Last Post of 2007

And last entry on this blog. I gave some thought to a new blog and abandoned the idea, as nothing creative came to me, and the last time I started a new blog (this one) things didn't turn out as planned and in fact got quite bizarro. Call me superstitious, but I don't think I'll tempt the Universe to send me any new growth experiences by trying to be clever. So I've been doing a little redecorating back on the old blog, and as of tomorrow the Bossy Little Dog and I will ride off into 2008, and God Only Knows What Adventures. Please adjust your links accordingly, all 3 of you.

I'll leave this blog here, and a trail of empty champagne bottles back to the former/future address.

I am glad to see the back of 2007. I am glad to be here to see the back of 2007. 2008 is not going to be easy either, but at least it will be a fresh adventure - new work situation, moving (somewhere as yet undetermined) etc. Today Girlchild returned her father's old Sentra, which will sit until Boy can come fetch it - I will probably take it for a drive now and then, just so it gets a little exercise, but I haven't driven a stick in years so I'll have to take it around the block a couple of times until it comes back to me. I drove a stick for decades it's not like it won't come back. Girl loves her new car. When I drove her and load of her stuff back to her house it was in the carport looking all shiny and pretty, and damn, it is a cute car. It was raining, so no pictures. My heart belongs to Baby, though - I need Baby. Baby is a hard working girl, and 2008 is going to be a hard working year.

The animals got me up at 5:15 this morning, so I do not plan to make it til midnight. I'll open the champagne around 9, and toast the end of a really, really weird year, and contemplate goals for 2008. There are many.

The Way We Were, circa 1992-ish

In the course of the endless sorting, donating, and throwing out, I found a few old photos from the early 90s, when the kids were small, including one of my favorite shots of my notoriously camera shy late husband:


You can see where Girlchild got her smirk, can't you? I think she was 8 or 9 here:


I swear I was sober in this picture, and all I can say about the hair and makeup is give me a break, it was the 90s. I don't think the makeup was really that heavy in person, I think that's an effect of the flash. I hope.



Boy was around 11, and in this picture appears to be 11 going on 20 - what a serious kid he was, even then.

This not working thing is exhausting.

Last night L and her bf and his friend (I think this is either a fix-up situation destined to go nowhere, or we are just each other's available suitably presentable escort) met for drinks, followed by greasy pizza. Kiss off those extra WW points.

So, I got up early, went to post office, hardware store, Tarjay, came home and started sorting crap and loading boxes, and around 1, 1:30, I called my lovely Girlchild, to see what she was doing - I'd lost track of her work schedule and whether she expected me to return her dog. No, she was going car shopping and hoping I could accompany her.

So I cleaned myself up - slightly, I still looked like shit - and we went car shopping. To cut around 5 hours of confusion, pain and drama very, very short, Girlchild is now the happy owner of a very lovely new '07 leftover Honda Civic. Pretty blue w/a sunroof, satellite radio, place to plug in your iPod, lah-di-doo-dah, which is now the basic Civic package. Photos to follow, if it's not too rainy tomorrow. Tomorrow there is furniture to move, and an elaborate car shuffle in which her old car, which started out as her father's car, will come back here to hang out until Boychild can fly down to lay hands upon it, heal its ills, and take it back to NC.

I am wiped out, but Boy's input on the car shopping process was most comforting (he used to work for this dealer group) and the dealer's nice staff made it fairly painless. She has a car she loves and a car payment she can live with, and all is well. I still don't understand why it is impossible to buy a car in under 5 hours even if you know exactly what you want when you walk into the dealership. Even the adoption of the Subaru took that long, and I had selected it online and wasn't financing it.

If anyone is looking for me, I will be in bed with Captain Morgan, Boris, Dudley, Murphy and Shrek. I think that officially makes it a menage a menagerie.

Look Who Followed Me Home Today!

Actually, he didn't follow me, I sort of dognapped him, at his Mommy's request. She is working another 12 hour shift tomorrow. I had just finished lunch with D and had wandered to the mall, because nail polish was calling to me and Ulta was having a sale. So I went, I bought, and I saw calendars on sale, and tried to reach Girl to ask her if she'd like a half price Boston Terrier calendar for the fridge in her new place. I didn't reach her but she called me back as I was pulling out of the mall parking lot, into hellacious traffic - she said she had to swing by the house and put on makeup and get presentable for work, and she would like to drop Dudley at my house since she's working a 12 tomorrow, but she's not sure she'll have time. I said I was right near the interstate and could drop by and pick him up if that would help. Problem solved. Our timing was so perfect, she was approaching her house from one end of the street as I came up from the other end, we did a very fast dog handoff (after duly greeting roommate's dog, a lovely girl, a young Lab mix who sits politely to be petted unbidden - unlike my little wild man who leaps like a crazed wind-up toy).

Dudley's manners, which were always pretty darn good, have improved noticeably since being away from Murphy - I'm not saying my dog is a bad influence - well, yes, I am. I think the difference is that when Dudley is here he takes his cues from Murphy, and Murphy is tiny and tends to jump and/or bark to get attention, or just to see what the hell is going on in the world above ankle-height. He'll knock it off if you tell him to, he's not THAT bad, but he does remind you that it's frustrating to see the world as a sea of feet, and would someone please lift him so he can participate in the conversation? Now Dudley is the little dog in his new home, and he has started taking his cues from the big dog he lives with and those who visit and his behavior has shifted slightly from little dog like to much more big dog like, because he wants to imitate his big new friends.

He has also become a truly fabulous car rider. I told him we were going in the car, and he automatically went to his mommy's car and looked at it expectantly. I said no, Grandma's car. (Yes, I am Grandma, and if it works out that I have granddogs instead of grandkids I'm fine with this. For one thing, I'm going out tomorrow night, and I don't have to say I can't, because I'm babysitting my granddog. I just have to make sure the shoes are secured.) Dudley went to my car and happily hopped in when I opened the door. I'm so glad he is over his car terrors, he is now a fine passenger, he watches everything intently but with no sign of real nervousness.

So, that was my day - I did box some stuff, move some stuff, sort some stuff (not as much as I should have) and had a truly godawful Chinese buffet lunch, the taste of which is still lingering in a most unpleasant way, even though as we were eating it I didn't think the food had any flavor at all.

D's story of work woes is her own and I'm not going to share it here, but I'll just say that it didn't make me feel all warm and fuzzy about looking for another job in this market. There are people who have had bad work experiences and you know them and you think privately, "Yeah, I think I kinda see why this happens to you." In D's case, I have no freaking clue. She worked for us for a few months, I can vouch for her skills, her pleasant and polished professional demeanor, her overall good person to have around-ness. Her experiences would make anyone considering a job as a paralegal or legal secretary run screaming. And I honestly, truly, really don't think it's HER.

On a happier note, the new UV filter in the pond was so worth the money - the pond looks Gawgeous now. The water is crystal clear, and the fish are wondering what the hell happened.



Hey Grandma! Did you know about this? There are sparkly things moving around in there!



Yes, this is sorta kinda a knitting blog. I'm mostly done with the right front of the Minimalist Cardigan (IK, I think it was Fall 07? Or was it Winter?) It is going to be nice when finished, and the Debbie Bliss Rialto is a a pleasure, but damn, I'm sick of it. One front and two sleeves to go. Slogging onward.

And the "getting ready to move" continues....

Interrupted by socializing more than I'd expected. Lunch plans today, tomorrow happy hour, then I think Girl wants me to go with her to purchase a new car this weekend. I still have a couple of pieces of furniture and some boxes to deliver to her house. I did make a run to Goodwill yesterday, and also made a dent in the junk in the garage. Boy had helped me clean out the attic last spring, but other than moving crap from place to place and staring at it in bewilderment, I didn't make much progress on the "getting rid of" front after the initial frenzy. I'm terrible about holding on to things because "somebody might want it." That has to stop, NOW - I will not have a garage or an attic, and I'll be damned if I'm renting a storage locker for 10 boxes of Christmas ornaments that haven't been unpacked in 20 years. Now that Boy and Girl are out on their own, if they want this stuff they can have it and figure out where to keep it. I am starting over.

2007 has been a wild, wild year.

And now I must get back to packing boxes and moving stuff around to make room for new carpet in my bedroom, before I shower and get ready for lunch.

Back to work....

I'm so bored...

...I'm taking action shots of my dog walking. Expect a video any day now. Please, please send good energy, I must find temporary work after the first of the year.



Murphy is becoming a most impressive walker - we did our short walk this morning, maybe 3/4 of a mile, and I tried to turn him toward home when his tongue started hanging out and he resisted - he wanted to go to the Big Lake and walk some more. He's a mad, walking machine.

My bayberry candle is already burning. I may burn two, just for emphasis.




Merry Christmas!

This and That.

So, Girl came over this afternoon, did laundry, watched the shows she is still recording on my DV-R (she doesn't have cable yet) and then left with her clean clothes and her dog. He was happy to be here and happy to leave with her, he's nothing if not an agreeable, happy guy. He jumped into her car - I think Thanksgiving's long drive to and from my mother's went a long way to deal with his autophobia, now he is actually a good car riding dog, and hops right in and seems to enjoy himself. And I did not cry when they left, in fact, I am not sad. I love him, he is welcome here anytime, but Murphy and I have gotten back into being just us, and we love our walkies and such without him, and we are fine.

Girlchild did joke that I should rent a two bedroom apartment wherever I go, just in case they have to live with me again. I was already thinking of at least a 1 br. with a den, just because I'll need the space. If I get a 2/2 I have to keep that fact from my mother, or she'll want to move in. Of course, I will be on at least the 2nd floor and she won't do stairs. Heh.

I stayed up too late and got up too early, so today was a fairly wasted day around Home Improvement World. I had planned to plunge in and start painting the trim in my bedroom, and then my bathroom, tomorrow, but tomorrow will be more prep work, because I got a wild hair and started cleaning out the floor of my walk-in closet yesterday, so it is now ready for carpet. But trim and bathroom paint must be done before the carpet, so a timeline is falling into place.

On Friday, Pond Guy (an expensive godsend, but still a godsend, bless L for finding him) and his crew fixed my little goldfish pond so it is now absolutely spotless, his crew scrubbed and cleaned for hours, and they rebuilt the filtration system and installed a pricey kickass UV filter, and I am so very grateful that L found him, though I am aghast that I am writing checks like a drunken sailor on the freaking house two weeks after losing my job. It was absolutely necessary - the pond, when sparkling and full of lovely bright fishies, is a bonus that comes with the house. When it was in its previous state, an algae festival, it looked like a foul green mosquito breeding tank and would send me running away screaming if I were a buyer. Now it's so nice! You can sit on the patio in the evening, hear the water trickle over the rocks and admire the many healthy BIG goldfish. When I add some plants it'll be even nicer. The new filtration system is brainlessly low-maintenance, and comes with Pond Guy's phone number just in case. He gave me some cheap and inspired ideas on how to dress it up to make it look really natural and not like what it is, a hard-shell plastic preformed pond with a bunch of 19 cent Petsmart goldfish and their descendants (they do aspire to be koi). Now that my beloved but very hard on the landscaping granddog is living elsewhere, I can invest some time and money in a few plants and such to make the pond area really special and inviting. And I will stand over Dudley when he visits. I love you granddog, but after I bust my ass fixing up this yard, you dig, you will be sorry.

And I'm working on CAP's 100 things to do before I die list challenge. I came up with 70 so far. I have to keep reminding myself that this list is things to do before I die, not things to do in 2008, because with each item I start thinking, "Okay, if I just sleep 3 hours at night...." But that's not the point. It's a wish list, an idea list, a dream list. NOT a writ in stone TO DO LIST. Must keep my Type-A-ness in line. I am not going to share the entire list because it is personal, but I am amused at how some of the items on it are really "shallow" and girly. It is a mix of professional, social, and personal goals, and also has light things, like take time for bubble baths and facials and keep my nails in good shape level shallow. It's an interesting exercise in focusing on the things that you would like to have in your life. What can I say - if you live my life, shallow is a shining goal to shoot for.

Happy Winter Solstice

Isn't this gorgeous? Must bookmark the site.

Grandma Is Babysitting.

On weekends, Girlchild works an 8 hour shift on Friday evening then goes back at noon on Saturday for a 12. She's off Sunday. Add commute time, etc., and she's gone for 24 out of 36 hours. She doesn't want to impose on her roommate to babysit, she also works long hours, so Unemployed Grandma has Dudley until Sunday afternoon, when Mommy will come use the free washer-dryer (the girls are going to buy them, but need a kitchen table, etc., first). So I have him for 2 nights. Next Friday night I do have plans, so we'll have to see how that works out - of course he can stay here as long as we secure all the chew-able flip-flops.

Oprah's latest.

Chelle mentioned this magazine, and I picked it up the other day, mostly for the article on how not to dress old. I hadn't looked at it until today, but Chelle reminded me that I did want to read it. I was particularly interested in the how not to dress old article, because I do have to get my almost 50 year old ass out on job interviews AGAIN. While I am diligently working on losing my extra pounds, I spent the last few years in a casual office, I haven't put on a skirt since my father's funeral, and I do not own anything downtown-ready. It occurred to me this week that I will actually have to go buy clothes to interview, I don't have anything suitable. I am not sure I even know how to dress downtown-ready in 2008 - the last time I worked downtown I was 15 years younger and about 25 pounds lighter than I am now. I shall get rid of the 25 pounds, but the 15 years aren't going anywhere, and I want to look "age appropriate" as they say, but still hip. So I was most interested in this article.

Okay, I read the article about how not to dress old. I already knew all that, thanks, but I have just one burning question - why does this woman have an issue with nude hose? I can certainly understand banning hose with reinforced toes and open-toed shoes, duh, or those dreaded white stockings that women were wearing for a while there, so bizarre, but "nuke the nude hose - it's the most aging thing you can do?" Compared to, say, showing up at the office wearing a vest decorated with snowmen and Santas? Compared to 20 year old sandals with shiny support hose - the kind with the armor-plated toes? Compared to baggy t-shirts and elastic waist pants? Or my personal favorite, the shirt jacket-shell combo in bright shades of polyester, the office attire that officially says, "I have batwings and back fat." There are more creative ways to hide figure flaws than cliched matronly things like that. I can think of so many worse "old lady clothes" crimes than nude hose.

Where was I when this "nude hose is a fashion crime" edict was issued? I know I've been working in a casual environment (until the layoff) and spent all of my time in slacks or jeans and mostly sandals (but cute ones, with heels) for the last few years, so nude hose hasn't touched my own personal legs in years - but not because they are "the most aging thing you can do." Is she nuts? WHO, besides this chick pushing her book, decided that an innocent pair of nude colored stockings is a crime against fashion? Sorry, if I'm in an office in a light colored skirt in the near future I am not going to use the disgusting spray on color she suggests - it doesn't keep the goosebumps of air conditioning off, for one thing. That was some of the craziest advice offered - most of it was "well, duh," - yes, please, burn those tacky Christmas sweaters, quit wearing your glasses on a little chain around your neck and buy a bra that fits, and so forth. Nothing new there. But the random attack on innocent stockings struck me as someone who personally hates them for her own weird reasons dictating to everybody.

This same person advises wearing "bike shorts" shapewear (what mom called a girdle) - oh, right, like that doesn't scream "My ass has fallen and it can't get up!"?? And isn't hot, binding and uncomfortable when you sit at a desk all day? Nothing says fresh and youthful like a woman in "bike shorts shapewear" trying to stand up after it cuts off circulation below the thighs.

Dear Oprah's Fashion Dictator Expert: If I promise not to wear thick, shiny support hose with reinforced toes with sandals purchased in 1984, may I please keep my nude hose? Because I'm not about to put spray-on shit on my legs and then put said makeup coated legs into a skirt that probably cost around a hundred bucks and must be dry cleaned. And my goosebumps in the air conditioning? While not technically aging, definitely more of a fashion don't than nude hose.

Silly-ass article. Unless you are wearing a sweater with rhinestone reindeer on it, then, please, buy and study. I think I'll stick to consulting my fashionista 24 year old daughter - "Would I look stupid in this?"

The Gauntlet Has Been Thrown Down, plus the Traditional "Parental Emergency" Arranges to Appear on Cue.

Crazy Aunt Purl shared the list of Big Things she wrote in 2003. I share her addiction to lists (I heart my Franklin Covey Planner like it is a living thing) but somehow I've never been moved to make a list like this. I think this would be a good end of year project. Considering that basically my entire previous existence is being systematically stripped away from me by forces out of my control, and all that.
So she has inspired me. I'm gonna start working on The List. Now, while I have a lot of time to think about it.

I called my former boss today, he sounded so happy to hear from me, and we vowed to get together soon. He said he had wanted to call but didn't want to use his "Bugging Catherine," chips too early, in case he needed them later (he's on the Left Behind team). I told him to call anytime, and I'd even be glad to stop by and offer assistance in person for an hour or two, I just didn't want to get stuck sitting there all day, every day, until we were no longer needed. I've done that before and it fucking sucks, and my year has sucked enough - no wait, my DECADE has sucked enough already. I am not going to revisit stressful things I did in the 90s, not when the new century is so ready to hit me with fresh, shiny new crises.

Speaking of Crisis Alerts, longtime readers (the few, the very bored) of this blog and its predecessor may remember that my parents have a long-standing tradition of a Holiday Crisis - God Forbid Catherine gets from Thanksgiving through New Years without a parental panic, a medical emergency, faux or genuine, a hospitalization, actual or just threatened, etc.

Last night we had the 2007 event, and it was hilarious and not at all my mother's fault.

My mother has an answering machine at home, she gets a lot of sales calls, she also gets freaked out by randomly-dialed offers of cemetery plots or new mortgages. So Cousin C and I have patiently trained her to let the machine screen the calls. Don't pick up until you hear the voice and you know it's someone you want to talk to! She finally learned to do this. Problem solved.

Yesterday I called my mother at 3 in the afternoon to tell her that I planned to visit today. She didn't pick up, I didn't worry, I thought she was at the store or taking a nap or whatever. I tried again at 4, then 5, 6, and 7. Okay, this is totally not right - my mother does not fail to return a phone call - she usually calls back all breathless, like you are Ed McMahon driving away with her $10,000,000 check. By 7:30 I was genuinely concerned, and called Cousin C to ask if she'd talked to my mother today. She hadn't. So I looked for my mother's neighbor's number, she's unlisted and I thought I had it but it wasn't in the Holy Planner of St. Franklin Covey. Shit. So, feeling somewhat like an idiot but mostly concerned, I called her county sheriff's office - the non-emergency number, of course, and asked if a deputy could do a drive-by to see if she was okay. My mother is, after all, 81 years old, about 4'9" and fragile, and still crazily inclined to do things like clean out closets and move furniture when the mood strikes her.

About 40 minutes later I got a call back from my mother, who was bemused by the whole incident - the deputy was very nice, and told her to call her daughter. I explained that I had been trying to reach her for hours and I knew she wasn't out hitting the bars, so I got concerned and couldn't find her neighbor's number.

To make a long Seinfeldian conversation short, her answering machine was not picking up right, and was cutting off the caller's voice. So my mother was sitting there happily watching a Law and Order marathon, and cursing the damn phone that kept ringing, and "they" kept hanging up. Damn telemarketers! I was of course the they, and I was leaving increasingly concerned messages, including one saying, "You're going to get a knock on the door from the sheriff's office, so if you were just taking a nap, don't freak out."

So today I went over to her house (sounds easy, but it involved about 4 hours of drive time) and checked out the answering machine, got it to reset, tested it, and I think we're good again.

Meanwhile, one of my co-workers (the one who took my place on the left behind team) forwarded an email from a friend I'd been thinking of lately, and was about to email to say Hi.

The Fantabulous D was the best litigation legal secretary the Lawyer Formerly Known as Boss and I had ever had, for a brief, shining time until our employer decided we didn't really need to have her. She is smart, strong, confident, and highly skilled. She could relentlessly pursue opposing counsel or a judicial assistant until we had the depositions scheduled or a hearing time, and she did it with class, charm, and not a hint of pushy-ness. She is unflappable and takes no shit from anyone. She is also unemployed, and emailed me to ask if I knew of anyone that is hiring.

Um, honey, let me fill you in.

Moving back to MD is looking far more likely every day.

New Neighbor.

I apologize for the crappy photo, I took it with my phone. I'll have to start carrying a real camera on walkies, because this was amazing - this hawk sat calmly observing me, I stood directly below it and the bird was completely unruffled when I started snapping pictures. The picture is really deceptive - I was standing almost directly below the bird, and could see every detail of every feather.

Candle Shopping.

"Yankee Candle" is to candles what Starbucks is to coffee - you can hate it, but you can't escape it. The difference is you can actually get tasty overpriced coffee at Starbucks, while Yankee Candles are mostly disgusting. Not all of them, but most of them. Their Christmas collection is a case in point - there are no pure, simple Christmas scents among them. There's a pine scent that will clear your sinuses, like huffing Pine Sol. There are various blends of scents that smelled gross. There are various sweet, cloying odors that smell like Santa's elves got loaded on powerful eggnog and rich desserts and then barfed into the candle molds. They do not have a simple bayberry candle, let alone a simple taper - if you can't sell it by the vat and preferably add on the butt-ugly painted ceramic holders and lids and such, there ain't enough profit, I guess.

While Murphy was at the groomer's, I walked the mall. Yankee Candle has squeezed out every other candle brand, except for those no-name things from China with asbestos in the wicks, the ones that will turn the ceiling and your lungs black. Murphy was done by the time I had thrown in the towel. I came home and let my fingers do the walking on The Google, and found real hand-dipped bayberry tapers at Southern Lights in St. Augustine. And I somehow resisted the urge to get in the car and go pick them up in person. (Boy, that was hard because I adore St. Augustine, but it is two hours each way and it was already noon.) Instead I called the shop and asked if she could still ship to get them to me in time for Christmas Eve if I ordered today. And she said that she's shipping the out of state orders today and she will ship her in-state orders tomorrow, so I ordered my bayberry tapers. St. Augustine is an overnight mail delivery from here, so even allowing for the Christmas rush I should have them by Friday. And I will take a weekend trip up there with Cousin C soon, and stop in to shop in person. I can't believe I've never visited her shop, candle-holic that I am. I will correct that mistake shortly.

I've been out of work less than a week and I'm already losing my mind. I am not well-suited to this life of leisure. Tomorrow I have the pond repair guy coming to assess the fix to my pond - I know it needs a UV filter, and he has worked on L's pond and she was very pleased. So as part of the house fix-up, I am going to finally get the pond worked on by professionals. He takes credit cards. Then I'm meeting L for a beer, to exchange Christmas gifts. We're so touchingly cute and girly that way, we will do our gift exchange over beer and wings.

Unemployment and weight loss, or rather stress and weight loss- despite mostly sitting on my ass and feeling sorry for myself for the last week, I've lost a pound and a half. Yesterday and today I finally started dragging the Murphinator for his much-bitched-for Walkies. He's learning the truth of "be careful what you wish for," because his mother has morphed into a ruthless Yorkie walker. His freshly groomed self is now snoring.

Oh, and the other upside of Dudley moving out - Murphy got groomed today and was not promptly rolled in the dirt and licked all over to put the familiar smells back. I can let his coat grow out, too, into a more traditional Yorkie look, instead of sheared chubby sheep. And if we keep up this walking habit, he'll lose the chubbiness fast, and get his formerly trim self back. (Me too.)


He does wander the house now and then and look at me all confused, I think he has figured out that Dudley should have come home by now but didn't. Girl reports that Dudley is learning his new neighborhood and adjusting nicely, though he still has to work out the pecking order with the big dog. Hopefully without getting his ass kicked. Worrying grandma would of course overprotect him, so I'm keeping my distance as he learns that he isn't the big dog anymore.

Black Monday

So, yesterday I faced the inevitable - Girlchild was off work, so I relocated her dog to her house. Dudley moved out. I managed to get through it and drive home and take Murphy for a nice long walk before I hit the pinot grigio and cried until I fell asleep on the couch. I was just going to take a nap for an hour, and slept until midnight, before relocating to my now strangely roomy bed. Murphy was funny - he has never liked to sleep on my bed because he can't get on and off without assistance but last night he woofed to be put on the bed, and stayed there all night, keeping me company.



Dudley now lives in his mommy's house, with an exciting new roommate. Girl's roommate also has a dog - a big young Lab mix, female, who is a big sweetie. She is fascinated with her new roommate, and the worst danger is that she will hurt him with her big gallumphing puppy affection, so their play will be supervised until they get used to each other. Both dogs have already commenced shedding all over Girl's lovely new sofa, so the place will feel like home in no time. Dudley will adjust. I will adjust. Murphy has already adjusted - he loved his long walk with his very quiet mommy, and his attitude is "Dudley Who?" He's happy to be an only dog again.

Today I will drop Murphy at the groomer's and go off in search of bayberry candles before I come home and continue the cleaning of closets and the transfer of odds and ends to Goodwill. How did I forget how much I love bayberry? Debi put the idea in my head. And I think I used to know that legend too, but I forgot about it over the years. If any household needs good luck, health, and wealth in the coming year, this one does, so bayberry candles will be burning on Christmas Eve.

Well, yeah...

You Were An Angel This Year

You Were 15% Naughty, 85% Nice You know you've been a super good girl this year So good, that you may have missed out a little... Don't worry, Santa will make it up to you!

Were You a Naughty Girl or Nice Girl this Year?

If you spend 3 months of the year recovering from brain surgery and the balance in crazy work stress, it's hard to be anything BUT an angel. I am going to aim for far more coal in my stocking next year.

The Unemployed Life

So far, so good. I know I said that I would wake up at 5 and plunge right in to working on the house. I reconsidered that plan - I am working on the house, but I am also decompressing from the stress of the last month or so. I have given myself four days to Putter, then on Monday the real work can commence.
So, the first thing I did was my nails:


My pedicure is holding up perfectly, but my fingernails grow really damn fast, and a manicure only lasts a week at the most. Another reason I am reluctant to spend money on things like that. I did, at Caroline's suggestion, buy Opi in Bubble Bath, yes this is a much more corporate neutral color than the one done at the day spa. Though right now I can do my nails in any damn color I please, I do like this color. And I'm very impressed with Opi polish, it really does last forever.

After my nails dried I called the lawyer I'd worked with, he was our outside counsel and we talked almost daily. He offered to write me a glowing letter of recommendation, and said I was the smartest paralegal he ever worked with, and I said, "Promise you'll put that in writing!" He will. It is a sign of the market that he was hinting around to see if I'd come to work for him a year or so ago, and now they are also laying off legal staff. No refuge there.

I spent hours on the phone yesterday, including a long conversation with yet another cousin that I haven't talked to since I was in the hospital in February. She's also in MD, and is very supportive of the idea of my moving up there.

I've been cleaning out the hall bathroom, preparing to paint. Girlchild still has personal residue in both the back bedrooms, so this weekend she will spend some time reviewing same, and either taking or trashing the rest of her stuff. Sunday night is garbage night, there will be a mountain of trash at the curb. Every garbage day from now on will be larger than usual. I hate like hell to throw things away, I'm passionate about recycling and donating, but there are things that aren't qualified for either. Next week I will break out the paint and beautify both bathrooms. I also need to call a pond guy and an bug guy for a pre-emptive termite inspection. The week after, the day after Christmas, exterior paint commences. That is also the week that I will arrange for new carpet in the master bedroom, and start tagging stuff for the Bigass January Garage Sale. I'll also update my resume and send it to a couple of local legal agencies, because after the first of the year I will make myself available for temporary work.

For the remainder of this week, we are conserving our energy:






I'm knitting away on the Minimalist Cardigan, and I'm so glad I downsized it, the larger size would have been too big. Of course, it's in the 80s and humid this week so it's hard to work up enthusiasm for knitting, but they do promise a dip into chilly weather next week. And next week I think I'll have to make some time to make these:Holiday Biscotti with Cranberries and Pistachios They sound IN-credible.

It's official.

I was laid off today, along with everybody else. I was actually asked (begged a little) to remain on with a tiny executive team to help wind-down on a week to week basis, and I thought about it for a nanosecond. Been there, did that at another company in the 90s, when I had a husband's backup income. I decided that this time would be far more useful getting the house ready to put on the market. They understood. I took my package, hugged my goodbyes and that was it.

So tomorrow I will be up at 5 as always, because I have a whole new mission, one that benefits ME. I will be working on the house every day from now until the end of the year. On January 2 I will make myself available for temp/contract work at various agencies, and that should stretch the severance package dollars enough to carry me a while. If a great job comes along here I'll take it, God knows it'd be a hell of a lot easier than moving to MD, but that's not likely in this market.

2007 started with a crazy boss and endless office Drama, and then a ruptured brain aneurysm that nearly killed me, followed by a craniotomy and 2.5 months on FMLA. You'd think that would be enough for one year, wouldn't you, but I am nothing if not a Type A type, so I had to wrap it up with getting laid off. To kick off 2008 I will have to sell two houses in a shitty market, relocate myself and my nutty little mother, find a new job, and maybe, just maybe, have a little fun. Bring it on.

Edited to add: My horoscope this morning.

My daily work horoscope for today: “A problem has been bubbling under the surface, and you are relieved when it explodes from out of the depths with full-blown clarity. Now you can figure out what to do. Move ahead fearlessly, Captain.”

On the roller coaster.

Two things happened today - actually many more than two things actually happened, including progress on the back of the Minimalist Cardigan - but two things of non-knitting significance.

Thing One: I ran into my friend L's boyfriend M while shopping, and he told me L has been laid off from her job at fancy big multi-office silk stocking
law firm. This upset me even more than my own job issue, because retreating to a "fancy big silk stocking downtown law firm" was my safety net. Well, shit, scratch that.

So, while I'm still reeling from Thing One, I talked to Cousin C, who had talked to my mother, and then I talked to my mother and had another fairly positive conversation with her - I had to talk her out of her usual reaction - "It's so terrible, I don't know what to do, what will we do, might as well all kill ourselves now" - the last part isn't explictly stated but is the only conclusion one would draw from the first 45 minutes. By the end of the discussion I had my mother hyped to get on the bus - I don't know what is going to happen next, I know I'm dumping my house in the next three months, if this job hangs on I'll ride it out and look for something elsewhere. And I told my mother again that this is how it is, and that I may be moving back to MD in a few months if I'm lucky, and if she wants to come along she needs to start thinking about a cold weather wardrobe. And my mother squealed, " I still have winter clothes! I have a winter coat!" So she's on board.

Oh, and the thing that happened last week but I didn't mention. I'm sitting in the salon waiting for my haircut last Sunday, and thumbing through Orlando Magazine - they still have their November issue up on the website so don't bother Googling yet - did a thing on "best doctors in town" as picked by other doctors, and who is in there as the definitive brain guy? My hero, the guy who took a power saw to my skull in February. "Internationally known" he is, with an awesome CV. How 'bout that? Something kept me conscious enough to ask for him - sheer stubbornness, I guess. Honestly, my vision went black, my knees buckled, and as I was falling to the floor this is an exact transcript of my thoughts:"Oh shit, something really bad just happened in my brain. Must get Dr. SL to fix it." I remember that part so clearly. And I kept asking for him, I know, I have enough memory of the weird in and out of consciousness time to remember that. And I never really had any doubt that he could fix it - sure, other things could go wrong and that's why I was worried about dying in surgery and such, shit does happen, but as for the actual brain thing, I had no doubt it would be put right. And it was.

And tomorrow will be a most interesting day, I think.

Irksome Commercial

Earthlink's extremely annoying ad for its high speed Internet: "...what you need to zip." Zip? Who the hell calls using the Internet "zipping"? But the annoyance really ratchets up when perky wife says this "all you need to zip" crap, and smug husband chimes in with "But of course, I do most of the zipping." Wifey says all cutely indignant: "Hey, I'm a really good zipper too!" He smugly says, "You'll learn."

Apparently Earthlink did extensive market research and chose as its target tiresome dipshits who call navigating the Internet "zipping" and think women are cutely inferior. I'm really not sure that this is a target market I'd be shooting for if I wanted to stay in business.