This is why I should not make resolutions...

Here it is November and I have done very little of what I set out to do this year. As usual, life gets in the way. I am happy to say that I will be finishing school soon. I ended up not writing a thesis and took comps instead. It ended up being a better decision because I really need to finish up. If I wrote a thesis it would have likely dragged out until next spring because of the difficulty of finding an advisor and committee. I took comps last week and will hopefully hear soon that I passed.

I have yet to lose any significant amount of weight, but I did purchase a Fitbit to help me gain greater awareness of how much I am moving. I am quite the slug and this helps me to get more active. Hopefully once school it over I can concentrate more on getting back in shape.

Even though I have note done the things I set out to do I am still happy with how my year is progressing. Plans are good, but you need to be flexible too. That is what I am doing. My life is pretty good. 

The Good and the Bad

Some days are good and bad all at the same time. I have been happily anticipating an anniversary trip to California with my hubby. Today is my last day of work for the week. I also found out that I have been accepted to Rare Book School this summer which is also awesome. Today seemed like it would be a very good day.

Unfortunately I received some bad news. My mom's dog died today. Actually my mom had her put to sleep. I knew this day would come and have been dreading it for a long time. Any pet owner knows the deep sorrow that goes with losing your pet. Some people find it peculiar, but it really is like losing a human loved one. I still mourn for all of my pets. Still this one is more significant because Little Bit was my mom's last link to my dad. She was there with my mom while my dad died. She protected my father's body when the paramedics tried to touch  him. She would not leave his side. My mom finally had to lock her in the bathroom so they could get to him. Even then she threw herself against the door trying to get out.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that Little Bit saved my mom's life. She was there for mom when she suffered the blackest days after my dad passed. She was there for her when I could not be. She really was the sweetest little dog and my guff, tough daddy enjoyed and loved this little bit of fluff every bit as much as my mom. I lost something today too. Every time I saw this dog I was reminded of my dad, and the joy and comfort she has brought my mother since we lost him. She has been a wonderful companion for my grandmother as well.  I know she must be heartbroken as well. I will never be able to thank Little Bit enough for being a loving companion for my family.

Life can be so wonderful and terrible all at the same time. No matter how much I may want things to stay just  as they are life is always moving forward and nothing can live forever. It is cruel how much love and happiness our pets can give us only to have their lives be so much shorter than ours. Still I'd rather take the good with the bad instead of having nothing at all.

Climate change or not what we do still matters!

**This is a post I wrote quite some time ago and for some reason it did not get published. By the sound of it I was mad and probably did not hit the publish button**


I am so sick of all the haters out there. I happen to feel that climate change is real and is certainly influenced by humans. I can respect the fact that there are people do not believe this, but why are they so mean? I cannot understand those people who think it is some kind of liberal gibberish. This is not and should not be a political issue! Unfortunately I live in Virginia (wow, I never though I would feel bad about where I live), where our AG has decided to sue the EPA. How insane is that? We have much more important things to worry about than suing the EPA.

I do not care if you believe in climate change or not, whether you believe it is man made or not, the point should be why wouldn't we do all the things that many think will curb climate change. I for one do not want to be dependent on fossil fuels as we are now. I see no problem with trying to reduce the amount of pollution we spew into the air, ground, and water. We should recycle and reuse as much as we can because it is just the responsible thing to do. Not to mention doing much of this will save us money!

For all those people out there who espouse Christian beliefs and do not try to care for the world around them...shame on you! Creation care is a part of what we are suppose to do. God made this wonderful world for us and I dare say did not want us to remove mountain tops to get to the coal inside or to throw away so much plastic that it now is swirling around in the ocean in massive toxic fields. Being responsible for our impact on the environment is part our faith and it is a social justice issue. Taking of the environment means taking care of people too! Being a good steward of the environment means having a cleaner, healthier world for all.

Fifty years from now we may find that all our worries about climate change were unfounded, but I would rather do the right thing and treat the world around me with respect and do all I can to conserve and protect our resources. I will never understand why anyone wouldn't want to do that. It is just common sense. End rant

Life gets in the way...

Well so much for those goals I set for myself in January. They are unraveling, but I am not completely surprised. The biggest one is my goal of finishing school by August. I hate doing it, but I must accept that I will most likely not be able to complete my thesis and defend it by August. So I will graduate in December. Still I hope to be finished with everything well before then. The process is much more complicated that it was for my last thesis and there are too many points where I could get held up by other people. I am disappointed though.

As for my other goals, I have yet to write my grandmother, but I did send her flowers yesterday for her birthday. That is almost as good, but I will still write her. I have yet to lose any significant amount of weight, start running, or even post to my blog as often as I said I would. On that last point however I have been posting to blogs, just not this one. I have another blog I have to post on for a class and I also did a blog post for the Virginia Historical Society. In an odd way I am sort of doing better than anticipated for that goal.

It is good to have goals and I will still do my best to accomplish these. I just need to remember that sometimes life gets in the way I may have to make a few detours before I arrive at my destination. Overall things are good and for that I am glad.

Daddy's hands

     Over the holidays I attended the funeral service for one of my dear friend's father. He passed on Christmas day which was terribly sad. When she gave the eulogy though she said that only "very special people get to go to heaven on Christmas day." I really wish that she and her family did not have to go through that pain, but we will all go through it at some point. My heart, my thoughts, and my prayers will continue to go out to her as I know it will be awhile before life feels normal again.

     I was deeply moved by the memories she had of her father and it brought back some of my own. My dad died 12 years ago today. My friend talked about her father's hands and how they were the hands of a working man. I too think about my dad's hands. He was a farmer and a carpenter. He had big, strong, rough hands. Sometimes he had cuts or a blackened fingernail. They were often stained with iodine which he put on any wound. I loved those hands. He used to them to work, to build and create things as big as a house or as small as a doll cradle. He used those hands to rub a little girl's tummy when it hurt or massage out a leg cramp. He waved those hands around when he was talking. He used those hands to ride a horse, drive a tractor, shoot a gun, pet a dog, grade tobacco, fix a car, tickle his daughter, swing a hammer, chop wood, and pat his sons on the back or grab them by the scruff of the neck (whichever they deserved more). He used those hands to pick wildflowers for his wife and to help a friend in need. Those were marvelous hands, talented hands. Those hands built my loft bed and pulled me into a hug when I left for college. Those hands gave mine a squeeze to calm me as he walked me down the aisle the day I got married. I really miss those hands.

     Holly Dunn sang a song called "Daddy's Hands." The chorus goes like this:

Daddy's hands were soft and kind when I was cryin'

Daddy' hands were hard as steel when I'd done wrong

Daddy's hands weren't always gentle but I've come to understand

There was always love in daddy's hands.

     Those words sum up my dad's hands and I suspect the hands of many other fathers. If your father is still with you use your hands to give him a call or a hug. If he is not then use your hands to honor him by helping someone else. 

Love you daddy.

Hello 2013

So it is 2013 and I did not write a single post last year. I meant to, but of course I never quite got around to it. In a nut shell I was busy: school, MARAC, travel, and other obligations. I did manage to write a few entries in my paper journal when I was in Germany, but that was it. Since it is a new year and resolution time I thought I would set some goals for myself. Some should be easily obtainable and others not so much, but it will give me something to check out at the end of the year.

1. Write two blog posts a month.
2. Write a letter to my grandmother once a month.
3. Lose 50 pounds by the end of the year (this is a hard one).
4. Run a half marathon in Las Vegas in December 2013 (another hard one).
5. Get up at 7:00 am during the week (the hardest one of all for me).
6. Do the dishes every day.
7. Finish school by August (meaning get my thesis done).

I have some others, but I do believe this is plenty. Honestly I am good at setting goals, but not so good and seeing them through. The things I have to do I will, but things that focus on me are harder for me to reach.   These are actually tied together in some ways so maybe they will not be as hard as they seem. If I get up earlier then I will have more time to do things like exercise. I need to lose weight and training for a half marathon seems like a good way to reach my goal. I have run a half marathon before so I know I can do it. I am not exactly setting myself up for failure. I suppose come January 2014 I will see how I did. :Let the games begin!

Feeling better

After yesterday's post, I actually feel better. I think I just needed to articulate my feelings instead of having it as this vague, slightly unsettling notion rattling around in my head. Life is a journey and full of conflict. Without conflict life would be dull. I need to wrestle with these questions and feelings. It may take me a lifetime to figure it all out and I may never know the answers, but at least I will not have given up. Maybe I will even go to church this Sunday...assuming I can get my lazy arse out of bed.

Losing my religion

My apologies Mr. Stipe, I know you did not mean losing my religion literally, but I do. I find myself questioning my faith, or what little I have left daily. For someone who is unsure what to believe about God anymore, I spend an awful lot of time thinking about him/her. First I  must say I whole heartily endorse the teachings of Jesus. No matter how you feel about his divinity or religion in general, his teachings are a sound basis for anyone to build a life upon. I have never been a great lover of organized religion even though I have been a member of a Baptist church and the United Methodist Church. I was baptized at age 12 in a river behind the little church I attended as a child. While it was a very moving experience, I sometimes think I did it out of fear more than love. I feared what would happen to my soul if I died unbaptized, not necessarily out of a need to be born anew in God's love. Heavy stuff for a 12 year old. I always had an overactive imagination.

When I was younger than that I used to worry about what would happen if the Rapture happened and I was separated from my family. I don't even know how I got all these ideas in my head as my parents certainly did not put them there. Both were religious in there own way, but did not attend church. They tried to teach us kids that God was good and looking out for us. Some of my ideas came from the first church I attended as a small  child. It was a crazy little church just up the road from our house that my brothers and I sometimes attended. The pastor, who coincidentally was my school bus driver, was a sing-song, foaming-at-the-mouth, are-you-going-to-hell-or-heaven-if-you-die-tonight kind of minister. He was always hoarse because he yelled so much during his sermon. Needless to say at four years old being told that you are going to hell because you are a miserable sinner does make a wee bit of an impression. I did not tell my mom about this until I was an adult.

I have always felt that there must be something bigger out there. Something or someone who created all the magnificence I see on a daily basis. Our world, our bodies are some kind of miracle. Even so I have had a difficult time feeling that the God I have been told about all my life is the responsible party. There are so many things in the Bible that do not make sense to me. There is also the cliche, but no less relevant, thought of why do bad things happen to good people? There is war, famine, sickness, cruelty, and wanton destruction in our world. There are people who claim to be God-fearing, good people and yet they discriminate against and scorn others because they dare to love someone of the same sex, or because they had a baby out of wedlock or believe the world is older than 6,000 years. Christianity is supposes to be about tolerance, love, and compassion, but expressing such views in the eyes of some makes you some kind of raving liberal, socialist hippie. I do not think there is anything wrong with being a liberal, socialist, or hippie (except for dirty hippies, take a bath already!). I use to go to church regularly, but I have not been in months. I feel like a hypocrite walking through the doors. How can I worship God if I am not sure God exists?

I am confused and adrift. I see my friends posting things they are thankful for on Facebook and I am happy they have so many things to be thankful for. I have many great things in my life too, but I also feel a bit empty. I want to have faith, to believe, but in what? I still pray, but it feels hypocritical. I think it is healthy to question your faith and what you believe. No one should ever follow anything blindly. I try to console myself with the thought that I am not the first person to have these thoughts and I certainly will not be the last. I wish though I could a glimmer of light, something to hold on to that lets me know I do not walk through this life alone. I have family and friends who love and support me and that certainly helps. Perhaps they should be my religion. I will keep seeking, asking questions, and maybe I will find some answers, some peace. If I do I will put it out to the ether in hopes that some other lost soul finds it too.

Earthquake!

Since I never post as often I as I mean to or when there is news I decided to break the trend today. About an hour and half ago we had an earthquake here in Virginia. It was a 5.9 and is the biggest quake since 1897 here in VA. The epicenter was in Mineral, VA.  It was felt as far south as NC and as far north as Canada. In the grand scheme of things it is not that large of a quake, but it so rarely happens on the east coast. It is also crazy that it was felt over such a wide area.

I am at work in the library and thought at first something had burst in the basement. It was clear after a few seconds that it was more than that. I stayed in the doorway until it was over. It lasted about 30 seconds. A check of the archives and special collections revealed that everything stayed on the shelves. We only found a single journal that had fallen off a shelf. That is really good news. Now I just hope everything is ok at home and that the dog is not seriously traumatized!

Hotter than the sixth shades of hell!

I have uttered this phrase on occasion without really thinking about it. That is until someone said they had never heard it before, which made me wonder where I had heard it. I grew up hearing it said on especially hot days, but I cannot track it back to one person. I know that it refers to the 6th circle of hell in Dante's Inferno, but it has been years since I read it and I do not remember what that level was.  After a little research I found that this circle contains the City of Dis. On the plain outside the city are red hot iron tombs where the heretics dwell. These shades will never know respite from the flames.  Knowing that nugget of information I understand how the phrase came into use.

Since the heat index will be between 110-115 degrees, I think saying it is hotter than the sixth shades of hell is entirely appropriate today. All I can say is thank God for AC and don't forget to water you maters, pets, and old people! Seriously folks stay cool!

Chicken Feathers

Today is Father's Day. I miss my dad every single day, but it helps to remember all the good things. Today I thought about something I had not thought of in quite some time. When I was about four years old, we were getting ready to move from our apartment to the farm my parents had bought. The farm had a large barn with a tack room, which I thought was called a "tacker room" for some reason.

One evening I was with him when he painted the tack room doors. I really wanted to help so I went to find something I could use as a paint brush. There were a bunch of chicken feathers in the barn and I thought one would make a good brush. I grabbed the biggest one I could find and proceeded to dip it into the can of brown paint. Daddy was a bit worried about me helping because my mom might get upset if I came home covered in paint. I told him not to worry that if he held me up to the sink so I could wash my hands mom would never know! He let me help and we spent a pleasant evening with dad painting the doors while I "helped" by painting the bottom with my chicken feather. Of course I was not very careful and soon I was covered with splatters of brown paint.

When I was older we would laugh about this story. Mom said dad was worried about using turpentine to clean off my hands since I was so delicate. He did his best to clean me off with a rag and then we set off for home to face mom's wrath. Fortunately she found it more funny than foolish. She thought it was funny how I told daddy if he helped me wash up mom would never know.  I will always remember that. We did not spend a lot of time together one on one like that, but when we did it was very special. Even if it was doing something as mundane as painting some doors, dad with a broad even stroke, and me dabbing paint on with my chicken feather.  After he died, I went to the tack room and rubbed my hand over the flaking brown paint we had put on all those years ago and it made me smile.

Happy Father's Day, daddy. I love you.

Watch out for Falling Rocks

This has been rattling around in my head for awhile so I thought I would write a blog post about it. My dad died 10 years ago and there is not a day that goes by that I don't think about him. Recently I have been thinking about a story he used to tell me. Whenever we were driving somewhere and he saw the sign "Watch  for Falling Rock," he would tell me to look quick to see if I could see "him." The "him" was an old Indian named Falling Rock.

According to my father he was an Indian who was very upset by the mistreatment of the land by other people. He was a small, old man who lived in a hollow log and refused to participate in society. Instead he wandered around the mountains he loved so much. Whenever Falling Rock encountered a roadway where people had littered or polluted the surrounding area it would make the old man very angry. He got his revenge by pushing rocks down the slopes and into the road or possible at an offending car that had just thrown trash out the window. He might have been old, but he was strong and quick so it was very rare that someone actually caught a glimpse. Whenever he was spotted a sign went up to warn people to take care and be on their best behavior or else Falling Rock might send a boulder into the road.

Of course I would eagerly peer out the window to see if I could find him. Sometimes my dad would say he saw him and that I just needed to look harder. It was a great story to tell to a kid to keep them entertained in the truck. Not only that it taught me to be respectful of the land. I don't know if he made it up or heard it somewhere else, but I will always associate it with daddy. As an adult it helps me to understand him even more. My dad loved the outdoors and spent as much time as he could out either working in it or enjoying it. He wanted his children to appreciate the land. He was a farmer and he used the land as a tool, but he also cared for it and respected it. I doubt he would ever consider himself a "green person," but he certainly was an advocate and a conservationist long before our current trend of eco-awareness. I owe much of my awareness and awe of nature to him.

Every time I see a Falling Rock sign I think about my dad and have a little chuckle. Of course I cannot resist looking up the hill to see if a tiny wizened man is waiting to push rocks down on anyone who dares to disrespect the land.

Good Friday Earth Day

As is bound to happen sometimes, Easter holy days and Earth Day fall at the same time on the calendar. Today is both Good Friday and Earth Day. I find it very fitting since these evoke feelings in me about two ideas I care very much about, but that I struggle with. I care very deeply about the environment and taking care of it. Threaded throughout this desire is the idea that this lovely world was created and given to us by God. We are suppose to care for it as God does, not destroy it. God created it so therefore it must be good.

The conflict for me comes from my inability to be as "green" as I should be and also my conflicting feelings about religion. I go from atheist to true believer and then somewhere in between constantly. I think it is good to question your beliefs and analyze why you feel the way you do. I think there is a God or some divine being, otherwise I cannot fathom how this world got here. The rational part of my brain says there has to be a reasonable explanation, whether I know it or not, that does not include any divine intervention. Yet there is something that tugs at me saying there has to be something else, a guiding force. I find no problem in following the teachings of Jesus whether you believe in him or not since I feel if everyone lived the way he did, the world would be a much better place. A philosophy of love and compassion can never be a bad thing.

This is why I tie my love of the earth to a sense of religious obligation to protect and care for it. Whether I am right or wrong on the whole religion thing I suppose I will find out when I die. In the meantime I see nothing wrong with living in harmony with our planet and trying to protect it. If there is a God who created this magnificent world then I would think God would want us to take care of it and not abuse it  and by extension to take care of and not abuse our fellow humans. After all we are a part of this creation too, we are tied to it and cannot live without it. The Earth however can survive very well without us, she has in the past and will most likely survive and thrive without us in the future.

So on this Good Friday and Earth Day, I will reexamine my commitment to green living and contemplate the sacrifice Jesus made on the cross. I think he died to redeem all of creation and we should honor that by living the best life we can.

Bird's the word

I saw an interesting sight on my way to work this morning. As I was stuck in slow traffic moving up the hill toward Broad Street I saw a huge bird sweep low and then land on top of a traffic sign. It was a hawk. He was large and handsome. I thought it was a treat to see such a bird up close. He was perched very nonchalantly scouting the ground below. Suddenly another bird came swooping out of a nearby tree right at the hawk. It was a much smaller bird. It flitted around the hawk and then back to the tree and then repeated the maneuver.

At first I thought it was a blue jay since they can be quite territorial and I thought it would be up to the task of taking on a hawk. As I inched up the hill I could see it was not a blue jay. I took note of its markings. When I got to work I checked and I believe it was a Northern Mockingbird. Apparently this bird will take on a bird that is encroaching in its territory. Even though it was not a laughing matter for the birds, it made me laugh to see this bird take on the much more fearsome hawk. It is one of the few times I wish I had been stuck in traffic longer.

Auld Lang Syne

It has been a bit of a rough year, but it could have been worse. In the end I am thankful for my family and friends who have held me through the worst of it. My hubby has been amazing and more than I could ever ask for. I finally found a job in November working as an archivist. It is only for a year, but I feel very fortunate to have the chance to work for the institution that I am and that I found employment at all. I also started back to school (again), but I am really excited. I am working toward my Information Science degree (read Library Science). I think it will be most useful for me.

I have a roof over my head, food in my belly, and people who care about me. I could not ask for more. Thank you Lord for the blessings in my life. Another year has passed and I am still alive and thriving. I could not ask for more...well maybe world peace and an end to hunger and disease, but I suppose I should not be greedy ;-)

A new year is always an exciting proposition. Anything can happen, but it all begins with me. I hope this is the year that I can make a difference. No it is not all about me, but I hope that I can help someone else even in the smallest way. Then I will know that I have not lived in vain...even if all I do is make someone giggle and forget their troubles for an instant. It will have been worth it all. Happy new year!

St. Nick and bear traps

I have not been in the decorating mood for the past 3 Christmases. My sole decoration this year was to buy a Febreze luminary that has snowman on it. However I enjoy reminiscing about decorating when I was a kid. We always put the Christmas tree up on Thanksgiving day. We did this partly because my mom loved Christmas and liked to have the tree up early and also because she was home from work long enough to do it. My best memories though are of when I was young enough to still believe in the magic of Santa.

I realize now as an adult that my family had some quirky traits (as I am sure all families do), but it did not seem strange at all then. We always opened our presents on Christmas Eve. Since Santa had so many children to visit he came to see us early. My mom usually had to work on Christmas Eve, but the store closed early and she was home by about 7:00. While we were waiting for my mom to get home, my dad would pile my brothers and me in his truck to go visit Sam and Mary. They were very good friends of my dad and I always thought of them as my adopted grandparents. We would visit with them and give them a gift. I would bounce around their living room peering out the window for Old Saint Nick. Sam and Mary would usually say they had heard on the news that he had been spotted around Roanoke. I loved seeing them, but it always felt like we were there forever. Finally daddy would say it was time to go home.

On the way home he would take the long way around the river and I thought I would die before we got home. Once we arrived though my brothers and I would find presents under the tree from Santa. He had come while we were gone! Mom always had a great story to tell about his visit.

Now I should mention that in the days leading up to Christmas that my dad would tease me as was his way. He would tell me that he was going to let all the dogs loose to keep Santa from getting to our house. We had plot hounds who were wonderful animals, but also were bred to hunt. I was terrified that the dogs would attack the reindeer. Daddy would also hint that he was putting out some bear traps on the roof to catch Rudolph. I would beg him not to scare off Santa or to trap the deer. I made sure to put out treats for the reindeer along with the cookies so that Santa and the reindeer would have some incentive to dodge my dad's traps.

While we looked in awe at our gifts, my mom would tell us that when she got home that she needed to take a quick shower. When she was in the shower she heard the dogs going nuts, barking and howling outside. She'd jump out of the shower, throw on a robe, and dash outside to find Rambler (one of our most fearsome dogs) tugging on Santa's pant leg trying to stop him from getting in the house. Santa was prepared though and would throw out a huge bone to distract the dog. Then quick as wink he would wish my mom Merry Christmas and leave our gifts for us. He would stay long enough for a cookie and to take the celery and carrots to the reindeer. Santa, who had managed to dodge all my dad's obstacles, would get back in his sleigh and the reindeer would take off with the dogs nipping at their heels. Every year during my "Santa years," we would have some variation on this story and every year I believed it!

I, of course, would turn to my dad all smug and tell him that nothing he could do could keep Santa from coming. Dad would grumble and say he'd get him next year. We would then eat shrimp, open presents, and have a wonderful time. Of course my brother were older than me and were past believing in Santa, but they kept up the charade for my benefit and I suspect they enjoyed it as much as anyone.

Those years of belief were short and before long I outgrew Santa. The season was still wonderful and special, but it lost a bit of its magic. I miss the stories my parents concocted to explain Santa's visit. I'm sure some people would be shocked at my dad's way of "teasing," but that was the way he was. He did not show a lot of emotion, but I think he loved Christmas as much as any of us and I'll never forget how he tried to "catch" Santa.

9:30 in the a.m.

I am actually up, thought not necessarily awake, at 9:30 on a Tuesday. Why is this so strange? Well, I have been out of work for nearly two months now and I have become something of a night owl. I much prefer being up at night even though I have "sleep issues." I have been looking for a new job and keeping busy with graduate school and other odds and ends. I hope that very soon I will have a new job. I have my phone glued to me this week in hopes that I will receive some good news. In the meantime, I think I might go read...in bed. It is very dreary outside and even though I did make the effort to get up, I still am sleepy. I should exercise, but I am not quite up for it just yet. Maybe in a couple of hours...

RIP Tess

Tess (aka Tessie, Tess-Tess, Tesser, Mrs. Tesserson, Mrs. T., Birdie, Bitchly, Queenie, Mrs. Tessie the Christmas Poodle, etc.) departed from this life today. She died in the arms of Mimi Carolyn who was so graciously taking care of her while Tyler and went out of town. We are so very glad that she was able to spend her final days with Carolyn and Ralph who loved her as much as we did. Tess was such a peculiar dog and did not take to people right away. She was abused early in her life so that probably had a lot to do with it. However, once she took to you she loved you. She loved to curl up in your lap and snuggle, always ran to the pantry when it opened expecting a treat, and drove us crazy splashing in her water dish. She was a sweet little dog and I will miss her terribly.

While my guitar gently weeps...

My wonderful husband bought me an acoustic Yamaha FG700S for Christmas. It is so lovely, the flattop is a marvelous mellow yellow with beautiful curving side, and great action for someone with tiny hands. Can I play it...absolutely not! However I am working to remedy that problem. Today I took the first steps. I went to my friend Libby's house and she showed me a couple of things and tomorrow I get to meet her instructor. I hope to line him up for some lessons.

I need this right now. Even though I continue to giggle, I feel like it is hollow. I never intended to write so much about my job woes, but here I am again. Our board met last week and on Monday seven of my coworkers were let go. I also found out that the hiring freeze is still in effect and our CEO is not inclined to look for grants that would continue to fund me and my cohort. So, in three months I am out on my substantial arse. I knew it was most likely going to happen, yet that did not make it any easier. I have been twisting in the wind for seven months knowing that my funding was ending, yet still under the illusion that a position might open up or that we might get new grant funding. I now know that was a false hope and that I need to awake to reality.

How did I deal with this? Well, I got good and drunk on Monday while cleaning my office. It was a pity party for one that let me get out all of my emotions, while at the same time I attempted to define a space for me to hunker down in and find a new job. Drinking and cleaning do not mix, but it served its purpose. I have not purged all the demons, but I am now more focused and have a plan of action for the coming weeks. In the meantime, I hope to amuse myself and dervert my anxiety by learning to play guitar. Music may not always be a substitute for tears as Paul Simon so eloquently sang, but it can sometime soothe the savage beast, or in this case, soothe the anxious and aching heart.

How ironic...

I just read my last post, which was almost a month ago and I am still working on the same collection! So much for being close to done. Although this time we actually are really close...I hope.

Still no job news. I am counting down the days till the board meeting in hope that something good will happen there and the hiring freeze will be lifted. In the meantime. I have applied for one job and I am looking at a couple of others to apply for this week. None of them are ideal, but beggars cannot be choosers.

On a brighter note, I was able to eat lettuce out of my garden today. That was really great.