Month: October 2012

Don't Wake Up In Kansas

My mother lives on Long Island (My accent changes when I speak to her but that may be another post.) Last week, she said ‘a storm is brewing, but it won’t be as bad as a hurricane.’  Today, I awoke to news reports of the East Coast closing off and shutting down.  I got worried.  Part of me wanted to be back there (it happens occasionally), stocking up on batteries and board games like everyone else. As a kid, storms and power-outages were fun for me.   A break from routine.  The radio and ghost stories.  In shadows, but happy.  Even my parents were nice to each other, as I went from one house to the other during a particularly bad storm.  I remember Dad had electricity, Mom didn’t. Anyway, good times. Now, I worry a little more. I called my mother earlier tonight, to see if she was prepared for Hurricane Sandy. ‘They closed the roads, the tunnels, everything.  The lights are flickering.  But I’ve got the flashlight and the radio.  I’m good.  If it gets wild up here, I can go downstairs.  Or I’ll go to bed.’ ‘Just don’t wake up in Kansas,’ I said. ‘That’ll be one way to fix up the house.’ And so, dear readers, don’t wake up in Kansas.  Unless you live there.  East coasters, stay there and stay safe.  And play a...

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Please Stay Tuned

Some of you may remember Coffeegate 2011.  Well, it’s become an annual event.  Earlier this week, I picked up my coffee with my left hand.  And promptly dropped it.  On my computer.  Again.  Maybe it was the weight of my engagement ring.  Or maybe it’s because I am seriously not left-handed.  At all.  Ever. Anyway, the screen went black and coffee seeped between the keys before I could switch it off and flip it upside down.  I know what to do.  I’m a pro.  Obviously not. I even tried to pull the battery out.  But it was stuck.  Probably held there by the left-over sugar from last time.  It was then I realised we’d run out of paper-towels, and so I had to use a touristy dish-towel.  It was decidedly non-absorbent and had a touristy poem on it.  Fail. I then texted Sarge.  Not because I needed help.  But because he needed to know that his future wife is a moron.  He didn’t get the message.  I heard his phone go off in the bedroom.  He was at work.  Maybe he’s a moron sometimes, too.  We’re good for each other. I updated Facebook on my phone, babbling about how much I need my own working laptop at the moment.  Because I do.  NaNoWriMo is coming up, the OU is online.  And then there’s the job-hunt.  Did I mention I...

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Little Boxes

I don’t have a day-job at the moment.  Every Monday, I have to go to down to the Jobcentre and report on what I’ve done to ‘look for work’.  Last week, my ‘activity’ equaled 36 hours.  This week’s projection is also 36.  That’s a full-time job. For me, this involves drinking coffee while clicking through more than 6 job-sites, looking for the magic words, ‘please send CV and cover letter to’: someone who is probably younger than me at Shehasajobandyoudon’tdotcom. Actually, those are easy.  Because I have a CV and can write damn good letters.  It’s the forms that get me.  Especially the ones online where you get timed out after let’s see, 6 minutes and thirty nine seconds.  That doesn’t even cover my email address.  Because it’s really long.  I also have a long employment history.  Because I’m older than some of the people hopefully reading my application.  And I’ve worked at a lot of places for little or no money.  Yes, that counts. I could copy and paste.  But the only thing I hate more than full online applications is screwy formatting.  This over here is bold, this is in 8point and this is text-wrapped.  Obviously not too tight.  Cover it up.  Go away.  This is the point where I step away from the computer and watch Modern Family.  Or a movie with lots of hyphenated curses...

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Do You Read Naked?

On Monday, I finished Where’d You Go Bernadette, which was my 43rd book of the year and my 701st listed  on Goodreads.  And it really needs a question mark at the end.  Because questions without question marks annoy me. As well as a grammatically incorrect title, it was the first hardcover book I’ve read in a while.  I read it naked.  Smooth and unadorned.  The book, not me.  I find book jackets flappy and useless, and lose them quickly.  On purpose. Nobody trusts me with book jackets.  Which is why I prefer paperbacks.  Less fuss. Anyway, I was online a few weeks ago, looking to order the book group book.  Which I already own, but can’t find.  I’ve moved seven times since I read Ask the Dust for the first time.  It isn’t in a our sixty-four book shelves/two cases in the living room.  It isn’t in the hallway with my old textbooks.  So, I bought it.  I might have bought Bernadette, too.  Because online shopping isn’t really shopping. Lately, I read in bed at night.  Sometimes, I get to the middle of a book and read right to the end.  If not, I must have a spent train ticket to use as a bookmark.  I used to have real bookmarks, but then I got beyond the age of ten.  And I don’t have kids yet, so I won’t...

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Back To School. In My Pajamas.

In an effort to get a little closer to the dream described in this post, I’m going back to school.  Well, I’m not actually going anywhere.  The course is online.  But I will be reading, studying, using highlighters, making notes, writing essays, drinking coffee and possibly pulling my hair out like any other student.  The difference is, I can do it all in my pajamas. I will carry this through to certification, but it remains to be seen whether or not I’ll do the whole thing online.  I know I’ll have to get dressed at some point, unless I want to be one of those therapists that specialise in cuddle parties.  Which I don’t. But for now, I’ll be doing an Introduction to Counselling course with the Open University.  In my house. Now.  This is third time I  will be going for a degree/that damn piece of paper. The first time, I had too much fun and the second time was no fun at all.  Well, maybe once or twice. Safe to say, I wasn’t ready and my experiences back then will eventually make me a better counsellor when I get to be one. Moving on. Since I plan to succeed this time, I need a plan. I got my course materials last week and since then I’ve been thinking about a few things. I need a study space. ...

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