Did you ever go through one of those periods in your life where everything was just humming along smoothly? When going forward through each day required only the maintenance of keeping up momentum, rather than the grind up an uphill climb? When things just fell into place the way you expected them to, with a little gentle guidance, sure, but without manhandling or other use of force?
Yeah, me neither.
I was, however, starting to see the faintest of grooves forming in the road before me. Not ruts (it's a testament to the insanity of my life that the phrase "stuck in a rut" sounds to my ears like the blissful siren call of heaven), but the sort of groove a person might be able to ... find. A rhythm to my days and weeks that was almost comfortable, or at least not anxiety-provoking.
Then, on Friday (the 13th, no less) the Hubby's father dropped dead. He had a massive heart attack while he was just going about the business of his day. He was almost 68.
The Hubby and I flew to Oklahoma City for the funeral. The kids stayed at the house with my mom, who was nice enough to drop everything for that, and to tolerate bed partners of the feline and canine persuasion to boot. I came home Thursday and the Hubby Friday, so we've had some days for things to return to normal now.
But I just can't get back in the groove. I can't quite remember where I thought it was, and when I think I catch a glimpse, if I turn to look, I find I was imagining it. Of course, it's possible that I always was imagining it. I certainly wish I'd find it.
At any rate, NaBloPoMo is certainly a bust. I'd still like to get back to posting more regularly and more often, but we'll see where the holiday season takes us.
Jan
Monday, November 23, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
Wait, who now?
The Munchkin's school is having a Very Special Veteran's Day Assembly tomorrow and each class has been asked to contribute something to it. Her class is making a poster filled with red and blue construction paper stars, each with a picture of a veteran related to/known by the kindergartner.
So this morning before school, I photocopied several pictures, cut them out and pasted them onto stars. The Hubby comes from a military family, so we had five: The Hubby (Navy, Gulf War), his dad (retired Navy, Vietnam War), his step-dad (retired Navy, Vietnam and Gulf Wars), his grandpa (Navy, World War II) and his brother (Marines, Iraq War).
Before I sent the Munchkin off with the stars, I wanted to make sure she knew who all the pictures were of, just in case there was a presenting-to-the-class element to this project. She correctly identified her daddy, in spite of the fact that he is now twice as old as he was in his service picture. She recognized the grandpa who lives in Oklahoma (which I didn't expect) and didn't know her uncle (who we don't see much of) or the Hubby's grandpa (who died long before she was born). I was sure she'd know the other grandpa; he was here on a visit not 3 months ago, and is a favorite.
I asked her to identify the man in the photo. I could tell by the look on her face that he was familiar. She knew she should know, but ...
Guess #1 (with confidence): Barack Obama
Um, not so much. We, the Hubby and I, both come from the white breadiest white bread stock you could imagine.
Guess #2 (grasping at straws now): Abraham Lincoln?
She didn't like it when I laughed, but hoo boy, did I laugh. And, out of respect for her feelings, went upstairs and closed the door before I called her daddy and shared the hilarity with him.
Kids are awesome.
--Jan
So this morning before school, I photocopied several pictures, cut them out and pasted them onto stars. The Hubby comes from a military family, so we had five: The Hubby (Navy, Gulf War), his dad (retired Navy, Vietnam War), his step-dad (retired Navy, Vietnam and Gulf Wars), his grandpa (Navy, World War II) and his brother (Marines, Iraq War).
Before I sent the Munchkin off with the stars, I wanted to make sure she knew who all the pictures were of, just in case there was a presenting-to-the-class element to this project. She correctly identified her daddy, in spite of the fact that he is now twice as old as he was in his service picture. She recognized the grandpa who lives in Oklahoma (which I didn't expect) and didn't know her uncle (who we don't see much of) or the Hubby's grandpa (who died long before she was born). I was sure she'd know the other grandpa; he was here on a visit not 3 months ago, and is a favorite.
I asked her to identify the man in the photo. I could tell by the look on her face that he was familiar. She knew she should know, but ...
Guess #1 (with confidence): Barack Obama
Um, not so much. We, the Hubby and I, both come from the white breadiest white bread stock you could imagine.
Guess #2 (grasping at straws now): Abraham Lincoln?
She didn't like it when I laughed, but hoo boy, did I laugh. And, out of respect for her feelings, went upstairs and closed the door before I called her daddy and shared the hilarity with him.
Kids are awesome.
--Jan
Sunday, November 8, 2009
I promise not to do this every weekend in November
I was just minding my own business, almost asleep, when it hit me.
So here I am, squeaking another one under the wire.
-- Jab
So here I am, squeaking another one under the wire.
-- Jab
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
Write, right, rite, right?
Four months into it, I'm finally getting around to putting together a please-hire-me document (formerly known as a resume, but now apparently my marketing profile or some such thing).
It's HARD. I got pretty complacent in my last job. It was interesting sometimes, sure, but the real pull for me was (a) the paycheck and (b) the flexibility. This does not lend itself well to bullet points on a marketing profile.
Furthermore, I'm attempting a bit of a career shift. Eventually I'd really really love to build websites on a freelance basis, but I've got some learnin' to do before that's realistic and we do have these pesky bills that insist on coming in every.single.month. My severance package was generous, but it ain't gonna last forever. So for now I'm hoping to get some part-time work as a technical writer. This means I'm having to completely reframe my work experience from a writing perspective.
Like I said, hard. (The irony of me complaining about the difficulties of writing this document that will enable me to get paid to ... uh ... write documents, it is not lost on me.)
All this is to say that today? Today, I'm all write-ed out. My brain is refusing to contemplate putting together any more of the words for the reading by the other people.
The end.
--Jan
It's HARD. I got pretty complacent in my last job. It was interesting sometimes, sure, but the real pull for me was (a) the paycheck and (b) the flexibility. This does not lend itself well to bullet points on a marketing profile.
Furthermore, I'm attempting a bit of a career shift. Eventually I'd really really love to build websites on a freelance basis, but I've got some learnin' to do before that's realistic and we do have these pesky bills that insist on coming in every.single.month. My severance package was generous, but it ain't gonna last forever. So for now I'm hoping to get some part-time work as a technical writer. This means I'm having to completely reframe my work experience from a writing perspective.
Like I said, hard. (The irony of me complaining about the difficulties of writing this document that will enable me to get paid to ... uh ... write documents, it is not lost on me.)
All this is to say that today? Today, I'm all write-ed out. My brain is refusing to contemplate putting together any more of the words for the reading by the other people.
The end.
--Jan
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Rain, rain, go away
I know people who see themselves as separate from nature. I am not one of those people.
I don't just mean that I like to be outside (which I do) or that I prefer things in their natural state (sometimes: rivers and mountains, yes; legs and armpits, not so much). I mean my state. Of mind. Of existence, even. I'd love to able to separate my moods and energy from the passing of the seasons, but I've never managed it.
I live in a part of the world where the amount of daylight in each 24 hour period varies pretty widely. Not Arctic Circle widely, but in summer it's dark less than 7 hours a night and in winter the night stretches from around 4:30 p.m. to nearly 8 the next morning.
I've often claimed I was (or maybe just wished I were) a hibernating creature. Winter makes me want to curl up in bed with nothing more strenuous than some chick lit or the tv remote and wait for better days. And unfortunately, this one time of year that I need it the most, exercise has less than zero appeal for me. A long winter's nap seems much more appropriate.
Of course life does not screech to a grinding halt between November and March, so I muddle through. I take a vitamin D supplement and force myself to be active. I compromise with my body's fervent desire for all-sleep-all-the-time and try to get at least 8 hours a night. And I ingest jumbo-size portions of caffeine. Finally, after 40 years of living in the coffee capital of the world, I've succumbed. There's nothing quite like a double-shot nonfat latte to fool me into thinking I do, in fact, have enough energy to walk down to the corner to retrieve my mail or play one more rousing game of Hullabaloo.
But today .... today is adding insult to injury. Yesterday I may have risen reluctantly at 6:30 in the dark, but 11 a.m. saw me out for a walk in the sunshine with my Little Dude. I eagerly drank in the natural D and went on to a reasonably productive afternoon. Today, though, Seattle is determined to support the cliched images of itself. That's right, rain. Solid, steady, unending. The sky is barely distinguishable from the pavement, either in color or moisture saturation. It's mid-day and I know there's more light at 10 pm on a sunny summer night.
I'll trudge up the hill toward the winter solstice, mostly because I don't have any other choice. But I'm counting down the days (46), and counting on a few more like yesterday to make it through.
--Jan
I don't just mean that I like to be outside (which I do) or that I prefer things in their natural state (sometimes: rivers and mountains, yes; legs and armpits, not so much). I mean my state. Of mind. Of existence, even. I'd love to able to separate my moods and energy from the passing of the seasons, but I've never managed it.
I live in a part of the world where the amount of daylight in each 24 hour period varies pretty widely. Not Arctic Circle widely, but in summer it's dark less than 7 hours a night and in winter the night stretches from around 4:30 p.m. to nearly 8 the next morning.
I've often claimed I was (or maybe just wished I were) a hibernating creature. Winter makes me want to curl up in bed with nothing more strenuous than some chick lit or the tv remote and wait for better days. And unfortunately, this one time of year that I need it the most, exercise has less than zero appeal for me. A long winter's nap seems much more appropriate.
Of course life does not screech to a grinding halt between November and March, so I muddle through. I take a vitamin D supplement and force myself to be active. I compromise with my body's fervent desire for all-sleep-all-the-time and try to get at least 8 hours a night. And I ingest jumbo-size portions of caffeine. Finally, after 40 years of living in the coffee capital of the world, I've succumbed. There's nothing quite like a double-shot nonfat latte to fool me into thinking I do, in fact, have enough energy to walk down to the corner to retrieve my mail or play one more rousing game of Hullabaloo.
But today .... today is adding insult to injury. Yesterday I may have risen reluctantly at 6:30 in the dark, but 11 a.m. saw me out for a walk in the sunshine with my Little Dude. I eagerly drank in the natural D and went on to a reasonably productive afternoon. Today, though, Seattle is determined to support the cliched images of itself. That's right, rain. Solid, steady, unending. The sky is barely distinguishable from the pavement, either in color or moisture saturation. It's mid-day and I know there's more light at 10 pm on a sunny summer night.
I'll trudge up the hill toward the winter solstice, mostly because I don't have any other choice. But I'm counting down the days (46), and counting on a few more like yesterday to make it through.
--Jan
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Back when I was juggling an almost-full-time job with kids and a husband and a house and rentals and sleep and the occasional moment to myself, I just knew that if I just had a few more hours in the day, I'd be dead on organized. My cleaning tasks would be performed on a regularly rotating basis. Bills would be paid exactly on time, with all appropriate discounts and rebates and bargains taken advantage of. Every meal would be home made from ingredients purchased at a deep discount during the loss-leader sales I'd have meticulously tracked on spreadsheets. I'd send birthday cards and gifts (handmade and/or procured on sale, natch) on time and our own lives would be creatively documented in both scrapbook and video form.
Laughing yet? Go ahead, I'll wait while you finish.
Done? Moving on then.
I'll be honest. If back in June you told me I'd be writing a post like this in November, I'd have thought it was a joke. Or have stuck my head in the oven and turned it on. At that time I figured I'd have my whole life figured out by mid-August at the latest.
Beginning June 30 of this year when I was made redundant by my employer of nearly 10 years, I got a chance to test my theories. They (as you knew they would) failed. Miserably.
Actually, miserably is maybe not the best word for it. Because we, the kids and I, were far from miserable. We did summer vacation up right this summer, going to the beach and the park and playing in the pool and visiting friends and doing art projects and generally ignoring virtually all household duties. We lay around in our pajamas until noon. We went to IHOP for dinner. We wore swimsuits for a week and watched Schoolhouse Rock until the Preamble began to invade our dreams. (That last one might have just been me.)
All good things must come to an end. Summer ended, school started, I was still unemployed and I began to tumble to the fact that all those extra tasks were not going to magically begin performing themselves just because 19% of my week was no longer spent sitting at a desk writing test cases and constructing complex class inheritances.
It's taken some time, but finally I'm beginning to find a groove. I've let go of the fantasy of perfection but am working toward something better than I was able to manage before. I've got a realistic chore list -- one with a snowball's chance in hell of being accomplished and that doesn't tumble like a house of cards if I spend 20 minutes consoling a Little Dude who can't understand why kindergarten is not available to the almost-4 set.
The kids have chores and a system to prompt them. It's not a perfect system, but it is in place and they do follow it pretty well. I'm even beginning to make use of the task list feature on my Palm in a useful way. In the past I've brain-dumped a list of everything I should be doing, gave every single one a totally unrealistic deadline, then spent the next 6 months avoiding the task list completely as more and more items showed that I'd missed the deadline. I'm my own best critic, believe me; I don't need a machine to enumerate all the things I fail to do in a timely manner. Instead, now I'm thoughtfully assessing my available time and adding tasks accordingly. I've listed tasks instead of whole projects. And I've listed the things that are regular parts of life, since they take up time and need to be factored in.
Don't get me wrong -- I'm still way 'behind'. I've got a current list of things that are so far past 'due' that I'd be embarrassed to have anyone find out about them (and no, I won't be sharing them here). There are still things that I intended to do when we moved into this house almost 2 years ago. And every day I think of new jobs and errands that I'd like to be making time for. But the I'd-be-embarrassed list is shorter now than it was a month ago. And I no longer feel like I'm getting deeper and deeper into the hole with each passing day. If a neighbor stops by unexpectedly, I don't have to pretend we were burgled.
I'm still prone to what I call magical thinking. When the kids are both in school, I tell myself, I'll really be able to streamline. And I don't know what will happen if and when I manage to get a paying gig. But for now, at least I'm not drowning. I may be only treading water some days, but other days I make slow progress toward shore and occasionally I can even feel the pull of the tide headed in the right direction.
--Jan
Laughing yet? Go ahead, I'll wait while you finish.
Done? Moving on then.
I'll be honest. If back in June you told me I'd be writing a post like this in November, I'd have thought it was a joke. Or have stuck my head in the oven and turned it on. At that time I figured I'd have my whole life figured out by mid-August at the latest.
Beginning June 30 of this year when I was made redundant by my employer of nearly 10 years, I got a chance to test my theories. They (as you knew they would) failed. Miserably.
Actually, miserably is maybe not the best word for it. Because we, the kids and I, were far from miserable. We did summer vacation up right this summer, going to the beach and the park and playing in the pool and visiting friends and doing art projects and generally ignoring virtually all household duties. We lay around in our pajamas until noon. We went to IHOP for dinner. We wore swimsuits for a week and watched Schoolhouse Rock until the Preamble began to invade our dreams. (That last one might have just been me.)
All good things must come to an end. Summer ended, school started, I was still unemployed and I began to tumble to the fact that all those extra tasks were not going to magically begin performing themselves just because 19% of my week was no longer spent sitting at a desk writing test cases and constructing complex class inheritances.
It's taken some time, but finally I'm beginning to find a groove. I've let go of the fantasy of perfection but am working toward something better than I was able to manage before. I've got a realistic chore list -- one with a snowball's chance in hell of being accomplished and that doesn't tumble like a house of cards if I spend 20 minutes consoling a Little Dude who can't understand why kindergarten is not available to the almost-4 set.
The kids have chores and a system to prompt them. It's not a perfect system, but it is in place and they do follow it pretty well. I'm even beginning to make use of the task list feature on my Palm in a useful way. In the past I've brain-dumped a list of everything I should be doing, gave every single one a totally unrealistic deadline, then spent the next 6 months avoiding the task list completely as more and more items showed that I'd missed the deadline. I'm my own best critic, believe me; I don't need a machine to enumerate all the things I fail to do in a timely manner. Instead, now I'm thoughtfully assessing my available time and adding tasks accordingly. I've listed tasks instead of whole projects. And I've listed the things that are regular parts of life, since they take up time and need to be factored in.
Don't get me wrong -- I'm still way 'behind'. I've got a current list of things that are so far past 'due' that I'd be embarrassed to have anyone find out about them (and no, I won't be sharing them here). There are still things that I intended to do when we moved into this house almost 2 years ago. And every day I think of new jobs and errands that I'd like to be making time for. But the I'd-be-embarrassed list is shorter now than it was a month ago. And I no longer feel like I'm getting deeper and deeper into the hole with each passing day. If a neighbor stops by unexpectedly, I don't have to pretend we were burgled.
I'm still prone to what I call magical thinking. When the kids are both in school, I tell myself, I'll really be able to streamline. And I don't know what will happen if and when I manage to get a paying gig. But for now, at least I'm not drowning. I may be only treading water some days, but other days I make slow progress toward shore and occasionally I can even feel the pull of the tide headed in the right direction.
--Jan
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