When in Doubt, Write It Out

One thing you can say about me is . . .

Oh wait . . .

I think the truth of it is either nothing would be said or lots would be said. Never one thing.

I was thinking the other day about how I have a level of awareness around my annoying ways. Yet speak of my annoying ways always. If I'm annoying, and believe this to be true, then the annoyance should be owned and not qualified.

If you made it through that then I'm in love with you and you need to be my new best friend.

The date today is 26.07.14. I find this shocking.

Comic Relief 

I have no job.

Yes, I work for Pup and watch my Spud-Muffin, but I bring in no money on my own. Initially this didn't bother me much. In my two marriages there has been an ebb and flow with finances. Especially in my first marriage. I was a stay-at-home-momma and brought in nothing other than random part-time gigs that I would find to bolster up the monthly receivables. And eventually I had a corporate job where I made more than half of the monthlies. So for a great portion of my first marriage my Wasband made the lion's share of the dough-ray-me and for about six years I made a bit more.

But, either way, it never mattered. Wasband and I didn't butt heads too much in this part of our financial planning. Maybe in other ways, but not in this way.

Marriage #2 has been much different. I lost the corporate job a few months before we got married. I went back to school for a period (disaster) then eventually found a job in my field at what I affectionately called "The Tumbler." Again, disaster. Hilariously so, but wow, disaster. I recently found a tongue-in-cheek job description I had written for my replacement and laughed out loud I'm so damn funny. But it spoke to my level of unhappiness with that horrible job.

I ramble here . . .

Then I worked for a lovely consignment shop in a chi-chi neighborhood for a couple of years. Made NO money, but made friends that I will have forever and had a blast working in one of my favorite fields. Fashion and hunting. Because what is more gratifying than the fashion-hunt? Consignment/thrift isn't for everyone, but I love it so.

Then we bought The Firm and we decided I'd watch Spud and work for my darling husband, Pup.

All well and good.

Except I bring in no money.

It's a weird thing.

I don't think she meant any harm, but once during a conversation with a friend we were bantering about any "work" we might want or need on our person (ahem) and I mentioned a few things I wouldn't have any bad thoughts to having done. I said, "Yeah, I've heard that ________ wouldn't cost me so much and have good results." She said, "You mean it wouldn't cost Pup so much."

I was taken aback.

Pup and I are a family, but my contributions are entirely service-based, not financial. Aaaah!

And it struck me hard . . . I have no money to call my own. Probably for the first time, actually, yes, for the first time in my life.

Gah

I gotta say, writing all of this out is enlightening. This is the reason people, some people anyway, write. You can have all of these thoughts in your fucking head, but until they are written out you don't know what you really think.

Thanks my invisible community!

Ooops! How did that get in there?

Okay, that's better.

Smooches my hooches. I hug and love.

Querulous

I looked up the spelling of this word yesterday for a completely different reason, and then came to the realization that this is exactly how I spent the summer.

Granted, I have spent the past five-plus months at The Tumbler in a smallish, unventilated room that is not air conditioned; sharing it with a large, heat-producing, fume-spewing, cranky-ass printer along with an overheated iMac.

Yes, I would sweat all day and usually around 3:00 in the afternoon was so exhausted that by the time I went home I was querulous. I wasn't pretty.

Plenty of people have worked in places that are not air conditioned. I'm certain plenty of people have had it MUCH worse. But, this described issue, along with many many more I won't go into (I wrote a hilarious, yet mean, job description for them to put in their next ad. I only shared it with one of the other designers.) made me think, "Hey! Life is fucking short. This isn't working for me."

Querulous. I didn't even know that's what I was.

One night I walked into the house and Pup bounded out from the office - so excited to have me home from the day's work.

"What's for supper dahline"?

I put my bags down and wanted to cry.

Instead I turned on him and screeched, "You eat four things! Pick one"!

Of course it's true that Pup only eats four things. No reason to be a beast. No reason to let my querulous ways explode on him.

I'm out just a few days from The Tumbler and the fresh air is so sweet! I'm happier than a clam. I have no idea what the hell that means, but I am.

I even made Pup one of the four things he eats for supper last night. Smooches my Pup. He was never querulous while I was going through all of this. He was simply supportive and when I decided I had had enough and had taken a different, not-so-fiscally-beneficial job, he didn't even blink. He just supported.

Love that man of mine. It's true, he only eats four things and that pisses me off from time to time, but he's my soft place to land and what could be more important than that?

400th Post

This seems momentous! It's been great fun and great expression.

Not so much during the past few months. A variety of reasons have contributed, but the biggest one just may be impetus for the change I am about to make.

I haven't talked about it much, but I got a job back in March. I was sooooooo excited!

Not too many stories from The Tumbler because . . . well . . . because I kept experiencing the not so good and hoping for the best. I think the metaphor goes something like that. Maybe not.

That's the other problem with this problem. How something, somewhere was withdrawing my magic charms. Yes! Those! Heh . . .

I tend to be a stick-with-it person. I don't jump imprudently. I try hard to not be overly impulsive. Think things through. Maybe even a bit stubborn.

The slow, painful realization began pounding into me a change needed to happen. It really hit me on the head when I found myself one Saturday evening designing this t-shirt for myself.

This can't be good I thought.

So change is coming for me. I'm glad about this. It will be a bit of a challenge, but isn't that quintessential? Yep.

Good Morning, Good Morning

Eee gads.

Who knew that being trained on a new job (Dallas - hot printer guru I met yesterday said working at The Tumbler could be like trying to drink from a fire hose) could be so exhausting?

This was week four and things are jelling a bit.

I was chatting with AGTM (Adorable Girl Training Me) - who coincidentally was laid off from her large corporate job the SAME TIME as me - said that she read in some of her 'materials from getting canned' that when women begin a new job they are FRUSTRATED that they cannot do EVERYTHING IMMEDIATELY. They want to be able to hit the ground running, make a contribution, and know everything about everything.

Men don't have this affliction. They let the information come to them when it comes and move forward from that.

FASCINATING!

That made me feel so much better and ironically - or 'of course' - things are lining up for me. Not that I know everything, but I don't feel quite so stumbly.

I'm settling in, people are getting to know me, I even made The Boy Genius (TBG) laugh a couple of times.

My annoying ways are becoming clear to all I work with.

Cast of Characters:

The Mom

The Dad

The Daughter

These three are, as far as I can tell, co-owners of The Tumbler. At times their infighting has all of us hanging our heads or scurrying for cover. At times it has me laughing my ass off at the realness of it all. Wouldn't we all like to talk to co-workers this way? I'm pondering on a daily basis if this would be good or bad. Either way it's rather eye-opening and educational.

I love all three of them.

The Mom is lovely, creative, kind. I'd like to have some wine with her on a Friday night. I think I will.

The Dad is quiet. Very, very nice. Very busy.

The Daughter. A force. Creative, biz-like, sweet, effective. Love her.

Then there is:

Older (by that I mean he's probably my age) Grumpy Guy. OGG talks to himself and likes to show me stuff I've done in error by searching me out and saying, "What's wrong with this"?

Dude, if I knew what was wrong, it would be right. He's perfectly nice as I like to say.

Cutie Curly Girl. CCG is the nucleus of the office. Knows EVERYTHING. Smart as a whip, cute as a button. Love love love her. She's as sweet and adorable as they come.

Her husband, Printer Boy. He is funny and self-deprecating. I admire PB and CCG for working together and showing all of us how it should be done. He's a go-to guy for me.

The Boy Genius. TBG is an introvert as many designers are. Super super scary smart. Has that awesome blend of left AND right brain that is splendid to observe. Sometimes he speaks and I have NO IDEA what he is saying. He owns no TV. I kinda love this. The Daughter owns no TV either. Should I tell them that Pup and I own 9 TVs?

Adorable Girl Training Me. AGTM works part-time for The Tumbler. She is so cute, blond, efficient, and full of great ideas. Fun fun fun!

Then there is me.

"Oh! You're the new Creative that The Tumbler hired"? the hot printer guru said. "They've been threatening for months to get someone new in here."

That's me, The New Creative.