6 o'clock and allllll's wellllllllll!

All told, I guess we got about 12 inches of snow. The plow has not yet been through, and we are assuming that the Sons will not have school in the morning.

As you may have noticed from previous snowstorms, I tend to get antsy when I know I can't leave the house. "Snowed In" is about the most terrifying phrase in the language, to me. Combine it with feeling supremely under-the-weather, and I am not at all ready for prime time. I'm glad to just be keeping up with the messes in the house. My big goal for the evening is to dust the den, and take a shower, so I am no longer in the bathrobe I've been wearing for the past 2 days.

THERE IS FROSTING ON THE BATHROBE. THAT IS WHERE I AM, RIGHT NOW. I look homeless.

However.

Today, I moaned on Facebook about being out of printer paper and diet Coke. And a dear friend (dearer by the second) offered to bring me some, if my street was clear enough for a delivery.

I called her, to tell her she didn't need to do that (but of course if she was out, I would gladly hand her some cash for it) and it turned out she was snurfling much worse than I. She is dog-sick. And yet she wanted to give me something simple, just to make me feel good.

Damn, I feel loved right now. Thanks, Brick.

Interview view

Had a job interview today. I think I came across well, but who can tell from this side? I am, at this point, one of 3 candidates. Callbacks are after the first of the year.

Getting ready this morning, I caught sight of myself in the mirror: charcoal grey pinstripe pantsuit, understated jewelry, and the stack of writing samples they requested, and I thought, "Holy COW. I remember that woman."

It was interesting.

Also today: an old friend from childhood, whom I had not spoken to since I treated her rather shabbily in college, friended me on Facebook.

Thank God for forgiveness, second chances, and the passage of time.

And Macy's.

Workin' the Pathetic OR Sorry Anne Z, I'm really OK

I took out my contact lenses on Friday. For those of you who do not share a bedroom with me, this is a major life event.

I am laughably near-sighted. I have a hard time identifying my own children, without the lenses in, or at least my back-up glasses. And I hate my back-up glasses. So I tend to wear the lenses until my eyes spontaneously reject them. Then, I leave them out until my eyes stop stinging, or I can't stand it anymore, whichever comes first.

This means that when I do take them out, my eyeballs are in shock. They can't believe I expect them to go back to their original shape. It hurts. I become rather photophobic. And for the next week or so I tear up without warning, even when there is no accompanying pain.

I'm kinda used to it. Damp rag over the eyes in bed at night, kleenex at my elbow during the day, don't even bother with mascara.

All that is background.

Saturday I went to the library to pick up the last few episodes of Mad Men Season 2 (Hubby and I are HOOKED). Walking across the parking lot, I saw a woman I don't know all that well, but we like each other. Nice chick. We stopped in the parking lot for a few minutes to catch up.

As I was telling her that yes, all 4 boys are in school these days and yes, I have been looking for full-time work since May and no, I have not gotten anything remotely like a job offer and yes it is crappy what is going on with the economy at large, my right eyeball started its traditional leaking.

So, you know, I'm having this fairly serious conversation, with someone I haven't seen in months, and I am focused on that. Not so much on the sheet of tears rolling down my face. Because, you know, it's just what happens when I take my lenses out. And then I looked up and Anne was giving me The Look.

You know the one.

The look that says, "You're so brave, speaking so calmly when clearly you are heartbroken by your fruitless job search."

But of course at that point you can't say, "Oh, I'm not CRYING. I'm OK." because EVERYONE says that. It is as good as saying, "I am on the verge of suicide!"

So, I just ignored it, got my DVDs and went home.

Now, though, I feel kinda bad. What if Anne is worried for me?

All you local bloggy people, you know who she is. If you see her, please tell her I am fine. Still job hunting, but fine.

And by the way I wrote this entire blog post with tears, and a smile, on my face. I cannot WAIT to put those lenses back in.

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.

Field Trip

Today Sons #3 and 4 and I are picking up Veggie Blonde and Brick (and Son of Brick) to drive to Fredericksburg, VA to see Sarah Palin speak.

Yeah, I know. If you hate her, just humor me for the day.

Also planned--a trip to what is supposed to be the best Goodwill store, ever.

If I get any good pictures, I'll post them tomorrow.

Request for Submissions: Girlhood Stories

My buddy Amy is working on some sort of book projecty-thing--it may end up a book, or maybe a web site, or maybe some whole new thing. No clue, at this point. What I do know is, she's soliciting submissions from girls and women.

Amy wants to look back at our girlhood and see what we were, before we became women. The sweetness of it, if there was any, but really any other things that we remember about that time in our lives.

If you are a woman (Sorry, guys, Amy is not particularly interested in your input on this one!) with something to say, send it to Amy, ok? Essays, poetry, anything you think might communicate what you have to say about your girlhood, or girlhood in general. Let 'er rip, so to speak. And when "it" becomes whatever "it" is going to be, I'll tell everyone about it, here.

At this point, Amy is not at all sure where things are going, and so she also does not know if this is something that at some point might become a "paying market". So, I would say, do it if you want to, and enjoy it for what it is.

Want contact info? Comment here, or email me, and I'll send it on.

Thanks!

One good thing, this weekend, thanks to MySpace

Lately I've been feeling frustrated and a bit morose. Things just aren't going Precisely According To My Plans, and I am cranky about it. (Yeah, I know, Boo Freakin' Hoo).

This weekend, though, something kinda cool happened.

Ya know how sometimes you meet someone, and you know you'd like them if you got to know them? But you don't always have a chance TO get to know them?

Well, a few months ago I met someone. A friend's girlfriend. And I knew, just on sight, that I would like her. Maybe I was influenced by all the nice things he says about her, but maybe it was just recognizing her for who she is, even without a lot of data to back me up.

Anyway, the other day I posted a comment on someone's blog, and the girlfriend's friend emailed me about it. She and I had never really talked, before, beyond "Hi! Great Show!" (Her boyfriend is the singer for THAT BAND THAT I TALK ABOUT ALL THE TIME OH GOD CHRISTINE SHUT UP ALREADY ABOUT ACME BLUES COMPANY FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST!) But we ended up emailing back and forth all weekend.

We have a lot in common. We like each other. We make each other laugh. It's great, meeting a new friend.

So,

Hi Amy! Welcome to the blog! Hope you still like me, after you read all my crap!