Kitchen Duty

I'm the only woman of the baby boom generation who makes her bed. The next job I can remember was given to me also by my mother after she broke her leg skiing in New Jersey. It was her first or second time making my father happy by skiing on the little New Jersey hill with snow making. Full of fear and tension over sliding down a hill, Mom broke her leg in two places.

I was subsequently hired at age twelve to cook and clean. Maybe my only job was to take care of the kitchen because I remember the hell of oven scrubbing and making lamb chops inedible with garlic. I was happy about receiving a ten dollar bill and also happy when I could return to being a carefree penniless twelve-year-old. That may have been the same year I forced my family to celebrate Hanukkah instead of Christmas. That was the year we didn't have to get rid of the tree before grandma came over for a visit. Even though my parents grew up celebrating Christmas, having an actual Christmas tree in our actual house decorating the picture window with it's lights would have been upsetting to all four grandparents or at least the grandmothers.

First Job

My first job was making my bed.  This job was mine before we left Trenton NJ in 1962 when I was six. My mother gave me a quarter every day for making my bed. She also told me the bully across the street was named Tammy the Rotton Spot and didn't question me about picking up heavy rocks when I broke my thumb. As a result, I'm the only woman of my generation who makes the bed every morning. I've even started using a bed spread (remember bed spreads) to protect our bed from dog fur. It's just a sheet but I do put some thought into the decoration on the sheet chosen by my late mother-in-law Sharonn Gittelsohn. Most of our sheets are in-law hand-me-downs.

My father was surprised that my teenage son does not have the job of making his bed. My parents must have been in agreement about the importance of beginning the day that way. I find in freshens up the bedroom.

Coward

December 4, 2012

What if I organized all my writing index cards into emotions so I could make stories, perhaps with photos (scrapbook style since I seem to be fascinated with scrapbooks lately).

What does this have to do with my job search? I realized this morning that I'm a coward. If I were not a coward, I would throw everything aside so I could spend the morning writing. Perhaps it's enough just to have the desire. I could believe the red sea will split for me even if I have to walk up to my nose.

What if...

November 29, 2012

What if the pain in my shoulder disappeared suddenly, my house was vacuumed and I felt financially secure.

From Mexico to Health Care Benefits

November 26, 2012

I just returned from Cuernavaca, Mexico “The Land of Eternal Spring” where we visited Claire. The streets can be European, cobblestoned, historical, dirty, crowded, capitalistic and mysterious. Every door seems to open into beautiful cafes, gardens, art museums and slow paced friendly people.

Two things occurred to me today. One is that each moment of my life is rich with the dirty, crowded, mysterious past. Doors open up into secret gardens and creativity. Therefore, there is no reason to regret the past. Two, is that I'm going to switch to a Shutterfly journal where I can decorate with pictures, invite others to contribute pictures and order some pages to be printed for our coffee table.

November 27, 2012

As I embraced the pain in my shoulder, I began to pivot to a different path leading me to think less about my shoulder and more about interesting events in my life.

My next move is to see whether the town of Westford, Vermont pays health care benefits. If they don't pay health care benefits, I'm not going to work until 6 or 7 a few days per week plus Saturday hours. I'm going to keep looking and looking. Perhaps I'll make a list.

If they do pay health care benefits, I'm going to commit myself to reading and writing during the extra time I have in the mornings plus take some online seminars in how to be an up-to-date cutting edge public librarian.

Temp work?

Temp work might be a good idea to removed me from the rut of thinking I have to work my way up as a low paid librarian. I like the way that one feels. It might include rearranging my life a bit. That might not be a bad thing either. I could serendipitously wind up at a company where I might not have applied for a job yet it is the perfect job. There are many ways to win the lottery.

Holding the Camel

Jewish folktale: A man is ridiculed for walking with his son when they have the transport of a camel. He is scolded for asking his son to walk while he rides on the camel. Someone else berates the son for allowing his father to walk while he rides the camel. After the father and the son both climb onto the back of the camel, the animal rights people show up. That's when they decide that the only politically correct thing to do is carry the camel.

Cover letter: You may have noticed on my resume that I did not stick with any one job for very long. I want to apologize in advance for leaving even though my enjoyment of each position was genuine. Contributions always include newsletters, seizing upon learning opportunities, passion for helping others, figuring out improvements on the system, collaborations and my calm pleasant demeanor. Curiosity led me to drop my first professional position after two years just to see what it would be like to enter the new age world of massage therapists where I burned out after two years. Sensitivity to the cry of my baby made infant day care impossible back when I was a school library media specialist. After attending Le Leche League meetings, I sat nursing in a rocking chair in a sunny room while devouring the stack of parenting books on the table next to my chair. Can I put that on my resume?

Now I'm fifty four and a half, exhausted from pain in my shoulder waking me up at night, afraid to go to the doctor until I can find a job with adequate health insurance and wondering what to do next.

Regretting Regret

Oh no you're doing it again. You can't time travel, OK. Just this morning, or maybe it was last night, I was back in 1991 meeting my husband Paul. Only this time I had graduated from the U of Iowa with my degree in English with a emphasis in creative writing, instead of dropping out to go live with a boyfriend in Vermont who I was afraid I maybe should not have broken up with. Since I had always wanted to travel I decided to be a travel agent pre-Travolocity. While gaining experience and supporting myself as a travel agent, I gradually attracted recognition as a travel writer. By the time I met my future husband, I had written about my experiences in countries all over the world and was gaining recognition as a short story writer. I had also started a novel and was thinking about settling down more.

Then I catch myself and realize, yes, I did time travel in my mind. What about now? Am I worth anything now?

Regret

November 5, 2012

Regret

Often I time travel in my mind envisioning great vistas of career paths. Quite often my mind drifts to this reverie while walking Sweet Georgia Brown (SGB). She happily chases balls and smell detours while I travel back to the land of successful writer, school library media specialist, travel agent, chef and cookbook writer, college public relations administrator and integrative medical expert. Sometimes I leap off the gradual career path and into winning the lottery right now.