We are in early March as I write this and people are losing their minds over the corona virus. Don't get me wrong, it's a sort of flu on steroids and people are dying from it. It's also spreading like wildfire. The media, however, seems to be treating it like a zombie apocalypse. Regrettably, I am guilty of watching the evening news frequently. This dangerous behavior puts me at risk for the dreaded "intelligent questions" from the offspring.
Has it been a slow news year? I wouldn't have thought so although it's hard to tell in this age of saturation. Whatever small shred of news there is will be reported upon ad nauseam. It regrettably becomes inescapable and seeps into the schools. I now have to deal with the junior grapevine. The questions invariably come at night before bed, when brains are tired and time is short, of course. I hear mostly about video games but also about classmates and sometimes the news. Favorite topics include nightmare inducing weather events and deadly diseases.
It's up to mom, as usual, to try to answer the questions that come. I used to think that someone who has her face in a screen every chance she gets would be pretty oblivious. Regrettably for me, she picks up on more than I expect. It's not that I wish she was dumber, I wish I was smarter since I often don't know how to answer her. "Should I be afraid of the corona virus?" "Are ghosts real?" "Do we get tornadoes in New Jersey?" "Am I crazy?!" 'How should I know?!' doesn't cut it with some people. Damn. Google, take me away!
I try to be as honest as I can, frequently forget to look up things I promise to research, and fake the rest. It's a fine line between stalling before bed tactics and genuine questions I don't want to miss. I am one of the first lines of defense against misinformation in addition to my eight million other jobs as mom. O Goody, another important job! There goes the neighborhood. Remember all those "What to Expect" books that new parents always seem to be reading? I could sum it up in about two sentences. Guess your ass off. Hope for the best.
Tuesday, December 29, 2020
Thursday, December 17, 2020
Happy New Year??
I was asked to shovel my sad ass out of bed at stupid o'clock in the morning to get my mom to the hospital for a procedure to reduce chronic pain she's been dealing with for years. God bless her, I don't know how she does it. She's had this procedure done before and it didn't work. She wanted to try it again with a new doctor but when she got there, she changed her mind. I can't say I blame her. She's a pretty savvy consumer and just wasn't happy with how she was treated. It's December of 2020, or level 12 of Jumanji, if you will. I'm a little afraid of January.
There's an incredible amount of pressure on 2021 not to be a colossal shit show. I can only hope for some sort of new treatment mom hasn't tried that will finally work. She's really been through the gamut of what's out there. It gets understandably depressing after a while. The romance of a New Year won't last long.
A new president is a bright spot for me, I have to admit. I will have to keep mum about this to a lot of my friends who were disappointed in November. We, as a family took a major economic hit over the last 3 years so I could use someone who didn't bankrupt a casino! A president, love him or hate him, is not a king. Things will not magically improve on January 22. It will take time. I'm inclined to go from optimism to how about things just not get worse?
2021 is going to require a lot more patience than I currently have. It would seem my only option is to keep my horizons short. This is an age old struggle for me but I'm not giving up. If I'm going to survive a Master's program, I won't have a choice. There is a ton of work ahead of me and it looks pretty intimidating from here. It would be helpful to remember that I am not obligated to pull off everything by myself. Asking for help before I get myself overwhelmed would be refreshing.
A decent job would also be a nice change but let's not get crazy. I still need to figure out doing what, exactly. I'll settle for something part time and for now, I may be stuck with substitute teaching, assuming there is any. My best bet is to be grateful for what we've got. Welcome 2021, behave yourself. None of us want to know if rock bottom has a basement.
We're in this together - and we Hates it!
Happy weird November, dear reader. I am struggling to scrape up the motivation to go exercise again. The holidays are quickly approaching, as retailers are constantly reminding me. That means a lot of egg nog, cookies and wine are heading this way. Yay carbohydrates! My martial arts contract is paid for so you would think that would be motivation enough. It's hard to shut up that Jenny Craig voice in your head if you haven't paid in advance. I think I could use to see more humans. That is incredibly wierd for me since it's around this time of year that I Really Hate my fellow man.
The pandemic is to blame. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Last year, I was happily/annoyedly shopping in crowded stores and generally seeing a lot of people out everywhere. I never thought I would miss it! I also hosted Thanksgiving for my family the last 2 years and now it looks like that is going to get cut down by a lot this year, too. I love the smell of a turkey cooking in my house. The problem is since there are only three of us, a whole turkey doesn't make sense.
I'm choosing not to think too far ahead for Christmas this year, either. My goal is to handle decorations, cookies and gifts enough for my daughter. I have no idea how any of our usual traditions will happen, if at all, this year. I hope my nephew squeezes in a visit. The key to survival it seems, is to not look forward. God help me.
Then again, maybe I should be looking way forward, like six months worth. The weather alone should be better. We will probably still have the same issues to deal with as far as keeping our girl occupied. I admit I'm not all that thrilled with having to see my mom every Friday over her school break. I know Claire should see her grandmom though and someday she won't be able to. My mom also wants to feel like she's helping, too. Maybe I will have some sort of part time work by then and/or a Summer class. One can hope.
I'm also hoping for a real vacation this coming summer, too. I admit I have no clue how that's going to play out. It looks like I'll go with the less stressful option. I'll take deal-with-what's-in-front-of-me for 200, Alex. Still.....
Is it too early to start dreaming of summer?
Thursday, December 3, 2020
The Dinosaur Blues Part 2
Goodbye Old Bessie, I'll miss you. We had a good run together and I only had to replace your battery once. I'm guessing that six years is like 85 in phone years. It certainly felt like I was on "Antiques Roadshow" when we went on tour to various phone stores to see if you could be saved. Alas, it was not to be. The virus you somehow managed to acquire was too much for you. The infection cost us dearly. We lost photos, which was bad enough, but worse than that was the loss of contacts.
Dinosaurs that we are, I still own an actual address book. The problem is that the information in it is as antiquated as my old phone. I can't say I was vigilant in maintaining the thing as time passed. I had to start somewhere to rebuild my list so I issued a "distress call" of sorts on Facebook. I explained the passing of "old Bessie" and asked those Facebook peeps that had my cell number to please shoot me a text so I could reestablish contact. Those that could and/or weren't relieved to be lost, kindly did send brief messages.
The new phone, Hugh, is really nice but twice the size of the old one. I was used to fitting my old one in the front pocket of my jeans, now what? In addition to needing new chargers, I also am adjusting to new software, too. My texting app is different and occasionally Senior Google chooses to hide. It's easy to understand how we can get so attached to these things. Hugh is fast, responsive, and his screen is easy to read. I would have liked to stay physically attached to Hugh, though, so I won't lose him. Do I put him in my back pocket? What if I sat on him? I decided to look for a cross body bag that I could wear. Hugh's last name is Jazz.
I had stopped using handbags because I know I have a mind like a steel sieve. If I put something down, there's a big risk it's going to be forgotten. Anything I can wear is bound to better my odds. Given how expensive Hugh was, I would say I have some skin in the game. Luckily, I found that I do already own one bag that works, although Hugh takes up every inch. It beats spending still more money on accessories. That was something that is never included or even mentioned at the store.
Kids toys have print, albeit microscopic, on their packages that mention "batteries not included". Grownups toys don't include details like screen protectors, wall and car chargers, and basic cases. Has anyone ever just bought a phone? What was once considered a luxury is now a ubiquitous necessity. Very few people we know have "land lines". We still do. I am so old I still remember phone booths, dimes not included, sigh.
Dinosaurs that we are, I still own an actual address book. The problem is that the information in it is as antiquated as my old phone. I can't say I was vigilant in maintaining the thing as time passed. I had to start somewhere to rebuild my list so I issued a "distress call" of sorts on Facebook. I explained the passing of "old Bessie" and asked those Facebook peeps that had my cell number to please shoot me a text so I could reestablish contact. Those that could and/or weren't relieved to be lost, kindly did send brief messages.
The new phone, Hugh, is really nice but twice the size of the old one. I was used to fitting my old one in the front pocket of my jeans, now what? In addition to needing new chargers, I also am adjusting to new software, too. My texting app is different and occasionally Senior Google chooses to hide. It's easy to understand how we can get so attached to these things. Hugh is fast, responsive, and his screen is easy to read. I would have liked to stay physically attached to Hugh, though, so I won't lose him. Do I put him in my back pocket? What if I sat on him? I decided to look for a cross body bag that I could wear. Hugh's last name is Jazz.
I had stopped using handbags because I know I have a mind like a steel sieve. If I put something down, there's a big risk it's going to be forgotten. Anything I can wear is bound to better my odds. Given how expensive Hugh was, I would say I have some skin in the game. Luckily, I found that I do already own one bag that works, although Hugh takes up every inch. It beats spending still more money on accessories. That was something that is never included or even mentioned at the store.
Kids toys have print, albeit microscopic, on their packages that mention "batteries not included". Grownups toys don't include details like screen protectors, wall and car chargers, and basic cases. Has anyone ever just bought a phone? What was once considered a luxury is now a ubiquitous necessity. Very few people we know have "land lines". We still do. I am so old I still remember phone booths, dimes not included, sigh.
Thursday, November 12, 2020
The Dinosaur Blues
If there were warnings, I'm sure I missed them. I think I even chose to ignore them, or at least didn't think about what they meant. It started about 6 months ago with storage space messages on my phone. Ok, I figured I'd better start clearing caches and deleting apps I don't use. I was able to continue to limp along for another few months without a problem. Then I noticed I couldn't really use Facebook. It would load, but you couldn't see anything further than one screen. No scrolling was possible. I waste too much time on there anyway, right? I just gave up using it on my phone. A small resentful seed was slowly growing in the back of my mind.
That evil empire (fill-in-the-blank) cell phone company is trying to force me to get a new phone. Damn those bastards! I will resist! I happen to like my current phone. The biggest thing I like about it is the fact that it's not - big, that is. I already have a tablet, thank you and this phone fits in my pocket. I continued to limp along, deleting unnecessary photos and I figured as long as I can still make a call or get a text, I'm still good. I still had my bare minimum needed functions. Dinosaurs that we are, we try to get things repaired unless and until they are obviously and sometimes way beyond dead.
Finding people who actually fix things in a throw away society, however, is becoming too much fun for humans. I'm also convinced the profit on cell phones is huge so these creatures have a huge incentive to try to sell you a new phone. I have a very strong incentive NOT to buy one. I'm quite sure I will be told by representatives of the evil empire that my device is no longer supported by the manufacturer. I get the whole built in obsolescence thing but that doesn't mean I won't fight it. I have been trying to adhere to a get one good thing and keep it forever philosophy for larger ticket items, at least.
My phone was currently at the point where you couldn't use it because it was choked with messages blocking the thing from functioning. I decided to research my issue and found other people who have had my problem. Lo and behold there are others who have dealt with this bologna but regrettably they have all had to wipe their devices memory. This was not looking good. It's funny to think that I grew up and survived college without a cell phone. Today, if I forget my device, it feels like I left the house without pants. Something is missing!
That evil empire (fill-in-the-blank) cell phone company is trying to force me to get a new phone. Damn those bastards! I will resist! I happen to like my current phone. The biggest thing I like about it is the fact that it's not - big, that is. I already have a tablet, thank you and this phone fits in my pocket. I continued to limp along, deleting unnecessary photos and I figured as long as I can still make a call or get a text, I'm still good. I still had my bare minimum needed functions. Dinosaurs that we are, we try to get things repaired unless and until they are obviously and sometimes way beyond dead.
Finding people who actually fix things in a throw away society, however, is becoming too much fun for humans. I'm also convinced the profit on cell phones is huge so these creatures have a huge incentive to try to sell you a new phone. I have a very strong incentive NOT to buy one. I'm quite sure I will be told by representatives of the evil empire that my device is no longer supported by the manufacturer. I get the whole built in obsolescence thing but that doesn't mean I won't fight it. I have been trying to adhere to a get one good thing and keep it forever philosophy for larger ticket items, at least.
My phone was currently at the point where you couldn't use it because it was choked with messages blocking the thing from functioning. I decided to research my issue and found other people who have had my problem. Lo and behold there are others who have dealt with this bologna but regrettably they have all had to wipe their devices memory. This was not looking good. It's funny to think that I grew up and survived college without a cell phone. Today, if I forget my device, it feels like I left the house without pants. Something is missing!
Tuesday, November 3, 2020
Today's rant
It's roughly mid February in a wierdly mild winter. I have no shortage of things to do, as usual, despite not working today. It looks like I'm going to need a to do list to help me finally make some progress. I can't get jealous of other people's success if I'm not doing something to get myself moving. Hopefully seeing something on paper will make it easier to pick small things off. The list itself needs to be more than housework, though. Hanging onto the "process" part of things is hard. I'm impatient. I want to know what I'm supposed to be doing right now. Processes are messy and unpredictable.
I hate that! What is this patience and where do I get some right now?! I'm having a real problem letting go of looking for that angelically lit "Aha!" moment that tells me this is what I'm supposed to be doing. Getting comfortable with uncertainty is about as appealing as putting on a hair shirt. If I'm going to insist on being a control freak, I need a path to follow. If I can't find one, I'll make one instead (thank you Dr. Suess!). Making time to make a list seems to be an issue. Brainstorming without including housework may only yield a drizzle but I'll take what I can get. Breaking things down into tiny bits will help with giving me some shred of a sense of accomplishment, too.
I hate that! What is this patience and where do I get some right now?! I'm having a real problem letting go of looking for that angelically lit "Aha!" moment that tells me this is what I'm supposed to be doing. Getting comfortable with uncertainty is about as appealing as putting on a hair shirt. If I'm going to insist on being a control freak, I need a path to follow. If I can't find one, I'll make one instead (thank you Dr. Suess!). Making time to make a list seems to be an issue. Brainstorming without including housework may only yield a drizzle but I'll take what I can get. Breaking things down into tiny bits will help with giving me some shred of a sense of accomplishment, too.
Oddly enough, there are actually benefits to being in this position, if one is only able to see them. There are still times, for example, when my kiddo gets sick or has a school function. I still have the luxury of being there without the bonus hassle of worrying about a boss.
The older she gets, of course, the more pressure I feel to do something to bring in some income. I recently picked up my first tutoring client. It's another new step in my process, which, God forbid, was a small something to be proud of. So, dear reader, what do you want to be when you grow up, and how do you eat your elephant?
The older she gets, of course, the more pressure I feel to do something to bring in some income. I recently picked up my first tutoring client. It's another new step in my process, which, God forbid, was a small something to be proud of. So, dear reader, what do you want to be when you grow up, and how do you eat your elephant?
Thursday, October 22, 2020
Let It Be
I've recently discovered this title isn't just a great Beatles song. Our circle of friends includes my husband's high school friend and his wife. They have a daughter the same age as ours. You would think that would be very handy, and for years it was. The girls played with each other at every gathering we had, it was great, built in entertainment! Enter the hormone fairy and that b**ch ruins everything. The girls are getting into the tween years and we are dealing with moodiness, to say the least.
The last few times we had gotten the usual suspects together, the girls barely said "boo" to each other. What's a mom to do? The short answer, as far as I can tell, would be to keep my big beak out of it. People of any age change as they get older, tweens seem to do it faster than tornadoes. I also can't force the kids to be friends per se. I was however, hoping they could manage to hang out together for a few hours. I have absolutely no time while I'm hosting a party to worry about her majesty's entertainment.
We also have the issue of electronics manners, which, I admit, we need to work on. I am referring to pulling one's face out of the screen vortex long enough to be sociable. Some grownups also have this issue I know, but I try to model good behavior. One of the issues I've noticed we're lousy at is advanced preparation of our tech addicted kiddo. She has always had problems with transitions and remembering things. When you're dealing with a tween who's adhd you really need to write things down - on neon paper - in huge print - blinking if possible.
The last few times we had gotten the usual suspects together, the girls barely said "boo" to each other. What's a mom to do? The short answer, as far as I can tell, would be to keep my big beak out of it. People of any age change as they get older, tweens seem to do it faster than tornadoes. I also can't force the kids to be friends per se. I was however, hoping they could manage to hang out together for a few hours. I have absolutely no time while I'm hosting a party to worry about her majesty's entertainment.
We also have the issue of electronics manners, which, I admit, we need to work on. I am referring to pulling one's face out of the screen vortex long enough to be sociable. Some grownups also have this issue I know, but I try to model good behavior. One of the issues I've noticed we're lousy at is advanced preparation of our tech addicted kiddo. She has always had problems with transitions and remembering things. When you're dealing with a tween who's adhd you really need to write things down - on neon paper - in huge print - blinking if possible.
It's a short attention span world and I'm fighting the screen addiction as hard as I fight too much sugar. I'm having better luck on the sugar front. I've run into the problem of the fishpond we swim in. If I manage to get my kiddo off her screens for a while I run into plenty of other parents who don't. Too much screen time is especially bad for an adhd brain. I have to navigate other situations I never saw coming. If we're going to a party at someone else's house, is it okay to let our girl bring a device? We've considered it bad form unless I find out other kids who may be there have their screens! I tell my mom, "You old people had it so easy!".
Some gatherings are better than others and I am wondering if maybe some generic written warning might be a good idea. If I have something laying around before I need it, that may help. I just need to find paper that blinks!
Some gatherings are better than others and I am wondering if maybe some generic written warning might be a good idea. If I have something laying around before I need it, that may help. I just need to find paper that blinks!
Tuesday, October 13, 2020
Is it McTax time?
It's funny how a New Year hasn't done much to change the same old problems. Happy birthday to my midlife crisis. Those that know me are aware that I have a background as a C.P.A. but I've recently been substitute teaching for my daughter's district. It's been good for feeling useful and bringing in a couple of bucks. As we enter the season of jingle bills, however, I am feeling the need to up my income. Since we can always count on death and taxes and morticians sound like even less fun than accountants, I'm going back to taxation (or at least trying).
So far my efforts have been yielding precisely bupkus. My old coonections in the accounting world are apparently past ancient. This appears to be a question of commitment and managing expectations. Mommy articles will mention that when you first become a parent it's important to keep your hand in your old profession so you're not "stale" when you choose to return. What they don't mention is what to do if you weren't really interested in returning to said "old profession". I believe I also don't recall reading anything about being blindsided by a death in the family or having an infant with "failure to thrive" problems in the first year either.
Once again, I am late to the party. What I was hoping for was to find was a small independent C.P.A. firm willing to hire a mom on a part time basis to help me bring in a few bucks and still let me get out in time to pick up my daughter from school. The problem was I managed to flounder through November and December just substitute teaching. I was supposed to be launching a full court press to find something for mid February.
This effort, such as it was, flopped. I tried to research H&R Block. I found out that you had to pay for their training, which I deeply resented (the paying part, not the training). I was able to stop by a local office and speak to a human. While they did say you had to pay for training, there was an exam you could take and weasel out of said training. I tried the exam and while I didn't pass, I was happy that someone at least told me about the opportunity. Job hunting is lonely and frustrating in that you get nothing in the way of responses and it feels a bit isolating.
So here I am, somewhat whiney and underemployed. I need to remember that there's still a difference between underemployed and completely unemployed. I do not plan on giving up. We can't afford that. Cussing a lot, however, self pity, and wine, as well as whine are still on the list so far. Is there a normal time allotment for wallowing? I'll see if I can fit some gratitude in there, too.
So far my efforts have been yielding precisely bupkus. My old coonections in the accounting world are apparently past ancient. This appears to be a question of commitment and managing expectations. Mommy articles will mention that when you first become a parent it's important to keep your hand in your old profession so you're not "stale" when you choose to return. What they don't mention is what to do if you weren't really interested in returning to said "old profession". I believe I also don't recall reading anything about being blindsided by a death in the family or having an infant with "failure to thrive" problems in the first year either.
Once again, I am late to the party. What I was hoping for was to find was a small independent C.P.A. firm willing to hire a mom on a part time basis to help me bring in a few bucks and still let me get out in time to pick up my daughter from school. The problem was I managed to flounder through November and December just substitute teaching. I was supposed to be launching a full court press to find something for mid February.
This effort, such as it was, flopped. I tried to research H&R Block. I found out that you had to pay for their training, which I deeply resented (the paying part, not the training). I was able to stop by a local office and speak to a human. While they did say you had to pay for training, there was an exam you could take and weasel out of said training. I tried the exam and while I didn't pass, I was happy that someone at least told me about the opportunity. Job hunting is lonely and frustrating in that you get nothing in the way of responses and it feels a bit isolating.
So here I am, somewhat whiney and underemployed. I need to remember that there's still a difference between underemployed and completely unemployed. I do not plan on giving up. We can't afford that. Cussing a lot, however, self pity, and wine, as well as whine are still on the list so far. Is there a normal time allotment for wallowing? I'll see if I can fit some gratitude in there, too.
Plot twist/update: I've decided to"splurge" on the H&R Block class and grad school because nothing goes better with under employment than spending big bucks. Stay tuned!
Thursday, October 1, 2020
Tempus needs to stop
It's approaching Thanksgiving, as of this writing. Forget how fast the year is flying by, my morning just flew by in a sneeze. It's going to take one concerted effort on my part to be here now, as they say. I keep picturing claw marks as I'm inexorably dragged through my holiday season. I 'm not ready yet! I promised myself last year I would have started cards or shopping or cookie dough by now. I'm a filthy liar and gullible as hell because last year, I believed me!
The mission, it seems, is to let go of what does or doesn't get done and just enjoy. Maybe I should just settle for leaping over tall buildings in a single bound. I could just start small and focus on ten minute bursts. The problem is that I'm not having much luck with that either. I've been trying to meditate for over a year now and I think I've managed a whole three minutes in one shot. I blame the house and my older brain. Old habits die hard is another understatement for the ages.
'Focus on your breath', my tablet says. 'What do I have to get done today?' said the brain. 'Scan the body and notice how the body feels.' says the meditation app. 'Is it too early for winter skin? Why am I so itchy?'....and so it goes. If I could blindfold and gag my brain maybe I'd get somewhere.
My love hate relationship with Facebook continues. I have plenty of friends who are actually pulling off the whole "doing festive things". I am still baffled by where are they getting the money for this and how the hell do you remember to take a picture and post it?! My daughter is the most well documented kid on the planet. Mommy and Daddy, not so much. I'd have to ask my spouse how he feels about the lack of adult pictures. There was that one time someone mistook my husband for my Father! We were out having dinner with his family and I laughed my *ss off. I can only assume he's not that sorry about the lack of photographic evidence.
The mission, it seems, is to let go of what does or doesn't get done and just enjoy. Maybe I should just settle for leaping over tall buildings in a single bound. I could just start small and focus on ten minute bursts. The problem is that I'm not having much luck with that either. I've been trying to meditate for over a year now and I think I've managed a whole three minutes in one shot. I blame the house and my older brain. Old habits die hard is another understatement for the ages.
'Focus on your breath', my tablet says. 'What do I have to get done today?' said the brain. 'Scan the body and notice how the body feels.' says the meditation app. 'Is it too early for winter skin? Why am I so itchy?'....and so it goes. If I could blindfold and gag my brain maybe I'd get somewhere.
My love hate relationship with Facebook continues. I have plenty of friends who are actually pulling off the whole "doing festive things". I am still baffled by where are they getting the money for this and how the hell do you remember to take a picture and post it?! My daughter is the most well documented kid on the planet. Mommy and Daddy, not so much. I'd have to ask my spouse how he feels about the lack of adult pictures. There was that one time someone mistook my husband for my Father! We were out having dinner with his family and I laughed my *ss off. I can only assume he's not that sorry about the lack of photographic evidence.
Tuesday, September 15, 2020
My how things have changed!
Dear reader I must thank you for sticking with me through my mid life crisis. It is November as of this writing. I am trying to plan my winter. I recently began substitute teaching for my daughter's district. The commute is great, the people are nice, the facilities are ok but the pay is underwhelming. I am reminded of a sign I saw in one of the classrooms lately that said "I became a teacher for the money and fame." My previous profession paid way more and meant way less. That's probably the biggest reason I'm reluctant to let go of it completely, well ok the money and me killing myself to pass the CPA exam.
I have put some feelers out to old contacts to see if there were any opportunities for some part time tax work this winter. So far crickets are chirping. This is the time of year CPA firms staff up for year end. Admittedly, I could go to the "H" place but I am less than thrilled with paying for training. I've already had to do that once, which wasn't reallly training and was rude enough for one time. This "training" also does not guarantee a job. Should you get said job you may be required to sell additional products like refund anticipation loans. I would rather try to sell a flaming bag of dog poop.
What's the problem? I am a lousy salesman period. These loans also bug me for several reasons. They prey on people who can't manage their money. The goal of any tax return, from an accountant's perspective, is to break even. Unless it's the only way you can save, you're giving the government an interest free loan for a year.' We can get you a huge refund' can translate into 'we can make sure you're overpaid into the system'! Let's not lose sight of the fact that this is your money. I believe that one is also highly encouraged to sell 'second loooks' at previously filed returns.
The other fun problem to cope with is flexibility. While my daughter is older, she still needs a grown up around. Someone has to drive her to and from school and make sure the homework gets done. Whatever job I end up with needs to wrap up in time for me to get my daughter. I'm hoping that I would have better luck with a small, independent CPA firm rather than a retail outlet style place. There is also a possibility of additional work after the end of tax season for extensions and bookkeeping clients. Substitute teaching is helpful for nine months but I'm still on the prowl for additional sheckels. The hunt continues.
I have put some feelers out to old contacts to see if there were any opportunities for some part time tax work this winter. So far crickets are chirping. This is the time of year CPA firms staff up for year end. Admittedly, I could go to the "H" place but I am less than thrilled with paying for training. I've already had to do that once, which wasn't reallly training and was rude enough for one time. This "training" also does not guarantee a job. Should you get said job you may be required to sell additional products like refund anticipation loans. I would rather try to sell a flaming bag of dog poop.
What's the problem? I am a lousy salesman period. These loans also bug me for several reasons. They prey on people who can't manage their money. The goal of any tax return, from an accountant's perspective, is to break even. Unless it's the only way you can save, you're giving the government an interest free loan for a year.' We can get you a huge refund' can translate into 'we can make sure you're overpaid into the system'! Let's not lose sight of the fact that this is your money. I believe that one is also highly encouraged to sell 'second loooks' at previously filed returns.
The other fun problem to cope with is flexibility. While my daughter is older, she still needs a grown up around. Someone has to drive her to and from school and make sure the homework gets done. Whatever job I end up with needs to wrap up in time for me to get my daughter. I'm hoping that I would have better luck with a small, independent CPA firm rather than a retail outlet style place. There is also a possibility of additional work after the end of tax season for extensions and bookkeeping clients. Substitute teaching is helpful for nine months but I'm still on the prowl for additional sheckels. The hunt continues.
Here's a fun update! One year later, my kiddo needs to catch a bus 2 days a week and work virtually, the other 3. I am now in grad school because nothing goes better with unemployment than massive debt. (Just kidding, we're paying as I go.) I actually decided to try the "H place" as I call it. The current plan is to try it and see. If it's a horrendous nightmare, I work long enough to recoup my training costs and gtfo. I am still on the list for substitute teaching although I have no idea when I'm going to fit it in. This promises to be an interesting fall. Stay tuned.
Tuesday, September 1, 2020
Tempus fugit rant number 673
We have just survived Halloween as of this writing and already I am dreading winter. The retail tradition of the extended Christmas money grab is annoying to be sure but I admit, in a way, I need it. I have a bizarre relationship with time. I procrastinate when it comes to preparing for holidays and yet my wierdass brain dreads the post holiday let down. Granted, unless you live at a posh ski resort or have rampant hot flashes, who in their right mind looks forward to the bleak days of winter?
I use the annoying sales gimmicks to help me get some things done ahead of time, however small. It also helps extend the holiday season that seems to fly by too quickly for my liking. The Fall is tough to enjoy because I am loath to let go of the Summer and Summer does tend to hang around. It's hard to enjoy a season that's about ten minutes long. That's barely long enough for me to pull my head out of my ass and realize we should hit a pumpkin patch. Whaddya mean it's getting late?! I still haven't put away the summer clothes! Another season screwed over by tempus fugit.
This particular Fall I chose to stretch out Halloween a bit. I like leaving decorations up for about a week after a holiday. Christmas decorations stay out longer to stave off me admitting it's winter and I'm out of holidays for a while. It also takes a while to put that stuff away because there's a lot of it. I don't do much around the house for the Spring and Summer holidays, just Halloween and Christmas, with only half as much spooky crap as the yuletide junk. It's funny to think that some of the leftover candy from one holiday finds it's way into the next holiday's cookies! There's a stretch for you!
In some ways, it's a fight to get my seasonal timing right. God forbid I try to enjoy one thing at a time. By the time I master the art of living in the moment, I will most likely be out of them and they'll be closing the lid.
I use the annoying sales gimmicks to help me get some things done ahead of time, however small. It also helps extend the holiday season that seems to fly by too quickly for my liking. The Fall is tough to enjoy because I am loath to let go of the Summer and Summer does tend to hang around. It's hard to enjoy a season that's about ten minutes long. That's barely long enough for me to pull my head out of my ass and realize we should hit a pumpkin patch. Whaddya mean it's getting late?! I still haven't put away the summer clothes! Another season screwed over by tempus fugit.
This particular Fall I chose to stretch out Halloween a bit. I like leaving decorations up for about a week after a holiday. Christmas decorations stay out longer to stave off me admitting it's winter and I'm out of holidays for a while. It also takes a while to put that stuff away because there's a lot of it. I don't do much around the house for the Spring and Summer holidays, just Halloween and Christmas, with only half as much spooky crap as the yuletide junk. It's funny to think that some of the leftover candy from one holiday finds it's way into the next holiday's cookies! There's a stretch for you!
In some ways, it's a fight to get my seasonal timing right. God forbid I try to enjoy one thing at a time. By the time I master the art of living in the moment, I will most likely be out of them and they'll be closing the lid.
Tuesday, August 18, 2020
Brain musings
It's hard to sit and try to think of something to blog about when I'm so tempted to walk around the house and clean up. Thankfully, I don't spend all day at my tablet, although I should be writing more. This particular week I managed to get sick after substitute teaching for about six weeks into the school year. I'm really surprised I lasted this long, really. My daughter is grateful, I think, because I don't feel comfortable smooching her when I could get her sick. "Yuk, Mom!!", is something I get a lot these days.
It is about seven weeks into the school year, as of this writing. I'm a bit surprised I haven't gotten sick before this. I've been substitute teaching for more days this year than I did all of last year. I was called in to try to come in to work this week but I had to decline. It's depressing to acknowledge that I'm getting older and actually have to take time to get over illness. I used to just load up on otc crap and power through unless it was almost pneumonia. My iron woman status is rusting. My body has a lot of guts trying to force me to take care of myself!
It could just be my age or newer, uglier germs but this illness crap feels like it hangs around a lot longer than it used to. Most likely, it's just getting more of my attention. My timing is impeccable, as always. I managed to get sick close to the time I'll be traipsing around my neighborhood with my daughter. My spouse has been sick, too. It's also supposed to rain this year on Halloween.
I knew this wasn't going to happen. Do I have meteorological information that the average bear doesn't? No. I spent most of my time two days before searching creation for a clear plastic rain poncho my daughter could wear over her costume. Trick or treating went off without a drop or clear plastic. You're welcome, Gloucester County. Despite feeling crappy, I worked my *ss off getting my daughter's costume together. Regrettably, the sewing didn't survive the evening for some of her outfit but I'm trying to let some things go, especially since the mission is to look ok for a couple of hours.
What I really enjoy about the whole thing is the leftover candy, of course.
It is about seven weeks into the school year, as of this writing. I'm a bit surprised I haven't gotten sick before this. I've been substitute teaching for more days this year than I did all of last year. I was called in to try to come in to work this week but I had to decline. It's depressing to acknowledge that I'm getting older and actually have to take time to get over illness. I used to just load up on otc crap and power through unless it was almost pneumonia. My iron woman status is rusting. My body has a lot of guts trying to force me to take care of myself!
It could just be my age or newer, uglier germs but this illness crap feels like it hangs around a lot longer than it used to. Most likely, it's just getting more of my attention. My timing is impeccable, as always. I managed to get sick close to the time I'll be traipsing around my neighborhood with my daughter. My spouse has been sick, too. It's also supposed to rain this year on Halloween.
I knew this wasn't going to happen. Do I have meteorological information that the average bear doesn't? No. I spent most of my time two days before searching creation for a clear plastic rain poncho my daughter could wear over her costume. Trick or treating went off without a drop or clear plastic. You're welcome, Gloucester County. Despite feeling crappy, I worked my *ss off getting my daughter's costume together. Regrettably, the sewing didn't survive the evening for some of her outfit but I'm trying to let some things go, especially since the mission is to look ok for a couple of hours.
What I really enjoy about the whole thing is the leftover candy, of course.
Tuesday, August 4, 2020
The Letdown
It happened again. I worked my *ss off to clean the house and set up our garage for another birthday party. The attendance was underwhelming. It's the turkey's fault. We had a medium sized turkey sitting in our freezer for God knows how long. The freezer it was sitting in was in desperate need of defrosting. I got a small idea of what it was like to go on an arctic expedition. We found a lot of frozen artifacts and it was a miracle I was able to get the bird out at all. What do you do with 15 to 18 pounds of defrosting meat when your family has only three people? Throw a party, of course.
The party in question needed to happen in the fall but not too far into the fall. We put people in our garage and since the doors stay open, we need warmer weather. Picking a date was a huge pain because a lot of our guests were continuously busy until finally, I just picked a date and stuck with it. Once the invitations went out, people started dropping like flies. I got several texts from people who were going to be hours late! I began to be grateful they were still showing up at all. The whole thing became ungodly frustrating and almost felt personal, although I have no idea why.
I had enough fun racking my brains for gift ideas leading up to this and now I'm not I'll even see them and half the suggestions were ignored anyway. I really need a better game plan. I am never sorry when I get the house clean, despite the fact that it never lasts. It would feel like there was more of a payoff to all that effort if it was for a grown up gathering. Kids, and my spouse, are oblivious to whetther the house looks good. The birthday princess in question is also a huge fan of sleepovers. I'm always late to the party on these things but it looks like we will be going the small sleepover route for next year.
It all worked out in the end, of course. The only drawback was a stupid amount of leftover turkey.
The party in question needed to happen in the fall but not too far into the fall. We put people in our garage and since the doors stay open, we need warmer weather. Picking a date was a huge pain because a lot of our guests were continuously busy until finally, I just picked a date and stuck with it. Once the invitations went out, people started dropping like flies. I got several texts from people who were going to be hours late! I began to be grateful they were still showing up at all. The whole thing became ungodly frustrating and almost felt personal, although I have no idea why.
I had enough fun racking my brains for gift ideas leading up to this and now I'm not I'll even see them and half the suggestions were ignored anyway. I really need a better game plan. I am never sorry when I get the house clean, despite the fact that it never lasts. It would feel like there was more of a payoff to all that effort if it was for a grown up gathering. Kids, and my spouse, are oblivious to whetther the house looks good. The birthday princess in question is also a huge fan of sleepovers. I'm always late to the party on these things but it looks like we will be going the small sleepover route for next year.
It all worked out in the end, of course. The only drawback was a stupid amount of leftover turkey.
This, dear reader was written pre pandemic. Hilarious to think of the things I kvetch about that seem like such small potatoes now. This year, we will have to deal with our first quarantine kid birthday. Now There's a kvetch waiting to happen!
Tuesday, July 21, 2020
And another thing!
I mentioned previously that I was looking for something from my spouse that was a little better than feeling up a bowl of jello. Those who have seen my hubby would probably say he looks ok for a guy his age. He is not what I would call "fat as a house" but has a belly. So what's so wrong with that you superficial bastard? Well, yes, I am, in fact, a superficial jerk but I have my reasons.
First, I have always been a gym rat. The problem for me is that my husband could care less about fitness. He does care about sex. This is one problem for me in that while I know he is fond of my boobs, I'm not fond of his. I work hard to keep myself in some shred of shape and I get resentful that I'm the only one. I am not looking for Mister Universe, just respectable will do. It's almost impossible to feel like you want to snuggle with someone you don't want. I am not ready to give up on having a decent sex life while I still have a decent body.
It's also a question of health. The more you move, the more you can move. I have no interest in becoming my husband's nurse because he refuses to take care of himself. I saw my Mom go through this with my Father and it's nothing I want any part of. It's bad enough I do most of the cleaning up like she did.
Then there is buyer's remorse, in a sense. My brain told me that this marriage would be a good thing for me. I married a person who loved me, was a good person, and made me feel wanted (something I had deperately missed for years). There was also the compatibility issue. I'd swear, frequently, that we share a brain. The only thing lacking was a physical attraction. Should I have taken a pass for just that reason? These days, I wonder. I'm also baffled that my spouse, knowing how I feel, doesn't seem to want to bail.
My guts are telling me that I'm ok where I am. That is to say, I was engaged once before and it never "felt right". I don't have that uneasy I-need-to-leave feeling I had back then. The problem is having the unmitigated gaul to want more when I have a lot already. Yes, I am that greedy, and stubborn, for that matter.
A friend wisely advised me, given my utter lack of diplomacy, that I go at this from a health perspective. We know his job opening would be out faster than his obituary. There is also not enough vodka on earth to help me get our daughter through the teen years by myself. I need my spouse to live a long healthy life. So how do you talk to someone when you're as tactful as a brick? I'm open to suggestions, dear reader!
First, I have always been a gym rat. The problem for me is that my husband could care less about fitness. He does care about sex. This is one problem for me in that while I know he is fond of my boobs, I'm not fond of his. I work hard to keep myself in some shred of shape and I get resentful that I'm the only one. I am not looking for Mister Universe, just respectable will do. It's almost impossible to feel like you want to snuggle with someone you don't want. I am not ready to give up on having a decent sex life while I still have a decent body.
It's also a question of health. The more you move, the more you can move. I have no interest in becoming my husband's nurse because he refuses to take care of himself. I saw my Mom go through this with my Father and it's nothing I want any part of. It's bad enough I do most of the cleaning up like she did.
Then there is buyer's remorse, in a sense. My brain told me that this marriage would be a good thing for me. I married a person who loved me, was a good person, and made me feel wanted (something I had deperately missed for years). There was also the compatibility issue. I'd swear, frequently, that we share a brain. The only thing lacking was a physical attraction. Should I have taken a pass for just that reason? These days, I wonder. I'm also baffled that my spouse, knowing how I feel, doesn't seem to want to bail.
My guts are telling me that I'm ok where I am. That is to say, I was engaged once before and it never "felt right". I don't have that uneasy I-need-to-leave feeling I had back then. The problem is having the unmitigated gaul to want more when I have a lot already. Yes, I am that greedy, and stubborn, for that matter.
A friend wisely advised me, given my utter lack of diplomacy, that I go at this from a health perspective. We know his job opening would be out faster than his obituary. There is also not enough vodka on earth to help me get our daughter through the teen years by myself. I need my spouse to live a long healthy life. So how do you talk to someone when you're as tactful as a brick? I'm open to suggestions, dear reader!
Monday, July 13, 2020
The teapot is boiling again!
I may have mentioned this previously but we, as a couple, use a therapist. This has been going on for about a year now. Things have gotten better but I have zero patience and even less diplomatic skills. I may have mentioned that I'm a lot like my father in that I tend to keep things that bother me quiet until it finally explodes. I will admit that recently I've been stressed out and I know when that happens I get even more prickly than usual. When there's too much I can't control around me I can get overfocused on the piddly things I can.
I believe this is only part of the problem. My spouse thinks it's the whole issue, or seems to, anyway. It reminds me of when a guy would blame something on your pms when in fact No, you're an asshole AND I happen to have my period. I believe that a lot of what's bugging me is, in fact, minor. My husband is an oblivious slob but still a good husband and father. While I see no reason to throw the baby out with the bath water, so to speak, I could use to learn to ask for help Before said water boils over.
Knowing that I'm dealing with someone who doesn't see a damn thing when it comes to mess should make it easier in a sense in that you know you need to tell them everything. That still gets old quick and the bad example it sets only further aggravates me. I will admit I could also probably use to chill out about the house, among other things. If you quote me in public, I'll deny it.
His parents have been gone for years. I wish I could ask his mom if she taught him any life skills. Do we, as parents, create problems for other women to deal with later? Is this largely a problem with males? My spouse is better than my father was but I am still baffled by the high tolerance for crap everywhere. I joke the reason we don't have a pet is that I've barely got my husband house broken, much less a dog. I'm also lucky to be working part time, what happens if I start working full time?
I understand why my mom was such a miserable person growing up. Marrying a slob and staying there had a lot to do with it. My parents didn't really have the physical end of things to deal with, either. What happens when only one of you cares about self maintenance? I am the victim of the "I'm married, I can let myself go" mentality. Most likely, I'm in the minority here. I have a lot of friends who, one could argue, are proponents of this philosophy. My reasons for being into fitness run long and deep. I'm not expecting my husband to become something he never was, but I am asking for a little more muscle tone than jello. How are the chores divided at your house?
I believe this is only part of the problem. My spouse thinks it's the whole issue, or seems to, anyway. It reminds me of when a guy would blame something on your pms when in fact No, you're an asshole AND I happen to have my period. I believe that a lot of what's bugging me is, in fact, minor. My husband is an oblivious slob but still a good husband and father. While I see no reason to throw the baby out with the bath water, so to speak, I could use to learn to ask for help Before said water boils over.
Knowing that I'm dealing with someone who doesn't see a damn thing when it comes to mess should make it easier in a sense in that you know you need to tell them everything. That still gets old quick and the bad example it sets only further aggravates me. I will admit I could also probably use to chill out about the house, among other things. If you quote me in public, I'll deny it.
His parents have been gone for years. I wish I could ask his mom if she taught him any life skills. Do we, as parents, create problems for other women to deal with later? Is this largely a problem with males? My spouse is better than my father was but I am still baffled by the high tolerance for crap everywhere. I joke the reason we don't have a pet is that I've barely got my husband house broken, much less a dog. I'm also lucky to be working part time, what happens if I start working full time?
I understand why my mom was such a miserable person growing up. Marrying a slob and staying there had a lot to do with it. My parents didn't really have the physical end of things to deal with, either. What happens when only one of you cares about self maintenance? I am the victim of the "I'm married, I can let myself go" mentality. Most likely, I'm in the minority here. I have a lot of friends who, one could argue, are proponents of this philosophy. My reasons for being into fitness run long and deep. I'm not expecting my husband to become something he never was, but I am asking for a little more muscle tone than jello. How are the chores divided at your house?
Tuesday, June 30, 2020
Happy Fall?
I have all the motivation of last week's pancakes to continue adulting. It's nothing new, certainly. You'd think I'd be relieved that it's fall. My daughter is back in school and I have regained a bit more freedom. There's some mommy guilt over not living La Vida Facebook, as I call it. We did manage to get her to the beach for one week this summer. We still managed to swing Summer camp. It was rough when camp ended and the last few weeks were slow for us. I'm guessing the problem is isolation.
We don't have a large family and there aren't a lot of kids in our neighborhood for her majesty to play with. The other issue was that we do not have any pets for company. Too many of our friends have allergies and frankly, l barely have my husband housebroken. I'm drowning keeping up with our house as it is, I can't imagine having to vacuum like a nut on top of it and adding vet bills to boot. Someday there will be a dog in our family, but my ADD kid has to get a little older and more responsible.
We, as a family, are also still recovering from the massive depletion of our savings that resulted from a year of cobra payments. We didn't just scrape the bottom of the bottom of the barrel, we were starting to see through it. Here's what's wierd. I have been fighting a lot of Mommy guilt for the Summer despite the fact that it would have been so much worse for us had we not lived the way we had these last several years. It's yet another example of guilt defying common sense.
The fall is really a nice time of year, if I could just relax and enjoy. That seems to be about as easy as leaping over a tall building with a single bound for me. I'm guessing the biggest stressor is getting my ass back to work. The substitute teaching gig last school year wasn't pretty. There was no training and I got thrown into some really tough rooms. I also haven't noticed any aide jobs up yet. I didn't , and still don't feel prepared/qualified to teach a full day flying solo. What do you do when your school district could care less?
I freaked out a lot last year. I could really use to learn how to keep my trap shut. You get mighty comfortable being home as long as I have. I need to put some "Professional Teacher Pants" on. Unfortunately, I'm finding out that I have a lot of company. This whole lack of training thing is apparently par for the course in substitute teaching. What's also scary is that I haven't actually taught a class yet. I signed up to try it in a coteaching classroom. Oddly enough, it's one of my daughter's teachers from last year. Stay tuned.......
We don't have a large family and there aren't a lot of kids in our neighborhood for her majesty to play with. The other issue was that we do not have any pets for company. Too many of our friends have allergies and frankly, l barely have my husband housebroken. I'm drowning keeping up with our house as it is, I can't imagine having to vacuum like a nut on top of it and adding vet bills to boot. Someday there will be a dog in our family, but my ADD kid has to get a little older and more responsible.
We, as a family, are also still recovering from the massive depletion of our savings that resulted from a year of cobra payments. We didn't just scrape the bottom of the bottom of the barrel, we were starting to see through it. Here's what's wierd. I have been fighting a lot of Mommy guilt for the Summer despite the fact that it would have been so much worse for us had we not lived the way we had these last several years. It's yet another example of guilt defying common sense.
The fall is really a nice time of year, if I could just relax and enjoy. That seems to be about as easy as leaping over a tall building with a single bound for me. I'm guessing the biggest stressor is getting my ass back to work. The substitute teaching gig last school year wasn't pretty. There was no training and I got thrown into some really tough rooms. I also haven't noticed any aide jobs up yet. I didn't , and still don't feel prepared/qualified to teach a full day flying solo. What do you do when your school district could care less?
I freaked out a lot last year. I could really use to learn how to keep my trap shut. You get mighty comfortable being home as long as I have. I need to put some "Professional Teacher Pants" on. Unfortunately, I'm finding out that I have a lot of company. This whole lack of training thing is apparently par for the course in substitute teaching. What's also scary is that I haven't actually taught a class yet. I signed up to try it in a coteaching classroom. Oddly enough, it's one of my daughter's teachers from last year. Stay tuned.......
Tuesday, June 16, 2020
The Malfunctioning Gumball Machine
I have reached that "certain age" in which the hormone fairy has waved her magic wand and frequently I don't know what the hell is going on. Welcome to the malfunctioning gumball machine portion of the program. My body used to be some shred of predictable every month, or at least understandable. Now, despite my calendar tracking, I'm still clueless. Some months the eggs come down, some months they don't. Place your bets, folks! I don't wear white pants because they're too risky. I didn't bother with them even when I knew what to expect since I'm too lazy to coordinate underwear when I'm trying to get the hell out of my house.
Irrational moods are par for the course, as long as I remember to step back and remember whose fault this mess is. I blame that b**ch the hormone fairy. What's funny is that things could be a lot worse. I have not had my first hot flash yet, they can be handy in the winter, I've heard. My friends have told me that I don't look my age, thank God! I know some of it is lucky genetics but I'm guessing that the rest of it is hard work. My current theory is that as long as I keep working out like a nut I can fool my body into thinking that I'm younger than I really am.
That's peachy for the physical end of things but it doesn't help the cuckoo's nest upstairs. I get to feel the beginning of the downhill slide to old ladyhood. I'm pretty sure my brain will remain in denial until they close the lid. Pictures of myself seem to be the only things that show me the truth of how I actually look. I hate those bastards.
I've also found that the older I get, the higher maintenance I become, and the less I feel like doing said "maintenance". The various hair that needs to be dyed and/or plucked, the seemingly permanent fanny pack that's impervious to situps, and sudden need for push up bras while other body parts have decided to start jiggling are just part of the fun.
It's getting harder to be around younger people because I'm so much obviously older that I'm invisible. If my ego wore pants, they've been kicked. Allegedly I have plenty of company. That's true in a general sense. The actual depressing reality is that there are fewer and fewer of us as the years roll on and we weren't a big crowd to begin with! Halloween is becoming a way of life as we approach the age of the funeral. JHC, could this get any more cheerful?!?! While I'm on this side of the daisies, I should probably consider expanding my network. Yes, dear reader, I will have to become more extroverted to find more friends. Perhaps there's a Facebook group for bitter, sarcastic, fellow malfunctioning gumball machines, or I could start one. Who's with me?
P.S. Get Off My Lawn!!!
Irrational moods are par for the course, as long as I remember to step back and remember whose fault this mess is. I blame that b**ch the hormone fairy. What's funny is that things could be a lot worse. I have not had my first hot flash yet, they can be handy in the winter, I've heard. My friends have told me that I don't look my age, thank God! I know some of it is lucky genetics but I'm guessing that the rest of it is hard work. My current theory is that as long as I keep working out like a nut I can fool my body into thinking that I'm younger than I really am.
That's peachy for the physical end of things but it doesn't help the cuckoo's nest upstairs. I get to feel the beginning of the downhill slide to old ladyhood. I'm pretty sure my brain will remain in denial until they close the lid. Pictures of myself seem to be the only things that show me the truth of how I actually look. I hate those bastards.
I've also found that the older I get, the higher maintenance I become, and the less I feel like doing said "maintenance". The various hair that needs to be dyed and/or plucked, the seemingly permanent fanny pack that's impervious to situps, and sudden need for push up bras while other body parts have decided to start jiggling are just part of the fun.
It's getting harder to be around younger people because I'm so much obviously older that I'm invisible. If my ego wore pants, they've been kicked. Allegedly I have plenty of company. That's true in a general sense. The actual depressing reality is that there are fewer and fewer of us as the years roll on and we weren't a big crowd to begin with! Halloween is becoming a way of life as we approach the age of the funeral. JHC, could this get any more cheerful?!?! While I'm on this side of the daisies, I should probably consider expanding my network. Yes, dear reader, I will have to become more extroverted to find more friends. Perhaps there's a Facebook group for bitter, sarcastic, fellow malfunctioning gumball machines, or I could start one. Who's with me?
P.S. Get Off My Lawn!!!
Monday, June 1, 2020
Old Fart"s Lament
Not long ago, this body was young,
No stretch marks, no scars, there was nothing but fun.
It could run, jump and climb, twirl, bend and flex,
Can’t do those things now, without sound effects.
It needs glasses to find glasses and is frequently sore,
the brain often asks, “What’re we in this room for?”.
The hair on the roof is thinning and grey,
and the pipes either leak or back up every day.
The ears, which can hear, don’t like today’s tunes,
‘so called’ lyrics when they get it, still seem like runes.
The stomach hates spices, the liver can’t drink
the colon is due for a check up, I think.
To the shop for repairs! Is it deemed cosmetic?
Insurance said no, you’re stuck feeling pathetic.
Squinting eyes can’t read texts without a translator,
it’s phone is turned on, now it needs a third grader.
We’re surrounded by bodies with young, perky asses.
You’ve still got it, you’re still hot! but it’s only in flashes!
Some parts are sagging and others won’t work
The mouth spews lines from its parents - that jerk!
Frequently, sometimes loudly, it emits putrid fog
Better lay off the broccoli, we don’t have a dog
Childhood punishments have now become aims,
Going out? No, thanks, this body naps just the same.
The brain ignores all, says ‘We’re fine! Keep trying!
The body says ‘You’re f**king crazy!!, I’m dying!’
The neighborhood pharmacist knows it by name,
There’s a new, growing copay for each ache and pain.
Aging’s not just a pain, it’s a pantload of ills,
It’s expensive, frustrating, and tough without pills.
This body is like an old building my friend,
The tenant’s long gone and the sign says ‘condemned’.
Wednesday, May 20, 2020
Drawing a blank again
A writer must write, or so I'm told. It's tough to write though when you can't think of a damn thing to write about. So far, I've managed to apply to 5 jobs online. They are gigs I can do, rather than sending things out to see if they'll get accepted. I admit I've been dragging my feet about applying to H&R Block this year to get a part time job. In a way, it's sort of admitting defeat for me, I would so much rather work for a small solo office so I'm not selling people loans. I should get more information to see what the actual day to day would be like. The other problem would be the hours I'd like to work.
It appears that I do have a legitimate road block, albeit a temporary one. She is, as of this writing, ten years old and too much fun for humans in the morning, just like her mother. Currently there is no way in hell I can get myself ready for a job when our daughter needs a ridiculous amount of prodding to get her ass ready for school. Mornings, regrettably, are part of life and this is yet another unpleasant task we, as parents, have to get her majesty to handle independently. I had to get help on this because it involves my arch enemy, electronics.
We recently discovered, not surprisingly, that our little cherub is spending way too much time on her devices. This was not a shock, what did throw me was that the limits we had set were way off. We were also attacking the problem at the wrong end. Rather than worry about the mornings, we need to focus on the night before. I learned that once the screen time stops, it takes roughly 2 hours for a ten year old brain to calm down and get to sleep. Screen time needs to stop way before we need her butt in bed and we needed to make sure this allowed for the eleven hours of sleep she is supposed to be getting!
During the week this is a bit easier because of the forced regimen of getting up for school. My concern is handling our little addict on the weekends and school vacations. Thankfully, since there are two of us and one of her, we stand a better chance of improving things. I said "improving things" because we have to conquer our addictions, too! It also takes a bit more energy, as an older parent, to resist the electronic babysitter temptation. The holidays are coming, as of this writing, do I put video games on her majesty's list? Maybe one or two, but let's keep it down to a dull roar, shall we?
It appears that I do have a legitimate road block, albeit a temporary one. She is, as of this writing, ten years old and too much fun for humans in the morning, just like her mother. Currently there is no way in hell I can get myself ready for a job when our daughter needs a ridiculous amount of prodding to get her ass ready for school. Mornings, regrettably, are part of life and this is yet another unpleasant task we, as parents, have to get her majesty to handle independently. I had to get help on this because it involves my arch enemy, electronics.
We recently discovered, not surprisingly, that our little cherub is spending way too much time on her devices. This was not a shock, what did throw me was that the limits we had set were way off. We were also attacking the problem at the wrong end. Rather than worry about the mornings, we need to focus on the night before. I learned that once the screen time stops, it takes roughly 2 hours for a ten year old brain to calm down and get to sleep. Screen time needs to stop way before we need her butt in bed and we needed to make sure this allowed for the eleven hours of sleep she is supposed to be getting!
During the week this is a bit easier because of the forced regimen of getting up for school. My concern is handling our little addict on the weekends and school vacations. Thankfully, since there are two of us and one of her, we stand a better chance of improving things. I said "improving things" because we have to conquer our addictions, too! It also takes a bit more energy, as an older parent, to resist the electronic babysitter temptation. The holidays are coming, as of this writing, do I put video games on her majesty's list? Maybe one or two, but let's keep it down to a dull roar, shall we?
Monday, May 11, 2020
The battle rages on
We are facing yet another summer. One would think that this would be a good thing. I am reminded of Linus telling Charlie Brown that he was the only person who could take a wonderful season like Summer (in my case) and turn it into a problem! There are upsides. I get to let our girl sleep in, and by extension, me too on Mondays and Fridays all Summer. This is because so far, I am unemployed this Summer. I have been looking for something that would let me work while our daughter was at camp but so far, I've struck out. I have no shortage of work to do, it's the getting paid part that's missing.
I'm beginning to look into taking a course in grant writing while I'm not getting paid. Spending $1200 bucks doesn't sound very smart either but I'm looking at it as an investment. This midlife crisis will never resolve itself if I never address it. This is my first baby step. Looking counts, even if it doesn't feel that way. I have a friend who recently landed a regular gig as a columnist for a local paper. My heart is a little jealous even though my brain knows it took him a lot of work to get there. I haven't found my specific passion like he did and acknowledging that difference is huge.
One course does not a transition make, either. It occurred to me that this is just one step. I still have more research to do to figure out what's next. Something tells me this will involve spending more money. I'm also wondering if there's a way I can get someone else to pay for this. I need to contact the unemployment office and see if there is anything I can get in the way of help. We may be making three cents too much as a family with my husband's job, but if I don't ask, I'll never know.
I got lucky in a sense and did more digging. I found a much cheaper class I can take online from my local community college. I plan to go for this one because of the fees and flexibility online. It also cuts the risk down a lot for me, too. If it turns out that I hate grant writing, I won't be at a huge loss. This is a bit scary because I'm approaching that whole this-is-where-you-pur-your-money-where-your-mouth-is part of the journey. I have taken CPE courses online before but never one this long. I also have no idea if there will be homework with this one, too. I hope it will be worth it. Either way I will come out of it having learned something so I guess there's that. Real tomatoes will be everywhere, too.
I'm beginning to look into taking a course in grant writing while I'm not getting paid. Spending $1200 bucks doesn't sound very smart either but I'm looking at it as an investment. This midlife crisis will never resolve itself if I never address it. This is my first baby step. Looking counts, even if it doesn't feel that way. I have a friend who recently landed a regular gig as a columnist for a local paper. My heart is a little jealous even though my brain knows it took him a lot of work to get there. I haven't found my specific passion like he did and acknowledging that difference is huge.
One course does not a transition make, either. It occurred to me that this is just one step. I still have more research to do to figure out what's next. Something tells me this will involve spending more money. I'm also wondering if there's a way I can get someone else to pay for this. I need to contact the unemployment office and see if there is anything I can get in the way of help. We may be making three cents too much as a family with my husband's job, but if I don't ask, I'll never know.
I got lucky in a sense and did more digging. I found a much cheaper class I can take online from my local community college. I plan to go for this one because of the fees and flexibility online. It also cuts the risk down a lot for me, too. If it turns out that I hate grant writing, I won't be at a huge loss. This is a bit scary because I'm approaching that whole this-is-where-you-pur-your-money-where-your-mouth-is part of the journey. I have taken CPE courses online before but never one this long. I also have no idea if there will be homework with this one, too. I hope it will be worth it. Either way I will come out of it having learned something so I guess there's that. Real tomatoes will be everywhere, too.
Tuesday, April 28, 2020
Ready or not, here comes Summer!
I'm at my kitchen table looking at my to do list of crap I'm fantasizing about pulling off before we leave for the beach for the week. My daughter wraps up fifth grade by mid Thursday this week. She has to survive one week of CCD after vacation and then she is a free birdie for the rest of the summer. This summer will be wierd for me because after having my husband home last year, I will be flying solo this year. This is definitely a good thing but it will take some getting used to. It was incredibly easy to get used to having him home.
This particular week is a bit rough because I managed to get sick after substitute teaching for a whopping 7 jobs! There's nothing like trying to kill off a to do list when your butt is dragging worse than usual. Just to add to the fun, the germs are spreading. I've refrained from kissing my daughter, much to her relief, because I was trying Not to get her sick. That flopped. We are about to find out if the new insurance works. It's hard for me to figure out what's an allergy versus a bad cold this time of year, too. This is just another episode of guess your face off. I'd rather the doctor's office tell me I'm nuts and send me home when we're this close to vacation.
Having a memory like a steel sieve is forcing me to make lists of all the crap I want to get done before we leave. My spouse shocked me and actually took an interest in said list. The problem is we don't agree on what's necessary. The husband is notoriously oblivious to mess and dirt, me, not so much. I'm already going to be depressed that I have to come home from the beach at all, I'll be damned if I'm going to have to clean on top of it. He is also regrettably immune to the threat of my Mother coming over while we're gone. I should have enough time to get the inside under control but there's also some outside maintenance I hope to pull off.
The outside maintenance never gets done often enough, just ask our neighbors. It was looking like Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom out there and I felt I had to do something. The frustrating thing about weeding of course, is that there seems to be no real payoff. I went out there like a good homeowner and ripped out enough crap to feed an elephant. A week later the junk grew back! I don't even get the fun weed in my yard. I get grass from hell, baby trees under my deck and lamb's ear trying to take over like Hitler invading Poland. I've also noticed our bushes are starting to look like Gene Wilder's hair from Young Frankenstein. My next yard will be concrete.
This particular week is a bit rough because I managed to get sick after substitute teaching for a whopping 7 jobs! There's nothing like trying to kill off a to do list when your butt is dragging worse than usual. Just to add to the fun, the germs are spreading. I've refrained from kissing my daughter, much to her relief, because I was trying Not to get her sick. That flopped. We are about to find out if the new insurance works. It's hard for me to figure out what's an allergy versus a bad cold this time of year, too. This is just another episode of guess your face off. I'd rather the doctor's office tell me I'm nuts and send me home when we're this close to vacation.
Having a memory like a steel sieve is forcing me to make lists of all the crap I want to get done before we leave. My spouse shocked me and actually took an interest in said list. The problem is we don't agree on what's necessary. The husband is notoriously oblivious to mess and dirt, me, not so much. I'm already going to be depressed that I have to come home from the beach at all, I'll be damned if I'm going to have to clean on top of it. He is also regrettably immune to the threat of my Mother coming over while we're gone. I should have enough time to get the inside under control but there's also some outside maintenance I hope to pull off.
The outside maintenance never gets done often enough, just ask our neighbors. It was looking like Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom out there and I felt I had to do something. The frustrating thing about weeding of course, is that there seems to be no real payoff. I went out there like a good homeowner and ripped out enough crap to feed an elephant. A week later the junk grew back! I don't even get the fun weed in my yard. I get grass from hell, baby trees under my deck and lamb's ear trying to take over like Hitler invading Poland. I've also noticed our bushes are starting to look like Gene Wilder's hair from Young Frankenstein. My next yard will be concrete.
Friday, April 17, 2020
Still morw learning!
My adventures as a substitute teacher are continuing to surprise. I knew I had a lot to learn, it's the nuances that amaze me. I've been home for a long time and while it's not that I wasn't working, the job was different. Now that I'm in a professional setting, I have to remember to watch my p's and q's. You don't have to care what you look like at home. According to my closet, I haven't cared in about twelve years! The problem is how to spend money on a wardrobe when you've been unemployed and needed the money.
The commute for me is now a whopping five minutes and yet I'm still scrambling to gtfo every morning I'm scheduled. I'm used to only getting one of us out the door! I'm only getting a short time to get some work in before school ends since it took forever to get my certificate. I had applied to be a substitute teacher at my daughter's district about two years ago but I'm guessing my application was ignored because I didn't know anyone there and my degree was not in education. I remember trying to follow up at the time and getting nowhere.
There are bonus surprises, too. I learned the scheduling system the district uses can be at best, a suggestion. I've had my assignments changed repeatedly, sometimes in the same day before I get in! I'm trying to scare up some teaching work for the summer, too, but I'm wondering about whether that's such a bright idea.
My daughter's district, does have an extended school year program. I heard a rumor about who may be in charge of it and emailed the person to let her know I'm available. I haven't followed up because it occurred to me that these programs are often aimed at special ed students. The first week of working for the district put me in rooms with kids who literally screamed all day, threw chairs, and used profanities. The kids were all between 5 and 7. Do I really want to be potentially trapped in a room with those kinds of kids all summer? How much money can I make if I just stick a fork in my eye?
There is no shortage of stuff to do at home if I don't manage to find something job wise for the summer. It would be nice to keep some shred of money coming in, however. Our savings took a huge hit over the last year and it feels like there's a lot of ground to make up. There are some classes I can take over the summer that would help in the future. The question becomes do I physically go to a college or do something on line. I would prefer something with minimal travel, of course. It will be wierd having homework but I am planning to look at this as an investment in my career. I just need to wait until we get some income coming in first.
The commute for me is now a whopping five minutes and yet I'm still scrambling to gtfo every morning I'm scheduled. I'm used to only getting one of us out the door! I'm only getting a short time to get some work in before school ends since it took forever to get my certificate. I had applied to be a substitute teacher at my daughter's district about two years ago but I'm guessing my application was ignored because I didn't know anyone there and my degree was not in education. I remember trying to follow up at the time and getting nowhere.
There are bonus surprises, too. I learned the scheduling system the district uses can be at best, a suggestion. I've had my assignments changed repeatedly, sometimes in the same day before I get in! I'm trying to scare up some teaching work for the summer, too, but I'm wondering about whether that's such a bright idea.
My daughter's district, does have an extended school year program. I heard a rumor about who may be in charge of it and emailed the person to let her know I'm available. I haven't followed up because it occurred to me that these programs are often aimed at special ed students. The first week of working for the district put me in rooms with kids who literally screamed all day, threw chairs, and used profanities. The kids were all between 5 and 7. Do I really want to be potentially trapped in a room with those kinds of kids all summer? How much money can I make if I just stick a fork in my eye?
There is no shortage of stuff to do at home if I don't manage to find something job wise for the summer. It would be nice to keep some shred of money coming in, however. Our savings took a huge hit over the last year and it feels like there's a lot of ground to make up. There are some classes I can take over the summer that would help in the future. The question becomes do I physically go to a college or do something on line. I would prefer something with minimal travel, of course. It will be wierd having homework but I am planning to look at this as an investment in my career. I just need to wait until we get some income coming in first.
Tuesday, April 7, 2020
Adventures in Colon Country
I finally approached that magical age where it became necessary to get my first colonoscopy. This was something I'd be putting off for a long time. There was a reason I'd been stalling. It was the prep. My mom and my spouse had done it so it was my turn. The cattleprod to finally get me to schedule was the fact that I ran the risk of running out of time before my husband found a job and I would have had to find a driver. Getting behind the wheel too soon after general anesthesia is frowned upon and I like my car the way it is, unwrinkled. We got lucky in that all I had to do was call to request the procedure and skip the office copay.
I called the same office my husband and mom had used, for lack of a better idea. They ordered a prep kit and mailed instructions so there was nothing to do but wait. The box was huge and took up a chunk of real estate on my kitchen table. We were expecting company that weekend. The box didn't exactly enhance the decor so I decided to move it. I put it on top of our refrigerator right in front of a box of Raisin Bran. I love bad jokes but I had no idea irony was ingrained in my subconscious!
Since I had been dreading this for some time, procrastinating when it came to reading the instructions was no problem. The instructions themselves, were a problem. I was put on a clear liquid diet beginning after breakfast the day before my procedure. Vodka, I might point out, is a clear liquid, but alcohol was verboten. Apparently disinfecting from the inside was not appreciated by my doctor. I don't understand this but no one has ever clutched their chest and yelled for a writer so what do I know?
When the real prep began the evening before I opened the packet of evil and choked down the stuff from the port a potty jar enclosed in that big box. Surprisingly, nothing happened and I felt fine. The bastards lulled me into a false sense of security. The next morning at roughly 10 after dawn, I had to take another round of the vile stuff. Shortly after that I was 'deals-with-God' nauseous and living in the bathroom.
This lasted for about three hours. Honestly, it wasn't what I was expecting. My husband warned me about an impending "poopageddon" but really the majority of what came out was clear. That is all the gory detail I need to provide, at the end of it, I felt like a wet rag, despite being dehydrated. The doctor's office wasn't kidding when they said you needed to have a driver. We arrived at the office and just to add insult to injury, I was "required" to take a pregnancy test, which I would have to pay for! That ship has sailed so long ago, it's not even a dot on the horizon.
Thankfully, since I had zero coffee or food that day, I didn't have to wait long before I was handed a gown, cap and booties and asked to get changed. The gown was pretty much a live cotton version of a four year old's drawing of a person (with added ventilation, of course). The cap made me think of a conveyor belt full of chocolate, which I couldn't have! Luckily, I got a fantastic nurse who got me settled into a hospital bed and hooked me up to an IV filled with no fun clear liquid, so much for internal disinfection. I'm guessing the responsible grown ups were concerned about the anesthesia. They also wouldn't let me drive the bed into the procedure room.
I asked the nurse about the aftermath. I got the impression from my mom and my husband that I would have to have a string tied to my leg and be led home like a parade float. The doctors use a carbon based gas and not as much of it as they used to. I had been somewhat "musical" before this but I thought it would be hilarious if they used laughing gas up there. Whatever came out after that would at least sound funny but again, I don't know much about medical issues, except that I have them.
The good news is that once they gave me the shut-up-and-go-to-sleep juice, the next thing I knew it was all over. They found nothing (my head was not, in fact, up there) and I don't have to come back for ten years. It all came out fine in the end!
I called the same office my husband and mom had used, for lack of a better idea. They ordered a prep kit and mailed instructions so there was nothing to do but wait. The box was huge and took up a chunk of real estate on my kitchen table. We were expecting company that weekend. The box didn't exactly enhance the decor so I decided to move it. I put it on top of our refrigerator right in front of a box of Raisin Bran. I love bad jokes but I had no idea irony was ingrained in my subconscious!
Since I had been dreading this for some time, procrastinating when it came to reading the instructions was no problem. The instructions themselves, were a problem. I was put on a clear liquid diet beginning after breakfast the day before my procedure. Vodka, I might point out, is a clear liquid, but alcohol was verboten. Apparently disinfecting from the inside was not appreciated by my doctor. I don't understand this but no one has ever clutched their chest and yelled for a writer so what do I know?
When the real prep began the evening before I opened the packet of evil and choked down the stuff from the port a potty jar enclosed in that big box. Surprisingly, nothing happened and I felt fine. The bastards lulled me into a false sense of security. The next morning at roughly 10 after dawn, I had to take another round of the vile stuff. Shortly after that I was 'deals-with-God' nauseous and living in the bathroom.
This lasted for about three hours. Honestly, it wasn't what I was expecting. My husband warned me about an impending "poopageddon" but really the majority of what came out was clear. That is all the gory detail I need to provide, at the end of it, I felt like a wet rag, despite being dehydrated. The doctor's office wasn't kidding when they said you needed to have a driver. We arrived at the office and just to add insult to injury, I was "required" to take a pregnancy test, which I would have to pay for! That ship has sailed so long ago, it's not even a dot on the horizon.
Thankfully, since I had zero coffee or food that day, I didn't have to wait long before I was handed a gown, cap and booties and asked to get changed. The gown was pretty much a live cotton version of a four year old's drawing of a person (with added ventilation, of course). The cap made me think of a conveyor belt full of chocolate, which I couldn't have! Luckily, I got a fantastic nurse who got me settled into a hospital bed and hooked me up to an IV filled with no fun clear liquid, so much for internal disinfection. I'm guessing the responsible grown ups were concerned about the anesthesia. They also wouldn't let me drive the bed into the procedure room.
I asked the nurse about the aftermath. I got the impression from my mom and my husband that I would have to have a string tied to my leg and be led home like a parade float. The doctors use a carbon based gas and not as much of it as they used to. I had been somewhat "musical" before this but I thought it would be hilarious if they used laughing gas up there. Whatever came out after that would at least sound funny but again, I don't know much about medical issues, except that I have them.
The good news is that once they gave me the shut-up-and-go-to-sleep juice, the next thing I knew it was all over. They found nothing (my head was not, in fact, up there) and I don't have to come back for ten years. It all came out fine in the end!
Monday, March 30, 2020
The New Adventure
It sure as hell took long enough and yet somehow it feels like it came fairly quickly. "It" was the last piece of the new job puzzle. The great county of Gloucester New Jersey moved with glacier like speed to issue my substitute teaching certificate. Yours truly is now an official substitute teacher. There were a lot of administrative hoops to jump through but zero training. I have to admit, I was/am scared s**tless. The scheduling coordinator talked me off the ledge and advised me to take a lot of aide assignments until I felt comfortable. The teachers I have met and worked with have been fabulous.
The school district uses an automated system that calls the house and asks if I am interested in a job. We got a call at 5:15 in the blessed am! There is also an online system to select jobs. The problem is there is not a lot of detail in the job listings. I found out the hard way this is deliberate! My first assignment was with a lot of special needs Down syndrome preschoolers. One kid was emotionally disturbed and screamed almost nonstop.
I smartened up and learned to research the teacher named in the assignment. 'Child Study Team' translates into 'tough crowd'. It is still ok to volunteer for these jobs, but if you don't have special education training, such as myself, you have to know what you're getting into.
I was lucky in the sense that there were other aides there and one of the more experienced women took the screamer. I couldn't imagine how on earth the amazing teacher didn't run screaming from the building herself and somehow managed to conduct class! The first day was thankfully only for a half day. I was wiped out just from that! I was only visiting that room for one day. I couldn't imagine how these people deal with that every day for a whole school year. These people need capes!
The school district uses an automated system that calls the house and asks if I am interested in a job. We got a call at 5:15 in the blessed am! There is also an online system to select jobs. The problem is there is not a lot of detail in the job listings. I found out the hard way this is deliberate! My first assignment was with a lot of special needs Down syndrome preschoolers. One kid was emotionally disturbed and screamed almost nonstop.
I smartened up and learned to research the teacher named in the assignment. 'Child Study Team' translates into 'tough crowd'. It is still ok to volunteer for these jobs, but if you don't have special education training, such as myself, you have to know what you're getting into.
I was lucky in the sense that there were other aides there and one of the more experienced women took the screamer. I couldn't imagine how on earth the amazing teacher didn't run screaming from the building herself and somehow managed to conduct class! The first day was thankfully only for a half day. I was wiped out just from that! I was only visiting that room for one day. I couldn't imagine how these people deal with that every day for a whole school year. These people need capes!
Friday, March 20, 2020
Ode to a Germ
In the town where I live now, came a germ from 'cross the sea.
It closed everything down, people everywhere were feeling green.
So we cleaned and sanitized and we stayed glued to our tv's.
Now we're all stuck here inside of what we call our quarantine.
We all live in Corona Quarantine, Corona Quarantine, Corona Quarantine.
We all live in Corona Quarantine, Corona Quarantine, Corona Quarantine.
And our friends can't come around, stay away from uo, go next door. Take your germs and go away!
And we hoard all our tp, every one of us, is scared to sneeze. Trapped inside, fearing disease, in our Corona Quarantine.
We all live in Corona Quarantine, Corona Quarantine, Corona Quarantine!
We all live in Corona Quarantine, Corona Quarantine, Corona Quarantine!
It closed everything down, people everywhere were feeling green.
So we cleaned and sanitized and we stayed glued to our tv's.
Now we're all stuck here inside of what we call our quarantine.
We all live in Corona Quarantine, Corona Quarantine, Corona Quarantine.
We all live in Corona Quarantine, Corona Quarantine, Corona Quarantine.
And our friends can't come around, stay away from uo, go next door. Take your germs and go away!
And we hoard all our tp, every one of us, is scared to sneeze. Trapped inside, fearing disease, in our Corona Quarantine.
We all live in Corona Quarantine, Corona Quarantine, Corona Quarantine!
We all live in Corona Quarantine, Corona Quarantine, Corona Quarantine!
Tuesday, March 10, 2020
The First Anniversary of Still Nothing
It is an incredibly dreary day outside for a Tuesday in mid May. This is appropriate considering we are approaching a solid year of joint unemployment. We are running low on cash and ideas. Neither one of us is giving up but we are getting tired. I've given up on previous applications. It's hard to keep in mind that people don't care about getting back to you because they already have a job! What's wierd, for me, at least, is that I thought there would be some summer camp counselor part time jobs at my local school districts but I haven't found anything. Am I looking in the wrong places?
I've been keeping tabs on how many applications I've sent out. My target is about 100 before I feel I really put a serious amount out there. The resume has also been revamped a bit, too. It was a learning experience when I found out how many formats are available and what things can make a person "look old". I removed my year of graduation long ago but there is, allegedly, a prejudice against your email format, too. The one page length is still good for me but I realized I don't need my entire work history. If anything, only the past 10 to 15 years are enough.
I am looking for part time work that will fit in with my daughter's camp and school schedule. She is still too young to be left alone for too long, not to mention she will not be getting bussing for at least another school year. We also have a great update, to report. During this writing, we learned that my husband finally got an offer of employment. The wages are a lot less than I would prefer. The recruiter assured my husband that these were nice people and they were changing his title to include the word "Senior". If you ask me, they should have offered to increase his wages if they were really nice.
We, as a family, have no choice in the matter because they are providing healthcare. While he will be paying bridge tolls to get to Delaware, he will be avoiding the wage tax, parking, and we hope, dry cleaning since the place is casual. My substitute teaching certificate has also finally arrived and I have begun my foray into teaching. That experience is a whole separate post. I have a lot to learn, putting it mildly. I am also finding out how out of practice I am when it comes to things like office dress, how long I need to get ready, and keeping my trap shut. Wish me luck.
I've been keeping tabs on how many applications I've sent out. My target is about 100 before I feel I really put a serious amount out there. The resume has also been revamped a bit, too. It was a learning experience when I found out how many formats are available and what things can make a person "look old". I removed my year of graduation long ago but there is, allegedly, a prejudice against your email format, too. The one page length is still good for me but I realized I don't need my entire work history. If anything, only the past 10 to 15 years are enough.
I am looking for part time work that will fit in with my daughter's camp and school schedule. She is still too young to be left alone for too long, not to mention she will not be getting bussing for at least another school year. We also have a great update, to report. During this writing, we learned that my husband finally got an offer of employment. The wages are a lot less than I would prefer. The recruiter assured my husband that these were nice people and they were changing his title to include the word "Senior". If you ask me, they should have offered to increase his wages if they were really nice.
We, as a family, have no choice in the matter because they are providing healthcare. While he will be paying bridge tolls to get to Delaware, he will be avoiding the wage tax, parking, and we hope, dry cleaning since the place is casual. My substitute teaching certificate has also finally arrived and I have begun my foray into teaching. That experience is a whole separate post. I have a lot to learn, putting it mildly. I am also finding out how out of practice I am when it comes to things like office dress, how long I need to get ready, and keeping my trap shut. Wish me luck.
Monday, February 24, 2020
Mommy has lost her s**t
Recently I wrote about wondering how to deal with an exceptionally different relation you feel you are "stuck with". We received a phone call from the offensive party telling me to "get over it" and then demanding I come to her house! We weren't exactly eager so my spouse helped me to decide to go the next day. Regrettably, that turned out to be too soon. I had no interest in going there, much less staying. He insisted I stay and another argument ensued. I cannot recall ever being flat out furious before. It was a first, and a lot less helpful than I was hoping. I am relying heavily on my spouse these days.
A part of me is very much hoping that "just get over it" will prove to be tougher than someone else thought. I can say for sure that my husband has never seen me that furious either. I can only hope it tells him that I was not only uber stressed but definitely pushed. An evil part of me also hopes that someone else for only a split second, would be scared of me for once, since I grew up the other way around. I also confess I'm not proud of that. I'm chalking that up to just being human. It's not something I plan on revisiting to be sure. It's also another salient reminder of what I don't want with my daughter.
The following couple of days, phone calls were muted and a bit awkward. My guess is that the creature was finding out that "getting over it" is easier said than done sometimes. I would like to think that she might learn from this but I'm not holding my breath.
During this "Part 2 From Hell" the creature pointed out that its friends have their kids over all the time helping. This goes back to how I grew up. You can't expect a person to want chocolate cake right after throwing up. Our relationship is just not like that, period. I'm not saying it's anyone's fault, it just is. My amazing husband still wants to keep this creature in our lives.
My guts are telling me he is correct, despite her behavior. I want my daughter to still have a relationship with this person regardless of my feelings. He has told me that he did cut someone out for a while and later regretted it. I assume his regret was Catholic guilt related since I knew the person he cut out and I can personally attest it was well deserved. What I admire about my husband is his ability to forgive. My brain tells me it frees you but I still have trouble actually doing it. The biggest hurdle I think is knowing the offensive behavior won't change.
Eventually, we will all get past this. We had another visit recently when we were all calmer and I got the impression that things were moving in a more progressive direction. I don't like my daughter seeing Mommy completely lose it like that. There is only scant comfort in knowing that's a rare occurrence. She covers her ears when my husband and I argue, which is infrequent generally, and even more so in front of her.
There's not much to be proud of during these ugly episodes but I hope my girl understands that her Mommy is human and there are limits to how people should behave, family or not. What you don't need to limit is forgiveness.
A part of me is very much hoping that "just get over it" will prove to be tougher than someone else thought. I can say for sure that my husband has never seen me that furious either. I can only hope it tells him that I was not only uber stressed but definitely pushed. An evil part of me also hopes that someone else for only a split second, would be scared of me for once, since I grew up the other way around. I also confess I'm not proud of that. I'm chalking that up to just being human. It's not something I plan on revisiting to be sure. It's also another salient reminder of what I don't want with my daughter.
The following couple of days, phone calls were muted and a bit awkward. My guess is that the creature was finding out that "getting over it" is easier said than done sometimes. I would like to think that she might learn from this but I'm not holding my breath.
During this "Part 2 From Hell" the creature pointed out that its friends have their kids over all the time helping. This goes back to how I grew up. You can't expect a person to want chocolate cake right after throwing up. Our relationship is just not like that, period. I'm not saying it's anyone's fault, it just is. My amazing husband still wants to keep this creature in our lives.
My guts are telling me he is correct, despite her behavior. I want my daughter to still have a relationship with this person regardless of my feelings. He has told me that he did cut someone out for a while and later regretted it. I assume his regret was Catholic guilt related since I knew the person he cut out and I can personally attest it was well deserved. What I admire about my husband is his ability to forgive. My brain tells me it frees you but I still have trouble actually doing it. The biggest hurdle I think is knowing the offensive behavior won't change.
Eventually, we will all get past this. We had another visit recently when we were all calmer and I got the impression that things were moving in a more progressive direction. I don't like my daughter seeing Mommy completely lose it like that. There is only scant comfort in knowing that's a rare occurrence. She covers her ears when my husband and I argue, which is infrequent generally, and even more so in front of her.
There's not much to be proud of during these ugly episodes but I hope my girl understands that her Mommy is human and there are limits to how people should behave, family or not. What you don't need to limit is forgiveness.
Monday, February 10, 2020
The Great Clearance part 112
You know it's Spring when my garage gets cleaned out, figuratively and hopefully, literally. We are again planning for our yard sale. We are lucky to have a neighborhood organization that does this so my development gets to piggy back off of the crowd they draw. I will also announce our little endeavor on Facebook, for what that's worth. We invite friends to join us and bring whatever stuff they want to sell and we make a day of it. It's not as much fun as our wine soaked game nights but it does rank a close second. There is a stupid amount of breakfast food and people give us cash to take away our crap.
I usually hope for a lot of said cash but I enjoy having all the crap that needs to leave herded in one space. We make the majority of our sales by 11am but stay out until 1pm before we officially admit it's over. Our friends are also a helpful bunch and we occasionally "shop" from each other. I'm still waiting for our daughter to "catch on" to letting go of stuff. I've learned to make her aware of anything that may be upsetting if it's sold but I ask for a replacement for any rescues. We have reached the age where she tends to play mostly video games, much to my dismay. I really miss the days when toys were actually played with, sigh.
It took me a few years but I've also learned that it pays to start setting up early, like days ahead early. I hate killing myself at the last minute to put things out. There are two other downsides to yardsales, dealers and early birds. Frequently, they're one and the same! My friends and family know what a basket of sunshine I am in the morning although in recent years, I've been forced, in a sense, to become an early bird. I leave my own yard sale to run up the block and quickly check out the group sale going on at the front of our development. This stresses out my husband but I always make it quick.
Epilogue: It flew by like a wedding. I was idiot tired but managed to get up and we were free of earlybirds! I'm not sure if I should have taken this as a bad sign but it was a relief for me. We actually managed to get set up by 8am! I tagged as many things as I could so there wouldn't be a lot of questions from my husband as I made my way up the block to check out the other sales. I was underwhelmed and made it back in 30 minutes. We managed a barely respectable amount of sales but in our defense, we had the weather against us. It was cold and ridiculously windy. We had to chase our stuff around the yard and move things into the garage to keep them from blowing away.
I'm gathering up my donation for Purple Heart and stow the rest for what I keep swearing will be the last time. See you next sale.
I usually hope for a lot of said cash but I enjoy having all the crap that needs to leave herded in one space. We make the majority of our sales by 11am but stay out until 1pm before we officially admit it's over. Our friends are also a helpful bunch and we occasionally "shop" from each other. I'm still waiting for our daughter to "catch on" to letting go of stuff. I've learned to make her aware of anything that may be upsetting if it's sold but I ask for a replacement for any rescues. We have reached the age where she tends to play mostly video games, much to my dismay. I really miss the days when toys were actually played with, sigh.
It took me a few years but I've also learned that it pays to start setting up early, like days ahead early. I hate killing myself at the last minute to put things out. There are two other downsides to yardsales, dealers and early birds. Frequently, they're one and the same! My friends and family know what a basket of sunshine I am in the morning although in recent years, I've been forced, in a sense, to become an early bird. I leave my own yard sale to run up the block and quickly check out the group sale going on at the front of our development. This stresses out my husband but I always make it quick.
Epilogue: It flew by like a wedding. I was idiot tired but managed to get up and we were free of earlybirds! I'm not sure if I should have taken this as a bad sign but it was a relief for me. We actually managed to get set up by 8am! I tagged as many things as I could so there wouldn't be a lot of questions from my husband as I made my way up the block to check out the other sales. I was underwhelmed and made it back in 30 minutes. We managed a barely respectable amount of sales but in our defense, we had the weather against us. It was cold and ridiculously windy. We had to chase our stuff around the yard and move things into the garage to keep them from blowing away.
I'm gathering up my donation for Purple Heart and stow the rest for what I keep swearing will be the last time. See you next sale.
Shoulding on myself again
We, who are not in the mood for any of this, salute you. I don't understand why it seems to be so difficult for me to look for freelance writing jobs and/or looking for a summer job. I am almost done the application process to become a substitute teacher. Having a job to go to is not a cheap excuse for me to avoid looking for writing opportunities. I've got the house for that. If the fact that I'm getting older scares me, I remain baffled by my uncanny ability to waste time. It's probably more accurate to say that I am a master of diversionary tactics. The other things I do instead of write are all "useful", they're just not personally helpful.
As usual, there is no credit for small victories. I have managed to blog every weekday for over a year now. I finally saw the career coach I'd been talking about for months and entered a humor poetry contest. As usual, I'm also not so good at following the advice I paid for. The coach helpfully reminded me that this whole career change thing is process. The substitute teaching gig I'm working on is not the only thing in my life. There is no reason to let go of my love and interest in humor writing but I need to be realistic about my goals. Even published authors have told me "Don't quit your day job."
We, as a family, are still focused on getting something that will bring in money. I struggle with the idea of a dream deferred not necessarily meaning a dream abandoned. Even writing will not be a straight path in a sense that I will be writing what a client or boss needs first before I can write what I love and get paid. I'm reading about how a career change also frequently means a drop in income. Peachy, that's just what we need! The whole process can also take years, which will not start until I start it. At the rate I'm going I could be looking at a decade!
As usual, there is no credit for small victories. I have managed to blog every weekday for over a year now. I finally saw the career coach I'd been talking about for months and entered a humor poetry contest. As usual, I'm also not so good at following the advice I paid for. The coach helpfully reminded me that this whole career change thing is process. The substitute teaching gig I'm working on is not the only thing in my life. There is no reason to let go of my love and interest in humor writing but I need to be realistic about my goals. Even published authors have told me "Don't quit your day job."
We, as a family, are still focused on getting something that will bring in money. I struggle with the idea of a dream deferred not necessarily meaning a dream abandoned. Even writing will not be a straight path in a sense that I will be writing what a client or boss needs first before I can write what I love and get paid. I'm reading about how a career change also frequently means a drop in income. Peachy, that's just what we need! The whole process can also take years, which will not start until I start it. At the rate I'm going I could be looking at a decade!
Tuesday, January 28, 2020
Holy Hotflash, Batman!
The inevitable has finally happened. It snuck up on me somehow. I'm guessing my ego had something to do with that. It's January, a balmy 30 degrees outside, and suddenly I found myself sweating for no apparent reason. I was indoors and not doing much so I knew exertion wasn't the reason. Our household thermostat has been known to drop to "cheap bastard" when no one's paying attention, too. Was it finally time to admit I'm in THAT age bracket? "Nevah!!", me ego yells. We are not aging, Your Majesty is still young!" Then I see someone who actually IS young. Well THAT sucks.
Recently, I attended a painting outing with a couple of friends and someone took a group photo. While I can't say I saw my mom, it made me wonder if my eyes and my brain were occupying the same body! Jesus H. Christ I need some serious Momscaping! I had forgotten that I had worn frumpy clothes just in case I got paint on myself. Frumpmaster General accomplished the mission. It would have been a lot less depressing to take my chances on a decent outfit. My brain is under the delusion that I'm at least ten years younger than my driver's license says I am.
Am I just really a younger alien trapped in an old lady suit?! (See delusion, previous paragraph.)
I suppose I should be grateful this crap started in January as opposed to August but so far that's about the only upside I've been able to find. These flashes also don't seem to hit when I could actually use them, like when I'm outside waiting in line for something. I have also read that a side effects of this joyride through hormonal hell include mood swings and weight gain. I've already been exercising at fruitcake levels just to break even. If I'm going to end up eating too much perhaps I should consider pot, at least I will have had the fun of getting high.
I also thought I was quite moody enough. Did this really need to get worse?! I don't know if my husband will notice the difference yet. Since we live with a tween daughter and a mom of THAT age, I have to feel a bit sorry for him. There could be a money making opportunity here. I could open up a sanctuaty! I could see the commercial now.
Hello friends! Has your other half and/or offspring suddenly become as rational as Daffy Duck? Is divorce too expensive and no one wants custody of you anyway? Then you need our Spousal Haven In Troubled Times! You could lease your own small space to escape (controlled substances not included). Until they get theirs together, you're going to need ours! Trust us, this could take a while. [Anyone up for going into business with me? We could clean up!]
Recently, I attended a painting outing with a couple of friends and someone took a group photo. While I can't say I saw my mom, it made me wonder if my eyes and my brain were occupying the same body! Jesus H. Christ I need some serious Momscaping! I had forgotten that I had worn frumpy clothes just in case I got paint on myself. Frumpmaster General accomplished the mission. It would have been a lot less depressing to take my chances on a decent outfit. My brain is under the delusion that I'm at least ten years younger than my driver's license says I am.
Am I just really a younger alien trapped in an old lady suit?! (See delusion, previous paragraph.)
I suppose I should be grateful this crap started in January as opposed to August but so far that's about the only upside I've been able to find. These flashes also don't seem to hit when I could actually use them, like when I'm outside waiting in line for something. I have also read that a side effects of this joyride through hormonal hell include mood swings and weight gain. I've already been exercising at fruitcake levels just to break even. If I'm going to end up eating too much perhaps I should consider pot, at least I will have had the fun of getting high.
I also thought I was quite moody enough. Did this really need to get worse?! I don't know if my husband will notice the difference yet. Since we live with a tween daughter and a mom of THAT age, I have to feel a bit sorry for him. There could be a money making opportunity here. I could open up a sanctuaty! I could see the commercial now.
Hello friends! Has your other half and/or offspring suddenly become as rational as Daffy Duck? Is divorce too expensive and no one wants custody of you anyway? Then you need our Spousal Haven In Troubled Times! You could lease your own small space to escape (controlled substances not included). Until they get theirs together, you're going to need ours! Trust us, this could take a while. [Anyone up for going into business with me? We could clean up!]
Friday, January 17, 2020
Geometrically challenged
My brain, usually, enjoys helping our resident 5th grader with her math homework. My idiot tired body has to be dragged to our dining room table to do this, but masochistic as it sounds, I like helping my kid understand something. We, as parents, are also slowly trying to get her majesty to understand the concept that tests need to be studied for even when there's no direct homework involved. Mommy, however, was the one who needed help recently. In my defense, there were no polygons or prisms whatsoever on the CPA exam and there is not one quadrilateral refernce in the entire tax code (I'm pretty sure, at least.).
Recently one evening, I was helping our daughter review math concepts for a test. As we got further and further into the questions, I was the one who was getting schooled. She had to explain a couple of concepts to me which was both comforting and scary. I'm glad she gets it for her test but what happens if I get stuck trying to teach this crap?! I'm guessing that it's a good thing I didn't ask how a person would handle something like this at the job interview or I wouldn't have gotten the job. This trip down memory lane could easily turn into a face plant if I'm not careful.
I'm going to have to put on my teacher pants as it is just to make sure I stay in control of a class. Talk about getting out of your comfort zone! The vice principal I spoke to assured me there would be one day of training, which seemed a bit short. I was also promised that my first assignments would be in coteaching rooms and instructional aide spots. These guys must really need the help if they're willing to take me on. There is a part of me that can't help but feel that this is unfair, in a sense. There's a lot of administrative hoops to jump through to become a substitute teacher but that's all they are, administrative.
We, as a family, have skin in this game, so to speak, so I understand at a personal level, the importance of teaching. I don't want to talk myself out of a job but I was surprised that all it took was a bachelor's degree and some paperwork to become a substitute teacher. I have a lot of deference to the women (and men) who followed the "correct path" from the beginning and suffered through the exams and student teaching. It surprises me the district gives the title of substitute to a suburban "mommy off the street" with just one day of training. You need more training than that to prepare a tax return. I can't help but think there's more to it than babysitting 20 odd kids for a day.
So, am I smarter than a sixth grader? I'm about to find out.
Recently one evening, I was helping our daughter review math concepts for a test. As we got further and further into the questions, I was the one who was getting schooled. She had to explain a couple of concepts to me which was both comforting and scary. I'm glad she gets it for her test but what happens if I get stuck trying to teach this crap?! I'm guessing that it's a good thing I didn't ask how a person would handle something like this at the job interview or I wouldn't have gotten the job. This trip down memory lane could easily turn into a face plant if I'm not careful.
I'm going to have to put on my teacher pants as it is just to make sure I stay in control of a class. Talk about getting out of your comfort zone! The vice principal I spoke to assured me there would be one day of training, which seemed a bit short. I was also promised that my first assignments would be in coteaching rooms and instructional aide spots. These guys must really need the help if they're willing to take me on. There is a part of me that can't help but feel that this is unfair, in a sense. There's a lot of administrative hoops to jump through to become a substitute teacher but that's all they are, administrative.
We, as a family, have skin in this game, so to speak, so I understand at a personal level, the importance of teaching. I don't want to talk myself out of a job but I was surprised that all it took was a bachelor's degree and some paperwork to become a substitute teacher. I have a lot of deference to the women (and men) who followed the "correct path" from the beginning and suffered through the exams and student teaching. It surprises me the district gives the title of substitute to a suburban "mommy off the street" with just one day of training. You need more training than that to prepare a tax return. I can't help but think there's more to it than babysitting 20 odd kids for a day.
So, am I smarter than a sixth grader? I'm about to find out.
Tuesday, January 7, 2020
Here we go again
It's a new year. O freakin' goody. I hate it when the holidays are over. Cleaning up from any party is depressing enough but trying to ignore a whole upcoming winter while I'm at it makes things tougher. It felt really wierd stopping work in the sense that my rhythm got thrown off. Admittedly, I didn't have much of one to begin with because my "schedule" is erratic by definition. I am a part time substitute teacher, at least for this school year. New Year same mid life crisis. I may have mentioned that I recently completed a couple of grant writing courses at Camden County College. I was hoping that maybe that would lead to some other work in my local district but so far I've hit a lily white brick wall.
The floundering continues, dammit. I made the mistake of thinking I was getting somewhere. There were hints, which of course, weren't rude enough for me to notice. The first was from a great book I read called "The Encore Career Handbook". It's about people like me trying to figure out what the hell to do with themselves after the end of a career. It describes the second career thing as more of a process that could include several flops along the way. Well that sucks.
There was another hint from of all people, me. While I was taking the grant writing class from Camden County College, I did ask my professor about our neighborhood. We are lucky in that we aren't dodging bullets to get into our school but our district is underfunded. How do I fill out these applications to compete with inner cities? The advice I got was to focus on the good the award could do for the district. This sounded like good advice to me so I took that under advisement and moved on.
I've also noticed at least two other districts near me have received grants from the Department of Education. Since completing the classes I've let evryone with two brain cells to rub together know that I'm a C.P.A. and available to help write grants. I was flat out informed by my district that "We're not interested". I was even blocked from talking to the district business manager! I finally had to go around the business office altogether and spoke to the School Principal. She was at least kind enough to take time to speak to me honestly. Our district doesn't have much success with grants which explains the attitude I got.
This was disappointing and frustrating to say the least. It's not that I was expecting someone to magically poof me a job pr se but maybe I had a bit more emotionally invested in the possibilities. So now what? I wish I knew.
The floundering continues, dammit. I made the mistake of thinking I was getting somewhere. There were hints, which of course, weren't rude enough for me to notice. The first was from a great book I read called "The Encore Career Handbook". It's about people like me trying to figure out what the hell to do with themselves after the end of a career. It describes the second career thing as more of a process that could include several flops along the way. Well that sucks.
There was another hint from of all people, me. While I was taking the grant writing class from Camden County College, I did ask my professor about our neighborhood. We are lucky in that we aren't dodging bullets to get into our school but our district is underfunded. How do I fill out these applications to compete with inner cities? The advice I got was to focus on the good the award could do for the district. This sounded like good advice to me so I took that under advisement and moved on.
I've also noticed at least two other districts near me have received grants from the Department of Education. Since completing the classes I've let evryone with two brain cells to rub together know that I'm a C.P.A. and available to help write grants. I was flat out informed by my district that "We're not interested". I was even blocked from talking to the district business manager! I finally had to go around the business office altogether and spoke to the School Principal. She was at least kind enough to take time to speak to me honestly. Our district doesn't have much success with grants which explains the attitude I got.
This was disappointing and frustrating to say the least. It's not that I was expecting someone to magically poof me a job pr se but maybe I had a bit more emotionally invested in the possibilities. So now what? I wish I knew.
Friday, January 3, 2020
Thinking outside the box
Regrettably, as of this writing, we are at month nine of my spouse being unemployed. He is depressed, putting it mildly and I am having a tough time in patches, trying to help. It turns out, that I really don't need to help so much as listen. The problem is what I'm hearing. It's obvious that his mood is awful because he has an answer for every suggestion.
"That won't work." "They won't pay enough." "I'm not doing that." You get the idea. When he gets that way, I work on just letting him complain and then move on. I need to stop trying to be a guy and fix the problem! The negativity gets to be a bit much at times and my ego thinks I have great ideas. He does this with everyone, not just me. I know it's the depression/frustration talking. It shouldn't be a surprise by this point that stress levels are pretty high around around here. It appears to be contagious. I am approaching a new adventure while I'm still knee deep in his.
My own little adventure is a bit scary. I am trying to get myself used to the idea that I will be working myself soon. I am looking at this substitute teaching thing as a small step on a larger journey. I am also not completely letting go of my job hunt. I've learned the hard way, over the years, how important it is to have a plan "B". I am also planning to drag my "Negative Nancy" of a spouse to a job fair. If anything, I'm hoping it will give us both some fresh ideas on what to do and where to apply. I'm also a bit of a sucker for free chachkis.
I am also still learning about this whole substitute teaching thing and what happens during the summer. There's a theoretical chance that I could parlay my shred of experience gained into another teaching gig, but let's not bet the ranch. That's another reason for my interest in the upcoming job fair. Unfortunately, my mother is voicing her opinion on the whole thing. Captain Obvious never fails to disappoint. My husband should be pumping gas. We are both lazy. The money is eventually going to run out. It's great to have supportive family in times like these. If you have one, dear reader, please let me know what it's like.
Update: Funny to think my spouse has been working for 6 months now. I've been substitute teaching for about 5 myself. Life has also gotten in the way of my Plan B. There have been some adjustments and the subbing gig has been rewarding/disappointing (Good to feel useful/money sucks). More will be coming on that. Stay tuned.
"That won't work." "They won't pay enough." "I'm not doing that." You get the idea. When he gets that way, I work on just letting him complain and then move on. I need to stop trying to be a guy and fix the problem! The negativity gets to be a bit much at times and my ego thinks I have great ideas. He does this with everyone, not just me. I know it's the depression/frustration talking. It shouldn't be a surprise by this point that stress levels are pretty high around around here. It appears to be contagious. I am approaching a new adventure while I'm still knee deep in his.
My own little adventure is a bit scary. I am trying to get myself used to the idea that I will be working myself soon. I am looking at this substitute teaching thing as a small step on a larger journey. I am also not completely letting go of my job hunt. I've learned the hard way, over the years, how important it is to have a plan "B". I am also planning to drag my "Negative Nancy" of a spouse to a job fair. If anything, I'm hoping it will give us both some fresh ideas on what to do and where to apply. I'm also a bit of a sucker for free chachkis.
I am also still learning about this whole substitute teaching thing and what happens during the summer. There's a theoretical chance that I could parlay my shred of experience gained into another teaching gig, but let's not bet the ranch. That's another reason for my interest in the upcoming job fair. Unfortunately, my mother is voicing her opinion on the whole thing. Captain Obvious never fails to disappoint. My husband should be pumping gas. We are both lazy. The money is eventually going to run out. It's great to have supportive family in times like these. If you have one, dear reader, please let me know what it's like.
Update: Funny to think my spouse has been working for 6 months now. I've been substitute teaching for about 5 myself. Life has also gotten in the way of my Plan B. There have been some adjustments and the subbing gig has been rewarding/disappointing (Good to feel useful/money sucks). More will be coming on that. Stay tuned.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)