Whining

I have determined that I am quite a whiner, in the 'I want a job and I can't find one...wahhhhh' sort of way. I am really beginning to stomp on my own last nerve. So, here I am complaining and generally being a pain about not having a job when it hits me: I start to think about the day when I do actually find a job and I am struck with horror at the thought that I will have to be at a specific place at a definite time wearing actual clothes and actually think about something other than being out on the river fishing...maybe I'm rushing into this job thing...maybe I just need to cool my jets and wait for next winter or at least until after the Cobia stop running. And then, my panic goes even deeper...Maybe if I do actually get a job, I will find (as will everyone) that my once active and high functioning brain has lapsed into a permanent wisp of childrens games, bad fondue recipes and old rock-n-roll song lyrics... So now, not only am I upset that I don't have a job, I am freaking out in anticipation at GETTING one. Sheesh; what a whiner.

Any Day Now...

So, any day now I should be hearing SOMETHING about the two jobs I have applied for. It's been awhile, and both agencies have said that about 40 days response time is usual for jobs of these types. For about the last week or so, I have cringed when I know I have received new e-mail, as I am pretty certain that if they come, that's how the rejection notices will be sent. I quickly scan to see if the mail has gone to my junk mail folder, or just my inbox. If it has gone to my regular inbox, I break a sweat, forget to breathe and sort of fling myself into the chair in front of the computer and with one eye shut, try and see who it's from. I hope I hear something soon. The waiting is making me nuts!

Wrong Side of the Lake

I was reminded of an adventure me and a girlfriend had when we were about 15...

I was lucky enough to spend my summers in a seaside coastal hot spot; all I had to do all summer was make sure I turned the most delicious shade of brown and that while pretending to learn how to surf, manage to never actually come close enough to a real board to possibly snag my swimsuit. Well, one day me and my friend found a little boat, 'borrowed' it and rowed ourselves across the lake to the other side of the jetty where all the fashionable restaurants and people were. The tide was in our favor, and we managed to get ourselves across to Gosman's where we alighted from the boat with as much aplomb as we could muster, given our somewhat disheveled state, and marched into the restaurant and ordered Coca-Cola's (no ice). After our refreshment, we went back to the little boat, got in, and began to furiously row across the channel, back to where we belonged. The tide was no longer in our favor, and we wound up smashing against the jetty at the US Coast Guard Station about three miles from where we had alit...Pretty certain we were indeed, in pretty deep trouble, we managed to get out of the little boat, and made our way ashore. There, a man who, to this day, I will swear was Mick Jagger, in between gasps of laughter at watching us attempt to fight the tide and make it to the other side of the lake, offered us a ride home. We accepted, and rode in humiliated silence for the 8 +/- miles around the lake...

Hockey Game

So, I went to watch a hockey game last night. I spent most of the game watching not the game, but the woman who sat next to me. She ate and drank NON-STOP from the opening horn ...gummy bears, taffy, pretzels, twizzlers, skittles...you name it, she had brought her own supply with her. Her involvement with her junk food stash was truly amazing...by 15 minutes into the first period, she was on such a sugar high her eyes began to look like glazed donuts...She was speeding so badly, she had to closely watch the Jumbotron to make sure she was getting the words correctly when we were cued to chant "Let's Go Rays". I could not tear my horrified gaze away from her, even during the intermissions. She reminded me of a child left alone with their Trick or Treat spoils...

Driving and Laughing

So I learned today that it is really not a good idea to talk on a cell phone while driving your vehicle. Oh, not for the reason that might immediately come to mind. This is what happened...I was on my way to do an errand, and a very small, politically-correct hybrid car in front of me stopped at the green light for no reason ( I mention the other driver's vehicle because of my guilt that I drive a large, very environmentally-unfriendly pick up truck). I was talking on the phone at the time, and the conversation went something like this:
ME: "So, can you put those stamped envelopes into the mailbox so the mail person will pick them up?"
HIM:"Sure, sweetie. I don't think she has come yet, so they sh...."
ME: "MORON! WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING! THE PEDAL ON THE RIGHT, YOU TURD FACE!"
HIM: "Huh? I said I'd put the mail out...sheesh."

Well, luckily I was talking to my better half, and while he certainly knows ALL of my faults he does know that random acts of violence are not one of them! But, I shudder to think...what if I had been talking to a prospective employer? Good grief. That's it...no more talking and driving unless it's something that can't wait...

Stuff

So, as I have gotten older, I realize I am not really a big 'stuff'' person anymore, if I ever was. Jokes about my shopping aside, I don't have any collections (except for books) or a lot of junk hanging around my home. I don't have a lot of family pictures displayed or my son's schoolwork hanging on my refrigerator. One person has even said my house was a bit sterile. But, she lives in a house where every nook and cranny and every surface is crammed with and covered by pictures and little statues and coffee mugs with cute sayings on them and other 'stuff'. I feel really overwhelmed and claustrophobic when I go there, like I need to stand in the middle of whatever open space there happens to be, just so I can breathe.

Since I don't have a lot of 'stuff'' anymore, I have also become less of a pack rat...less sentimental...less of a hoarder. In my younger days, I would treasure and keep just about anything, and "save the best for last". Now, if it's not used within a few days or if it doesn't provide immediate gratification, out it goes! As someone who has reached the middle of their life, I no longer even buy unripe bananas...Everything is to be enjoyed and savored in the present. Not really a bad plan for anyone, when you think about it.

Family Matters

One more reason I am grateful to be unemployed is that I have the time to find and read the most interesting and up-to-the-minute world wide happenings. For example, if I was gainfully employed, there is a likelihood I may have overlooked this little gem:

On New Years Eve in Rome, Italy a man stole some candy and chewing gum so he could get arrested and spend New Year's Eve in a jail cell rather than be with his wife and relatives. Apparently, the man first went to the police station on Thursday asking to be arrested because he preferred spending the night in prison rather than with his family. The police laughed at him and sent him away. The man immediately went to a tobacco shop next door, where he threatened the owner with a box cutter as he grabbed a few pieces of candy and a pack of gum. He then waited until police arrived to arrest him for robbery.

Well. Not much to say about that, is there? Except that no matter how much my family might make me crazy, I would still rather be with them than in jail!

Still Waiting for the Phone to Ring...

So my title for this post pretty much says it all...I am still waiting to hear about the two jobs I am being considered for. It feels like it has been forever! I really want one of these jobs, as do probably about a thousand other people. A telephone call to one of the agencies personnel department yielded nothing more than a crisp "Your application is being reviewed." Reviewed by whom, I asked, only to be told "The individual responsible for filling the position." Well, duh! Silly me. Further inquiries about the identity of that person were fruitless: I was told that information was not available to me. Ah, they had me pegged alright...give me a name and I would shamelessly 'finagle' a telephone call, a casual drop-in, a bump into at the local lunch spot, or all three! Desperate times call for desperate measures...I will have to call my old friend Doris who used to know EVERYTHING (and I mean e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g) that went on - and see if she needs a free lunch...

Thinking of You...

So, here it is the first day of a new year...and I can't help but feel pretty glad that the whole winter holiday season is pretty much over. Don't get me wrong; I love Thanksgiving and Christmas and the hoopla we make over the beginning of a new year, but give me a nice quiet President's Day celebration anytime! Considering how much I love to shop and that holidaytime is a perfect excuse for people like me to spend endless hours slogging into retail stores, it may surprise you to know that, yes, even I, actually get tired of shopping (I know my mother just spun in her grave)!

Perversely, one of my closest friends despises shopping and will do whatever it takes to avoid going into a store. Go figure! But, towards the end of my shopping, when my feet are beginning to burn and my American Express card is feeling pretty puny, I lose my flair for gift giving and begin to commit the dreaded gifting gaffes: I tend to buy stuff not only that they won't find useful but that is downright ridiculous: golf-ball-finder glasses, battery-powered potato peelers, weight-loss books, tacky holiday garb, and coffee mugs with silly sayings. I might as well be tossing my money on a blazing yule log! Yet, that saying "It's the thought that counts" overtakes all common sense when you are desperately hunting that final gift. Did I diminish the feelings I have for the person and the value of our friendship because I gave them a Chai Pet? I hope not, just as I hope that the person who gave me the mail-ordered two pound Swiss cheese wheel really isn't making a statement about me or our friendship, but wanted it to be "the thought that counts".