"Wicked bummer," as we never said in Wisconsin

Well, I was feeling fairly upbeat this morning, for late yesterday afternoon I landed a phone interview (for a job that's two hours away, unfortunately--so it's probably another bit of interviewing practice) and woke up with a general feeling of well-being (that I spent about an hour in a church basement last night probably has more than a little to do with that, but I digress).

Then, Linda and I took the dogs for a walk this morning, and when we returned home Shwea jumped out of the car and was bleeding. Well, her paw--the one that was supposedly healed--was bleeding, and while it wasn't bleeding a lot (no geysers, I'm happy to report), it was bleeding enough for me to have to take her back to the vet's this morning.

That's just wrong, people--the Universe just needs to cut this dog a break. Me and my work situation will eventually iron ourselves out, but this paw problem with Shwea--she's my first dog, she's a big bundle of sweetness and fur--has me vexed. For heaven's sake, the dog needs to be able to take a walk without giving blood. Is that asking too much?

I've been to about six vets about this, maybe more, and I'm hoping that the vet we see this morning will be the one to finally get to the bottom of this. Wish us luck!

On other fronts, there's a chance I might get a paying comedy gig soon, but then again, there's a good chance I won't. It's nice to be asked, regardless--just like that job that's two hours away. I probably won't get it, but it gives me all sorts of hope to be interviewed.

We're living on hope, people. Soon, we'll be livin' on a prayer, but that's a shameless lift from my friend Jennifer, so close I must (before I pilfer again!).

The cleaning lady is taking her sweet time

It's cleaning day, and I am having a hard time getting motivated to tackle this (overdue) job. Keep hoping another fragment of freelance work will come in from that editing job I thought I had a shot at--it appears to still be on the freelance course, with no word of a full-time position. Oh well.

Applied to some more jobs yesterday, and am looking at a job in Cambridge today--I know, I know, the commute would be a killer, but the job sounds so cool.

"Cool" jobs are few and far between, let me tell you--heck, all jobs are few and far between when you've landed in the purgatory known as ALMOST 20 YEARS OF EXPERIENCE.

I'm beginning to think that doesn't make me sound like a seasoned professional, rather it sounds like: Old, expensive, fussy, technologically inept, and a giant pain in the ass.

When if people would just have me on over for an interview, they could see that none of that applies--except, perhaps, for the old and/or expensive part. (But I'm getting less expensive every day; and for a 46-year-old, I'm remarkably lifelike.)

It's been three months since I learned of my job's (partial) demise and the end of work as I know it. Must admit I thought I would have landed something by now, but it's beginning to look like I am going to have to bide my time until the fall--and hope/pray things start to open up then.

What's most frustrating is that I can't even find TEMP work--that just seems wrong, somehow. The last nibble I had turned out to be "wrong for me" (the company found me overqualified for the job--but isn't that the nature of temp work for a lot of people?!), and now "my" rep is working on a gig that wouldn't start until the end of August. August?!

Wah, wah, wah, whine, whine, whine, kvetch, kvetch, kvetch--okay, I feel better now.

Elsewise, not much is shakin'--enjoyed the season finale of "The Scholar" last night, especially the testy exchanges among the college recruiters who were making the tough (make that nigh impossible) choice about who should win. The final three candidates were all good--great, even--though the guy was a little too intense for my liking--he seemed to be someone who could easily go over to the Unibomber side of the equation if life threw him a few too many curves.

Hope the show is renewed for next season, for cheesy and occasionally annoying as it could be, it puts a premium on education, community service, and playing well with others--values our country's current leaders don't share, to put it mildly.

Sigh.

Couldn't I just win the lottery or something?

I know, I know--it's bad enough our top-level government officials scorn the notion of "reality-based" information (much less truth-based governance), I can't afford to jump on the "Expecting a miracle any day now" bandwagon, too.

Just didn't realize what a charmed existence I was leading until recently--no worries of the financial sort, just the usual mix of existential dread and quiet hopes for a more meaningful existence, someday.... Well, someday is now--or perhaps it never will be, and I'm just telling myself I'm on the cusp of something fabulous so I won't stumble on the reality that I'm actually on a precipice where my finances are concerned and am thisclose to falling over the side.

A financial precipice isn't as scary as others I could be teetering on, and for that I am grateful. I don't think my mortal soul is in peril at the moment, for I'm feeling no desire to do anything that would threaten my sobriety (and for me, sobriety is the key to my soul, to put it mildly). It's key to everything, come to think of it.

The good news of the week is I have a benefit on Friday--true, it's at an Elk's Club, but hey, I get 15 minutes--and an open mic on Saturday. Sunday, I ride with Jennifer to Boston, where she gets her fabulous self on the stage of The Comedy Studio for the first (and certainly not the last) time. It will be a wonderful weekend of comedy, this I am counting on.

Now, if I could just find something useful to do with myself until then.....

Wracked with ambivalence yet again

Well, there's still no definitive word on that job I was so hopeful was mine earlier this week. It now seems that the person who is hiring is trying to decide among a few fabulous candidates, for I was given another editing/writing job to do (happily, I'll get paid for this one), due Monday.

The good news is the job hasn't gone away completely; the bad news is the longer it takes to land, the less sure I am that I'm interested in it. In my experience, black and white, yes and no thinking can be done only on the quick; the grays start to emerge when one has time to ponder. And I've had enough time to ask myself, in all sincerity: Do I really want to learn all there is to learn about metals? The manufacturing sector? Inventories?

But another series of questions come to mind, too: Do I really want to pull my own weight financially? And is anyone else offering me a way to do just that? Is the temp job lady ever going to find me something??

Yup, here I am, strapped onto the ambivalence rack yet again, for the 3, 256th time in my life.

I spend more time here than anywhere, so you'd think I'd enjoy it by now, but no.

So, I'm going to go run an errand or two, then get on the rower, in the hopes it will help me see my way to some clarity on these questions. Or at least let me feel as though I've done something productive today, besides take an early-morning trip to the local recycling center.

The end of the week total of jobs applied for and whose status is unknown: 52. Number of jobs applied for and whose status is (sadly) known: 9. Number of jobs applied for and in the running for: 1.

"Today later," eh?

Thought I might be close to landing a job today, but am now beginning to wonder if I made it all up (yes, I'm ending a sentence with a preposition, and no, that's not a good indicator of why my job hunt has been for naught, you churlish beast).

The editing/writing test I took yesterday went well, apparently, but now I'm waiting for a follow-up interview/call that was supposed to happen "today later." That was the phrasing at 9:13 this morning, and this person is on the East Coast, so I'm wondering: Did I manage to say something stupidly job-costing in my last missive to this person, or did she just get busy (she was on deadline, after all, and I know how that is) and put the call/me off?

This job-hunting business is a crazy-making affair, let me tell you. It doesn't help that my initial excitement over the job prospect sent adrenalin coursing through my veins, adrenalin that has now worn off and its absence is making me want to take a little nap. Okay, a big nap.

But I know I won't sleep, wondering if the "today later" call is on its way. Harrumph!

I'm also wondering if the fates are arranging it so that the person calls just when the postman is delivering and/or the paperboy is making his appointed rounds. Then she'll get to hear the "hounds of heck" I listen to every day, which may make her think I work from my home, alright. My home in a kennel.

Otherwise, Shwea, Linus, and I had a fine walk this morning at Dog Heaven--Shwea's first in about two weeks. She has been flat out on the floor ever since--that's a sign of a dog walk well done.

So, I can't land jobs, but I can give my dogs a proper walk. One takes one's successes where one can....

My luck, she is holding....

This has been a bad news/bad news kind of day, which, come to think of it, is, as my dear friend Ed was once fond of saying, "Par for the course in my rotten life."

That said, Shwea is now without bandage, and that is good news for everyone in this house, anyway. Not to mention the mutt in question, who has a new lease on life.

Of course, she hasn't started her diet yet, so this new lease may expire at any time. She's a good 10 pounds overweight, her hips bother her on occasion, and so on and so forth, so we should do this for her, and I bought some pricey diet dog food from the vet today, so we likely will.

That I, too, could stand to lose about 10 pounds is another story altogether, and one I am not about to address while unemployed, okay? THERE IS ENOUGH STRESS HERE ALREADY, okay?

Otherwise, I applied for a job before we went to the vet and was summarily rejected by the time I got home. Well, at least they didn't keep me hangin', but jeez. That was fast.

And I'm in the process of taking the editing/writing test for the job I'm telling nobody (except Linda) about, and I gotta tell you, writing about the metals, it makes a girl want to put her head down on her desk.

But then, I want to put my head down on my desk a lot of days, particularly overcast ones, so perhaps I shouldn't hold the metals accountable?

Must go have some lunch and tackle the rest of the test, then send it off, secure in the belief that all things being equal, I don't stand a snowball's chance....

Or so recent history would suggest.

And no, there's been no word regarding the temp job, but let's not read too much into that (and the Magic 8 said it was possible, or something to that effect).

We shall see....

Happy Day!

I finally met my deadline! Life is good, life has possibilities, life is--well, a relief.

Now, to celebrate, I'm going to go row for a little while, then I'm going to make some pasta with zucchini and beef. Yum!

Tomorrow is a biggie: I take Shwea in to get her staples removed, then I take an editing test for a prospective job I do not want to hex by discussing with anyone--not even you. Sorry. Then, I might have a job interview for a temp gig. Then again, I might not.

We shall see. My luck has not been exactly stellar of late, as you may have noticed, and I'm hoping a little superstition would do me good.

Don't think it can hurt.

Does this work for you?

The aforementioned auto dealer who put the wrong-sized tire on my car responded to my letter of complaint yesterday with an apology, a coupon for a free oil change, and four coupons for a free car wash.

Pretty good save, but still not satisfying. Problem is, the letter came from the guy who sold me the car (whom I have no problem with), not his brother, the service manager who so thoroughly fouled up the tire repair in the first place.

And the coupon was signed by a female relative, which leads me to wonder: Does this family protect its own, or what?

Unfortunately, they're not letting "their own" clean up their own messes, which, in my view, means such messes will continue unabated.

Am I being a Codependent No More hardass about this, or is this a legitimate concern? I know my subconscious isn't appeased, for I dreamt last night that I brought my car in to the dealer for a repair and they forgot to put the ceiling panel back in--so no, I'm not buying their apology, that much is plain. But still, I'm wondering if this is an example of:

"Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me," OR "Everyone deserves a second chance."

Or?

I think I'm still going elsewhere with my car.

On other fronts, I have a shot at another temp gig, and while it might be dull as ditchwater, it would be money coming in instead of just out--and that's the way I like it.

Haven't asked the Magic 8 about it yet, however. We shall see....

Is this a pathetic pup, or what?

This is Shwea this morning, posing with her hot-pink bandage. Thought it would be festive, but I don't think it works. Oh well, we're off to see the vet on Wednesday, and perhaps she will soon be footloose and fancy free...or a lab mix equivalent.

On other fronts, I did finally figure out how to work my new DVD burner, though the fact that it requires another DVD burner to work really bothers me. And the fact that I bought a new PC and laptop earlier this year and could have easily ordered said burner had I really thought about my computing needs for a minute-and-a-half irritates me more.

But buying any big-ticket item sends me into a spasm of research and analysis that is so intense I'm lucky if I end up with ANYTHING, so I must cut myself some slack. And soon. Besides, I got the copy I needed to enter a comedy contest in plenty of time, so the crisis has passed.

Speaking of crises, it looks like I may actually finish my latest project, if not on time, reasonably so. Since I lost so much time last week to the Shwea emergency, I asked my editor for an extension and bless her heart, she gave me what I asked for--that is a wonderful thing.

Tonight, I'm taking two community college classes: How to Run a Home-Based Business, and Getting Yourself Published. Dunno what, if anything, I'll gain from this, but I think I will feel as though I'm doing something productive.

And that is a rare and wonderful thing, let me tell you.

What the?!

Could someone please explain to me why the manufacturer of an external DVD drive would place the software for said drive on a DVD?

I mean, if I HAD A FREAKIN' DVD DRIVE, I WOULDN'T NEED TO BUY ONE, NOW WOULD I?

Or am I missing something here?

The good news is that when I spellchecked this entry, the folks at blogspot offered the term "foreskin" to replace "freakin."

I am also terribly amused when spellcheck suggests "homos" when I type "HMOs," so do consider the source.

Oh my....

Didn't realize it at the time, but when I spoke to the father-and-son Jehovah's Witness team yesterday, not only was I wearing pink boxer shorts, I also was wearing a t-shirt that said, "You call me Dyke like that's a bad thing."

Oh well, I've always believed in truth in advertising....

Elsewise, we had a lovely dinner with friends in our house last night, perhaps the first such dinner in eons. Or at least months. It went so well, I'm hoping this means we will be doing it again, and soon.

Must go brave the mall--it appears I need to buy a DVD burner, and CompUSA is the place to buy it (it's the only computer store on the BuyBlue site, which I consult before every major purchase).

Am feeling up to this daunting task (I'm no shopper), for Linda and I just fixed the wood gate on the side of the house that has been irritating us for almost as long as we've owned said fence--and it took mere minutes! And absolutely no hurt feelings or unkind words were involved, either.

If we had known it was going to be that easy/painless, I think we would have tackled it sooner. Because no matter how much we love each other, we both get our testy on when doing home improvement jobs. Don't know why, but it's a pattern, and one that we didn't repeat today, oh happy day.

Jehovah's Witnesses, thoughtless employers, and hell, oh my!

A father-and-son Jehovah's Witnesses team came to the door late this morning, and as my mother did before me, I gave them a polite listen. She used to bring them in for coffee, but I am not my mother's daughter in all ways--besides, my mother didn't have two howling dogs to contend with, or a sweetie who would be content to urge said dogs to attack said Witnesses. Not that they would, but you see my point.

Further, unlike my mother, I couldn't help but ask about their position on homos, and they replied with the Bible-says-it's-wrong-so-it-must-be line.

Sigh.

I replied that passages of the Bible have also been used to support slavery (which I thought my impress my guests, as they were African American), the subjugation of women, and also goes so far as to support public stonings for adulterers.

In other words: Considering the source's myriad flaws, I'm not buying it.

Well, they weren't buying my views either, for the father promised to come back to clear up the "common misperceptions" regarding the Bible's views on women. He said nothing about the slavery and stoning bits, but I wanted to finish my breakfast so I shook their hands and wished them well, letting their foolish inconsistency pass. Sigh x 2.

I hadn't planned on contemplating the condition of my soul today, but the morning's visitors brought it on, so to speak. If I go to hell, and I know it's a distinct possibility, I feel it will be for a short while, for I have already endured hell on this Earth--mostly during my faux straight drunk girl phase, but also at the hands/words of homophobes. In other words, I can envision a scenario under which I die, approach the Pearly Gates, and am told by St. Peter, "Uh my, you were a naughty girl, weren't you? But you were a drunk, too, and eventually got on your feet--more ways than one, if you don't mind my saying."

"All things considered, you should go to hell for your sins in the first half of your life, but you did your level best the second, kept God in your thoughts just about every day, helped others, and did what you could to make amends and turn the other cheek, so let's call it a wash, shall we? Your sweetie, folks, friends, and dogs are waiting for you in Room 624--give 'em all my best, will you?"

Well, a girl can dream....

On other fronts, there's a possibility of another paid comedy show in my future, which is good news of no small sort, and I have an editing test next week for a job that would allow me to stay home and still make decent money working with people who love what they do--that sounds quite promising, no?

Promising is good, for another one of my "status reports" came back (from Brandeis) with the news that the job had already been filled. If I hadn't asked, they wouldn't have told--does that strike anyone else as rude? At least UMASS has been good enough to send a very kind "we're sorry" letter both times they knocked me out of the running.

Though I'm risking the label "OLD FOGEY," allow me to note the sorry state of etiquette in the corporate and collegiate sectors. In the age of e-mail, it doesn't have to cost a thing to let people down easy, but yet most employers don't bother.

Oh well. I'm examining other's flaws, not my own--another reason hell is a distinct possibility. Oops!

My days of "bouncing back" are behind me

When did I start to need more than one day to recover from one late night? When??

I used to be up till all hours of the night (or early morning, to be more precise) on a regular basis. What's worse, I would also be drinking heavily on these late nights, and still I would "recover" more quickly than I am so far from my Big Comedy Night Out in Cambridge. On Wednesday night, for heaven's sake.

Understood being less than perky yesterday, but I'm dragging my amorphous ass around again today, even though I got into bed at a (relatively) civil hour last night. Well, actually, if I'm honest with myself, I'm usually in bed well before last night's 11:30 landing, so perhaps that does have something to do with it. There were just SO MANY COMICS at Jennifer's show last night, we were all lucky to get out of there before midnight.

Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course. Managed to get an okay set off last night (good thing, for friends showed up, and that was marvelous); that said, I think my body can't take much more comedy. At least not on top of my "day" job. Luckily, there is no more comedy for me for a while--not until the 22nd, if I'm reading my calendar correctly. And then, on the 24th, I go with Jennifer to Boston for her debut at The Comedy Studio, as a good comedy buddy should.

By then, I should be all better.

On the job front, I heard from two more places that I didn't get the job. One didn't surprise me; one hurt, if only a little. The one that hurt would have entailed a commute into the Boston area, and the more I think about that, the less I like it.

However, I also enjoy holding up my end of things here at home, so I may need to get over myself on this front. We shall see.

And, lastly, I bid a fond farewell to Pine Needles Coffee Emporium & Eatery in Marlborough, CT. Rumor has it they were purchased by Dunkin' Donuts, which, no doubt, will remove the fabulous moose decor. Hope they don't remove the tree from the middle of the shop, but you know how those corporate outfits are....

Had a few performances there, and remember most quite fondly.

Sigh.

But, I am seeing more comedy action on my horizon than I have in ages, so I guess all's not doom and gloom....

More good news

Looks like our gal Shwea just needs to shed a few pounds (don't we all?) and toughen up a little (ditto). Well, her paws should be toughened by walking more sidewalks--that and a little weight loss might help reduce the Dramatic Cut Syndrome we go through each year. In sum: The vet thought her paw looked normal, and a biopsy and x-ray and so forth would show a whole lotta nothin' (my phrasing, not his). What a relief!

Oh, and as a friend of mine thought I should explain, Shwea is pronounced SHWEE-ah and is Arabic for "little bit" or "little." It's one of the few words I learned after living in Morocco for two years (yes, I should be ashamed of myself), for whenever anyone asked me if I spoke Arabic, my reply was typically, "Shwea." To break things up, I also replied, "Mashee bizeff" (MAH-she B'zeff), which means "not a lot," but that's no name for a dog.

Plus, look at that magnificent mutt--if she doesn't look like a Shwea, I don't know who does (and yes, I'd name an elephant "Tiny").

Success on The Comedy front!

Thank goddess, the show at The Comedy Studio went well--so well, in fact, I've been invited back to perform on a Saturday (July 30th, in case you're wondering). Happily, Rick Jenkins was much more affable in person than in e-mail, so a lot of my fears regarding last night were for naught.

So what else is new? Most, if not all, of my fears turn out to be for naught.

Not only that, I got a DVD of myself out of the deal, which I can send to comedy contests and such.

Last but not least, my comedy buddy Jennifer Myszkowski got herself a spot, too, on July 24th.

Let's hear it for the Western Mass Women Comics Association (no, there is no such thing)! Woo!

There's no way of knowing what, if anything, will come of all of this, but after all the professional rejection I've been up against lately, a little positive comedy feedback has been a tonic. I feel wonderful, even though I went to bed a little after 2:00 (to say that's past my bedtime is what they call a "masterpiece of understatement").

Today would have been perfect, if not for the horrible news out of London. My heart goes out to the people there, and I worry about my friends in NYC and other "target" cities. May goddess/God/HP/Whomever help us all.

Now, I must get back to work. There is a little matter of a deadline tomorrow, not to mention a dog with a disintegrating bandage who needs to see a vet in about an hour.

The show's the thing

It's been a day of taking care of business--show business, that is.

No, I've done "real" work, but I also sent a comedy calendar out to a small circle of friends and kind folks who expressed interest, then I ensured tonight's set is a tight five minutes. Last but not least, I washed the windows in my car, and filled up the window washer resevoir.

I'm ready as I'll ever be.

For Friday's deadline? Uh, well, we shall see. I also rescheduled the vet for Shwea, for I heard word of mouth on the vet I was planning to see put an end to that.

No "so-so" vets for my gal, no ma'am. We're seeing a highly-recommended vet tomorrow, and here's hoping this vet can get to the bottom of this paw business.

Last night, someone opined that Shwea might have to have her paw removed, and that possibility has been haunting me all day. Not that the person was a medical professional, but truth be told, I had a similar worst-case scenario fly into my brain once the word "biopsy" was suggested by the emergency vet.

Please let this just be me going into alarmist mode--I come from a long line of alarmists, and can't help myself. There is no situation so terrible that it can't be seen in an even worse light, at least that's been my training. Thanks, Mom.

We'll get a start on what's really going on tomorrow; until then, it's time to think comic thoughts, and perhaps put a little more work into what's left of my paying work.

And finish up that ice cream. I've never had stress that was immune to the restorative effect of ice cream, and I hope I never will.

The party? It was fabulous!

Almost forgot to note that despite spending five hours with distressed animals and their people, I had a fabulous time at the Fourth of July party my friends threw. They know a lot of warm, open people who have the rare gift of being able to talk to people they haven't known from birth.

Okay, that may be overstating it, but sometimes I find New England Hospitality a little on the chilly side.

Not yesterday, not at all. What a great way to end what had been a very distressing day.

Thank you Hilary and Amy!

The Magic 8 Ball called it....

This morning, I finally got the attention of a temp placement person (the woman I had been assigned to has been on vacation for two weeks--yes, my luck is remarkable on just about every front, isn't it?), and she got me all charged up about a temp possibility at Smith, the woman's college down the street. It sounded so very promising that I felt it was best not to get excited about it until it was definite. The rep said she'd call just as soon as she got the green light from the school to send me over. Glad I kept myself in check.

Not that I expected to be turned down, oh no--what in my recent experience would suggest that?

Actually, what kept me from celebrating the first good news I've had in a while was that I checked to see what the "Magic 8 Ball" that Linda gave me for my birthday thought. I asked, "Am I going to get the temp gig at Smith?" And it said, "All signs are NO."

Don't you smirk. The Magic 8 also called the Wimbledon final between Venus Williams and Lindsay Davenport for me (I couldn't take the stress of not knowing, nor could I bear watching the third set, so I asked the Ball). When I asked if Lindsay was going to win, it said "NO." And as any tennis fan would know, the Magic 8 was right.

Anyway, shortly after I asked the Ball what it thought, the temp placement person called me back, and her tone said it all: The student who had blown the job off was being given a second chance, so there went my sweet little summer gig, just as the Magic 8 called it.

Yes, I'm now turning to a toy for information. But seriously: Who could blame me, after getting almost no response to 50 job applications?

On other fronts, my dear dog Shwea wasn't able to see her vet today because he is in Germany. As I recall, he was in Jamaica the last time her paw sprung a leak, and I am beginning to see a pattern here. A pattern that has led me to make an appointment for tomorrow with another vet; here's hoping she'll be able to get to the bottom of what ails my dear first-born dog.

Otherwise, I'm slogging away on the work that's due on Friday, and trying not to worry about whether I'll get it done in time.

As is almost always the case, IT'S TOO SOON TO PANIC. Really.

Happy Fourth!?

I cannot believe what a day this has been. Happily, there's a lot more to go, and perhaps I can turn this day around before it's too late.

Shwea's paw began bleeding (yes, again) this morning--well, bleeding isn't quite descriptive enough. Her paw began spurting.

If I was one of those "faint when seeing blood" types, I'd have been out cold since about 10:00 this morning. Instead, I wrapped her up as best I could, hoping we could stop the bleeding with pressure and such. However, she bled through two gauze bandages and a baggie in no time, and when she continued to spurt after I put another big bandage on, we decided it was time for the emergency room.

Shwea and I have been to this emergency vet before--in fact, I had typed up directions taped to my file cabinet just in case I had to go there again. Good thing, for I was on the road with Shwea by about 10:30 or so.

My goddess, the place was busy. How busy? We arrived around 11:15 or so, and it's now a little after 4:00--and we've been home about 30 minutes.

Shwea needs to see her regular vet ASAP this week, for the ER vet just put in staples and said there obviously is something causing this paw to keep opening up, so it's time for a biopsy. And perhaps an x-ray. And without knowing what exactly was wrong, I'm already shy about $240.00.

All while I'm marginally-to-almost unemployed.

But you know, things could be worse. While we were waiting, three families got the worst news a pet person could get--and one of the dogs was a German shepherd, like our Linus. The shepherd was 16, had cancer, and had been hit by a car, for haven't sake--they wheeled her in on a gurney, and I couldn't look at her. I knew I would start crying and I likely wouldn't stop.

While I am not against public displays of sadness, it seemed inappropriate, especially as the owner of the dog was so matter of fact about the dog's need to be put down. She could have been ordering Chinese food with the emotion she put into this decision. Her kids were taking it hard, according to her, but she seemed so detached, I wondered: Does having kids leave you with no resources for anything or anybody else? Did she lose so many dear people/animals in her life, she's hardened to the experience? Am I the wacko for being much more sympathetic to the elderly woman who was crying because her dear dog had to be put down and she was heartbroken, for she felt as close to the dog as to her children? (Her adult children nodded when she said that--and they didn't seem to mind, bless their hearts.)

Whatever. It was a hell of a way to spend a holiday, and I am supposed to go to a Fourth of July party within the hour.

Gotta turn the mood around, people. (And no, I don't do substances.)

Wish me luck (and Shwea, too, if you don't mind).

Footloose and fancy free? I WISH!

I have some work to do, and am struggling with getting myself to buckle down and do it. Methinks it's residual animus from the Early Bird paycut my publisher inflicted on me last month, but it might just be pure, unmitigated sloth.

That's a family trait, can't do a thing about it. My mother was convinced we were a family of slugs, and even amused herself by coming up with a Podolske family motto that went something like this: "You can't wait till you feel like it." She even translated it into Latin, which went something like: "Non permissum est, vis faceri id."

(All Latin spellings and phrasings approximate--I've never studied Latin, and have had a lot of drinks/drugs since family mottos were a topic of regular discussion in my life, pardon me.)

So, here I sit, realizing I have lots to do, but absolutely no interest in doing any of it.

That said, I would really like a job to go to, and soon. During our vacation, I teased Linda for her need for structure (she can not just sit around and read, for example, she must have something to DO). It got so bad she announced that she was looking forward to going back to work.

Isn't that terrible?

Me, on the other hand, I love sitting around with nothing to do while on vacation, especially if a good book is handy. I am also content to pass out on the back screened-in porch, even if I wake up drooling to the sound of ice melting in my glass.

That's the mark of a successful holiday, say I.

But then, enough is enough. I've had my rest, had my lull, had my "free time," and now I want to work. I'd prefer to work somewhere nearby with nice people, but am beginning to think even somewhere far, far away with human barracuda would be preferable to this.

I know--I will regret thinking that, and am trying not to welcome that scenario. But I tried to do my visualization this morning, and the picture just wouldn't focus. Perhaps I'm visualizing the wrong thing--but please, dear goddess/God/Whomever, would you let me know what the right thing is, and soon?

Sadly, I need structure, too--thought I was more laissez-faire than all of that, but apparently I'm not.

Sometimes, I think middle age is designed primarily to ensure that all of one's youthful illusions are smashed to bits. Goddess knows I've have seen more than a few put out of their misery in recent months, and can't wait to see what little bit of disillusionment is coming up next. (And if you believe that....)

See, I need something to do, people, and I need it SOON!