of understatement."

As it turns out, Dad was right. Something to remember these soon-to-be jobless days of 2005.

While we're talking tears, I also cried when the marching band went by--I'm a former band geek, and there's something about a line of clarinets (one of my former instruments) that chokes me up almost as much as the WWII vets. Noted no one was marching with a tenor sax as my band director used to make me do--he didn't like me, that was plain, and I believe making me march with a big ol' sax was one way to make me pay (I was first chair and would not relinquish my throne to his pockmarked son for one good reason; certainly, considering my rocky adolescence, he had more reasons than that).

So yes, it was a Memorial Day--remembering dead dads, tyrannical teachers, and more. Woo!

It was not just a day of remembrance, it was a day of new experiences as well. Saw my first soap box derby, and while I think I wanted to do it as a kid, watching yesterday's spectacle of family strife and ambition play out on Locust Street certainly erased that "wish" from my list.

Not that every parent behaved badly--there was one dad who offered nothing but sweetness and support to his indifferent-yet-winning daughter (she had a pink car with flames--how cool is that?), but enough parents coached their kids into pre-race cowers and screamed from the sidelines to make me think, "There but for the grace of God...."

What a weekend! Am almost glad to be back in my office, facing my one remaining deadline.

Almost.

Friday, May 27, 2005

A little sunshine today....

Though it didn't last, I saw some sunshine this afternoon while running errands in beautiful downtown Florence. I was grateful to see it, for if our local weather mavens are to be believed, it will be the last sun I will see this month. (Maybe next month, too.)

Not to worry, I'm not going to lapse into a sarcastic commentary on the use of the term "spring" to describe this time of year, tempting though it may be. Instead, I'm going to note that I applied for another couple of jobs today, bringing my grand total somewhere near 30 (I've had a few outright rejections so far, so am not sure whether to count those). Today's favorite application was for a news reporter post at my hometown paper. It may pay less (okay--a lot less) than what I make now, but it may be interesting--which is a lot more than I can say for some of the work I've done lo these many years for my shrinking publisher. Also got a follow-up letter from a university development job, so there's a little hope there, too.

Ran across a riot of a job on a media jobs site that entailed following crazed people on a trek across the desert for four to six weeks--the "reporter" would follow along in his/her RV, posting two articles a day on such vital topics as local microbrews (in the desert?!) and mushrooms (I kid you not) and beyond.

Yeah, not exactly a perfect job for a 45-year-old sober person (though I bet it wouldn't be hard to get people to sample beer for me), but it certainly was the most entertaining job prospect I've seen so far.

Elsewise, I've been kept busy going through all of the mail and other nonsense that accumulates on one's desk while away, and think I'm finally on top of it. Should be able to get back to work on my one remaining deadline next week. Altogether now: Woo!

Sorry. Didn't mean to let any sarcasm in this entry. Couldn't be helped.

Till next week, then.

Thursday, May 26, 2005

It's cold, it's damp, it's WONDERFUL

It is wonderful indeed to be home in New England again, even if I got stuck in various airports on my way home from New Orleans (was supposed to fly through Dallas/Ft. Worth, but thanks to the weather yesterday, I flew through Miami--which, is aptly named "MIA" in airport code) and didn't get home until 2:00 this morning.

Yes, this morning.

So, I am not exactly the sharpest cheddar in the cheesehouse AND I'm sleepy--watch out world, here I come!!

The conference was worthwhile, for I picked up quite a few quotes, stats, and case studies that will help perk up future stories. It also helped reinforce some of my feelings regarding being a business journalist, for the organization hosting the show treated the press like pariahs--which, I suppose we are (who wants the truth, when the marketing people have so much happier news to share?).

In fact, the press were treated progressively worse by this organization. On day one, "we" had a room, but it didn't have any tables and chairs (for basis of comparison, I've been to conferences in the past where we not only had a room with tables and chairs, we also had Internet access and printers and fax machines at our disposal). But, on day two, the room itself was shut (it was now posted as being a "Quiet Room," whatever the heck that is), and there was a sign by a table (laden with press releases that had the news value of a candybar wrapper) reading simply, "Press Area."

So, we were to huddle by the table? And do what, exactly?

Maybe I'm just disappointed. I was supposed to introduce myself to the director of communications for this outfit in the hopes of landing one of the rare freelance gigs his association offers folks like me, but I didn't. Well, I did introduce myself, but only to say hello and thanks for the press pass. The problem was that I attended a session led by this man, and he distinguished himself as (1) having no sense of humor; (2) having an ego roughly the size of Texas, and (3) being the kind of guy that takes himself more seriously than Supreme Court justices do.

I've worked for people like that before, and you know--life is too damn short to court such people, too short by far.

But this I know: If things ever got so desperate on the financial front that it came down to: You butter up this guy or give your doggies away, I'd butter him up as only a Wisconsin gal can. In a heartbeat.
Where are my scruples? My principles?? Where my dear dogs are concerned, let's just say I agree with a post I saw on the wonderful Web site Dooce (http://www.dooce.com/archives/daily/05_23_2005.html) in which Heather Armstrong, the site's diva, was confronted with the illness of her dear dog Chuck. She and her husband had "the talk" about how much they would spend to save him, and they came to the conclusion that: "We'd sell our cars! We'd sell our house! We could start a meth lab in the basement! ANYTHING!"

I hear that, sister, loud and clear--where Linus and Shwea are concerned, money is no object. Neither is pride.

(But please, dear God, don't let it come to that!)

Friday, May 20, 2005

Beignets et cafe, here I come!

I'm off to New Orleans tomorrow for a business trip/beignet binge. Hope to amass enough editorial to see my sole remaining publication through the year--perhaps enough to write a few freelance ditties as well.

Am having a day of wonderment/worry over my situation. For a little while, I felt elated that I am going to be doing something new; a little while later I became fearful that this new thing isn't going to appear any time soon. Then an e-mail arrived from a friend with this command enclosed: "Enjoy the time off!"

But then, what if the "time off" is indefinite? I'd enjoy it if I knew in 1.5 months I would be shaking the hand of my future manager/director/editor, excited about the fabulous opportunity that awaits me--but what if that great glorious moment doesn't arrive for three months? Five?? A year?!! (Dare we say it: Never??!!)

Can't enjoy that much time off, at least not with two mortgages to feed, a new car--and, last but not least--a partner who has issues about supporting deadbeat girlfriends.

Not that she's ever supported me financially, mind you, but I know this was one of her biggest problems with past girlfriends (she asked me about my financial situation before she asked me on a date, for heaven's sake).

So, I'm torn, that's what I am--but not about going to N.O. My company has already paid for this trip, so I need to just show up and enjoy what might be my last "fun" trip for a while. (No, the upcoming trip to Florida does not qualify--that's a "duty calls" trip, if ever there was one. Linda made two trips to NE Wisconsin in the dead of winter; the least I can do is go to Florida in hurricane season.)

Won't be checking in for a while (don't think I'll want to pay what they charge for Internet access in the hotel, but one never knows)--I'll be back Thursday the 26th.

Till then, all good!




Thursday, May 19, 2005

The "Smartest Guys in the Room?" I don't think so.

The "Slimiest Guys in the Room"--now that fits. Saw the documentary regarding the Enron debacle last night, and it held few surprises. Must say I was shocked at the attitude of the brokers who were manipulating power supplies in California to raise electricity prices--they didn't just not give a rat's ass about how they were hurting people in the process of lining their pockets, they seemed genuinely amused and gratified by it all.

Linda, she who has worked in brokerage firms many, many years, was not surprised by the brokers' attitudes. "They're all like that, to one degree or another," she told me.

Whoa--methinks "trader" and "pond scum" should be synonyms from here on in (though that may be an insult to pond scum).

On other fronts, I dusted off my bike, pumped up the tires, and actually drove the thing to the nearest P.O. this afternoon. Felt superior as all heck as I pulled up next to the post office boxes, where an enormous SUV was parked (I know, I know, I drive everywhere all the time--who am I kidding??).

Felt good to feign exercise, even of a minor sort. Though I must say, I seemed to have hit the bike path during the caterpillar rush hour--I was bobbing and weaving most of the trip (and no, they don't post "Caterpillar Crossing" signs, as well they should).

Might hop on the bike the next time I need to drop off another rash of resume attempts. I think my bike is okay for short dashes, but I'm not sure my tires are up to a long trip. Plus, all of the gears are not in working order, and all of the "chrome" is now, er, distressed. But then--what do I expect? I've had that bike since I lived in Brooklyn, which was sometime in the very late 1980s.

It's old and a wee bit rusty, but it gets the job done (yes, before you say it, it is a lot like your humble correspondent).

Speaking of getting the job done, I was pleasantly surprised by the local career center. They hooked me up with a fabulous Web site that has helped me find all sorts of interesting jobs--well, interesting in theory, anyway (nobody has the guts to mention salary, and that's rarely a good thing). The few jobs that did mention salary mentioned a number that I recall from a job I took in 1990--actually, it was $1,000 less than the job I took in 1990.

Last but not least, today is Lee and Jane's last day. They were my publisher and managing editor, respectively, for the past 10+ years, and I am going to miss working with them more than I can say. I know I'll have to lower my expectations regarding income if I'm to work in this part of the world--that I can do. But I think I'll also have to lower my expectations regarding my management and my colleagues, for Jane and Lee have been spectacular to work with and for--and I don't think a person gets that lucky twice.

Yet, one never does know....

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

My "inner hausfrau" has been unleashed!

My first day as our new cleaning lady was yesterday, and I must admit, the house sparkles. I don't really know what happened, but about a half-hour into the job I found myself cleaning like a woman possessed. Used to consider myself a "just tackle the most obvious piles of dirt" kind of gal, but not any more.

I think it's my Swiss ancestry coming to the fore--those folks are tidy as tidy can be, aren't they?

Also, it took forever. Maura, our former cleaning lady, usually took about two hours to clean our house. Me, I took four hours, and could have kept going ("I could have cleaned all day, I could have cleaned all day, and still come back for more!"). Crazy.

And though I like to think I'm in some sort of physical condition, I woke up aching this morning--from cleaning the house! A little three-bedroom ranch, for heaven's sake!!

The best part? I don't have to do it again for two weeks. Color me happy.

Still haven't heard back from 96% of the 24 organizations I've applied to--either they're all taking their sweet time, they're not the sorts to keep people posted (which speaks volumes), and/or I am barking up the wrong trees. Am heading to the local jobs center today with a friend, in the hopes that they'll have some resources that may help boost my effectiveness somehow. Ordered a couple of books yesterday on writing/communications careers, in the hopes I've somehow missed some tremendous possibilities due to ignorance. Also ordered Edith Wharton's autobiography, for I applied for a job at her "cottage" in the Berkshires, and what I've read of her intrigues me.

So, if I can't find work, I can at least learn something, eh? (And not just how to clean houses, please God.)

I know, I know--this career business takes time. I don't want to find myself in the occupational equivalent of a "marry in haste, repent at leisure" scenario--I want to find work that I really want to do, for a purpose that I can endorse (not just endure), and for a salary that reflects my worth.

Or a reasonable facsimile.

Monday, May 16, 2005

Does unemployment show?

Went to the vacuum cleaner store today to buy more vacuum bags for my debut tomorrow as our official cleaning lady (all aflutter, that's me), and the woman running the store asked me if I needed a job.

How the heck did she know?

That's the ticket--I'll start selling home filtration systems just after I finish my career as a "Financial Advisor."

On that topic, I received a request in the mail from a national financial services company over the weekend to consider careers in the insurance industry.

This company, too, has Web sites galore devoted to detailing the dirty deeds it has done to consumers (and agents).

With opportunities like these, why worry?

A good show does a comic good....

Must say, last night's show at Jimmy Tingle's Off-Broadway was a winner--there was a fairly large, ready-to-laugh audience, (most of) the comics were in top form, and yours truly only hit a few dead spots in her set. (And what few dead spots I hit were more than compensated for by the response to my "keeper" bits, I'm happy to report).

Not only that, four friends--four friends indeed--made the drive from Western Mass to see the show. That was perhaps the best part of the evening, though dinner at the Indian restaurant across the street before the show was pretty darn phenomenal, I must say.

It sure as hell is a drive, going to/from Boston--I was one pooped puppy on the way home last night, grateful as grateful can be I wasn't driving (thank you, Jennifer, she who definitely killed last night).

Today, however, the adrenaline of last night's show is long gone, replaced by a growing anxiety that I am not going to find a job any time soon. To fight that, I'm going to apply to three more jobs today, go to the local state jobs/career center Wednesday, and start a comedy/writing class, too.

If I don't find work, it's not for lack of trying, this I know.

On other fronts, I learned that I'm a candidate for oral surgery this morning. (Yes, I scheduled a dentist appointment for first thing Monday. No, I don't know what I was thinking.) The root canal was badly done, or so it seems--glad somebody is finally willing to opine on how this happened.

Whatever. The result is that I am probably going to pay an oral surgeon to save my molar instead of going to Las Vegas for my Peace Corps reunion. The times being what they are, I need to make such decisions.

And tomorrow, I get to start my side career as our cleaning lady. And then Thursday, my beloved boss is officially out of his job, along with my favorite managing editor/Buddhist.

Yeah, this is not an easy week to keep my sunny side up. But I'm trying....

Saturday, May 14, 2005

New England hospitality?

I dunno. Last night's show at a lovely coffee house, Cafe Koko in Greenfield, wasn't really a hit. There were people there, they were paying attention, but they just didn't seem to be in the mood for laughter. Bemused expressions, the occasional head shake, yes--but laugh out loud? Not this bunch.

Too bad, for I love the place and think its owners are great people (and not just because they're former Peace Corps Vols, though that doesn't hurt).

Tomorrow, Jennifer, Holly, and I are off to Boston/Somerville, for the Women In Comedy show. Here's hoping the folks over there are ready to laugh.

I know I'm ready to laugh--with the job hunt weighing eternally on my mind, I am looking forward to a nice night of distraction.

On other fronts, had a lovely lunch chez Holly's with Jennifer, too. It was supposed to be a "let's figure out our set lists" lunch, but since we didn't know how much time we're going to have, it was near impossible to do that. So we talked/listened instead. Good times, for the most part.

When I got back from lunch, I had to book our trip to visit Linda's parents in Florida. In June. Yes, it's going to be all sorts of fun, and I'm just hoping we all get through this with the least amount of trauma possible.

Let's just say her parents failed Parenting 101, especially the part where you protect your child from harm. So, visiting them is more fraught than even the usual lesbian couple visiting straight family visit. (Much more.)

They are getting old--teetering on the brink of oblivion, actually--so Linda thought she should visit.

Here's hoping (and praying) we both don't regret this trip.

Friday, May 13, 2005

Odd "opportunities"

Seems that once you post your resume on the Web (I think I'm on five job boards as of today), you become fair game for desperate recruiters.

I say "desperate," for today I was approached by an international financial services firm to become a "Financial Advisor." Me, a financial advisor?! Surely, you jest!

Just because I have been taught by (often painful) experience to never say never (I am a lesbian who was convinced she was heterosexual for 30 years, after all), I checked out the "opportunity." I didn't just look at the clever and catchy recruiting materials on the firm's Web site, I also Googled the company and came across a site that served to nip this budding financial advisor's career in the bud.

The firm is being sued for deceptive sales practices, and from what I could discern, "advisors" are truly glorified sales agents who are pressured to sell unsuspecting clients the firm's over-priced, not-terribly-rewarding products.

In other words: Forgetaboutit. I read somewhere once that a survey of professions and their rewards found that certified financial planners are a content lot, but I think those that find the career rewarding likely inform people about their many alternatives while suggesting only products/services that are truly in their best interests.

Yes, I am an idealistic soul--hopelessly naive, if you insist. And though I do avoid major declarative sentences where my future is concerned, I think you could safely bet I am not going to become a Financial Advisor any time soon.

On happier fronts, yesterday I sent out my first query letter, even though it took forever and a day to get it to land where I wanted it to (the publisher's firewall kept bouncing my attempts back). Chasing down freelance writing gigs always seemed too fraught and frustrating to me back in my full employment days, but these days, in my "never say never" frame of mind, I am willing to give it a try. Yesterday's attempt is the first of many--I'll see what, if anything, comes of it all, then decide whether or not this is an option for my future care and feeding. Can't hurt, right? Besides, it forces me to focus on what I really, truly know--and can write about with assurance. A good thing, indeed.

Well, today my last update for my managing customer service guide is due, so work I must. It's a bittersweet thing, a final deadline. I've always admired the organizations that do customer service well, and have enjoyed doing my little bit to help more people become good customer service providers. May be stating the obvious, but it's a dying art....

Thursday, May 12, 2005

Every silver lining has a cloud....

No, I can't take credit for that "silver lining" bit, that comes from a friend who has cornered the glass-half-empty market, bless her heart.

However, I did realize there was a bright spot to the recent "restructuring" of my work--we will be around for our friends' 10-year anniversary in late June. We were originally going to be at a conference followed by a vacation in California, but since I really don't need to go to the conference for work, and we don't really need to be spending big money on a holiday in these uncertain times, we decided to skip the whole thing. As a result, we get to celebrate with Val and Joan. And the week we were going to spend in California is now going to be spent in the Berkshires.

Silver lining, indeed.

On the other hand, a college friend who lives in Wisconsin told us about an opportunity to volunteer in June for a Frank Lloyd Wright weekend in Milwaukee that sounded fabulous--and would be, if we could spend money on a flight to the old sod (again, in these uncertain times). I would need to find a job/freelance gig really soon to make that possible; in other words, it ain't gonna happen.

I know, I know--atrocious grammar for a supposedly educated person, but sometimes, "ain't" fits. For example: "I ain't what I oughta be, and I ain't what I'm going to be. But I ain't what I was!" (From a sign over a western bar--surprised?--noted in Transitions: Strategies for coping with the difficult, painful, and confusing times in your life, by William Bridges.)

And it looks like I'm going to have to pass on this year's Peace Corps reunion in July, too. Kind of a drag--but I've missed them before and lived, so am choosing not to dwell.

At least for today.

(It probably didn't hurt that we saw "Off the Map" last night--definitely a movie that gives one a vision of making do with very little. Now, if only I looked more like Joan Allen....)

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

What to make of it all?

The job hunt continues--three more resumes/cover letters are out into the ether, making a total of 20 tries to date. Only one response so far, but who's counting? (Okay, I am--can't help myself.)

Also got a "Thanks, but no thanks" letter from a job I forgot I applied for--that shows how invested I was in that prospect, eh?

It's still exciting, contemplating the many ways my years of pounding a keyboard may be applied "out there." Of course, I also allow myself to contemplate the possibility that no one will find my skills the least bit compelling, but then again, how could that be?

(One must buck oneself up when job-hunting--you can see I'm doing a stellar job, no?)

Well, the animals are getting restless--it's feeding time somewhere, dammit--so close I must.



Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Don't want to burst anyone's bubble, but...

Early this morning, my partner Linda emerged from the basement with an armload of laundry. She appeared to be annoyed, and asked me in all seriousness, "How often do you do laundry?! What is it--every week?"

She capped this with a revelation that one might think only a heterosexual male could come to, but here it is: "It's, like, never-ending!"

I haven't laughed that hard in weeks.

So, dear readers, if you've been laboring under the illusion that women in same-sex couples do not struggle with the utter cluelessness of their spouses where housework is concerned, think again.

On other fronts, I have not cornered the sharp-as-a-tack market, so am truly in no position to judge. In fact, if I had a place to bring my brain in for a tune-up, I would. The problem? I have been scrambling to finish a project I thought was due last Friday, but, it turns out, it isn't due until the 1st of June.

Though it's disconcerting to be so far off the beam, this discovery has lightened my load. Now, I can concentrate my efforts on The Comedy and The Job Hunt, not necessarily in that order. Happy Day!

Monday, May 09, 2005

Wracked with ambivalence....

Well, it's been a while since I've checked in, largely because I spent most of last week out at the cottage, where the fastest dialup speed is somewhere near that of paint drying. Let's see, what's been happening?

First: The interview. I cannot say for certain how the interview went, though there are a lot of reasons why the job would be cool and a lot of reasons why it would sap the life force out of me in a matter of weeks. The cool: Varied, challenging work; chance to learn about magazine production; nice offices; and only two business trips a year. The worrisome: One-and-a-half hours' commute (each way--yes, three hours/day in the car); cubicle/workstation, not real office; 40-hour work week; time sheets; and very little autonomy (they call it "collaborative," some may call it "control freaks with red ink"). The unknown: Salary and benefits (they are among Fortune's 100 best places to work and have a lot of cool benefits on their Web site; that said, I learned in the interview that one of these cool benefits--telecommuting--is not available for this position. One wonders what else is/isn't available, you know what I mean?).

Sign from God or sign of mental instability? While waiting for the managing editor who was going to interview me (yes, I got there way early), I sat in a reception area that was next to a huge fish tank. In the tank, at the bottom, was a bright yellow tropical fish on its side, breathing its last. It stared at me the whole time I waited, and I had a hard time not staring back, thinking it was saying, "Don't do it! This could be you!!"

Second: The dentist. I entered the dentist thinking I was going to find out why my root canal has gone bad after only four years. Instead, I left the dentist with an appointment for another root canal and a nagging feeling I have been sold a bill of goods by a guy with no neck. Here's the thing: My original dentist sent me to this place, I thought, to learn why my root canal failed; instead, they took x-rays and came back to tell me I needed my root canal redone--no word on why. When I asked, they gave me the standard "These things happen" line, even though the literature in their waiting room said that root canals are supposed to last the life of the tooth. That, and the fact that the hygenist chided me for not being happy to be there (even saying that if my attitude didn't improve, she was going to send me outside and make me come back in until I got it right--as if I would come back in if she sent me outside, for pity's sake) and the dentist looked like a steroid-abusing Arnold wanna-be, set what was left of my teeth on edge.

The rub? I have been getting increasingly miffed about this, for the lame excuses and evasions peddled in that endonontics office were very similar to those I've heard in the past from contractors doing (shoddy) work on our house. In fact, it was so similar, I found an analogy leaping to mind (Linda's the analogy czar around here, usually). Here it is: If I put 30-year shingles on my roof and they failed after four years, I would call the contractor. If he sent another contractor who looked at the roof and said, "Yes, you need a new roof--that will be $[Insert an obscene sum here]," that would be about the scenario I encountered Friday.

I would be the lamest consumer in the world if I just said, "Okay, put on a new roof," right? What of the manufacturer's liability for selling 30-year shingles that last just four? What of the original contractor's role in their performance?? Well, that's the way I feel about this root canal business and I've got a call into my dentist to tell him I was not impressed by the place he sent me, or how my failed root canal is being handled.

Being Midwestern, Catholic, and the youngest in my family, I find being assertive as comfortable as a hair shirt, but happily, I find the prospect of rolling over for Dr. No-Neck and his pesky hygenist even more discomforting, so here goes....

That's enough for now, don't you think? Am looking at a very busy workweek, but it ends with comedy--so there's hope!

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

A job interview?!

Yes, a little over two weeks into my job hunt, and I've got me a real, live job interview. My first, but goddess willing, certainly not my last. To get this opportunity, I sent my resume in over one of those online job boards a little over a week ago (which isn't nearly as satisfying as putting together a cover letter-resume combo and slipping them into the mail as we used to do back in the days when I last job-hunted/before the Internet, but I digress), then today acing the phone (weed out the wackos) interview phase.

Friday morning, 10:30 a.m., I meet with a managing editor. For an hour. Yikes! If I somehow pass this stage, I then get interviewed by a panel--a panel--of editors. Oh, and take an editing test.

Am getting a wee bit wracked with anxiety just typing this, but I guess that's to be expected.

Job hunting IS nerve-wracking, no?

But having an interview will be good practice, regardless of how it comes out--and it will be at the end of the week, so I can start fresh next week (if it all goes to heck in a handbasket, or something).

Friday is going to be a beaut, let me tell you--job interview in the morning, dentist appointment in the afternoon. Yes, besides job hunting, I get to deal with an abscessed tooth. And there's the little matter of a deadline on Friday, too, but that is more than I can contemplate right now. EEEK!

Ah life!