The Lady Who Doesn't Eat Dinner

I may soon have a new moniker since my new almost job is a weird shift, noon to 8:45pm.

I'm feeling all weirded out, because I've been job hunting for so long and this is the first time I've had a second call back for anything. Things are moving really fast too. The possible boss dude called me Friday to interview yesterday and then called me again 2 hours after my interview to come back in today to meet with the rest of his team and sit in and observe some of the work they do.

Noon to 8:45pm.

I'm trying to reconcile this shift. It's non- negotiable and it's not rotated with any of the other team members.

Why it may suck:

• I won't be able to cook dinner every night.
• By the time I get home it will be almost time for bed.
• I won't be able to do stuff in the evenings on week nights, like go to the theater or out to dinner. (Yes, because we do these things sooo frequently now...)
• It's kind of a step down career wise from my previous job.
• I will be kicked back out into the world and forced among people again.
• I will no longer be a lady of leisure.
• I will have bathe and put on clothes every day.
• Since I would be surrounded by other people, I will no longer be able to amuse myself by farting and belching really loud whenever I feel like it and then giggling to myself. Technically, I suppose I could still keep doing it, but I would really like to be a team player and for the other people to like me.
• I'll have to shave my legs sometimes.
• I will have less time to spend with MDH.

On the bright side:

• I will have to spend less time with MDH.
• It's a job.
• The money is very good and in fact much better than what I was making before when I was traveling all over hell's half acre.
• I'll get to sleep in my own bed every night.
• We may lose weight since I'm not cooking dinner every night.
• I'll have time to work out every day before work.
• I'll have the option of sleeping in should the mood strike me.
• I won't have to deal with rush hour traffic.
• Showering and getting dressed every day and not giggling at my own loud flatulence may improve my sex life.
• It seems like very easy work compared to what I was doing before.
• I will be forced back into the world and out among people again, providing me with an never ending supply of blog fodder.
• It's a job.
• I can buy shoes again. (DSW, here I come!)
• I can buy potions again. (I'm sure Lancome and Keihls have missed me.)
• We can finally get a goddamn house keeper.
• We're finally going to buy some living room furniture.
  
  

I'm almost not wanting to publish this for fear I will jinx myself. It would just be so perfect to not get the job after having raved, worried and typed out these idiotic lists like a big jackass. Please remind me that I'm not superstitious, but keep your fingers crossed that I get this stupid job. Lady would like to buy some shoes.

The Bickerson's Get a Tree

We were all set this past Saturday and had planned for weeks to drive to a place about a half an hour from our house and cut our own tree. As we were getting ready to leave, hacksaw in hand, I looked around our living room, and remembered the last tree we had in 2004 and I got really sad and changed my mind.

I was sad because my old Ollie cat died (above are two pictures from our last Christmas with him - he loved me and hated that damn train), sad because there won't be any presents to put under a tree this year, sad because Aunt Jessie died, sad because the train set is broken, sad because there is a treadmill in the middle of the living room now and putting up a tree would be a terrible pain in the ass. Just sad.

And then today when I was writing this post, not even really planning to publish it, just feeling sorry for myself, I had a change of heart, and made my grumpy old husband get his ass off the sofa, put on a hat and take me to get a tree.

I felt kind of bad at first, because he is the frequent victim of my precarious mood swings, but then I was simply annoyed.

He groaned when pine needles got all over his car. He complained when we brought the tree into the living room and huffed and puffed as I was still deciding where I wanted it to go. He snarled when pine tar got all over his hands. We turned into the Bickersons again.

Him: This is such a pain in the ass. Why are we doing this? Saturday you said you thought it was a pain in the ass too. Why are you doing this to me?

Me: Are you quite through?

Him: I just don't see why I have to do this stuff when this whole thing is your idea...

Me: Can you just shut up and do what I tell you to do?

Him: We're not even Christians. (It's true, we're not, but I love Christmas.)

Me: I don't care.

I made dinner (roast chicken and mashed potatoes), had a glass of wine and we watched the news before I went to the basement to fetch the box of ornaments and lights. Turtle made himself comfortable in the tissue paper as I decorated.

When I was finished decorating the tree I made MDH come and check my work, expecting a grunt and more grumpy attitude but he totally suprised me when he sniffled, misty-eyed and said:

Him: You're just determined to make me love Christmas aren't you?

Me: I thought I told you to shut up.

He loved it and so do I.

Then I made him take all the empty boxes back downstairs and vacuum up the pine needles.

That's our tree in it's new spot next to the fireplace with a little reminder of old Ollie on the mantle.

Into Each Life a Little Indoor Rain Must Fall

Our kitchen sink sprayer broke on Thanksgiving day at the climax of our cooking extravaganza, just before dinner was served. Dan and Stephanie had come all the way from Ohio to hang with us for the holiday. Steph and I spent a good part of the day in the kitchen cooking, chatting and having a great time.

We were almost ready to put dinner on the table when the little handle you press on got stuck and I couldn't turn it off so random, errant streams of uncontrolled water spouted from the nozzle and shot across the room every time I turned the water on, which on Thanksgiving day is quite frequently. Unfortunately when we discovered the problem Steph was in the path of the water stream and I soaked her pretty good.

It is quite shocking to be quietly minding your own business, chopping vegetables or what have you, indoors no less, and suddenly be drenched in cold water. More shocking still to look over at your friend you have driven 7 hours through horrible snowy weather to come and visit and see her holding a kitchen sink sprayer with streams of water shooting out of it, pointing it at your head.

I stunned her further by hitting her with a short blast of high pitched screaming. She stunned me by screaming back.

It's awfully difficult to try to investigate what might have gone wrong with a broken kitchen sprayer without squirting even more water everywhere and making a huge mess. I'm one of those people that has to learn by doing and I learned this: Do not look directly into the kitchen sprayer when you suspect it is broken or point it anywhere but back into the sink.

MDH, apparently unalarmed by all the screaming and arm flapping, finally came to the rescue when I demanded that he get up off of his ass and come help me. He took the thing apart and stopped the water from squirting out every time I turned on the tap, which left me with no sprayer for the kitchen sink and dammit I love that thing.

Yesterday after my job interview I went out to do a little shopping and my last stop before home was Lowe's to buy a new sprayer.

The whole point of this post when I originally thought of it had nothing to do with me spraying water all over my house guest and into my own face. But this is my blog and my brain and my stories can be as disjointed as I want.

The original point of the post was this: I hate shopping in Lowe's the same way my husband hates shopping at Target.

My Target Experience = His Lowe's Experience:
I look forward to shopping at Target/Lowe's. It's fun. I usually go with a specific shopping list, but end up meandering through the aisles looking at things we don't really need. I like to take my time and visit the end caps and see if there's anything good on clearance. I always come home with way more stuff than I intended to buy and tend spend way over budget.

My Lowe's Experience = His Target Experience:
I loathe shopping at Lowe's/Target and only go if my spouse makes me. I put off going as long as possible and when I finally get there I stomp into the store like a big sour puss, go to exactly where those items are, get them and march immediately to the checkout and leave as quickly as possible.

Shove Your "Ears" Mickey

My blogger friend at Warped Viewings waxed nostalgic about her childhood, Disneyland and coveting mouse ears. Well, it reminded me of this gem of a photo from my childhood. This is for you SRU.

The photo of my parents and I on a beautiful sunny day in front of Cinderella's castle demonstrates (extra emphasis on demon) why I didn't bring home any mouse ears from our 1973 trip to Disney World.

I was furious, outraged and heartbroken when I realized that the castle was nothing but a big fiberglass prop. My six year old mind believed we'd be dropping in for a visit and maybe having some tea and getting a house tour. I thought me and Cindy would hang out and have a chat. My dreams were dashed.

I was an evil little brat when I didn't get my way, and it seems obsessed with all things purple as witnessed by my purple striped Garanimals ensemble and desire to only eat and drink things "grape" flavored. Yes, that's a grape juice I'm holding in front of my sour little scowling face that my father scoured the theme park to find to try to appease me after the shock of the phony castle.

And then they expected me to smile and have my picture taken in front of this so called castle. I wasn't having it.

I spent most of our day at the Magic Kingdom acting like a little asshat. My mother had apparently taken to wearing a disguise so as to easier deny any responsibility for me.

I'm a whiz with bedsheets. I mean spreadsheets. I meant to say spreadsheets...

I came home from my interview and immediately started cooking. Well, I hung up my suit, put on my home clothes (slippers, fleece pants and a sweater) and started braising the lamb roast that has been marinating in some rosemary and olive oil in my fridge overnight. I sliced some onions, minced some garlic, jimmied a very dry cork out of a bottle of Shiraz, and then I deglazed my pan.

If you want me to relax, don't send me to a massage therapist, give me a recipe and hand me a knife so I can start chopping onions.

The house smells really good.

I forgot to call MDH because the cooking vibe was so intense. Sorry Babe.

The interview went great and the receptionist fussed over my outfit the minute I took off my coat, "Ooh I love that color combination. You look so polished!" She made me feel like a million bucks, so it was a good way to start the morning.

And now we wait...

Meanwhile I'm chopping and mincing and braising and mulling over every single word that came out of my mouth and trying not to worry.

At one point, near the end of the interview, the man pointed to the paper I'd handed him earlier with a list of all of my personal and professional references on it, and he said, "If I were to ask any one of these people, to sum you up on one word, what kind of responses would I get?"

The people on my list of references are mostly of a professional nature, as you may expect, but there are some personal references on there too. I have known some of the folks on my reference list for a very long time, throughout my adult life and the various stages of my somewhat disjointed career path. I would imagine (and certainly hope), if called upon, they will say great things about me, because any one of them on that list has serious unpleasant dirt they could say if they were feeling the least bit ornery.

All of them have seen me cry, and most of them have born witness to my various states of psychopathic infuriation and use of the most horrid language unbecoming to a lady, on multiple occasions. Well the foul language is an every day occurance. A couple of these people have seen me totally wasted, obnoxious and have even held my hair back while I puked cheap beer. I've had sex with one of the people on this list, multiple times.

So let's hope if asked to sum me up on one word, the people I've used as personal and professional references do not say things like:

• Moody
• Crybaby
• Enraged
• Frightening
• Lush
• Irrational
• Pothead
• Pottymouth
• Horny

I responded to the interviewer's question by saying, Smart, Honest, Loyal, and Funny. Terrific. Fabulous answer if I was applying to be someone's date to the movies. Idiot.

I'm trying not to beat myself up for not saying things like, Professional, Hard Working, Detail Oriented, Excel Goddess, etc.. I should have used more hirable sounding adjectives. Anyway, since I didn't do such a great job with this question I have something to say to some of the people who may be on that list of references and reading my blog - take good care of me and I'll make you a roast lamb.

Begging & Choosing

It has turned out to be a good week on the job front after all. I got a call yesterday about a job where my friend Rachel works (it was a phone screen and they'll call next week to set up an interview most likely), and 2 calls today from 2 different recruiters about the same exact job. Weird. The interview I have tomorrow is with recruiter #2, who seemed more on the ball than recruiter #1.

The job with Rachel's company is not anything close to what I'd like to be doing, but I will do if they offer and if nothing else pans out. Beggars cannot be choosers and I'm awfully damn close to begging at this point. Wouldn't that suck though? To go all this time looking and end up doing something totally awful and not remotely on my desired path? I may have no choice but to find out how bad it sucks.

Of course I was awesome on the phone so I'm sure my interview with recruiter #2 will be a shorty as he probably just wants to check me out and make sure I don't look like Mimi from the Drew Carey show.

I'll be sporting my new bob, my lucky tweed pants with my new Liz Claiborne jacket that I bought today at TJ Maxx for $20, brown pointy shoes and tasteful Tiffany loveknot necklace. My standard interviewing uniform. Oh, and a big giant smile..

Jeezus, I hope someone will hire me soon.

MDH has informed me that his vendor partnership is over as of January 1st. Meaning he will lose the office space he has been using at his client's headquarters. The office space he has been occupying for the last 3 and a half years. Meaning he will be working from home full time from then on. Meaning I will be kicked out of my cozy home office as it will become his cozy home office. Meaning I gotta get the hell out of here before then.

Here is a picture of what my office looked like summer before last when I was working from home in-between gigs on the road. Messy (sorry SRU - I'm a slob, but I did eventually pick up the phone bill from off the floor and file it where it belongs)! But what a nice view outside, eh? I'll miss it.

If You Can't Say Anything Nice

or mean,
or funny,
or inspiring,
then post a YouTube video of a band you worshipped when you were 20.

Throwing Muses - Garoux des Larmes, Live in London 1991


The video is of pretty poor quality, but I heard this song in my sleep and wore out the cassette. There weren't any other girl muscians making this kind of noise at the time and I thought they were amazing.

I saw them the year before in Columbus on the corner of High & Blake called Stache & Little Brothers.