Friday, February 24, 2006
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Had a great interview this morning with a giant megacorp and a little band of environmentalist crusaders (yes, at the same time). It was fun, and they were really impressed with my editing. (Hooray!) I probably won't hear until the end of next week whether either of them wants me, so I can relax (HA!) and prepare for my big interview coming up Monday in the frigid Midwest. (What am I, crazy?)
Apparently, yes, I am crazy, because I have recently taken on a freelance project to write a technical white paper for a certain software company which shall remain nameless (unless this whole thing turns out really well). What on earth could have possessed anyone to ask me to do this? Well, my still-wonderful former boss (not the PHB) had been asked to do it (again, why?) but had way more work than hours in the day to accomplish it. And (unlike other bosses with more angular hairdos), when she needed someone who could do a good job, she thought of me. So maybe she's crazy too. Anyway, I've committed to it, for her sake, and am diligently working away into the night on this thing. And if (when?) it turns out well, I'll have one more thing to add to my portfolio.
And I have Girl Scout cookies. Thin Mints make everything all right.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Blizzard warning; storm expected to get worse
Right, OK, I've been out and I know it's ugly out there. But when you check whether you have to shuttle everyone to their various destinations this awful morning, you get this news from the same source:
No Closings Reported
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
First, I had a phone interview this afternoon for a job in Kansas City. I felt pretty positive about it, but that's fooled me before. At the end of it, the Executive Editor told me that they were going to interview other candidates and would probably get back to me next Tuesday. Whew, I could relax and get ready for my Friday interview. Imagine my surprise when, 2 hours later, the KC people called back and said, "Come out to meet us in person-- next week"! I managed to push it to the following Monday. They're even going to fly me out. Holy cow. I guess I did OK.
Second, have you seen this? I got it from PK, who got it from Phantom Scribbler, and it's making the rounds. I've got a Nohari page, too, if you want to tell me how awful I am instead. But I'll probably never check it.
And finally, I just thought you ought to know
I'm a Dodge Viper!
[The image has been removed for maliciously making my blog unreadable; if you want to see the thing, click above.]
You're all about raw power. You're tough, you're loud, and you don't take crap from anyone. Leave finesse to the other cars, the ones eating your dust.
Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz.
Monday, February 13, 2006
- I have taken several editing tests that resulted in job interviews for this week. (One of them is even in the state I live in-- imagine that!)
- I have also had several freelance projects keeping me busy, and I'm collaborating with a friend from writers' group on writing a musical.
- The Man has started a new semester of killer classes and is already hitting the wall in calculus (for the third time).
- Pirate Boy has produced a series of drawings, titled "Dark Hole in the Mist," "Dark Hole in the Sea," and-- "Ten Thousand Pigs." Must be art.
- The aforementioned artistic buccaneer hand-made valentines for everyone in his class, but especially for his best girl A-b-b-y, who warranted a flower and a heart-shaped box of chocolates. He's only 5, but he's already got the hang of romance.
- Punkin Boy has plummeted off the couch, off several chairs and a table, and down the stairs, each time onto his face. His little nose is looking extremely beat up.
- Punkin has also taken to carrying a "purse" and calling himself a pirate girl. I don't make it up, folks, I just report it.
- The Man has decided that my religion is the right way to go after all. And there was much rejoicing.
- #1 Son's name came up in the lottery for the best school in the state (I mentioned this last year when we signed the kids up for consideration). Satan of course refused to even consider the possibility of allowing the boy to attend (did I mention-- yes, I did-- that it's the best school in the entire state?) and threatened to call the police (among other things) if The Man dared to enroll him against her wishes. Because, you know, there could possibly be another school that's better somewhere, and this one is a whole 10 minutes further away than the one he's been attending all year... Obviously, TM was just doing this to inconvenience her, and she wasn't going to stand for it and... blah blah blah, yell, threaten, foam at mouth...
- #1 Son cried all night after being yelled at for an hour by his psychotic excuse for a mother, who tried to convince him that it was his father who was standing in the way of his going to this school. An eternity of smoldering coals and brimstone is way too good a fate for her.
- The Man had the inspiration to offer to split the transportation with her (picking him up from her house two Sundays a month) in exchange for her agreement.
- #1 Son, with much joy and celebration, began attending his new school last Monday. He has already learned some Latin and karate, begun enjoying art class for the first time, and made friends with someone called "Sing"; he wears a tie every day and LOVES it.
- Because his big brother is now enrolled in this school, Pirate Boy has an automatic place for the fall. He is SO excited.
- The new school starts about an hour earlier than the previous one, and it is about half an hour away from us. So we're all a little cranky from lack of sleep. But it's a good cranky.
- Except for last Friday, when the two youngest woke up at 4:30 a.m. and WOULD NOT go back to sleep. Argh!
OK, that's about enough of the bulleted list; I'm getting a headache. And speaking of headaches, Satan's been at it again. Tonight she calls up, ostensibly to talk to #1 Son, but actually of course to pester The Man. No, strike that, make it "give the man nightmares." Again. In her role as "World's Most Loving Mother," she has decided that it is time (because apparently the restraining order has run out) to reintroduce #1 Son to his stepbrother, the molester. Specifically, the guy who molested him. Just 2 months before Mommy Dearest married the guy's dad. Because you want to cement that relationship, you know. Don't give the kid a chance to escape the nightmare. Now, 18 months after the guy was taken away in handcuffs for what he did (and would have continued to do if #1 Son hadn't been brave enough to tell), Satan Herself wants to force a reintroduction. Because it's important that these boys (one of whom is nearly-- if not already-- 18) should have a close relationship. Or in other words, she can't afford a babysitter this summer.
So, she makes this statement to the effect that she wants to get them together and restore the relationship. The Man says no, he thinks that would be very harmful to #1 Son at this time and that if he wants to have a relationship later (i.e., after he's 18 also), that will be his choice. Satan says, tough luck, I'm doing it anyway. The Man bites his lip to the bleeding point and hands the phone to #1 Son, who is standing waiting to talk to his beloved Mommy. Then he goes down the hall and screams very quietly.
After much consideration (well, a short while to calm down and a LOT of ranting off-camera) and a nudge from his wife, The Man sends an email to The Evil One: "I do not approve of your plan to do X with #1 Son. If you insist on doing it anyway, I will pursue all options available to me through the legal system." It was a masterpiece of restraint. And, I hope, of menace. She loves to use the threat of legal/police action when things don't go her way. I can just imagine her going to her lawyer and complaining about this one:
Devil's Advocate: No, sorry; I'm evil, but I'm not omnipotent. No court on earth would buy that one. That'll be $50.
Sick, twisted, evil waste of human life. The worst thing is, she'll do it anyway. And get away with it. Can someone tell me why?