I have a temp job! Starting Wednesday. Whew. It doesn't pay what I'd like, but it pays a lot more than I'm making right now, which is nothing. And it's within walking distance. And I had a great interview last week for my dream job, so fingers crossed. Hopefully in a week or two I'll have a permanent job (maybe even the one I really want) and will actually be bringing in some money.
But in the meantime it's nice to be interviewing and learning the bus system (which is actually pretty decent). I'm spending my days cooking and poking at the container garden of herbs on the balcony and writing and watching bad TV (I have cable again for the first time in years). Well, until Wednesday.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
We have movement on the job front!
...Finally! I'm starting to interview at various places, and I have my fingers crossed for one in particular. It would be perfect for me, but I'm not saying any more, lest I jinx it. Hopefully I will be gainfully employed within the next couple of weeks.
And home life has moved very nicely into the "Domestic Bliss" phase. The first couple of weeks were a little rocky--not because of domestic relations, but simply because it took longer for me to recover from the move than I thought it would. Driving 25,000 miles in four months left me with a gimpy knee and chronic joint stiffness. I'm just now able to wake up in the mornings and not feel like I've been run over by a truck. The move itself smeared itself across my psyche; now I have recurring anxiety dreams about packing, and moving, and needing to get somewhere but not being able to find my purse, or my car, or whatever it is that I need in that particular dream. So my mornings for about two weeks were all about dealing with residual physical and mental sludge. It's not a good way to start a day, trust me.
But now that everything's unpacked, and the apartment is officially a home, John and I can spend a Sunday curled up on the sofa in our pajamas giggling at several hours of VH1's "Greatest One-Hit Wonders of the 80s" rather than going to Lowe's, or Ikea, or storage, or whatever. The gorgeous and unchanging weather has helped immensely, as has being able to cook again for the first time in four months. I'm starting to write my book, and we have movement on the job front. It's wonderful being able to think about the future in rosy terms again, for the first time in...well, a really long time.
That being said, we watched "Thelma and Louise" last night and I found myself longing to get back on the road and go back to Utah, where much of it was filmed. Just when you think you've managed to kill the wanderlust for a little while...
And home life has moved very nicely into the "Domestic Bliss" phase. The first couple of weeks were a little rocky--not because of domestic relations, but simply because it took longer for me to recover from the move than I thought it would. Driving 25,000 miles in four months left me with a gimpy knee and chronic joint stiffness. I'm just now able to wake up in the mornings and not feel like I've been run over by a truck. The move itself smeared itself across my psyche; now I have recurring anxiety dreams about packing, and moving, and needing to get somewhere but not being able to find my purse, or my car, or whatever it is that I need in that particular dream. So my mornings for about two weeks were all about dealing with residual physical and mental sludge. It's not a good way to start a day, trust me.
But now that everything's unpacked, and the apartment is officially a home, John and I can spend a Sunday curled up on the sofa in our pajamas giggling at several hours of VH1's "Greatest One-Hit Wonders of the 80s" rather than going to Lowe's, or Ikea, or storage, or whatever. The gorgeous and unchanging weather has helped immensely, as has being able to cook again for the first time in four months. I'm starting to write my book, and we have movement on the job front. It's wonderful being able to think about the future in rosy terms again, for the first time in...well, a really long time.
That being said, we watched "Thelma and Louise" last night and I found myself longing to get back on the road and go back to Utah, where much of it was filmed. Just when you think you've managed to kill the wanderlust for a little while...
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
San Diego update
Let's see...since the last post, the apartment is approaching 85% complete. My cooking mojo has returned. The cable and internet has been finally hooked up, all electronics have been wired together, mutual furniture has been purchased, herbs have been planted on the balcony, and we weathered our first fight. I even survived a weekend with John's son--I had to keep reminding myself that he's a normal 10-year-old boy, and that I should not take it personally when he didn't want to eat my cooking, didn't say please or thank you, put his shoes on the furniture, ate with his hands instead of his fork, left wet towels on the bathroom floor...you know, all those things that would be unacceptable behavior coming from an adult but are perfectly natural from a 10-year-old boy. My experience with children has been severely limited up to now (on purpose, I might add, although my friend K insists on calling me "The Baby Whisperer"), so I think the biggest challenge will not be adapting to brown carpeting or even finding a job but will be remaking myself into stepmother material.
Speaking of jobs, I've ramped up the search this week. I'm excited to learn the Old Globe is hiring; and in the meantime, I'll be blanketing the restaurants within walking distance with my resume. I also sent my resume to every temp agency in town. I'm tired of waking up in the middle of the night and panicking about my employment situation.
I set up a digital picture frame with all the photos from my trip this summer. I'm continually surprised by how beautiful most of them are, although my wanderlust is already heating back up. At least the AmEx points from the trip yielded me a 14-inch All Clad Professional nonstick frying pan, courtesy of Williams Sonoma.
Oh, and I got that Shun knife set. Best. Knives. Ever.
Speaking of jobs, I've ramped up the search this week. I'm excited to learn the Old Globe is hiring; and in the meantime, I'll be blanketing the restaurants within walking distance with my resume. I also sent my resume to every temp agency in town. I'm tired of waking up in the middle of the night and panicking about my employment situation.
I set up a digital picture frame with all the photos from my trip this summer. I'm continually surprised by how beautiful most of them are, although my wanderlust is already heating back up. At least the AmEx points from the trip yielded me a 14-inch All Clad Professional nonstick frying pan, courtesy of Williams Sonoma.
Oh, and I got that Shun knife set. Best. Knives. Ever.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Moving once is like dying twice
...as the Germans say. I made it cross-country in one piece, but I don't ever want to do that again. Ever.
The trip from Gulfport to El Paso was the longest 16 1/2 hours of my life. There's nothing more demoralizing than driving for nine hours, only to see a sign that says, "El Paso: 551 miles." I was driving through the night, and I managed to stay awake, but only just. However, based on what I saw the next morning when I arrived in El Paso, West Texas is just as boring in daylight as it is in moonlight. The cats managed to settle, for the most part, once the novelty of the truck wore off. The drive itself was uneventful--too much so. Finding fuel for the truck wasn't a problem. Even though there's nothing to resemble civilization between San Antonio and El Paso, most service stations left the pumps on all night. However, that also meant there was no place to a) pee, and most importantly, b) buy coffee between San Antonio and El Paso. I'll admit to peeing behind a couple of gas stations in the middle of the night. Not being able to find more caffeine presented a much more serious difficulty.
I crashed once I hit El Paso, though not nearly for as long as I would have liked. Then it was off again for the final push that night, to San Diego. Fortunately there was a full moon; driving through the New Mexico and Arizona desert by moonlight was strangely beautiful. And New Mexico had a series of very Zen road signs: "Dust Storms May Exist." And "Zero Visibility Possible." I think they were actually meant to be a metaphor for life. If you think about it, many road signs can be metaphors for real life. Watch for Other Drivers. Caution: Rough Road Ahead. Yield. Merge. Road Ends.
Moving-in day presented a whole new challenge, as I'd had maybe six hours of broken sleep in the last 48, almost 30 of which had been spent driving. We managed to get everything inside, with the help of John's friends, and then I went to bed at 4:30 in the afternoon and slept for 14 hours.
Everything since then has been non-stop unpacking, rearranging, and more unpacking. I have a large and varied catalogue of aches and bruises, but the apartment is finally beginning to resemble a place that people might actually live, rather than just a collection of boxes. It's going to be awesome, once it's finally done. I went grocery shopping last night, and went to Sam's Club and Target today. Let me just say that those three trips involved a retarded amount of money, but now I have a full-fledged pantry again. It's been a long time since I had a full pantry (and liquor cabinet) at my disposal; since before the road trip, in May. I haven't yet summoned my mojo and cooked something, but it's coming. Just looking at it all gives me a feel of deep inner peace. And I took all the prints and posters and photographs I collected on the trip to be framed today. When I finally get all that back in two weeks, it will be the final glorious layer of icing on the apartment. No, that's not true. It will be more like a layer of rolled fondant, with swirly things, and a sugar castle on top.
The trip from Gulfport to El Paso was the longest 16 1/2 hours of my life. There's nothing more demoralizing than driving for nine hours, only to see a sign that says, "El Paso: 551 miles." I was driving through the night, and I managed to stay awake, but only just. However, based on what I saw the next morning when I arrived in El Paso, West Texas is just as boring in daylight as it is in moonlight. The cats managed to settle, for the most part, once the novelty of the truck wore off. The drive itself was uneventful--too much so. Finding fuel for the truck wasn't a problem. Even though there's nothing to resemble civilization between San Antonio and El Paso, most service stations left the pumps on all night. However, that also meant there was no place to a) pee, and most importantly, b) buy coffee between San Antonio and El Paso. I'll admit to peeing behind a couple of gas stations in the middle of the night. Not being able to find more caffeine presented a much more serious difficulty.
I crashed once I hit El Paso, though not nearly for as long as I would have liked. Then it was off again for the final push that night, to San Diego. Fortunately there was a full moon; driving through the New Mexico and Arizona desert by moonlight was strangely beautiful. And New Mexico had a series of very Zen road signs: "Dust Storms May Exist." And "Zero Visibility Possible." I think they were actually meant to be a metaphor for life. If you think about it, many road signs can be metaphors for real life. Watch for Other Drivers. Caution: Rough Road Ahead. Yield. Merge. Road Ends.
Moving-in day presented a whole new challenge, as I'd had maybe six hours of broken sleep in the last 48, almost 30 of which had been spent driving. We managed to get everything inside, with the help of John's friends, and then I went to bed at 4:30 in the afternoon and slept for 14 hours.
Everything since then has been non-stop unpacking, rearranging, and more unpacking. I have a large and varied catalogue of aches and bruises, but the apartment is finally beginning to resemble a place that people might actually live, rather than just a collection of boxes. It's going to be awesome, once it's finally done. I went grocery shopping last night, and went to Sam's Club and Target today. Let me just say that those three trips involved a retarded amount of money, but now I have a full-fledged pantry again. It's been a long time since I had a full pantry (and liquor cabinet) at my disposal; since before the road trip, in May. I haven't yet summoned my mojo and cooked something, but it's coming. Just looking at it all gives me a feel of deep inner peace. And I took all the prints and posters and photographs I collected on the trip to be framed today. When I finally get all that back in two weeks, it will be the final glorious layer of icing on the apartment. No, that's not true. It will be more like a layer of rolled fondant, with swirly things, and a sugar castle on top.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
On the road again
I retract what I previously said about missing my calling as a long-haul truck driver. Road tripping is one thing. You can set the cruise control, relax, eat while driving, whatever. Driving a truck requires a level of hypervigilance that's exhausting. Especially when you have two cats in the truck with you. The truck is big, it handles poorly, it's almost impossible to multitask, and most damning, it has no cruise control. So I'm constantly driving, constantly evaluating my space needs relative to the cars around me, and constantly dealing with the cats. They're beginning to settle a little, now that the novelty of being in a truck is wearing off. But I had to fashion a leash for Sarah--she kept trying to crawl in my lap, I kept having to toss her back in the passenger seat, and she kept coming for my lap. If there were an Olympic medal in cat-tossing, I would be the world champion. Finally I leashed her and tied the leash to the passenger side door, so that she could only come halfway across the truck cab. So yesterday she went exactly to the very end of the leash--which turned out to be on top of my cooler--and stayed there.
My right knee is killing me, and it will only get worse. I'm already on an ibuprofen regimen, and I'm thinking of cadging some muscle relaxants and 800-mg Motrin from my sister. When I got to Gulfport yesterday, after close to 14 hours of driving, I went to bed at 6 pm and slept for 12 hours. When I finally hit El Paso Friday morning, after 16 hours of driving, I don't doubt I'll sleep for another 10 or 12 hours. Plus, for the amount of money I'll spend on gas to get this gas-guzzler across the country, I could almost have hired professional movers. It's getting 10, maybe 12, mpg, which means I'm spending $150-200 a day in gas.
But all this bitching aside, it's not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. My stuff is packed very tightly in the back (apparently I own exactly one 12-foot truck's worth of stuff), so I'm not worried about it sliding around. There's air conditioning, an iPod hookup, chargers for my iPod and GPS, and enough room (just) in the cab for the cats and my stuff. I have to stop often enough to get gas to get me out of the truck on a regular basis, and I won't have to worry about traffic between here and San Diego, since I'll be driving at night. And pretty soon, I'll be in SD with my man, happily unpacking and rearranging furniture and nesting to my heart's content. I had a moment of panic when I left NY--"oh no! I just gave up my cheap apartment! In BROOKLYN! WTF was I thinking??"--but then I remembered palm trees and love and getting free reign in a new kitchen and I was okay again.
Speaking of love and kitchens, my sister has just gotten the 11-piece Shun Ken Onion knife set. For those of you that don't automatically know what I'm talking about, this is the Holy Grail of knife sets. It retails for about $1500 (though my sister didn't pay anywhere near that, being my sister). I used to dream about new Jimmy Choo shoes. Now I dream about top-of-the-line knife sets and copper pans. I immediately fantasized about having my own $1500 knife set, in my own kitchen, in my own house, with my own loving husband hovering behind me complaining about when dinner was going to be ready. If driving my tired ass cross-country for two more days gets me any closer to that fantasy, I'll consider it a fair trade.
My right knee is killing me, and it will only get worse. I'm already on an ibuprofen regimen, and I'm thinking of cadging some muscle relaxants and 800-mg Motrin from my sister. When I got to Gulfport yesterday, after close to 14 hours of driving, I went to bed at 6 pm and slept for 12 hours. When I finally hit El Paso Friday morning, after 16 hours of driving, I don't doubt I'll sleep for another 10 or 12 hours. Plus, for the amount of money I'll spend on gas to get this gas-guzzler across the country, I could almost have hired professional movers. It's getting 10, maybe 12, mpg, which means I'm spending $150-200 a day in gas.
But all this bitching aside, it's not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. My stuff is packed very tightly in the back (apparently I own exactly one 12-foot truck's worth of stuff), so I'm not worried about it sliding around. There's air conditioning, an iPod hookup, chargers for my iPod and GPS, and enough room (just) in the cab for the cats and my stuff. I have to stop often enough to get gas to get me out of the truck on a regular basis, and I won't have to worry about traffic between here and San Diego, since I'll be driving at night. And pretty soon, I'll be in SD with my man, happily unpacking and rearranging furniture and nesting to my heart's content. I had a moment of panic when I left NY--"oh no! I just gave up my cheap apartment! In BROOKLYN! WTF was I thinking??"--but then I remembered palm trees and love and getting free reign in a new kitchen and I was okay again.
Speaking of love and kitchens, my sister has just gotten the 11-piece Shun Ken Onion knife set. For those of you that don't automatically know what I'm talking about, this is the Holy Grail of knife sets. It retails for about $1500 (though my sister didn't pay anywhere near that, being my sister). I used to dream about new Jimmy Choo shoes. Now I dream about top-of-the-line knife sets and copper pans. I immediately fantasized about having my own $1500 knife set, in my own kitchen, in my own house, with my own loving husband hovering behind me complaining about when dinner was going to be ready. If driving my tired ass cross-country for two more days gets me any closer to that fantasy, I'll consider it a fair trade.
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