Wednesday, November 25, 2009

'Tis the Season for Martha-Stewarting

So I have just spent the whole day cleaning and baking. My bathroom looks fantastic thanks to a little ingenuity: I got the bright idea to set up our dehumidifier in there so the steam could actually dry off of things instead of just running down and ruining all my cleaning efforts. Even the cat brushing up against the toilet and bathtub didn't leave the usual swath of gray fur on my pristine white ceramic. I even managed to get all the laundry done (okay, almost, I have one more load in the dryer) and change the bedsheets. I think Rachel Anne would be proud of me. :)
Meanwhile, I am smelling the delicious smells coming from my kitchen in preparation for our church's annual Thanksgiving Breadfeast. It's basically a carb-centric potluck, and I went all out this year: pumpkin bread, mini-cinnamon rolls, and sugar-free pumpkin pie. I totally Martha-Stewarted it. Oh, and in explanation, I figured if McGyver (which I have recently and voraciously discovered) has become a verb, Martha Stewart should be one too. Hence, "I Martha-Stewarted it," meaning "I went all out like the perfect little kitchen goddess." And I did! The two pumpkin products were made from real pureed pumpkin, and the cinnamon rolls were handmade too, courtesy of my handy-dandy electronic best friend, Miss Bread Machine.
So I was telling my mom about this Breadfeast thing, explaining that before the eating, everyone sits in the sanctuary and they pass the mic around so everyone can share what they're thankful for. I usually get up every year and talk, but for some reason this year I think I won't. I do have things to be thankful for, of course, such as being done with my bachelor's degree (by the end of next week, at least) and having figured out a workable solution to my job crisis for the moment (I might be turning my babysitting favor for Leia into a real job and watching another family from church's kids the other three days of the week; I'll know for sure about those by next week.) But for some reason I don't feel like sharing this year. Maybe it's just because I usually only share about church related stuff, like GA successes, and GA's been having a tough year so far. But partly, I think, it's because I want to keep my good news to myself, tuck it all inside and indulge in my own little private joyfest. God provides so wonderfully, and in such surprising ways (I literally felt like the idea for the job issue hit me like a two-by-four between the eyes on Monday), and I just feel like celebrating that between me and Him. I'm so blessed!
Mmmm... okay, temptation has gotten the best of me, I'm going to have to ditch you to go get some of that yumminess!

Thursday, November 19, 2009

How I Spend My Money: How Far is Far Enough?

A little background for those not in my small group: we're reading The Divine Commodity by Skye Jethani in our small group lately, a book that takes a serious look at the impact of consumer culture on modern Christianity (I know, I just totally ruined it by posting the Amazon listing, LOL!)
Anyway, I was reading this week's chapter this afternoon (cutting it a little close since we're all meeting to discuss in about two hours), and it got me to thinking about where we should draw the line when it comes to identifying ourselves by how we spend our money. This week's chapter was (roughly) about brand-as-identity and Christian products being used to identify ourselves as a Christian, rather than acts of faith and love. I totally get how it can be a subtle trap to allow our clothes to speak for us to the extent that we miss out on opportunities to witness because we've become lazy. However, this chapter got me thinking about a common (or maybe not?) saying I've heard almost ever since I became a Christian at sixteen years old, and which has probably features in every "tithing sermon" I've witnessed: "Does the way you spend your money reflect your beliefs?"
Now I know well-meaning pastors who use this one are probably just trying to get us to take a second look at our budget and reevaluate in favor of supporting missions and etc. But it really stuck in my mind this afternoon. Should we even be focused on the way we spend our money when there are so many more important things out there that we're neglecting? And what about the ways we don't spend our money? I know, I know, in all areas we should work as if working for God and so on... but the question stands.
Earlier in the book, the author described a trip he took to a foreign country where a local missionary took him on a tour of the local "sweatshop graveyard" where American clothing companies would rent out a factory and hire thousands of workers for a year or two, mass-produce tons of closing, then simply close up shop, laying off all those people to fend for themselves, jobless and desperate. Then he went on to describe the teens he often stood behind in mall stores, who grabbed items off the racks, items usually made in those countries, probably tired hands in sweatshops. I got a vague feeling of unrest reading that.
The fact is, I buy most of my clothes at Walmart or Target. Any conscientious or human-rights-advocating consumer might smack me over the head for that, but I honestly can't afford anything else! If it's not there, it's at the thrift store, whhere, again, most of the cast-off clothing that lines the racks was probably made in not-so-great environments in other countries where companies can get away with treating people as means to an end. And you know what else (this is a guilty point every time I eat dinner with the lady in my small group who is a bird scientist)? I eat non-organically grown eggs. I also eat chicken and beef that aren't guaranteed organic and animal-friendly. I buy cleaning products whose packaging-- for all I know-- will take until the time my lineage has petered out to decompose.
Point being, I know full well that my spending habits don't glorify God, either by what I buy or don't buy-- at least not as much as they should. Oh, I try to avoid dirty movies and music, and shun any clothing that's immodest or advertises bad stuff (or anything for that matter-- I have a personal vendetta against advertising things on my torso, to which I make an exception only if that thing is both very comfy and very cheap or free). But when it comes to getting so conscientious about the things I'm spending money on and the local and/or global effects of my personal consumerism, I have one major problem: I can't afford it!
Compared to the bulk eggs I can get at Sam's Club (and we go through eggs as regularly as toilet paper), organically grown eggs would cost me a fortune (a fortune much better spent buying things like milk, cheese, butter, fruit, and my non-organically-grown meat products). To be honest, I would love to be able to buy organic foods-- I love the concept of injecting less chemicals and fertilizers and random ingredients into the things I ingest-- but sadly, I just can't afford it.
And the worst part about that is that I feel guilty. What if God himself is looking down upon the poor over-crowded chickens and jobless foreign textile workers I've wronged with my thoughtless cheapskatism and frowning? Is he flipping to the places in his word that speak about being good stewards and treating others with love and giving me a big fat F in his divine red felt pen?
But then I think about the message of this book and I wonder: wait a minute! Am I taking the consumerism thing too far the other way now? Shouldn't I be more concerned about how I'm living than what I'm buying? Or shouldn't I? I'm really mulling over this. What do you think? When it comes to how we use our financial resources to glorify God, how far do you think is far enough? And how far-- in either direction-- is too far?
** In other news, Joanna slept a full hour and a half today! Woohoo!**

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Finals and Thanksgiving and Christmas, Oh My!

So I feel like most of my blogs this month have been kinda whiny. Okay, okay... very whiny. I apologize to anyone who has had to read all that complaining. I tend to get very complaintive when I'm stressed, and only focus on the bad stuff. But just to make up for it, I'm going to spend this blog focusing on the good stuff.

For instance, I had the fastest recovery from an illness that I think I've ever had. This may be because I was actually staying at home and resting, versus going to work/church, etc., anyway. Thank goodness for the hype about Swine Flu. It turned out to be a couple days of fluctuating fever and some coughing, but that's about it. However, the panic going around about how easily it spreads inclined me to stay home, which means I had all the time in the world to sleep and take meds and get better. Praise God for perversely helpful circumstances!

Let's see... what else can I dwell on? Hmm... oh, how about this: my best friend is now on Facebook! Woohoo! While I was sick, I got pretty depressed, so I started calling her almost every day. It's usually a few weeks between times when we catch up, so this was a welcome reunion She's making plans to come out and spend a week with me when I graduate, and I'm already making grandiose plans for visiting New York with her and my mom and renting a hotel room and going out to coffee every morning... yeah, we'll see if I can actually afford all that when the time comes. But still, I'm very excited.

And of course, perhaps one of the best things to dwell on: Thanksgiving is coming up! Now I used to hate Thanksgiving, partly because as a child I seemed to always get sick the week of Thanksgiving, so I couldn't eat all the yummy food. But since I married Johnny, Thanksgiving has come to hold a whole different significance to me: camping! Every Thanksgiving, Johnny and I, his dad, and whatever other uncles, cousins, and friends who want to come head down to the mountain property in Virginia and spend three days "roughing it" (i.e. stuffing our faces with yummy food around a warm campfire and hiking). It's literally my favorite time of year., and it's so close now! Only ten days away!

Oh, and I need to throw one out to my GA girls! Miss Taylor and I managed to run the GA Winter Lock-In (I know, a little early this year) with just the two of us. And it was largely a success! Christine was at home with the hubby, having some rough times, but Taylor and I managed. And I'm so proud of us for getting everything done, especially after having just recovered from the flu!

Finally-- pardon the pun, lol-- finals are on Saturday. Yes, they're on Saturday-- and Saturday only-- this semester, which is a stinker (especially since I no longer have to worry about taking a day off work to go to them). Now technically, that doesn't feel like a good thing, but really it is; once I complete these two finals, I have just one more in December and then I'm home-free... completely done with my bachelor's degree! (Now if only I could use the dumb thing to get a job... oh wait, no whining. I gotcha!)

And the last thing to give my title full significance: Christmas is coming up! There are so many things I've been wanting/needing the last few months that our budget has been too tight to warrant buying (such as new underclothes, the heels of my favorite shoes fixed, more tea from Teavana, etc.). Now that Christmas is here, I might actually be able to get some of those things without spending any of our money! True, I'll have to find money for the gifts we're supposed to be giving. But I can always count on Christmas to bring at least one gift card or check, which will be, to my cash-starved lifestyle, like finding buried treasure! :)

Okay, well, I think I've un-complained enough now. Before I'm tempted to change that, I'd better get off here and go study for those finals!

Friday, November 13, 2009

Laughter Is the Best Medicine

Proverbs 17:22 "A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones."

I've had a pretty yucky week. I came down sick with something on Saturday last week, which meant I had to cancel on watching kids for the BCMD conference. This means ever since I've been worrying about what I'm going to do for Christmas presents, since I won't have that $250 to rely on. I've also been coming to the depressing realization that an English Bachelor's Degree is about as useful as a high school diploma when one is looking for any kind of specific job. Nobody wants it.

Meanwhile, Johnny came down sick too, so we were both stuck in the same apartment for five days with fevers and bad attitudes. Needless to say, that combination didn't exactly make us very friendly with each other. In fact, it wasn't until last night that we actually even sat down and talked. I've been depressed about my job situation and marriage and school all week. Not a happy camper.

But I'll tell you what: Laughter is the best medicine. I found this "channel" on Youtube called How It Should Have Ended (HISHE), and they have a few on there that literally had me in fits of laughter. Such as this one:

I'm still giggling.

Anyway, I really need to get on the ball. I have a project due for class and my GAs are having a lock-in tonight... and I for one, don't have some insane do-everything-I-need-done gadget on my utility belt. In fact, I don't even have a utility belt. So yeah...

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

The Biggest Problem in Our Marriage

I’m sitting here in my darkened living room with the candles all lit and my Enya Pandora station playing on my computer speakers. With a little imagination, the incessant trickle of my turtle’s tank filter could be a nearby waterfall. My imaginary trip to “somewhere else” is interrupted by my husband’s congested voice proclaiming that my cat had diarrhea. Yes, it’s sweet that he cleaned out the litterbox, but still… it’s all I can do to squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth, whispering “Please go away!” under my breath. Sometimes, you just want a little down time, a little me-time… a little not-thinking-about-what-the-cat’s-bowel-movements-are-like time…

Okay, to be fair, Johnny and I just had a fight. It was minor, as most of our fights are, but I’m still in my pouty, I-don’t-want-to-make-up-yet stage. I’m waiting for my best friend to call me back so we can commiserate on how—surprise, surprise—our marriages aren’t the paradise we thought they’d be when we said “I do.” Not, of course, that I want out. Of course not! The mere fact that my hubby, who insists he’s allergic to all things having to do with cleaning, has not only cleaned out the cat’s litter box, but is now vacuuming up the stray litter crumbs from the hallway—probably as his way of saying sorry—makes me a lucky woman. But sometimes I look back on how idealistic I was about “how my marriage would be” and I just have to laugh. What a little na├»ve maroon I was! (Did that sound like Bugs Bunny? Because I sorta thought it did.)

Anyway, where was I? Oh, the fight. Well basically, it was a variation on the same tired topic that has plagued our marriage since the first days: we live across the nation from my family. Now I know everyone has their own little unique issues to deal with in their marriages, but this one seems to top them all because it is literally unsolveable. Case in point: since Johnny’s family lives here in Maryland, and mine lives in Idaho, we can only be near one or the other. If we move to the middle, it would then only require a plane trip either way, for almost the same cost as we pay to visit my family now, if you can believe it. The only way we would be able to live near both our families is if we somehow, miraculously, came up with enough money to pay for one family or the other to move to where we were. The problem with that? Johnny’s mom and dad both have their whole family out here that they would never leave, and my parents don’t like the East coast. I was not kidding when I said this issue is unsolveable!

On top of that same-old-same-old issue, my grandmother is now sick. Well, I suppose mincing words won’t do anyone a favor: my grandmother is dying. She’s been sliding down the slippery slope of dimensia for almost a year now, and it has finally gotten so bad that last night, in response to my pleading of something I could do to help, my mother responded that I should pray for my grandmother to die. You can imagine how that felt. But there is pretty much no way for me to go home and visit, since Johnny insists we can’t afford it. Even if I could get home, what could I do in the one or two weeks I would be there to make a difference? I would still have to come back home, pulled like a cliff-jumper at the end of their tether, back to the relative safety the distance provides from all involvement. But I WANT to do something. I am, you could say, desperate to do something. Yet every time I mention moving back to Idaho, Johnny points out that my father, who has a good deal more experience than Johnny in the same field, has had to move to California to find work. He has a point: Idaho is a desert when it comes to job opportunities for guys like them. Oh, I might be able to find work easily enough, but I’m not sure it would make enough to support both of us. Still, I’m tempted to look.

Even if we did move out there, though, it would only be tearing Johnny away from his family, even as we moved closer to mine. Sense the conundrum? I really don’t know how this issue will ever be resolved. One of us is always going to be upset. Maybe God will give us a miracle: maybe we’ll wake up one morning and the US will have folded in half. I can dream, right?

Friday, November 6, 2009

Apparently Zombies Don't Like Water, But Can Dance

Hello, and welcome to another issue of "Sharing Our Subconscious" with your hostess, Stephanie! Today we'll enter the mind of a seriously disturbed individual who obviously watches too much news and B-rated horror:

::pan into my face::

"Um... hi. My name is Stephanie. And this morning, um, I woke up from this really like weird dream. The world had been like taken over by zombies, and I was part of a small nomadic group of people who hadn't turned yet. We were, um, traveling along this road when this bunch of kangaroos hopped up. They weren't zombie-kangaroos, just regular kangaroos, except they could talk. They were all girl kangaroos, except for this miniature one who was a boy, but he was the leader and as we were passing a pond surrounded by cattails, the boy kangaroo told all these girl kangaroos they had to go take baths, and so we, the people, decided we'd go hang out with the kangaroos by the water too, because for some reason zombies are afraid of water. Anyway, while we were there, a few of us were sitting around on the shore watching the kangaroos bathing when suddenly this overstuffed old easy-chair haunted by the spirit of Michael Jackson appeared. We weren't scared, but we thought it was sorta cool, so we started talking to him, and it was like he was transmitting from somewhere... not actually there, y'know? And he was literally inside the chair, like we could see the outline of his face in the upholstery, and he was wearing sunglasses. We were asking him questions, and I asked him where he was, and he said he was in hell because he had had an affair with a woman and when the kids had been born he had married her but he didn't love her. Yeah, I dunno. But it was really sad the way he was talking about someday hoping he could get out of Hell and go be with his kids again, so I was getting all choked up and crying. Then someone pointed to a group of town homes built by the pond, and on one of the lit balconies of these town homes, a bunch of zombies were doing the dance from Thriller, and I pointed it out to Michael and was all "Look! Isn't that awesome? You know, I memorized that dance for my wedding!" (which is actually true) and he nodded and gave a sad little smile. So then we were in this vacation house with a pool when this other group of survivors of the zombie-ism came to meet us. For some reason I knew that we met up with them every year, only this year was different. This time, one of them was in a wheelchair, with his hands tied down and he looked like he was halfway-zombiefied because he was really pale and just being mean to everyone. And two more of them came in but suddenly started arguing and as they were fighting their skin on their faces started to turn weird colors and droop like wet clay. I had a teenage son who I was holding onto by a leash, and the two fighting guys were between him and I and I started to pull him over to me except he stopped and said "Mom, don't you think we better not interrupt these guys until we know what's going on?" So I was like "Oh yeah" and stopped pulling him and waited to see what would happen."

Well, folks, that's all the time we have for today! I hope you enjoyed this edition of "Sharing Our Subconscious" with your (deranged) hostess, Stephanie!

::theme music::

Yes, yes, I actually did have that dream last night. Please don't ask, I don't even know how to begin to answer.

In other news, I'm having a fairly interesting day. I say interesting because some parts are great and some are not so great. Ready for it? Here I come with another set of bulleted lists! (I love these things!)


* Since I will be busy with a writers conference in DC tomorrow and working a BCMD childcare gig from Sunday night through Tuesday afternoon (i.e. staying in Baltimore for several nights), Johnny stayed home from work to spend the day with me today.

* I got Einstein for breakfast, and bought a pair of cute boots to replace my tired old black heels.

* Johnny got paid today so we could finally buy milk again! I am SO making coffee tomorrow morning!

* I enjoyed reading several zany and beautiful stories by talented classmates for my Art of Narration class. I love it when schoolwork is fun.

* Due to the convenient excuse of a youth fund-raiser, we will be buying Chick-Fil-A for dinner tonight. Yummyness!


* The two kids I babysit are sick, possibly with swine flu, and that makes me very sad. :(

* I'm not very much looking forward to the insane two weeks ahead which start tomorrow and don't end until the Saturday after next with the completion of my finals.

* In an effort to keep from going crazy, I tried to get all of my work for this week done early so that I could start focusing on next week's work. Well, I thought I had been successful in that little endeavor, only to find that mid-week, my writing teacher decided to up and change the requirements completely for our final project. Meaning the two page essay I already wrote and posted now needs to be discarded and I have only tonight to do another essay unless she decides to have mercy and change the deadline. Grr! ::assuming a yoga position:: It's almost over, it's almost over, it's almost over.

In other news, I had an absolute blast for a few minutes this afternoon chasing my cat around the house and playing "catch the reflection" with him using the computer screen and the late afternoon light. You can't beat a cat for wonderful randomness. He's getting so big though. Funny how things tend to live up to their names. I didn't know this at the time, but apparently Bean, the character I named him after, starts out very small (as did my Bean) but gets huge as he gets older... like giant-level. Go figure.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Dusting Off the Ol' Soap Box

Okay, here goes for my second attempt at a NaBloPoMo post.
I am SO tired this morning. I prefer to blame it on the fact that I have no milk to put into the coffee I am so desperately craving. However, I must admit that I did stay up just a tiny bit late last night applying for jobs, putting together a portfolio of articles for submission, and chatting with Steve and Vickie. Roughly translated, a "teeny bit" means 2:30 am. I know, I know... very dumb. But I prefer to see it as paying in sleep what I made up for in blessings of companionship. ;)
And I did, at least, apply for one job. It's a position as an editorial assistant in Bala Cynwyd, PA. Naturally, they'll have to offer me a huge amount of money for us to actually consider moving out there, as Johnny would have to give up his job at SGT. But it's a position with a company whose parent company is Pearson Media, which also owns Penguin Books and Pearson Education, either of which could be a gem when it comes to getting my foot in the door to the editing business. If I was able to take this job, I would be ecstatic. However, It would probably also mean leaving FBCL and most of our friends, so my excitement would be tempered by sadness... anyway, no point in counting unhatched eggs, so I'll just give it up to God, knowing he works out all things for the good of those who love him. And I do! So I'm golden!
In other news (literally, FOX, to be specific) I found out this morning that in the 31 states in which gay marriage has been put to a vote, it has always been turned down. Now, at the risk of getting some particularly nasty notes, I am going to talk about my feelings on this issue and pray that anyone with an opposite opinioon who happens to visit my blog today will extend me the same grace I shall try to extend them. All I have to say, really, is that this information made me feel better. Truth be told, I don't like denying gays thier right to marry other gays. In fact, if it weren't for my biblical and personal convictions, I would probably never do so. However, the Bible does, in several places, explicitly state that homosexuality is a sin. So, being a Bible-believing Christian, I find it impossible to ignore that when asked to vote. I have heard that some people separate their religious views from their political views in an effort to maintain American objectivity in politics. However, I cannot do so. If my aim as a Christian is to become more like Christ, should I not then think like him, even on issues that are not particularly popular? And my personal issues with the gay marriage thing stem largely from high school: I used to run around with the "outcast" crowd in high school, many of which were so relegated because of their alternative sexual orientation. Because of my association and friendships with these people, I was usually assumed to be a lesbian myself, which was-- needless to say-- highly annoying. First of all, it irritates me when people assume to know anything about a romantic life they are not at all involved in. Comments about the "homoerotic interplay" between two male characters in a movie when they are literally fighting (see "The Red Shoe Diaries" comments on Hulu) especially irritate the snot out of me. And now that I'm married, the idea of once again having to explain that "No, I mean I'm married to a man," fills me with annoyance. But before you assume I am either anti-gay or homophobic (and whatever connotations those may hold for you), let me expressly state that I do understand the gay rights movement. I understand that it must be difficult and maddening to fight for the same privilege that everyone else but you seems to have, the right to marry legally and enjoy the same tax, insurance, and legal benefits that every other couple receive. However, might I point out that perhaps changing the definition of an institution that is older than homosexuality itself might be the wrong way to go about this? Wouldn't it rather be much more effective to lobby for tax/legal/insurance benefits to be extended to domestic partnerships? This way, the gay crowd could get many straight non-married couples on their sides, as well as turning away much of the enmity of straight marrieds who don't wish to have to specify their sexual orientation on legal forms just below marital status. Just a suggestion. Regardless, I may vote against gay marriage, but it's not because I don't like gay people. They're just people, and I'm generally a people person. Chances are, I'd have just as much fun watching a chick flick or grabbing a latte with a lesbian as with a straight girlfriend, given the chance. I don't like denying anybody something they want, but sadly, faith isn't always about doing the things you like to do. Sometimes it's about choosing God's way of seeing something over everyone elses' be they the media, politicians, or minority groups. Still... it's nice to know that I'm not the only one voting against gay marriage. Like I'm somehow validified in my right to vote the way I see things as being right. Because believe it or not, the media gets to me. All these ads, blogs, books, etc. on how gay's are the next black civil rights wave who are being oppressed by white America does make me feel bad. Then again, I guess I should get used to feeling bad about the color of my skin. After all, by merely being white, I have shouldered since birth the responsibility for every evil that ever entered the world, right? Oh... don't get me started. ::sigh::
Anyway, I should probably step down off this soap-box before someone throws a stone, so I will hope that whoever reads this has a great day in spite of my yammering, and go and take care of my own business. Be blessed!

Tuesday, November 3, 2009


Sorry about the alienish acronym title. That gobbledegook, according to a very reliable source, stands for "National Blog Posting Month," which is November, apparently. The rules, according to this source, are that if you post at least something on your blog every day of November, you can win a prize. Well, I'm already short by two days, but I wouldn't have the esteemed online blog-reading community thinking me un-American, so I shall attempt to keep up with the rest of the month from today on.
I am, at the moment, sitting in my soft pink bathrobe (the one Johnny got me three Christmases ago), eating coffee yogurt for breakfast (no, it's not very good), and thinking about an interesting dream I had. I dreamt I owned a mechanical horse. It was small at first, but once you mounted it, it grew to horse-size, and I was riding it every day around a place that was a cross-breed between Lancaster and the Boise foothills. Now, bear in mind that my dreams are usually full of terrible creatures, disappointments, death, and post-apocalyptic worlds, and you must admit that this was a pretty awesome dream to wake up to. I don't know why my dreams are always so depressing... and maybe this is a turn for the better.
So I watched a movie the other night. Now on the normal bases of language, violence, and sexual themes, I would never recommend this movie. But the story it told, and especially the main character, moved me to tears. The movie was called "The Red Shoe Diaries" with David Duchovny (gotta love D.D.!), and I identified more with the leading lady than I ever have with any other character in any other movie. She is who I was only a few years ago, and who I occasionally fear allowing myself to become again. Her passion and fears and obsessions drive her eventually to commit suicide, and while I don't see myself ever going that far now, there was a time when I was in the grip of equally powerful emotions. Anyway, it's just a thought. If you're in the mood for some romantic drama-- if you don't mind liberal doses of all the aforementioned nastiness-- check the movie out. You can find it on for free.
So finals are coming up... I'm excited about that. But I'm nervous too. I spent nearly three hours yesterday searching for jobs on sites like Monster and Washington Post, and I really haven't found anything that piques my interest. I'm not even really sure what I'm searching for. What I would like most is to find a telecommuting position as an editor, but telecommuting positions for trustworthy companies seem in short supply. There are few, if any, publishing companies, especially in Maryland, large enough to be hiring staff, so that knocks that one outta the ring. Furthermore, the place I used to work (and would very much like to work again should the chance arise) is currently only hiring scientists, which I very much am not. Sadly, it looks like after all this work getting my stupid bachelor's degree, I am still pretty much back to square one: experience is the only useful thing, and I have none. Well, not unless you count watching kids, making lattes, and shelving. That's what I need to find: a job at an internet cafe/library. Ha! LOL. Actually... I do kind of miss my old job at Starbucks. Yesterday I resisted checking the SBux website for openings, but I' not sure how much longer I'll hold out. I know it's a dead-end job unless I want to end up working nights and weekends the rest of my life, but I really miss the company culture. And the free coffee. I wonder how much it costs to start my own cafe? Not that cafes seem to do to well in Maryland. Now in Idaho, that kind of thing would take off. Ah, well... thus the danger of relocation.
Anyway, my coffee yogurt is gone now, and I have a load of homework waiting to be done, so I had best leave this off before it gets too full of fragmentary sentences and parenthetical statements. Ciao!