Oh, Right. I Blog. With Pictures.

It has been a while. Isn't it good to know that I didn't die by way of freak icicle accident? Although, there was this:

and this:

You have already read all of the blogging that you need to read about snow. One thing I will add to this: Ow, ow, my back- and other snow-shoveling-muscles. Ow. We have a lot of driveway, and we do not own a snow blower. We also can't afford to pay someone to come plow....so, ow.

Even for someone in great shape, shoveling is one of those surprise activities that will hurt you. And I'm not in great shape. I have been trying to keep up with some yoga practice, but it's hard when you have a little kid in the house.

Three year-olds, come with time limits. Over every activity, there is actually a hovering stopwatch counting down the seconds that you are allowed to enjoy productivity. I crack open my laptop, and it starts...tick tick...check email, respond to students....tick, tick...check job sites, pay a bill...tick...post Carl's Craigslist ad....tick tick tick...write cov-

"MOMMY"

...write cover-

"MOMMY, I'm Tinkerbell and you're Queen Clarion. You have to give me the moonstone and then you can be Terrence and follow me to the island with the treasure."

-cover let-

"Mommy get up now. Follow me to the treasure. FOLLOW ME TO THE TREASURE RIGHT NOW. OR MAYBE YOU CAN BE THE OLD HAG AND I CAN BE SNOW WHITE. MOMMY MOMMY I want juice. No, warm hot chocolate milk. Lets go to the kitchen so I can pick my choice."

What was I doing? Facebook? Email? OH. Cover letter. Note to self: tomorrow, lead with cover letter.

I am glad that there are things to do like Saturday morning yoga with Steph, followed by self-satisfied post-yoga muffins and croissants. Getting away for a few hours a week to tutor has so far been great for feeling like a smart person with something to offer humanity again (and not much else), but it is good to do yoga-type things too. Things just for me.

Blogging is also one of these things...but do you see the clock? It has giant red numbers, and it's ticking loudly. It will probably take me three different runs at my laptop before I actually finish this entry.

*******************************************************************

I am spending a lot of time oscillating between two states of being. Some days are spent slack-jawed on the couch staring at the TV and hanging with Wendy, my mind as blank as the view from my back window.

Other days involve working diligently, doing laundry and cleaning and cutting fabric and sewing and sketching and knitting....

On Saturday, as I blasted music from my sewing room and danced around with Wendy, brandishing pieces of my latest creative endeavor, Carl paused, looked up from his endless poking of the coal stove, and asked, "Is it possible that you are bipolar?"

"Anything is possible." (hop, shuffle, skip)

"Not that I mind. I mean, I'm along for the ride. It might be nice to know, that's all."

*******************************************************************

We are currently juggling the uphill battle to find someone who will give us a home loan with the prospect of finding somewhere else to rent or buy by May, should we not be able to secure said loan for the house we are currently living in. This is a very schizophrenic set of exercises. Requires yoga-master flexibility in the emotional department. And a good working relationship with Google.

The words here are falling a little flat, but I'm sure you can imagine our situation. Four years of building a place into a home for our family (six years, for Carl), and we might have to walk away from it because no one will give us a loan. Because the housing market is in crisis. Because no one will give me a job. Because it's just not in the cards. I don't know.

No, I do not think I am mentally ill. Just facing down one of those crossroads in life, with what feels like my hands tied behind my back.

On the up side, I have a daughter who puts together outfits like this:

You can't really tell by the picture, but there are sparkly shoes involved. That's good for some daily levity, even if she swings from my legs when I try to strike a warrior one, or drapes herself over my back when I attempt a nice relaxing pigeon pose.

Actually, sometimes, she does it with me. She can pull off a nice tree pose.

OK, I think I've rambled enough. Also, the big red timer has been going off for at least seven minutes. Wendy Her Highness Princess Cinderella requires a slice of cheese (NOT SWISS).

Cheer For All

I sit here at 1:20 on Christmas Eve afternoon in smugness. I am done (DONE!) all of my Christmas crud.

The smugness is made more smug, because as I type, Carl is out doing his yearly tour of the lower circles of the Inferno-Target, the Big W-Mart, etc.-having been informed on Tuesday that yes, sweetheart, there is a Santa Clause, and Christmas Eve is two days from now. P.S.: You are Santa Clause.

Christmas has actually been nice and low-stress for me this year, having no money with which to shop. (OOOH! More silver lining to unemployment! Score!) (By the way, I may have an interview for an office job on Monday! *knocks on wood*)

Fun tricks to play on yourself when you are poor:

Horde gift cards from last Christmas all year, and buy Christmas presents with them this year! I am good at hording gift cards. So, thank you, all you past family selves who didn't know what to get me last year. You made shopping possible this year. My mom even gave me our family gift card early this year. I bought some home stuff for us that I wanted, wrapped it, and put it under the tree from her and my step dad. Nice, right? COOL TRICKS!

And then there is the handmade stuff. I can't tell you about most of it, because some of the recipients own computers and will probably be idly dicking around on them tonight. (HI STEPH! HI JAIMIE!) Back in November, my mom suggested to me that she might want a cabled beret/tam (there was an argument about which was which and if they were in fact the same thing) in cream. So I found a pattern and knitted. And knitted. And knitted until I was cross-eyed and arthritic. She does not own a computer, so I can show you:

Because of this hat, I didn't get to knit Carl the fingerless gloves that he would like, but that's okay, because we promised that we wouldn't buy each other anything this year, and knitting something would be like cheating via a loophole. Dirty. Underhanded. Low. (One fingerless glove may just show up in his stocking yet. We still have twelve hours before Christmas is actually here.)

Since Erin is busy being newly 16, and Carl is busy with his annual pre-Christmas Igottaworkgottaworknow freak-out, Wendy and I have been busy providing cheer. Hanging stockings. Stringing lights. Baking cookies, wrapping presents, decorating the tree. This is okay by me. Last year, I was a haggard school teacher strung out on coffee and working-mom turmoil. Last year, all I wanted to do on Christmas Eve was to drown myself in a large vodka and pomegranate 7up. And I did. This year? This year, I have time to help Wendy hang ornaments at her eye-level and then laugh my ass off at my bottom-heavy tree.

This year, there is cheer. I am actually enjoying my Christmas. So SUCK IT, shit economy! SUCK IT, job/lackofjob stress! I don't need you! I got to spend time making this filmstrip of Wendy and snow and stuff with grainy pictures from my cell phone! My digital camera is dead and requires expensive batteries!



Merry Whatnot, everybody. I hope it is awesome, and full of many happily enjoyed cocktails. (My choice this year: nog. Spiked with less bitter tears of frustration and more whiskey and joy.)

Depressed About Your Unemployment?

7 Simple Ways to Crawl Out From Under Your Rock


None of these things will help you get a job. These are things that will help you feel more like a human for a little while. They may seem simple, but they are very important if you want to remember that there is more going in your life than you can see from your current point of view.*

If all of these things seem obvious and silly to you, you do not need to read this, because you do not currently live under a rock. You should go have a Starbucks or buy things on Etsy, or do other happy things. Others, please proceed.

1. Remove the bottle of wine/whiskey/tequila from your bedside table. It's just not healthy.

2. Take a weed whacker to your leg hair and put on a skirt. Alternatively, weed whack that scruff from your chin and put on a clean shirt. Whichever applies to your current situation (maybe both? maybe all?), it will make you feel like a person for a little while. (Seriously dude. You look like a Fraggle. Remember Fraggles?)

3. Respond to emails from friends that are more than two days old. It's not their fault no one will hire you...unless they voted for Bush at any time. In that case, instead of returning their emails, sign those people up for home-delivered "special offers" that you can find on the internet. They will appreciate your thinking of them.

4. No, really. Talk to your friends. Talk to your family. They don't think you are a suck-ass useless piece of crap, or they wouldn't keep emailing you and wondering if you died. Call them up even if they haven't emailed or called. Human contact. You need it. Don't be a jerk to them when they tell you about their job woes. You can cry into your pillow later.
(Yes, Steph. If I didn't actually answer your question yet, Friend's Thanksgiving should happen again this year.)

5. Make something. Make something new for dinner. Bake banana bread. Draw a picture. Knit something. Build something. Make something in your house prettier, more efficient, or different in some way. Produce something that you can eat, see, touch or use. Then shake your fist at the sky and yell, "I AM A PRODUCTIVE PERSON, DAMMIT! YOU JERK-BAGS ARE MISSING OUT ON ALL OF THIS! THIS IS YOUR LOSS! YOURS!" (Do the fist-shaking thing. Do It. Then, gesture to yourself suggestively. Freak out the neighbors. What have you got to lose?)

6. Close the computer. You can look for today's phantom job postings tomorrow. Also, doing something on Farmville/Mafia Wars/WOW/Second Life is not the same as doing something.

7. Go outside. Do some yard work. Go for a walk. Take your kid to the park, or go by yourself. Get some Vitamin D. "Pasty and haggard" isn't really a good look for you.

8. Do something you want to do. Even if it costs money. Okay, not too much money-I'm talking about scrounging up enough change from your sofa to get a couple of donuts, not putting a new computer on a charge card. Unless you won't be able to feed yourself this week because of it, get a coffee and sit in the bookstore, or take a bus to the library. Rent a movie. Go to a movie. You don't somehow deserve financial ruin because you treat yourself to something small (small!) once a week.

*My current point of view=under the rock, up my own ass, curled up under the covers with my hands over my ears. Attempting to alleviate the situation...now.

Yeah, I'm using my blog to give myself pep talks. So what??

Short Pirates Shop Here!

Does anyone know any short pirates who need Halloween costumes? Announcing the all new Etsy shop catering to the fashion-forward mini-marauder, brought to you by Captain Barnacle Bonney, piratical clothier extraordinaire!

Pint Sized Plunder

I said I would do it, and I did. Yay, me!

There are only a few things posted for sale so far. I finished a bunch of outfits on Thursday and Friday. Between paying attention to the cats, the dog, and Wendy (who all wanted a piece of me the second I sat down to work), I came up with a couple of outfits and a pirate coat.

Unfortunately, Wendy has decided that her role in all of this is more “tyrannical sweatshop mischief elf” than “willing model and promotions specialist.” The stuff would look a lot cuter on a happy photogenic kid, but I had to settle for laying it all out on the nicer patches of my juice-stained couch and trying to hold my camera steady while said photogenic one climbed my leg and tried her best to snatch it from my hands.

This is not a huge money-making venture. It is more of a way to expend some creative energy so I don’t completely lose my shit when the water goes out on me during another shower.

Have I told you all about the problems we are having with our well? Meh. Another day, another post. This post is a happy post! Mo launches an Etsy shop! YAY! I mean, AVAST!

*Update: I just went to put some more stuff on, and I sold my little pirate coat! DUDE! It was only up for like, 18 hours. I've found a niche market. I'm going to make millions. MILLIONS.

The Wickles Made Me Do It

0r, Ways to make a little scratch without actually selling tissue samples to science.

Pickles with hot peppers in them. Wickedly delicious pickles. WICKLES! I really can't describe how good these are.

Last week, while sitting down with a nice tuna salad and wickle sandwich, I was looking around on Craigslist for jobs. After sifting through the "Education," "Writing/Editing," and "Retail" sections, I clicked on "etc." And that's when I seriously began considering a new life as either a horse sitter or an egg donor.

Is anyone else out there in joblessville using their college degree to drain bacon right now?

Look, I'm not wallowing in a pit of despair, wondering if I have value. Not yet anyway. I know that I have value. I have skills. MAD skills, and a great personality. I just haven't figured out how to make a buck off of those skills in an efficient, childcare-conscious way. (If I am spending more than half of my take-home on childcare, it's not worth it to me, especially if the job does nothing to further my long-term goals. Sorry, it's just not.)

It's all about diversifying your marketability, the advice people tell you. Real life experience counts for a lot! Okay...

Successful multi-tasker seeks career in simultaneous enchilada production and online bill paying. My prolific production of analytical thoughts on The Great Gatsby will be a great asset to your company. Qualified to explain the nuances of Tinkerbell's potty habits in great detail.

At some point in the day, after researching and poring over listings and revamping your resume and sending the applications out, you just have to do something else. That is my major advice.

Back to last week. As I was slowly backing away from the paid medical experiments page on Craigslist, I tripped over my sewing stuff and remembered that I do actually have a trade skill. And then I made a bunch of kid's pirate outfits. It's the Wickles. They went straight to my head.

Pirate costumes? Really, Mo? This is your big plan?
I never said it was a big plan. So what if it is my big plan?
Why?
Because pirates are Effing Awesome. That's why.

Soon, I will be selling them on Etsy. Maybe I'll make a few bucks. Maybe it keep my head out of the computer (and my ass) for a while. That second part is more important to me right at this moment.

I'd like to thank Erin and Nana for bringing Wickles into my life. I don't know how I've been getting along without them.

Unemployment: Tales from the Dark Side

or, This whole Staycation thing isn't really doing it for me.

Feeling useless does strange things to a person. For example, on Wednesday, when I made this, I was rolling on the floor laughing:


...and now it just seems like a unsettling cry for antidepressants. On the bright side, Wendy and I had a good time drawing pictures together for four hours and then jumping in the bath, covered with marker. She claims to have had no part in the laundry basket incident, and resents my slanderous representation of her character. See? Innocent.

Carl and I have been knocking around house together; both of us combing the Internet for jobs, both of us scared of what will happen next, both of us frustrated to the point of irrational outbursts regarding crumbs on counters and deleted TiVo. We find ridiculous reasons to storm out of the house-with half-explained purpose, in half-hearted anger, because we desperately need something from the store. A LEMON! WE NEED A LEMON RIGHT NOW, GODDAMNIT! If we don't have a lemon, the enchiladas will be ruined, and we might as well give up now and eat 89-cent pot pies from the freezer for the rest of our lives! I don't want that for our children! To Giant!

It is kind of a mania-coaster that is half-submerged in swamp water, and we are stapled to the seats. I have to remember to breathe at the right times, or the green bile of bitter fear rises up to choke me. The choking makes the lung-full of air that much more thrilling, though. Wendy and I are good together, mostly. Marker parties. Library jaunts. Park picnics. It's sweet. And when Carl and I find something new to laugh about or something good to do that's free, it's like we just discovered Peanut Butter Captain Crunch again. Whee! The the top of the coaster! And there is Captain Crunch here! WHEEEEEE!!!

*Erin, if you are here for some reason, I cannot vouch for your continued mental health, should you read the following.*

We have had pretty good-ahem-relations, lately. Apparently, there is something about the thick atmosphere of suppressed impotent rage that makes everyone want to…pollinate. (I know several scientists that have done scientific experiments proving this. With science.) Which is SO not the thing to be doing when no one is working, no one is on birth control and about nine months from now, we will be either moving and/or buying a house. This is not the time to be pollinated.

It was different before. Before, when I quit delivering pizzas for my 24th birthday because I didn't want do it anymore, and I didn't care where I worked next, I wasn't unemployed. I was bumming around. Before, the news was full of reasons that other people should worry about their futures, while I snapped on my name tag and went to mall to mock my boss and his small, petty life in middle management.

That was a different version of me, who was not wrapped and tangled around other people who depend on my being useful. That was a rootless version of me that did not care if I was useful or not. It is different now. I'll be 28 in a few months. Those four years that have elapsed since the era of willful job-quitting are vast oceans of time zones when you throw a family into the mix.

Excuse me, I have a sudden, crushing desire for a lemon. *storm storm storm*

Mommy Tells Wendy How It Is

or, How I Checked Out a Book About Making Organic Leather Goods at the Library Last Week

Me: There’s this thing called the economy, and it works kind of like the weather. Sometimes the sun is shining and we all get to go outside and have jobs and buy houses and eat fancy lunches at Olive Garden. Sometimes it rains, and everyone stays inside and eats lots of hamburger and watches too much America's Next Top Model on basic cable. Right now, it’s raining out. It rains and rains and thunders and then rains some more. A lot of people (including us, soon) cannot even afford to have basic cable, because of all this rain. This is a metaphor, of course, you see that, right? It’s not really raining; some jackass monkey man spent all of our money on toys to play soldier on the other side of the world and then a balloon popped and some bad men gave themselves bonuses…you get it?

So, when I was a teenager, like your sister, we were all looking forward to graduating high school, launching multi-million dollar web-ventures of our own, and walking around for the rest of our lives with sun shining out of our asses. We did not expect unfavorable atmospheric conditions to begin just as we had to leave the house to find money to pay off our nice college educations.

Wendy: Life’s not fair, is is it?
Me: Right. I digress. It did rain, and here we are, and I don't want to cry about all the evaporated expectations. And if you are going to watch The Lion King six times every day, can you please stop channeling Scar?

I am trying to be like my grandma here. She was born in the Depression era, and raised four kids in the Philadelphia projects while her husband was in the military. (Don't get your Dora panties in a twist, I'm only nominally comparing my situation to hers. We are a few steps away from being there. I know that.) My point is that my mom remembers having a good childhood, and they did not have fancy lunches anywhere. My grandma had a good attitude. She made raisin smiley-faces in the oatmeal seem like a very special,
magical treat. For dinner.

She also drank and smoked a lot. I don’t plan to do that. I can do the raisin thing, but you’ll have to settle for a more lucid, if less overly cheerful mom. Sorry.

Wendy: Are you a happy monster?
Me: Yes. That’s about the size of it.

Anyway, I know that you don’t really need the excess of things to which kids have become accustom. If we can't actually live at the Disney Store like you want to, you'll be fine. If they never give us a mortgage so we can buy our house, if we have to actuallyleave this house and rent a much smaller one with less yard, if you get one birthday present this year instead of three…you will be fine. You were never going to have a constant shower of expensive stuff anyway. I'm not worried about the stuff you are going to miss out on. That stuff will not make you a better, smarter, happier person.

I am worried about not being able to tuck you in at night because I’m working nights at the mall. I’m worried about taking a job an hour away and not seeing you during daylight hours at all. I’m worried about putting you in daycare where people do not know that you deserve to be loved every minute of every day. I’m worried about these things affecting the way your dad and I see the world and, mostly, I’m worried about you growing up with broken, unhappy people all around you. I don’t want that for you. I am determined to prevent that from happening.

I also don’t want to hear about the apocalypse coming in 2012. Dear Hollywood, can you not make twenty movies about it between now and then? Can you just let us raise our kids on hamburger and over-cooked optimism without having to also contemplate how we will feed them after Global Warming Eats Us All?

Wendy: Lions eat antelope.
Me: Yes.
Wendy: What’s antelope?
Me: It’s kind of like a deer.
Wendy: Oh. Can we eat antelope?
Me: No, but we can eat deer. Let’s become organic farmers and eat deer somewhere in the mountains. Would you like that?
Wendy: I like to eat deer.
Me: Good. I’ll teach you how to tan hides. After I learn how to tan hides. I love you.
Wendy: I love you so much, Mommy. Can I have a blue lolly-pop?
Me: Yes. Blue lolly-pops are free at the post office.