Columbus Day

and a good friend’s birthday . . .

But neither of those is today’s topic.  I’m seeing a headline that’s bringing out the curmudgeon in me.  “Lost generation.” They mean the kids out of college who can’t find work. Geez, what’s THAT like?

When people talk (or write) about the present economy, they say it hasn’t been this bad since the late ’70s, early 80s. I remember those days well, but I don’t remember anyone moaning about my generation being “lost” when we got out of college and couldn’t find work. If you were an engineer (as my last college roommate was), you had no problem. I was an English major. I spent almost two years first doing temp work and then as a secretary before I finally got my first job in publishing, also as a secretary. I eventually worked (and learned and waited) my way into editorial, but it took time. And that’s what I suspect these kids don’t think they need.

But they do. My mother always said that getting a job is a job in itself. I’ve been looking for a steady-paycheck job for over two years now. I’m being interviewed by people who weren’t born when I left college and I know I’m not being hired because they don’t want to supervise someone my age. I suspect I’m headed back to temp work but that’s the way life goes. That’s what the “lost generation” needs to understand—sometimes you have to take not what you want but what you can get. And then work for what you want.

 

September 25, 2008

Things in the world are so crazy I don’t think there’s any need for me to comment on any of it. So I’m going to just do the micro-life thing because it’s anything but crazy right now. In fact, other than the heavy workload, it’s completely uneventful. But the cable guys have come and as soon as we (Joe) dig the ditch, they’ll come hook us up! (woo-hoo!)

I found out that the electronic collar for 85 Pounds o’ Love has settings (didn’t know that until I bought another one and read the booklet!). So I’ve upped the beeping on the collar and added long prongs, so that if he gets zapped, he’ll feel it. He’s gotten a lot more respectful of the beeping since then.

Fall started this week. Sigh. I still have the hummingbird feeders up but I don’t think we’re getting any visitors at all. The nature column in the paper said to leave them up right now in case we get migratory visitors. The seed-feeders are popular with chickadees, goldfinches (losing their beautiful yellow!), and titmice. Woodpeckers and chickadees on the suet, too.

Did not yet get any of the miniature golf holes done yet, but I’ve vowed not to work weekends in October, so maybe I’ll get to some of it then. Right now it’s seven-days-a-week. I’d like to “quit my boring job and be a Google millionaire,” but I’m not sure how to do that and I’m not going to open that email no matter what!

Haven’t found a home for my ficus yet (was hoping to before winter) and just realized all the cactii are not under shelter and it’s going to rain. The two who bloomed like fools this summer are at least partly yellowish now—we wonder if they’re going to make it. So I’ve moved the ones I can lift and put a little trash-bag raincoat on the other one.

No bears lately. Just one black cat and the turkey flock coming through.

 

Chasing Summer

Ever since I left school all those years ago, I’ve been searching for summer. Grown-up World means that you don’t get those long empty days of boredom and potential. You never feel the release that the end of school gives you for minimum 12 years (and in my case 17, although I really shouldn’t count the summer after kindergarten—how seriously can you take half-day school that includes recess and nap time?).

Last summer I only remember sitting in front of our new house watching Hummingbird Theatre. We’d worked so hard for so long on getting into the house that we were not inspired to do much else. Summer was as close to sedentary as we could get.

This year the yearning for summer is particularly strong, probably in part because I’m looking for a structured full-time job right now and (unless it’s a telecommute) it will remove me from the summer that is wafting in my office door right now. I know the time grows short to appreciate this.

Two days ago I took a short road trip to Mount Gretna with Mary the Photographer for a travel blog entry. With the people walking along the road with beach towels, headed to the lake, and the Jigger Shop (ice cream!), and the tall, cool trees in the Fairy Garden, it felt like summer.

Last night Joe and I picked blueberries at a friend’s house (he’s on vacation and didn’t want them to go to waste). I’ve never done blueberries before, I would not go out of my way to do it again, but it needed to be done.  Neighbors were running lawn mowers, the friend’s son-in-law brought us cold beer while we picked, kids were running around yelling. Even though I’m not much of a berry picker, it was nice.

But the best part was driving home through the Valley at sundown in Joe’s Camaro with the top down and the Beach Boys singing “Darlin’.” That’s summer.

 

July 15, 2008

Reading the last few posts makes me say I’ve got to get back to the positive! For instance, where’s the bear? We haven’t seen him in a few weeks. This is a very good thing—I doubt the Game Commission came and got him so quickly. My guess is he’s wandered off to other pastures. Berries are coming in and I’m sure he’s feasting!

I’ve got a few more job apps out . . . more postings make me more optimistic that someone will realize what a good hire I would be.  

Now if I could only get the dog to pay attention to the bird feeder. We’ve got a squirrel who jumps off every time I walk into the living room. If ol’ 85 Pounds of Love would just lie in front of that window, I know the squirrel problem would be gone!

 

July 10, 2008

The world works in mysterious ways . . . For five months I wrote a travel column for someone who unceremoniously (and quite rudely) dismissed me at the last minute—after I’d already completed the next month’s work but before I had handed it in. I was stuck explaining to the subject of the piece what happened; that was very awkward and unpleasant, although the subject was very understanding. The next day I received my four months back pay in the mail.

I found out last night that the woman he replaced me with wasn’t paid adequately either and I was told the magazine has folded. Being a freelancer is really hard. Working for people like this makes it that much harder.

Update (2:26 p.m.): I was just in the city and saw the latest edition of that publication. Seems it’s still being published but he’s got NO travel writer now.

 

June 21, 2008

Rough week. Did not get the dream job I wanted and the interviewers handled the entire thing really badly. They obviously had their minds made up already and shouldn’t have called me in. (Note to future employers who might be reading this: there is more than one dream job out there!) Losing the rockstar at the end of the month, too, in what was supposed to be a budget cut. A lot of emotions attached to that.

On the bright side, health-wise I passed my physical with flying colors. However, I still don’t think I want to be coupling train cars, so I won’t respond to the ad for a Norfolk/Southern conductor. 

A bear came through the neighborhood around 6 last night. That was a little early for him, but maybe he was celebrating the solstice. Mary the Photographer got a picture:

 

Another neighbor has been having trouble with his satellite TV—bad reception on the new TV. Of course the guy who came out told him it was the trees and so some got cut. No difference. His old, non-HD set gets programming just fine. What’s that about?

 

October 2, 2007

Ouch. I didn’t get the job. The worst part is that the person who would have been my boss called me last evening and when he didn’t reach me, he left a message for me to call him back. I called first thing this morning but we didn’t speak until nearly noon. Until that point I thought I most likely got the job—why would he call if I hadn’t?

I spent much of those 17 hours prepping myself for the next steps. And then when I called him again because he didn’t return my call all morning, he told me I didn’t get it. Slam.

This is the second time someone called to tell me I didn’t get a job. Why do they do that? It may look like a little respect to them, but it doesn’t make it any less painful to us the job seekers. In fact, it’s worse. Maybe we want to kick something or cry a little, but that’s really hard when we’re on the phone and trying to be “professional.” Whatever way we react, we should have the benefit of a little privacy. These calls don’t allow that.

So, dear employers, write a letter. If you want to be nice, say something encouraging (other than “you were our second choice”—that is really not a good idea). Don’t write “you have neither the skills nor the experience,” as one local publisher wrote to me about a job as a history editor, which I am very much qualified for (I’m still trying to figure that one out—my mother said, “Did they read your resume?”).

I’m going to keep searching for that “good fit” job, as my sister calls it; in fact, I sent out an application this afternoon. Someone out there is going to be very happy to have this intelligent, creative, literate, hardworking, conscientious, responsible employee who works well on her own or as part of a team. And in the meantime, I’ll just keep on keepin’ on . . .

 

September 28, 2007

After just saying the other day that I stick to one subject in my blog entries, this one is what a former student of mine would call “potpourri”—all those little things going on right now . . .

Our cactus has developed fruit (or at least we think it’s fruit)! This is a first. Every other time, when the flowers bloomed, they then turned black and fell off, leaving a little black stump, which also eventually fell off. This time one of those stumps grew pink and bulbous. So is it edible?

I haven’t heard anything about that job I interviewed for. Friends are saying two weeks is not that long. My fingers remain crossed. In the meantime, I’ve got plenty of freelancing, both editing and writing . . .

Wicked weather last night. Constant lightning, a few really big claps of thunder, an inch of rain. The TV signal held on for a while and then it cut out. I said Okay, my dream of uninterrupted TV is over and I’ll have to call the Stupid Satellite Company (not to mention miss the season premiere of The Office). Grr, grr, grr, I said. Within five minutes, it was back on and other than freezing a little once, it stayed on through the storm. Installer #7 is truly a genius.

At our open house last weekend, other than explanations about the design and construction of the house, the next most-repeated story was the bear (see August 2). Two little girls listened as I told their mother about Scarfoot, their eyes growing wider and wider. It was great. Haven’t seen him since, btw.

Had coffee and cake yesterday with my up-mountain neighbor while my dog played in her pond. I’m really enjoying these new friendships, which I’d never anticipated in the move.

And can anyone explain this? The entire time we lived at Foggy Hollow (21 years in the hollow, 17 years in that house), I only dreamed that house about five times and each time the dream was about encroachment (people building too close to the house or trespassing). If I dreamed “house,” it was the house I grew up in, even if Joe and I were married. And I loved that place. Yet I’ve lived here for five months and I’ve already dreamed this house. Joe says he never dreamed the house in Foggy Hollow and he dreamed this one immediately. What’s that about?