Geez it's been a couple of months. What can I say? I've been busy, y'all. Doing what? What on Earth could a 56 year old fairly recently remarried window mother of 4 grown kids POSSIBLY be busy doing? I mean seriously. I'm not even formally employed. Or apparently employable. A couple of years ago I threw my new resume out there into the proverbial wind. I got a few nibbles to which I enthusiastically responded but my enthusiasm was met with (what seemed to be) Oh. You're Old. I wanted to put on my resume', down at the bottom, something along the lines of "As a 56 year old woman, I will not be called by the schools to fetch sick children. I will not spend the day crying because my boyfriend didn't call yesterday. I will not be out 3 days a month due to menstrual cramps. I make excellent coffee and am not too highly educated to do it." But no. I'm 56. I have grey hair and occasionally swollen ankles. I am not a pretty piece of boobage to ornament the front desk and flirt with the clients. Never mind I can make them feel like their mother just gave them a hug and offer them the best coffee they'd had in a month.
Frustrated much? Naw. Not in the least. Nor is my ego damaged because of it. Their loss, not mine.
Which is slightly a lie. No one likes to be rejected.
So what HAVE I been doing? Well, The Boat came in. A fine piece of flats-floating work Capt named The Other Line (as in "Can't come to the phone right now, he's on The Other Line" get it? Huh? Get it? Haw!) So work has been proceeding on getting it fully equipped with all the ancillary stuff like tackle, EPIRB, life jackets, things, the Coast Guard insists on. Also figuring out the best places to fish. Other business stuff like cards, magnet things to go on the truck, getting a website (site has been bought but not yet established)...you know...the stuff of today's business environment.
Also...a lot of embroidery work...sort of.
And some reading, writing, cooking, gardening, general figuring out of "where do we want to go from here?" Capt's office is getting arranged. The desk needs sorting out and there's some boxes of stuff that don't have a home yet.
I'm trying to figure out my dog. Bless him. He refuses to let us know when he has to poop so we find it in assorted places in the house and that has resulted in a banishment to the outside. I hate that, but one can't have one's members of the household making deposits of the non-financial sort on the floor. The cat, on the other hand, is very smug about it all.
Food continues to be a source of stress. Capt has so little he can eat these days without upsetting his system in one way or another. For a person who's a committed foodie, that's more than just an inconvenience. It's having one of your favorite sources of pleasure removed, but knowing it's still there mocks you. Going to the grocery store used to be fun, now it's a minefield and very discouraging. He tells me I don't need to restrict my diet just because of him, but I'm not going to sit down and eat a giant Reuben in front of him, or a pizza, or any other thing he used to love but now can't eat for fear it will make him sick. How rude would that be?
Today? I'm trying to ignore the news. With a vodka cranberry.
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