All The Hoopla!

So, after months of submitting applications, interviews, and waiting around, I have finally been blessed with a job.

Not that I haven’t already had one, and despite the small number of hours I had, I was grateful for having anything at all. Seriously. Life wasn’t great or easy trying to find a way to survive on less than a thousand dollars per month. We managed, as long as no one used any water, turned on any lights, or, heaven forbid, crank the thermostat all the way up to 63 degrees for more than 15 minutes. The economy is not kind to women my age and education level, believe me. But still, I was thankful for what I had.

Gratitude aside, I needed more hours. The stress from worrying about where we’d find the money to pay important bills (see aforementioned lights, water, heat) and put food on the table, was beginning to have some extremely detrimental effects on the denizens of Chez Chaos.

When we got home that afternoon, I was telling Killer about the crappy day I’d had at work. The kids were rude and seemed to enjoy saying extremely hurtful things, not only to each other, but to me as well. Ok, not exactly TO me, but when you say it loudly to your friends while I’m in earshot, and it’s about me? Well, you do the math, ‘k?

Truly, I felt beaten down. Earlier that morning, I’d called HR about one of the interviews and learned that I’d been turned down for that position. Then there was the name calling (“don’t worry about recess duty, she’s too fat to catch us!”). With the results of only one other interview still not done, and one last application that had not yet been screened, I was running out of options. Fast.

While I was spilling my guts (and tears) to Killer, the phone rang and Bubba answered it. Hurried footfalls approached the office and he handed me the phone saying, “It’s for you and it sounds official.”

It was my favorite HR rep calling to offer me a job. I honestly cannot tell you who was happier about that. Me, HR Angel, Killer, or the offspring.

Full time. This will include benefits. It will also mean a year-round paycheck. It is also as permanent as I can get right now. As long as my assignment stays within the district, I will have a job.

To tell you I’m relieved is akin to saying the surface of the sun is warm. Major understatement.

There was much rejoicing, dancing, hugging, and more than a few phone calls and text messages flying about. Killer and I are going to celebrate by attending the Elder’s Ball on Saturday AND having dinner at the event as well. Our original plans were to set up the decorations, go sit in the car with our sandwiches from home, then when it was time, we’d go in for the dance (which would have been a HUGE splurge for us at thirty dollars).

We’ve also decided we can turn the thermostat up to 65 for five hours every afternoon. Also? I get a new bra! One that actually does something other than chafes my shoulders.

And? Here’s the big one, folks, we can take a big sigh of relief. Don’t get me wrong, we’re not going to be rolling in money, but you know that washing machine? We’ll be able to replace it BEFORE February! Woo-hoo!

Killer is also thrilled that neither of us has to work the summer feeding frenzy. That job will kill you, my friends. If it isn’t the excruciatingly hard work, the heat, or the insane schedule, it’s the repetition of asking the same question 100 times every 3 minutes. “Apple or carrots?” Try it for two hours a day, five days a week. Oh, then? Then you hoist all the leftovers back onto the bus, and attempt to restock everything for the next stop while the delightfully insane bus driver was swerving around in order to hit every bump and pothole on the road.

To be honest with you, being on the bus was my favorite part.

But you know? I was thankful for that job, too. It kept the household going through most of the lean time.

I won’t be able to blog about my new job, for obvious reasons, but I’m sure there will be plenty around the Manor to keep things interesting, and Manor business is EVERYBODY’S BUSINESS! Right?

Let’s have some cake darlings, it’s time to party!

Another Day, Another Interview.

What can I say? This has been an interesting month. NaNoWriMo has eaten my brain. I keep wandering over to my favorite blogs, reading amazing posts, but I can’t seem to collect enough thoughts to put down in a somewhat coherent manner to leave a comment that makes even a modicum of sense.

Judging by that last sentence, I’m sure you grasp exactly what I mean.

And I’m tired. Sleepy. I stay up too late, or wake up too early, and my eyes keep trying to close at inappropriate moments. Like while writin…………[snort! huh? what?]

The denizens of Chez Chaos have all taken quite a beating just from this week alone.

Starting on Monday, I had a job interview that went very fast, and I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing or not. I did manage to make them laugh (on purpose) at something I said, but other than that I have no idea how the rest of the interview went.

Killer, not to be outdone by All Things Stressful, went out and caught herself a lovely virus of some kind, resulting in three days of anguish. Um, the anguish was mine, she was simply pathetic and sad, but she manages to share that wretched state with everyone. Really. I love her dearly, but when she’s sick, I start searching out tall edifices off of which I can fling myself in order to end the misery.

In the middle of this week, we had a day off from work, so I decided to ramp up my own woe by hauling my laundry to a public Laundromat. Did I mention that both our washer and dryer are dead, thereby forcing me to beat the shit out of my meager budget for clean panties? Now, it’s been a very long time since I’ve been to a Laundromat, so I wasn’t quite prepared for what I found.

What I found was that it took $4.50 to wash a load of clothes! ONE LOAD! And does that hefty chunk o’ change include drying, folding, and putting away? NO sir, it does not!

It wouldn’t be so bad if we could just hang stuff to dry in the house, but we’re keeping the thermostat turned way down, so things can take up to a week to dry (it’s also very humid from all the rain, so…yeah). Clammy clothing does NOT equal awesome.

So, there I was, standing in front of a very strange looking washing machine, when a kind fellow came up and gave me a quick tutorial on what the hell I was supposed to do. It still cost me $4.50, but it only require one machine for all my stuff, thereby saving me some coin.

Once it was running, I plopped myself down at the table and pulled out a notebook. I figured I’d try to do a little handwriting for my NaNo project, or whatever I needed to do to keep from going batshit crazy waiting for my clothes to get clean.

That’s about the time a mini-van pulled up and disgorged its contents of four small girls, two women, and about 500 lbs. of laundry. I was sitting at the only table (which had three other chairs around it), but they just HAD to choose the machines directly behind me. They couldn’t use any of the others, oh no, they had to come behind me, peer over my shoulder, bang into my chair and otherwise set my hair on fire.

It. Was. Lovely.

At one point, they actually had me wedged in, so I couldn’t even move to another spot to give them room to be rude. Fortunately, they left right after loading the machines so they could go get “food” at McD’s. Here, have some dead cow on bread to go with your crappy manners.

What can I say about a week where Tuesday and Thursday were probably the best days? Not much happened, which is why I consider them a success.

Then it was Friday, and what better way for a week like this to end, but pretty much the way it started, with yet another job interview. But wait, there’s more. In order to really tie it all together, LOTM and I sat in the attorney’s office, signing papers that will unmarry us. Next month, I will no longer be married.

After 19 years (technically, it’s still been 20, but whatever…who the hell is counting) we will once again be single. Despite the reasons for this change in our lives, it still hurts. It still makes me sad.

I mourn for the family that was a single unit. I miss daily interaction with my son. I miss having someone else take care of the bills for me.

But, I do not miss some things. For instance, I do not miss ignoring who I am for the sake of someone else.

Next month, my story begins anew.

Lately…

It’s been a bit crazy around Chez Chaos lately. November usually brings it’s own brand of Pandemonium, thanks on no small part to the holidaze and NaNoWriMo.

Lately? It has been even more so. Crazy, I mean.

We all have our personal demons to dance with, and I’m not going to judge another’s dancing partner.

However, when that partner has threatened bodily harm to relatives? Um, that’s when my stance as bystander changes into something a little more active, even if I’m no longer a real member of said family.

LOTM’s older, but certainly not wiser, sister has decided to return to her abusive husband. This is the bastard who threatened LOTM’s parents the first time he met them.

Yeah, he’s THAT good.

Anyway, this has her children all kinds of upset, and it hasn’t done the rest of the family much good, either. This guy is scary. He hates anyone who does not agree with him or follows his faith.

I do neither of those things, and that’s not even the worst thing about me, in his eyes.

The good news is, he does not know where I live, which means my nephew can come stay with me if things get ugly at his place. Even if the SOB does learn where I live, unlike some members of the family, I am not one to just “let things be” and “avoid conflict” by ignoring shit like this.

If he shows up, I will not hesitate to push him off my front stoop and call him names. I will not be afraid to cast aspersions on his parentage, species, or insinuate that he has unsavory sexual encounters with his maternal parent. I will not be afraid to have a restraining order put out on him, nor will I let the damn thing lapse.

Ever.

And, if that idiot sister of LOTM’s asks for any help from me or my offspring when it comes time to move her filthy SOB into MY Fair City, I will not hesitate to let her know, in no uncertain terms, exactly what I think of her decision.

Pagans are supposed to be calm, cool, collected, and willing to just let things happen, right?

Not. This. Pagan. That “let it happen” stuff stops the minute anyone in my family is threatened.

I have a feeling the characters in my NaNoWriMo project are going to get down and dirty with some villain, and said villain is going to end up crying like a baby

WHEN HE GOES SEARCHING FOR HIS BALLS… IN MY FRONT YARD.

Introducing, Crash and Burn

Killer has been on me about the nicknames I gave her cats. Evidently, she believes the moniker, Doom Beasts, is not fitting their royal selves and she wanted it changed.

I was at a loss as to what to call them. Sure, I could use their real names, but what’s the fun in that? So, I waited.

And waited.

Then, the other day, Girl-cat was messing around behind the partially closed office door, and Boy-cat decided to make a pest of himself, so he stuck his paw through the crack in the hinge side of the door to bop his sister on the head.

This must have startled her, because she took off like a crazed beast, and the next thing I know, stuff is crashing all over the place in the hallway outside the office. Because the door was still mostly closed, I had no idea what had just happened, and since I was working on my manuscript, I had no desire to do anything about it. Yeah, I’m that fun kind of writer…

Soon Killer came along and said, “What the hell happened here?” Curiosity got the best of me, as did a full bladder, and I went to see what the commotion was about. When I pulled the door all the way open, there was Killer, picking up pieces of her cell phone and putting it all back together.
“Where’s my purse?” she asked, looking on her desk where it usually resides.
“I don’t know. Did you leave it in your truck?”
“No, I just got a cigar out of it, it was right there.”
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to a small square object on the floor next to her feet.
“Ah, that would be my wallet.”
“So…what the hell happened to your purse?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.”

A short search revealed the location of the missing item. It was all the way at the other end of the hall, near the foot of the stairway leading to Li’l Red’s room. Evidently, Girl-cat had become entangled in the strap of said purse, and when she tried to run away, it followed her, disgorging its contents along the way.

The mental image cracks me up, usually at the most inopportune times.

Not only that, but the altar in the living room had received similar treatment.
“I’ve finally decided on names for the cats on the blog,” I said with a nod.
“Oh? No more DoomBeasts?”
“No. Now, please help me give a warm blog welcome to Crash and Burn.”

(Pictures are forthcoming, as soon as I get one that isn’t blurry.)

NaNo Adventures: The Beginning

November started off with a gasp and a near heart attack. As you know, I’ve been working myself into a lather over the annual event of NaNoWriMo, or what’s lovingly referred to as Ms. Karen’s headlong dive into madness.

The headlong dive includes several side jaunts into such places as “What That Word?” junction, the intersection of “Close The Door” and “Gosh, It’s Lonely In Here,” and my personal favorite, “IS ANYONE GOING TO ANSWER THE DAMN PHONE/DOOR?”-ville.

Yeah, I’m a real bundle of fun and joy to be around when I’m trying to punch a hole in 30 days using 50,000 words. I get a little “weirded” out when things don’t work right, especially when that “thing” happens to be my computer. Considering all the other appliances that have ceased to function properly around here, the thought that my computer could be next was hanging front and center on my brain.

So, there I was, in the wee hours of pre-NaNo dawn, gathering all my files of notes, jottings, ideas, snippets of dialog and action, places and names, all in preparation for the big day. Being utterly fatigued, I didn’t do much more than that before shutting off my computer and calling it a night.

After an uneasy night of almost-sleep, I got up, turned on my computer, then went out to make coffee. Now, my computer isn’t old by human standards, and it was purchased in this century, but it’s been going along for seven years, so I understand it can take a while to get up and running. Hell, I’m the same way.

But, when I came back into the office and it still hadn’t popped up with the usual error doohickeys, I was alarmed. Yes, NOT seeing the error thingy can unhinge me. If I see that there is a sysblahblahblahconfig whatsis message, then I know everything is working “normally.” What can I say, it’s a SNAFU computer.

Anyway, with no error message to click on, I tried to click on something else, and, well, nothing happened. Oh, I could make the cursor move with the mouse, but that was all. No clicking, no control-alt-del… nothing. But it WAS making an odd sound, sort of like the sound you’d hear when a record was skipping (back in the day when music came from pieces of plastic carved with grooves and played with a diamond chip stuck to a small piece of metal).

With trembling fingers, I gently pressed, and held, the (broken) on button and waited for a hard boot. I waited some more for things to start, but it started making that sound again.

I don’t remember leaving the office and going into the bedroom. I don’t remember closing the door and standing there in the dark. I vaguely remember Killer saying something like, “Good morning” and my reply of “no, not really.”

I do remember feeling something crawling down my cheek and when I went to brush it away, realized it wasn’t a hair, it was a tear. Killer jumped out of bed.

On an aside, we have two very old dogs, one of whom I am particularly fond of and strongly attached to. We know that some day, one of us will find my Elder Hound has crossed the Rainbow Bridge, and Killer would rather it not be me or Bubba.

When I told her it was my computer, she nearly freaked.
“No!” she said. “Damn, I have to pee.” This is not an uncommon situation for early mornings, so I was not offended. While she was gone, I stepped into the office and dared myself to look at the monitor.

The error message had appeared and it seemed that all was working normally. We both breathed a huge sigh of relief, and I immediately made a backup of all my new stuff.

I spent the rest of the day pulling all my notes together, writing the story, using and discarding ideas, saving other bits for later, and finally putting it all to bed with over 5,000 words.

All said and done, it was a good end to a day that had a rather rocky start, wouldn’t you agree?

The Tux and a Tale

So, last week I got a call from Thing asking for a ride. This is not unusual, considering he and his dad only have one car between them, and LOTM is notorious for actually driving places during waking hours. Odd man, really.

Anyway, the request for a ride came in and Bubba took the call. I’m not sure just how I got the driving duty, but I did. I grabbed my keys and headed toward the apartment. I hadn’t gotten far when a text came in on my phone. Since I was at a red light, I checked it. Sure enough, it was from Thing saying, “I’ll be in the shower but the front door is unlocked.”

Swell. This is a common occurrence with that boy, and it drives me nuts. Take the shower first, you dork, THEN call for a ride. It’s a good thing I love that kid.

As we were getting into my little red chariot he said, “I need to go to the school and buy my ticket for Homecoming. But first, I need to go to the bank to withdraw some money.”

Ok, a little geography lesson of the area: he and LOTM live up a hill and the bank is in the valley. Also? The school is on the hill, but because we needed to go to the bank, it was up-down-up-down. Lots of driving, which, while it affords me the chance to visit with my son, there are better ways to spend time together. Like when I’m not behind the wheel of my car and cursing stupid drivers.

After picking up the ticket for the dance, he said, “Well, I guess I’d better get a tux.”
“Ok. So, when’s Homecoming?”
“Um, this Saturday.”
“…you mean…TOMORROW?!?”
“Uh, yeah.”

We stopped off at Chez Chaos and I made a phone call. Yes, the rental place still had some tuxes, and yes, they could have him in one for the next day.

Off we went. Lucky for Thing he’s easy to fit, clothing-wise. The clerk grabbed a jacket off a mannequin and it was perfect. Ok, I wouldn’t have gone with a double-breasted coat, but we didn’t have the luxury of time to be picky. He tried getting Thing to wear a silver-gray vest and matching tie, but the kid would have nothing doing with it. He liked the blue better. Another mannequin divested of an article of clothing, and soon my son was looking fine. The mannequins, however, looked a little cold.

The next evening, I got a call from LOTM asking me if I wanted to go up to their place to get pictures. He’d even come pick me up, which was good, since I’d just put on my slippers and had no desire to change shoes again. We got up the hill to his place and I started messing around with the camera, when, um, it wasn’t working. Upon closer inspection, I’d removed the damn data card, so it was back down the hill to retrieve it. Of course, this allowed me the opportunity to take the pictures under the grand tree (where all the other pictures of special occasions are taken).

That evening, Thing and a few of his friends went gallivanting around, him in his fancy tux and his friends looking like normal teen males.

Evidently, they got a lot of looks from folks at the mall. I’d say he definitely got his money’s worth from that tux. Next time, though, he says he wants to get a real date for the dance. I think his friends would agree.

O.M.G.

Thing. In a tux. ...I...just...wow...



hmm, what does this do?





A sword!

My baby...