Summer livin'

Life progresses. DH is still interviewing and looking for work, I'm still working 60 hours a week on my feet, we're still selling off furniture/rugs/household possessions a piece at at time. We went to New York for the day on Monday, and while the boys were sightseeing, I paid some much-overdue social calls. It was great to see old friends again.

It was also great to spend at least part of the afternoon at a bar, with an amazing bottle of wine, and a book. I sat at the bar, read my book, drank my wine, and was perfectly content while I waited for my friends. I really need to spend more days off like that.

We're spending most of next week in Virginia, with family and friends, so we'll both get some much-needed days off. Part of me wants to load up on really tasty wine, and spend my days drinking it in the sun there; but I also know I'm the only one who'll appreciate the wine, as my family and friends will be just as happy (if not more so) drinking PBR.

So if I don't post for a while, you know it's because I'm in Virginia, sleeping and eating and not being on my feet 60 hours a week.

Acadia National Park

I took advantage of having two full days off--in a row!--by taking the fam to Acadia National Park.

It was gorgeous, even though it was cold and foggy.

My husband, the poet

Who knew my husband was a poet? This was too good not to share.

A friend of his posted this picture on Facebook as a joke, asking for a caption. DH promptly wrote a villanelle to go with it. When I was unemployed, I drank too much and watched too much TV. He writes villanelles!

Do Not Set Me On Fahr, Please, Wife O’ Mine

Do not set me on fahr, please, wife o’ mine
Don’t make me start packing my old grey trunk.
See, I did not bang cousin Clementine.

I been good to you, and I walk the line,
I swear to God we did not share a bunk.
Do not set me on fahr, please, wife o’ mine.

I like her just fine, but wasn’t tryin’,
Just once back in aught-six, but hopes were sunk.
See, I did not bang cousin Clementine.

She came over here at quarter o’ nine,
We went out back and brought up some old junk.
Do not set me on fahr, please, wife o’ mine.

Down yonder by the abandoned mine,
We shot the breeze and then drank some some crunk.
See, I did not bang cousin Clementine.

I took off mah clothes and sat on this pine,
I cannot help what I do when I’m drunk.
Do not set me on fahr, please, wife o’ mine,
See, I did not bang cousin Clementine.

An all-new sort of anxiety dream

For years I had this recurring dream that I was forced to go back to high school. Some paperwork would go missing or something, and I'd have to go back and retake my final year. Only, no one else had changed. I'd be dropped into high school at my current age, while everyone else was still high-school-aged, as though I had traveled back in time somehow. I'd be stuck there, wandering the halls with no idea of what my classes were, where I was supposed to go, what my locker combination was, slowly filling with dread as I realized that I was going to have to take algebra and gym class AGAIN, that it would impossible to slip out for a quick drink, that all my years living on my own were now apparently useless, that I was a functional adult only in my head because I was once again in high school.

Then I'd wake up in a cold sweat.

I stopped having those dreams around about the time of my high school reunion, and later I found out most people have some variety of that dream.

Last night I dreamed that I was being forced to go back to JUNIOR HIGH.

This is an all-new and scarier level of anxiety dream.

In this dream, I had to go back to middle school ostensibly because I was "writing a book." In my head, I knew I wasn't in fact writing a book, but I wasn't entirely sure what I was doing there. More importantly, I am very obviously too old to be attending junior high, and this was causing problems in the dream, as all the students were mistaking me for an authority figure, and all the authority figures were trying to treat me like a student. I couldn't seem to figure out what I was supposed to be doing, and (unlike the previous high school dreams) I didn't know anyone there.

So, welcome to my world, y'all. Apparently I'm so stressed I've catapulted right over high school and returned to where it all went bad, in junior high.

In better news, DH's unemployment money started today, and we'll have some visitors this weekend. My stepson is coming to visit for ten days, and my sister-in-law and her family will be in town for the weekend. I broke down and bought the first real groceries I've bought for six weeks, and we'll have a fine old-fashioned barbecue this Saturday.

Bankruptcy

That's all, folks. DH's former company has officially declared bankruptcy.

One hopes this means that at some point, we'll be paid his missing back salary and vacation time. But still, it's a blow, and not least because the Providence newspaper published the names and address of all the creditors listed in the bankruptcy filing, which meant A NEWS VAN SHOWED UP AT MY HOUSE LOOKING FOR A COMMENT.


Oh, I have a comment. The comment is, "Fuck you."

I'm pretty sure that shit is illegal. If not, it should be.

Hubs is devastated, as you can imagine; we were hoping there might be some way to turn this all around. I think this means we're definitely moving; even if he gets another job in Boston, the nearest alternative, we'll move to Boston, just to get out of this godforsaken state.

I'm still working 60 hours a week, on my feet. It's hard work, and it's starting to wear on me. The commute is getting worse; it's taking an hour and a half each way sometimes, instead of an hour, because of traffic and construction. Even in the middle of the night, there's traffic, because they're doing construction on the highways and forcing six lanes of traffic into one. It's seriously making me want to drink in my car.

In better news, I had my required employee tasting the other night. We got to dress up and go to my restaurant and have the eight-course tasting menu, with cheese, and wine at cost, just like regular people. The food was amazing, as you might imagine; the wine was amazing; and it was very nice to be there and not be busting my ass. It's a completely different experience from the other side of the table, which is exactly why they want you to do it. From there, it's almost like ninja service; things magically appear and are magically whisked away. I was surprised by how quiet and unobtrusive everything was.

If only the rest of my life could be quiet and unobtrusive right now.

Mo' money mo' money

After the Tax Levy Debacle Part II, I spent the rest of the week under a dark cloud of financial dread.

Then I got my paycheck, and for once I was very pleasantly surprised.

So maybe we won't starve/have to declare bankruptcy after all.

Between my increased earnings, and hubby's unemployment (he qualified for the maximum; still unsure when that will kick in), and putting the student loans into forbearance, we should be okay. Fingers crossed no one gets hit by a bus, since we don't have any health insurance.

Work's going really well. Really, really well. I'm kicking ass and taking names, and they've noticed. The chef/owner told me he didn't care where my husband got a job, I wasn't leaving. They've also put me on for six nights a week until further notice. They've been really great through all of this, and I have to say I really enjoy what I'm doing there.

I hope we don't have to move and start over again somewhere else; but I don't have much say in that right now.

The best I can do is to get ready for any possible move (Step 1: Yard sale. Step 2: Get rid of all unnecessary crap. Step 3: Collect boxes.) and hope it's to a place where I can get a comparable job. So far DH has leads in Montreal, Seattle, San Francisco, Houston, southern California, and Eugene, Oregon. Of that list, I'm gunning for either Seattle or San Fran. I could make a retarded amount of money in either Seattle or San Fran.