As happy as we are to be back together under one roof, TMIM and I have the occasional tiff, as couples will. Most of ours seem to involve the phrase “Why would you put that THERE?” When this happens, I imagine us in a sitcom: “Loving, long-married couple spend 3 years in long-distance relationship. They reunite, and hilarity ensues.”
I’m not sure why this works, but I can usually walk away from these little controversies with a smile.
(not to be confused with my WordPress Problem- not knowing how to insert a pic into a post yet!-this is not my original photo- looking for the source to credit properly)
As I have piddled around on the internet conducted extensive on-line career research, I fell into Pinterest. Oh boy, a virtual bulletin board- I love it! It’s environmentally friendly- no more magazines or catalogues! It’s a window to the world, offering glimpses into design ideas from countries whose languages I do not speak. It’s also home to the Ryan Gosling meme, an example of which appears around here somewhere. Don’t ask me why, but I find that hilarious.
I love Pinterest because it is full of attractive images and useful ideas, as well as the previously mentioned R.G. meme. I am fascinated by this cult of aspiration I seem to belong to. Pinterest shows us a better way. You can follow or be followed on the site, which strikes me as both flattering and mildly creepy. Although I haven’t been “pinning” (that’s what we call it) for long, I have a few followers, some of whom are even strangers. Apparently, I have better taste in laundry rooms than in other area, since more people “follow” that board than any of the others. I follow a few folks myself- (Rosemary B., I will never have to look for another garden image anywhere- your taste is impeccable!)
I love Pinterest because of the self-aware humor demonstrated by its members, as in “Pinterest: a place for women to plan weddings to men they don’t know, decorate houses they don’t live in, and dress children they haven’t had yet.”
I fear Pinterest because it offers me the illusion that I have accomplished something by spending hours at a time looking at pretty pictures. I justify this by telling myself that I am slowly and deliberately finding inspiration,which in time, will translate to action. On a small scale, this has turned out to be true. Fortunately, there seems to be some limit to my inertia- I can only look at other people’s projects for so long without being compelled to hang some shelves (ok, ok, get TMIM to hang some shelves), spray paint some office supplies and paint a vintage file cabinet. On a larger scale, I intend to create something of my own which is worthy of “repinning.” In that way, I will know that my time on Pinterest will not have been wasted.
Literacy is a big deal to me. For years, I’ve thought, “I should become a tutor someday.” And now I am. This summer I found an agency that trained and matched tutors to students. My student (let’s call him “BR” ) and I have just begun our second semester together.
BR is a grown man. He has spent more than a decade in prison. His life has included a series of horrifying incidents, any of which might have put me under the bed in a fetal position to this very day. An undiagnosed medical condition led to him being told, as an elementary student, to “sit in the back and draw.” He was socially promoted throughout high school, because he was good at sports. He did not graduate. He read at a second grade level when we met.
Turns out we had a lot in common. One of his goals is to get a driver’s license; I needed to get one too. He is looking for work; so am I.
We meet twice a week. We’ve missed a few sessions, but we are making great progress. Not only has BR’s reading improved, his confidence has grown considerably. He gets as much pleasure from reading “Hop on Pop” out loud as I do from watching this big, tattooed man work his way through it.
It’s clear what BR has learned- he’s got his short vowels sounds “locked down,” knows what a syllable is, and has mastered most of his sight words. I’ve learned that this is really fun, and that I am pretty good at it. I’ve also learned that doing it is almost as easy as just wanting to do it someday.
If I like something, I want you to have a chance to like it too.
When the weather turns cold, I start to crave this: steel cut oats, fresh blueberries, dried cranberries (mine are the Trader Joe’s orange flavored ones,) ground flax seed (you’ll never even know it’s there), walnut pieces, and cinnamon. Moisten it your way- a splash of milk or buttermilk, or a pat of butter for a little pushback against all that healthy goodness. It’s got it all : hot, juicy, chewy, crunchy, aromatic, and creamy. I’m good to go for hours after a bowl.
If you are reading this, you have the internet just like I do, so I won’t bore you with the nutritional merits of every component of this breakfast. You can look them up.
Of course, I’ve never been able to convince The Kid or TM(“don’t talk to me about oatmeal”)IM to share, or even try this glorious concoction. It’s up to you- do you want to be a super hero too?
What’s your favorite breakfast?
It’s not like I haven’t done this before; my little family moved here in 1995, so that TMIM (That Man I Married) could pursue a PhD. It took me 6 months to find work that time, and I was trying a lot harder then. Part of the problem was that my job of choice was/is very specific. There were 3 people doing the job within driving distance of my new home, and oddly, no one wanted to step aside to make room for me.
I cannot say that I was sorry to leave the job I eventually found when we returned to California in 2001. I could probably get hired there again, but I won’t try. I have never been involved in an abusive romantic relationship, but that job came as close as I care to get. Nobody laid a hand on me, but you can’t tell me that breaking into silent weeping on the way to the office is normal.
Fortunately, I am not the primary earner this go-round. (Thank you, Dr. T!)
This time things are different- we are here because I wanted to come back sooner or later, and the opportunity presented itself to my other half first. We agreed that I would stay in California to allow our child (The Kid) , then a senior, to graduate high school. In the meantime, I’d look for work long distance. Years passed, and we realized that the long distance life was wearing on us, the long distance job hunt was a long shot, and it was just time to make a move, because even though I was getting older, I was still nearly 6 loooong years away from full retirement at my current job.
Once again, full time jobs in my specific area of expertise are scarce. But this time, I am not sure I would want one. The work can be stressful, and emotionally draining. I do have the option of going solo, and developing my own business. It’s something I am considering, though I haven’t yet made the effort. Here’s the big question: If I have to work really hard to get something going, do I want to struggle over something I have done for years, or put the effort into something new and interesting?
As I work that out, I’ve been putting other pieces of my new life into place, but we’ll get to that.
No, not in that fun, let’s get married in New York way. I am letting my real hair color come in, in all of its striped glory.
Except for a brief flirtation with henna in the 70’s, and a startling episode of I Love Lucy red in 1991 (DON”T let your stylist enlist you as a hair model unless he is VERY specific about his intentions!) I avoided hair color until approximately 10 years ago.
Actually, I remember clearly the day I first got coaxed into highlights, or rather, I remember walking toward the train station afterward, as a very large group protesting the impending invasion of Iraq marched toward me. I felt superficial and decadent, and hoped they thought my fabulous blowout was just the way I looked when I rolled out of bed, if they noticed me at all.
But I digress. The highlights got lighter, without my having asked. A few years later, my hair goddess (SHE would never turn me red) informed me that my gray hair was coming in at such a rate that my hair would always look “cloudy” (or something) unless I went to single process color.
And that was it. Over the years, my hair stayed young as my face grew older. I feared the disconnect. I did not want to alarm strangers as they approached, expecting a girl and finding a crone. I feared the transition back to my real hair color more. How do I go to work with 2 inches of roots showing? So it was back to the chair every 6 weeks. I said I would let my hair grow out when I turned 55 or moved back to Durham, which ever came first. Those milestones were ages away.
Until they weren’t. Here I am, at home in North Carolina, having rounded the corner on double nickels, 6 months out from my last color. My gray is coming on strong, and I like it. When I moved here in June, I had a smooth, beige, blown out bob. It takes a special kind of woman to maintain that in southern heat and humidity. I am not that woman.
Apparently, I am a woman on the verge of having a cloud of salt and pepper hair. A new head of hair seems an appropriate accessory to a new stage of life. Having solved the weighty issue of what to do with my hair, I can now move on to the trifling issue of what to do with my time.
Here I am, in the horrifying position of being able to do whatever I want, constrained only by gravity, the time-space continuum, and money. And my chronological age.
Here’s the condensed version: I voluntarily left a job I loved, in a great city on one coast to join my husband, who I love more, in our house on the other coast.
The Good: an end to 3 years of bi-coastal marriage
The Bad: no job at my age in a down economy
The Ugly: the condition of our house after years of tenant occupancy
This blog is intended to document and clarify my search for gainful and meaningful employment. I’ll be discussing some of the house rehab as it occurs. I will be writing about the big and little delights of life in my corner of the world. I suspect there will be some discussion of living with other humans, in my case a husband and adult child (there’s an oxymoron for you.) And whatever else lands in my brain from time to time.
My favorite joke off all time is from Paula Poundstone. It goes something like this: “You know why grown-ups are always asking kids what they want to do when they grow up? They’re looking for ideas!” I’m looking for ideas~
George Lakoff has retired as Distinguished Professor of Cognitive Science and Linguistics at the University of California at Berkeley. His newest book "The Neural Mind" is now available.
Investing for normal people
It's time for gun sense in America.
wings and things
middle age can be fun
thatdifficultstage 