The Flu: It's a good thing

Yesterday I was vertical and productive for 9 whole hours. Today, I feel about 80% myself. I think I'm on the mend, and Sons #1 and 3 seem to be improving, and Hubby and Sons #2 and 4 may have dodged this particular infestation entirely. So, that is good.

What is better, though, is that I have been in bed, pretty well unable to do anything but blow my nose and wait for the angel of death.

I realized a few things.

The positions I have NOT been offered have each had some pretty serious flaws to them--flaws which I was not able to see, for the most part, until after I did not get the offer. Not in a sour grapes sort of way, more like the Dude: "I've got information, man..."

So, maybe, on the career tip, things are working out better than I'd been crediting.

Also, while I have been sick, the family has been taking care of things. That means a lot. Hubby and the Sons have been taking my bout with the flu seriously, and stepping up a bit, and I appreciate it.

And now, I think I am getting back in bed until the Sears man calls.

It's a good day in the Boondocks

Son #1 had his Criminal Justice commencement ceremony this morning. Yes, I think the entire auditorium heard me cheer. I think Hubby may have gotten a few photos, too. And I got to witness Final Inspection, which was fun.

Sons #2 and 3 may call me Meine Fuhrer (to my FACE, even!), but the Sons do seem to be tidying up a bit more, and with fewer reminders, than they were 3 months ago when I first started full-time work. Yes, the Census is back to part-time, really, but I have also been doing some freelance stuff, so it DOES add up to a full work week.

Tomorrow I have a sort of interview thingy with the publisher of the local newspaper. They asked me if I want to take a part-time slot as a feature writer. I am interested, even though they pay in floor scrapings, because it is a foot in the door (and continued income, and would mesh well with the Census while I continue to look for full-time work).

And the Sears guy came back to figure out why our dishwasher STILL is not really working well and he concluded that the problem is, we eat too many leafy green vegetables.

Well, actually he suggested that we need to scrape our leafy green vegetables off the dishes before we load them in the washer, but Hubby and I agree that it just makes more sense to abandon all things our dishwasher finds challenging, and transition to an overcooked pasta and rice diet.

And the boss from my last temp job has offered to make good on his promise to teach me all about Photoshop and Quark, soon. I'm psyched.

Bathroom, the second

Ok, so I have half a gallon of Killz and half a gallon of the same shiny white stuff I used on the hall bathroom left over. I also have a master bathroom with peeling paint on the ceiling.

You guessed it, yesterday I scraped and scrubbed and spackled and removed old caulk. This morning I am putting on the primer coat, and recaulking the shower. Should have a fully functional and actually attractive master bathroom by tomorrow, I think.

I also bought some silicone sealant stuff to use around the shower door glass. Have never done that before but hopefully it is not really different from caulking, because caulking I know I can do.

On the work front (because I know you are all curious) things have taken on a bit of a gallows humor vibe. I have a little over a month left there, at best, and my boss will most likely lose his job this spring, too.

He's the "Acting" PAO, and has been running this newspaper since 2006, but his "acting" status will lapse in May, and the Navy has to hire someone on a permanent basis.

Hiring the guy who has been doing the job for the past 3 years would make sense, right? But he has 34 "blocking veterans" ahead of him in line. Two of whom are currently living in the desert. All 34 of them would have to turn down the job, for him to be offered it.

Oh, yeah, and the job ad does not require the person who gets the job to have any experience in photography or layout, so none of those 34 blocking veterans have to be anywhere near as qualified as my boss, to take his job.

And yes, he is also 62.

We have decided that if both of us are employed in that building, come June, we are going out for a beer.

As an aside, last night as I was spackling the bathroom ceiling, Hubby came by to ask me what he should wear for his night out. He showed me several options, and I gave the thumb's up and thumb's down as I kept half an eye on my tub of joint compound.

I think I have become a man.

Sick and tired of being sick and tired

I have The Cough. It is lasting forever, just like it does with everyone else, so I have no room to complain. But it is disconcerting that my children and all my friends, upon seeing me, first say, "You look EXHAUSTED." I mean, I am, but that doesn't mean I want to LOOK it.

Yesterday was Hubby's birthday. We celebrated with cake, crab legs, and the memory of throwing huge chunks of money at the plumber so we could have 2 functional bathrooms. Less than festive, but he is loved, even in a low-key manner, and even though he has a wife whose idea of a great afternoon is running all the errands and catching a quick catnap in the Giant parking lot so she can drive home without causing a major traffic accident. Yes, I napped 10 minutes from home. I was between stops, and could barely lift my head. "Ah, now I can go grocery shopping!" --how the mighty have fallen.

On a slightly odd note: Jake's skin rash remains, and the vet is sure it is an allergic reaction of some sort, and although it is highly possible he is allergic to the dog, he may also need high-protein, low-allergen food. So I bought some. The label reads, "With Chicken/Avec Poulet"...and I just wonder, do ALL cats speak French? Is that for their benefit? Would not surprise me all that much.

A Meme Stolen From Rol

Thanks, Rol, for giving me something interesting to do before soaking up the floodwaters I just discovered have returned to my basement.

List 10 musical artists (or bands) you like, in no specific order (do this before reading the questions below). Really, don’t read the questions below until you pick your ten artists!!!

1 SRV
2 Clapton
3 John Prine
4 Pink Floyd
5 Jethro Tull
6 Amy Winehouse
7 Aretha
8 Allman Brothers
9 Sinatra
10 Little Feat

What was the first song you ever heard by 6?
Rehab. Lynette, who does my hair, sang it to me. I've been hooked ever since (probably not the best word to use around Amy but oh, well)...

What is your favorite song of 8?
Sweet Melissa. But really I would probably just keep their Greatest Hits CD running on a continuous loop. Can I call that entire album one song?

What kind of impact has 1 left on your life?
No impact. He's a musician. But I have enjoyed his music for decades and that is good enough for me.

What is your favorite lyric of 5?
And as you cross the circle line, the ice-wall creaks behind ---
you're a rabbit on the run.
And the silver splinters fly in the corner of your eye ---
shining in the setting sun.
Well, do you ever get the feeling that the story's
too damn real and in the present tense?
Or that everybody's on the stage, and it seems like
you're the only person sitting in the audience?

How many times have you seen 4 live?
Once. With Wayne, I think. Hi, Wayne!

What is your favorite song by 7?
RESPECT

Is there any song by 3 that makes you sad?
Most of them.

What is your favorite song by 9?
The Best Is Yet To Come (I picked that one but really I love a lot of his swingin' stuff)

When did you first get into 2?
I would guess my dad had it on the radio. No idea.

How did you get into 3?
I was dating a guy--really we were just friends and had very little in common but we sorta dated for a while, until he moved away. And one night as he drove me home he sang Bruised Orange (Chain of Sorrow) and it was the most beautiful song I'd ever heard. I have loved John Prine ever since. Thanks, Bud!

What is your favorite song by 4?
Time

How many times have you seen 9 live?
None, but my mother-in-law has seen him many times. Does that count?

What is a good memory concerning 2?
Saw him in concert about 15 years ago, with Hubby and Dan and Dan's girlfriend at the time. Great show, and good friends, at the old Capitol Center.

Is there a song by 8 that makes you sad?
No, Allman Brothers always make me happy.

What is your favorite song by 1?
I refuse to choose. It is all awesome. Tell me I'm wrong.

How did you become a fan of 10?
I was dating a very religious man, with an extremely rigid roommate. The roommate (who had no car of his own)insisted that my boyfriend leave all his satan-worshipping rock-n-roll at home, and only keep sermon tapes and Christian music in the truck. The boyfriend smuggled in Waiting for Columbus as his only secular music. So every time we went somewhere, we listened to Waiting for Columbus.

Hey, baby...whoa.

Last night when I got ready for bed, Son #1 was asleep in my bed, with Hubby. I guess they'd been watching a show together. Son #1 is a very sound sleeper, so I thought, "If I wake him up, by the time he's out of my bed I'll be wide awake again."

So, I just left them both to their snoring, and hit the couch.

I woke up this morning when Hubby laughed.

Apparently he wrapped himself around his wife and then they both realized Things Were Not Right.

I have been chuckling all morning, but I think Hubby and Son #1 need to bleach their brains.

Too funny.

It's gonna be a bumpy ride

I have a job interview, today. I am not 100% sure I want this particular job, but I am curious enough to make the drive and learn about it, you know?

Since I got the call to come interview (I won't call it Being Interviewed, as I have plenty of information to gather, myself) I have been thinking more than ever about how things are going to change--how they will have to change--once I am employed, and most likely commuting a far piece every day.

Yesterday, a friend stopped by. He saw me folding laundry and commented, "Be thankful. I have to go home and do that, too! I am so busy, now that I have a job again."

He'd been unemployed for several months. It's great to see him getting back on his feet.

"You're right," I said. "It's good I can do these things for the family, now, because when I get a job they'll have to fold their own laundry."

And that is the truth. If I am gone longer than the rest of the family, it is only logical that they will see that the hours I used to spend cooking and cleaning for them just are gone. They'll have to cut into their leisure time, a little, to care for themselves.

It's not like they don't know how. All of the Sons can do laundry, follow a recipe, run the vacuum, take out the trash, walk the dog, load the dishwasher: stuff like that. It's a natural progression, and will serve them all well when they move out on their own, which isn't all that far from now, either.

Hubby whipped his head around to stare at me, open-mouthed. "What? We'll have to WHAT, now?"

Hooo, boy.

Also, Son #4 is home sick, today. I kinda feel like my job interviews are little miniature chances to see what the New Boondocks are going to be.

A Personal Day, and some recommendations for your leisure time

I was discussing, yesterday, with 2 friends who are also looking for work, how the search can become all-consuming.

You find yourself thinking, "I can't take a shower, I need to apply for this job!"

"I don't have time to go to the gym, I need to revamp my resume!"

It is crazy-making, but feels totally logical from the inside, even though in your mind you know the problem is that you have no job.

No job, right? That should mean you have MORE time, not less. But as it is, ya don't.

So, today, I took a Personal Day.

I did not clean up anyone else's messes (although I did put my OWN stuff away). I applied for a few jobs, and then I did the only thing that will keep me from completely losing myself in job hunting and scut: I left the house.

Thomas Sowell's Basic Economics and I spent a big chunk of the day in front of a fireplace at a local restaurant. It's a great book, by the way, if you haven't read it yet.

I came home, did a little more job hunty stuff, and then took a walk around the neighborhood. Here are a few shots of the current state of Fall Color in the Happy Boondocks.

In other news: Hubby is at a band audition, and Son #1 is at band practice: he is now the single white member of a 16-member Christian Go-Go band. The music itself is not exactly his thing, but he's happy to be playing, and to be wanted. He just finished reading the graphic novel version of I Am Legend. He loved it and recommended it to me.

Son #2 has to have his wisdom teeth removed. He is reading Desperation, and so fits "I am going to kill you" into most everyday conversations. Between that and his eternal trench coat, the boy is bucking to get expelled. But he's a sweetheart.

Son #3 is still fascinated by mythology. "You know, Mom, you might have liked Odysseus. He was kind of an engineer. Or, at least, he knew how to build ships." This is the kind of thing he says, while eating dinner. He just finished Of Mice & Men, and I think he loved it almost as much as I do.

And Son #4 came home happy, for once: his Suspense Story was applauded by his entire English class. Hubby and I enjoyed it, too. He recommended The Skin I'm In, by Sharon Flake, and I agree: the dialog is well written.

On the cinematic front, Hubby and I finally got around to watching The Kite Runner. Enjoyed it, although I chose not to watch one particular scene. And Son #2 encourages all to see Paranormal Activities. So, you know, go do that.

They Cancel Each Other Out

Yesterday we met my mother in law, Jesus Bill and another of Hubby's brothers for dinner. As I was getting ready to go, Son #2 said, "Some of your blog commenters are really attractive! Like Penelope. I mean, she's a MOM, and she's still very nice looking. I didn't think that was possible."

I gave him The Look. It requires one lifted eyebrow. And he continued, "Oh, I know, but you're not going to get any reassurance from me. You can get that from Son #1."

So, OK, Son #2 has put me in my place. Fine.

So then we met Hubby's family and that went fairly well. And as we left, Hubby's Mom said what she says to almost everyone, almost every time I see her: "Have you lost weight?"

It may be like "Have a Nice Day" or "Aloha" to her, but I'm taking it, OK? Just this once.

Happy Anniversary, Baby!

Yes, Hubby and I have been married for 21 years. So, you know, even our marriage is old enough to drink.

Here's the #1 song for August 6, 1988, should you be either old enough to reminisce or young enough to think it interesting.

Blues Jam

Fun, as always.

Hubby had the camera long enough to snap a few of these pictures, including a couple of me with a Son. Who knew I'd end up the kind of mom to take her kids out to bars on a Saturday night? I'm glad it's working out that way. And yes, those are my feet, in the Shoe of the Day.

Really, if you live within a couple hours of the Happy Boondocks, you should come out, some night. But for the rest of you, here's a taste: not a recording from last night, but a song I enjoy every time they play it:

Hubby Holds a Bass, YOU Decide

Hubby ordered a new bass. UPS lost it.

MUCH wailing and gnashing of teeth ensued.

He called the company and they sent him a second bass. Then UPS found, and delivered, the original.

The joy has been overwhelming. Trust me. If you have a musician in your life, you know.

So now Hubby has two new basses and has to decide which one he wants to keep.

Musically, they are identical. Sterling by Music Man. He is in love. But does he want the jet black, or the honeyburst?

He asked my opinion and I can't really muster one.

HELP!

Here they are>Which one should he keep? Which one goes back to the factory?

He has 45 days to decide, so please send all your musically inclined/design oriented/time wastey friends my way, so they can take a gander and vote.

(oh, yeah, and so they can become hooked on my particular style of bloggage. So send your friends with foot fetishes, too, as this is a great time to see shoes).

Speaking of: the SOTD. I do not like these shoes. Maybe I will like them in the fall, when they are not HOT. But as it is, they are not only hot, they are boring. They are another of the "Mom bought shoes she can't wear, so she passed them on to me" collection. We do not generally share taste in shoes, but these are OK for when I want to look boring and professional, right? I need to go someplace nice, so I can put on a cute, strappy sandal. Or maybe I'll just wear some cool shoes anyway...

Sometimes, being a woman IS a qualification

Last night was Blues Jam. It was a quiet one, as often happens in summer. And although that disappointed a few people, the musicianship was on a decent level and fun was had by just about everyone. Also, as it turned out, I am very glad the bar was not full by the end of the evening.

I was driving. Since the accident, I am more aware than usual of things on the right-hand side of the car. Yeah, especially big, fast trucks that might want to jump out of the sky and crash into me. That's the only reason I can come up with for noticing the man on the side of the road, when Hubby did not.

He was lying in the ditch, his head resting in the gravel just a few inches from the line marking the edge of the road.

Hubby called 911 even before he reached the man. Fortunately, he was only passed out on the side of the road. He jumped up and started staggering away, arguing with Hubby.

"I'm not passed out, I'm on my way home."

Hubby explained that yeah, he was on his way home, and he should get in our car. But the guy was not having it. He was sure the police were coming, and equally sure that he was not all that drunk, he was just fine, Hubby didn't have to help him, everything was cool, he was not passed out or even sleeping on the side of the road, he was "just pissed off, so I left."

Hubby kept trying to get the guy to get in our car, as I slowly drove behind them with my hazard lights on. And I could tell: this guy was definitely not going to listen to Hubby. You could just see it in him:

"No way is this guy gonna tell ME I'm too drunk to walk home. I'm FINE."

He was oblivious. I don't think he even saw my car, behind him. And that is when it hit me: I have a secret weapon.

I leaned out the window and as sweetly as I could I said, "Hi, hon, can I give you a ride?"

"Sure. OK." And he hopped right in, as fast as Hubby could get the door open for him.

Turns out it was his 32nd birthday, and he'd been drinking since before noon, and had gotten into some sort of tiff at the bar we'd just left. It was a little after 1 a.m. He'd gotten about halfway home before settling, somehow, in the ditch by the side of the road.

Times like that, you don't need a man to help you. You don't need some guy making you feel like a lonely drunk on his birthday. What you need, maybe, is a woman.

I'm glad we were there.

Anticipation, Frustration, Obama-Nation

Anticipation: Two weddings, in eight days. e haven't been to a wedding in years (and that one was doomed at the altar, no doubt), and now we've got two. I am looking forward to bringing my camera to both, and also to contributing actual food to the wedding reception for one.

I have received my Food Assignment and I am on it like Paula Deen on a stick of butter. Oooh, yeah.

Frustration: I am NOT getting what I want, on pretty much all fronts, these days. The car is still in the shop, even though they were sure it would be ready yesterday. I keep sending out queries for work and get back, well, the sound of crickets. So far, this week, the dog has peed on my purse, three leather coats, and a carpet. AND YET I AM NOT SUPPOSED TO KILL HIM, or even want to. Hubby's band is defunct, and I have no idea what comes next on that one, so no dancing to slap bass for me anytime soon. I keep telling the Sons to handle their business and my reward is a general sinking feeling that I am becoming an ineffectual nag.

The Beach suggests I get an air horn and striped shirt, for handling all those episodes of Brotherly Love. I think she is a genius. Just gimme that whistle on a string.

About half of our CD collection has been bogarted by a Son, I guess. I keep opening cases and finding nothing. HOW DARE HE MISPLACE GEORGE THOROGOOD? That's just wrong. I may have to toss his room.

On the bright side, the poison ivy seems to be clearing up, Son #1 has been asking my advice on a very sweet project of his own devising, school is almost out and my nail polish is pristine, for once. (Honestly, a successful manicure does lift my mood. I am more girly than I thought, I guess.)

And the Obama-nation?
Well, I just am speechless. We are out of money? Shutting down businesses run by owners who did not contribute to Obama's election? Choosing a Supreme Court justice because she is a Latina? (Hey, maybe she's okay, but her job is to follow the Constitution. Don't need a uterus or a Compelling Personal Story for that.) I haven't been blogging on all this stuff because, well, I don't want to turn into a ranting nutbag, and Dhimmi Carter has that effect on me on a pretty consistent basis.

So, you know, I'll shut up now.

Steak: a definition, a recipe, and a travesty

We had some spare filets mignon in the fridge, and this morning Hubby decided to have it with his eggs. He offered some to the decidedly carnivorous Son #3, who (being also a wordy chap) offered his definition of steak: "A slab of meat with garlic on it".

Ah, maternal victory. He has absorbed my steak recipe. Which you want, now, right?

Hubby said, "You are definitely your mother's son. I don't put garlic on steak, I put Worcestershire sauce on it."

I grew up putting garlic on pretty much everything. Parsley, too. Hubby pretty much weaned me off of the parsley (although I enjoy it when I find it) but garlic is not going anywhere.

And who makes the steaks around here? Yeah, me. So what you want on your steak is garlic, and salt, and pepper. And that is it. Happiness ensues.

The travesty?

This morning he cooked a filet mignon in the George Foreman Grill. He says it was good, but...it just seems wrong to put a good cut of meat on that thing.

I'm just sayin'.

Random Thoughts

Flax seed oil and Texas Pete make the world's most awesome salad dressing. As in, I am sad when my salad bowl is empty, every day at lunch. Unlike Caesar salad, which makes me sad when I see it on my plate. Totally different experience.

Painting your nails makes you realize your head itches and you need to brush your teeth.

It also makes you think that maybe all that flax seed oil is making your nails grow.

Today, a dear friend and fellow gigwidow called me so I could hear her guy practicing in the basement. It was a private concert, just for me! I love that.

I also love YouTube, because I can get all obsessy about Simon & Garfunkel or Amy Winehouse or whomever else, even if I can't find my CD. Which is a sadly frequent event.

Watching some woman in her 50s get all giggly and stupid over my 17-year-old son was as creepy as it was amusing. For me and the Son.

Today, Son #2's U.S. Government teacher showed the kids a political cartoon unlike any other she has displayed this year: It illustrated a conservative viewpoint. According to Son #2, two students gasped when they saw it.

I don't care if April showers bring May flowers, I am tired of rain.

The house is mostly clean, the Sons are fed, I submitted two articles today; I feel good.

If you put ground flax seed on your chocolate ice cream, it instantly becomes a healthy food. Especially with some banana slices.

I like the sound of the dishwasher, the washer and dryer, the snorty, sleeping dog. Sounds like home.

Hubby and I loved Slumdog Millionaire, no matter what Salman Rushdie says.

I've been productive enough, today. Some days, it is OK to decide you've done enough and want to take the evening off. I'm going to go read Hard Times.

Birthday Candle Arrangement Tips for the Aged

#1: Don't put them all together in "brick" formation.

Son #4 did that with Hubby's cake this week, and not only did it make a terrifying and rather smokey bonfire, it required quite a lot of lung power to extinguish.

Tip #2: If your family DOES put all your candles together in one spot, and you are going to have to blow really hard to put them out, spit out your cough drop, first, or it will end up on the cake.

That's yucky.

But, we all love Hubby and we all love cake, so it's not like that kept us from eating it all. The Sons just waited long enough to verify it was only a cough drop, not a chunk of lung.

Call me! On the line...

Hubby, Son #1 and I got new cell phones on Thursday. Hubby wanted to consolidate his bill with mine, and to get something with a QWERTY keyboard for his phone, and Son #1 wanted to actually HAVE a phone.

Since then, Hubby has been a bit frustrated with the new phone. All the buttons are different from the last one, so he has to re-learn. And I have been consigned to manually transferring all my contacts, because Verizon and Virgin cannot communicate with each other. So close together in the alphabet, you'd think they'd get along, but noooo.

The only one really happy has been Son #1, who received a naked photo yesterday from some young woman who did not realize that Alex, who she loves, has changed cell phone numbers without informing her. Son #1 is not Alex, but, he really appreciates the thought, you know?

On this day in 1964

The 9th Winter Olympic Games opened in Innsbruck, Austria.


Dr Strangelove was released to theaters.


The Beatles recorded Can't Buy Me Love at Pathé Marconi Studios, Paris, France.


Philip Morris suggested laughter as the best medicine to combat the Surgeon General's report on cigarette smoking.

The San Francisco cable car system was declared a national historic landmark.


NASA launched the Saturn 5.

And, well, a lot of other stuff happened, too. Most importantly, though, to me, Hubby was born.

Happy Birthday, Hubby!

Pounding Sand at Cryer's Back Road Inn, this Saturday

Plan ahead, all y'all, because Hubby's band, Pounding Sand, is playing at Cryer's Back Road Inn on January 24th.

I LOVE when Hubby plays at Cryer's. It's a great bar for dancing and Doug will be there. Which may lead to a small group of us Doing the Doug away from the Country Store Blues Jam. Can't miss that.

Classic and modern rock, some funky, danceable stuff, and the bass player most likely to get Penelope to move Stateside: it will be awesome. You should come.

Really, you should.