I think I'll take up boxing

"Thanks, Pam. No, no, really, it's OK. It'll be OK. I'll find something. Thanks for pushing so hard for me. Keep me in mind for future openings. Yes, I'd appreciate that. No, really, it's OK. Something will turn up, sooner or later. And I have the Census and some freelance stuff, for now. I'll be fine. You did all you could. Have a great day, Pam."

Yes, today I had to comfort the HR woman over the phone, when she called to tell me they decided to go with a candidate who had more IT and information assurance experience.

Thoughts on the office

Pantyhose is not nearly as heinous as I remember, but you need to have an emergency replacement pair at your desk. Sheila, the housekeeper, suggested I just remove them for the afternoon.

When I told her I couldn't, because all I had on was pantyhose, she smiled and said, "No underwear? You're a baaaaad girl."

I like Sheila.

Every time Sheila walks by to empty a trash can or vacuum something or scrub a bathroom, I think "When I go home, I am doing all that, myself. God, it is nice to have someone else do it for me, here."

I mean, think about it: I put trash in the trash can and it disappears. I am spending my days in a bubble of effortless cleanliness, a place where I can sit and think and write. When I'm in the bathroom, I don't stop to polish the mirror or pick up something someone else dropped. I just reapply my lipstick and stride on back to my desk. It is surreal.

Heck, I think I love Sheila.

Using 2 colors of eyebrow pencil really does give a more realistic effect. Shoot me, I sound like a maniac.

This week, I am interviewing all sorts of interesting people. I am covering a wide range of events. I've written an obituary. I also will visit a blimp and the new search and rescue helicopters. And if I time it just right, they play the national anthem as I walk across the parking lot on my way in to work.

I am having a blast.

And I don't really mind that it's only temporary.

Not yet, anyway.

My "best" career match

I've been searching for FT work since May. No dice. But most days I dive back into it for at least a couple hours, and most of the time I can keep a fairly upbeat attitude about the whole thing.

Today I got an email from one of the job search sites I frequent. They give me "best job matches" to pursue.

Today's best job for me? Manager of Sales, for some outfit in Boulder, Colorado.

So I guess I just need to hop on that plane today, huh?

That, or breathe into a paper bag.

I would like to torch today, and start fresh

Last night:
Our cat got stoned and peed all over my bed.

Our son told me he'd been dealing with a guy at school who wants to "make me his bitch" -- and that the teacher who supervises them is this guy's weed-smoking buddy, so he is on his own on that.

I fell asleep before Hubby got home.

Then this morning, I woke up to my more-trashed-than-usual house, and a Son who is so stressed about school that he is sleepless and ill, and could not find the uniform shirt he needs to wear each Wednesday.

I called the principal of the school, and after being on hold for quite some time got a vice principal instead, who says the Son should not have complained to the teacher, but rather directly to him...and that he will talk to both The Bitchmaker and Professor Weed, thereby ensuring Son #1 will return to school tomorrow to two angry potheads.

And then I went to take photos of twins. Only I left my big CF card on my desk. And the CF card I had only had room for one photo on it. And when I went to take that one picture, the girl bit her brother.

I am tired. My head is foggy. Things are going to crap in an undramatic, drizzling way. I think I am going to just pick one thing and make it work, and build from there.

How to be a writer

...a writer cannot afford to give in to feelings of rage, disgust, or contempt. Did you answer someone in a temper? If so, you didn't hear him out and lost track of his system of opinions. You avoided someone out of disgust--and a completely unknown personality slipped out of your ken--precisely the type you would have needed some day. But, however tardily, I nonetheless caught myself and realized I had always devoted my time and attention to people who fascinated me and were pleasant, who engaged my sympathy, and that as a result I was seeing society like the Moon, always from one side.


Alexsandr I Solzenitzyn
The Gulag Archipelago Two

I'mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm leavin' tadaaaaayyyyy

My husband and I got home from vacation last night. Which means we had to pick my kids up from my mom's place, on the way. Over the 5 days we were gone:
My oldest son was FORCED to get a haircut.
His best friend's girlfriend showed her true colors (she is a whore, just like my son's girlfriend, and probably all girls, because girls are crazy and heartless), requiring hours of daily telecommunication, and then we wouldn't go pick the friend up at 11pm after 9 hours in the car because my husband and I are unreasonable (and wanted to go home and have sex instead, but of course my son did not know that).
My mother and her younger brother got into a loud argument about religion and politics in which my mother came out looking like a loon. They may never speak again, and the sons are convinced my uncle was 100% right in his opinions, mainly because he did not scream, cry, or stomp his feet to express them.
My oldest son's manager at his new job forgot to write down our vacation schedule, so he missed 3 shifts for which he never should have been scheduled. Said son wants to use his relatives' positions of authority in the company to get the manager fired. He has no understanding of the fact that he is a 16 year old busboy who's been employed for less than a month. My husband and I are mortified at the idea that he might start throwing his (nonexistent) weight around at work.
My second son has no life (according to the oldest).
My third son is a big wimp (according to the oldest).
My oldest son is a real jerk (according to the entire carload, after this harangue).
All my youngest son got from our trip to NY was a tshirt.
And gas was more expensive here than in the city we passed on the way home. By about 20 cents a gallon.
I had not checked my email in a couple days, so my spam box has 1081 items in it. No, wait, 1084.
Our washer has been out of commission for over a month, and was finally deemed irreparable this morning. So Hubby and I spent a chunk of the day at Sears, arranging for replacement.
I had to take our son to a school conference today because he spent last year acting like school was a place to meet girls, instead of the place that gives you grades for work you do. Every teacher will tell me "He's a very intelligent young man, a joy to be with, with a great grasp of the material, but he never turned anything in."
This morning the publisher of my most consistent writing gig called to tell me that they will no longer be using the kinds of articles they hired me to write. So, you know, there's $5200/year I will have to find another way to earn.
There's more, ok? But our vacation was great and I feel pretty good about life in general, but...let's just say we hit reality pretty hard, today.

But here is a photo of me at the Carnegie Deli. I am to the left of the waitress holding the pastrami and corned beef sandwich which originally inspired this trip to New York.

What launched hubby out of bed, this afternoon?

"You are being a TOTAL MONSTER on this, Mom! SCREW YOU!"

Seconds later, Hubby was across the hall, hands on a certain Son's collar, explaining that he. will. not. tolerate. that. kind. of. talk.

And I am glad he stepped up for me. The Sons need to know that Dad and Mom are on the same page.

The funny thing is, Dad is the one who had come down harder. Dad was the one who made the decision the Son didn't like. I guess it is easier to shout down at your Mom, than up at your Dad.

At issue? He wanted a ride to a friend's house, and for Very Valid Reasons we told him he had to ride his bike, instead.

I'm a total monster. So screw me.

I am stunned...just....absolutely stunned

A couple of Christmases ago, when the Wii system was new, Hubby camped out at Best Buy to get one for the Sons. It was one of those things, you know--we can't afford it, it's taking up a chunk of a Saturday he needed to use for other stuff, but Santa was going to really pull it out.

And he got one. One of the last ones available.

Christmas morning was AWESOME. And the family has enjoyed the Wii. We've bought a few games for it, we all have played it from time to time. It's not ALL we do, obviously, but...it's fun.

Tonight, I don't know how it came up in conversation, but...

Son #1 gave our Wii system to some girl at school.

I don't know when he did it.

He does not know where this girl lives.

He does not have her phone number.

And he thinks that it is in better hands, at her house, than here. He decided that his brothers weren't using it enough, and when they did use it they weren't taking good care of it, so he gave it away, without telling anyone.

He is furious with us, for telling him that he needs to find this girl at school tomorrow and get her phone number and tell her that Hubby is coming over, tomorrow night after work, to pick it up.

He thinks he did the reasonable thing, and WE are being crazy. He has been yelling at US, for telling him we need the Wii back tomorrow.

On a potentially related note, a few months ago I splurged on a new pair of sneakers. It was not really a splurgy thing---my knee was bothering me, because my sneaks were old, and sneakers are expensive so it FELT like a splurge. I bought them for myself for my birthday. And then a couple of weeks later, they disappeared, never to be seen again. Not one to keep spending money, I just went back to my old sneaks and am sucking it up, on the knee pain front.

But now I wonder. Does this girl have my shoes, too?

Holy fuck.

I mean, maybe I should not curse, but I am just beyond words, at this point.

The Warden has officially changed careers

Let me tell you a story.

When I was a teen, I was especially quiet and bookish. I did not smoke or drink. I didn't even drive, until I went to college. I was completely under the parental thumb--to the extent that I could barely even tell that it was so.

My parents insisted I attend church every Sunday, and religious education during the week. I went to Catholic high school.

I was not allowed to wear a bikini. Anything the least bit revealing or clingy was met with "No Child of Mine Is Going To Leave the House in That."

If I got in trouble, I was grounded BY THE SEMESTER. So, yes, that time I went to a party, in 9th grade, and there was alcohol served (because some of the guests were 18) but I didn't drink any? And the guy next to me tripped over a cat and spilled his wine on my pants? Yup. Christine did not leave the house for anything other than school or church for THE NEXT FOUR MONTHS.

My friends all called my father The Warden (but never to his face, because dear GOD, they probably never would have seen me again).

Cue the Bob Dylan:

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.

Today my parents' Valentine's Day box for the Sons arrived. Son #1 (16) and Son #2 (14) each received a pair of silk PLAYBOY BOXER SHORTS.

I am floored.

So do I say anything? Who do I call?

I know the 14-year-old who was found unconscious on his bathroom floor: cocaine.
I know the 14-year-old who sold it to him.
He's still buying drugs, though not cocaine, today.

These kids used to be friends with one of the Sons, but then we pulled the Sons out of the local public school for a while and they lost touch. So I have a soft spot for both families, and an accompanying "thank God the boys lost touch--what if it were MY boy getting involved in this crap?". Used to be friends with one of the parents. Still run into the other set, from time to time.

Do I call the drug dealer's mom, in case she doesn't know? She probably wouldn't believe me.
Should I call the drug user's mom, in case she doesn't know he's still buying drugs?
Should I call the school, since these transactions are going on on the school bus?
Should I call the sheriff's anonymous tip line?

A low point in parenting and basic judgement

Our little crappy theater doesn't show movies unless they are Guaranteed to Make Money, so we often have to wait for the DVD. This time, though, 4 girls they know from school invited the two oldest Sons to a theater in Annapolis.

I didn't want a seventeen-year-old girl, distracted by the mighty mojo of the Sons, driving them an hour and 45 minutes each way. (Yes, the theater is actually that far.)

So, the Sons checked. The girls weren't driving--a mom was. Fully reassured, I gave the go-ahead.

OK, so I'm new to this High School thing. I don't know most of their new friends. They meet people at school, do much of their socializing at the school, and so it all remains mysterious to me. But when a woman pulls up to take my kids for the next seven hours, I figure I should go out and introduce myself. Let her know I'm a reasonable person she can call if, for instance, the Sons act the fool, or her car breaks down. My parents live minutes from the theater to which they're heading.

So I go out to their car, and the mom rolls her window down, and she has only shards, where her front teeth should be. She has an odd look on her face--a little glassy-eyed, and confrontational and distracted, at the same time. I am...distinctly uncomfortable.

"That looks like meth mouth," I think.

And then, I think again.

"I have a false tooth. If Hubby were not a good provider, I would have a gap in my mouth. Maybe she's just broke. And maybe having people judge her by her lack of teeth puts her in a crappy mood, so she hates meeting people who look like they just decided she's not capable of driving their precious darlings to the movies. And the flu is going around."

In a moment of Kumbaya Spirit, I smiled and went back in the house, where, I'll admit, I worried. The boys had a great time at the movies, and I decided I was a bigot for having thought anything about that poor woman's teeth.

Yesterday those Sons were invited to 2 different events, at people's homes. And then Son #1 mentioned the mom who had driven them, last week.

"Her mom is CRAZY. She was driving all over the road. I thought she was going to crash, seven times. And the first thing she said, when she pulled out of the driveway, was 'You motherfuckers better not spill anything in my car!' She was screaming curse words at us the whole time. I was glad you let us go, but I was REALLY glad we made it home."

So, yesterday, I went in. I chatted. I got to know Trevor's mom, and Hilary's mom and dad. I felt better.

I think they felt better, too. As it turns out, "I'm new to this whole high school thing, and still getting used to the idea that I don't know their friends," is a great ice-breaker.

Honesty, I guess, is still a good policy.