Recommended wine for today’s entry: This is another selection from kenswineguide.com: 2007 Pierre Usseglio French – Rhone (Red Blend) “Chateauneuf du Pape.” Ken described it as “This dark ruby colored CDP opens with a musty cherry like bouquet. On the palate, this wine is medium bodied, very smooth, and elegant with juicy cherry flavors. There is also a noted oak infusion throughout this wine. The finish is quite dry and nicely extended” He gave it a 91.3 and it’s about $30, he says. Check out Ken’s Web site – it’s really good!
Once my youngest daughter goes away to school and I don’t have to do 42 loads of already-clean-but-thrown-on-the-floor laundry every week, I am considering re-entering the work force.
It’s been about three years since my last job, which I really liked, writing for a weekly newspaper. I suppose I could go back to that – but not to that particular paper, because, unfortunately, I reamed out the new owners when they fired my editor.
Actually, it felt pretty good, except the conversation lasted longer than I’d planned and I found myself shrieking at Owner Man as I pushed my cart through Garden Ridge. I believe I may have stunned some of the sweet housewives searching for new plastic fall foliage with which to decorate their homes.
As I rounded one corner I was screaming, “YOU F*&#ING PROMISED US THAT NO ONE WOULD GET HURT!” And this sweet little lady with an unpainted plaster cherub in her cart stood there with a horrified look on her face.
I covered the phone and said to her, in a low voice, “Sorry. Hostage negotiations.”
Stupid woman. Stupid plaster cherub.
Anyway, assuming that guy didn’t post anything about my outburst on Craig’s List or any of those career-killer sites, maybe I could go back to newspaper work.
But I’m not limiting my search to just the things that I am capable of doing. Damnit, I’ll be 50 years old by the time I finish the laundry. I’m going to make my final career choice – and this one’s for ME!
With that in mind, I have decided to go through the day with a new awareness of every possible job – and not limit myself to those for which I’m qualified. Every worker I see, I will visualize myself in their place …
For example, this morning I noticed, as if for the first time, a crossing guard in front of my daughter’s school. (I had to drive her today because her car is getting some final touch-ups before we take full and complete possession of the vehicle, which I assume she’ll immediately use to back into the basketball goal.)
Could I be a crossing guard? I thought. The hours are good. Yeah, I could work the 7:10-8:30 shift (I’d be willing to do BOTH elementary and high school, because I’m a workaholic); then I’d have six hours for lunch with friends; then I’d work 2:30-3:40 and meet people for happy hour. I’m not sure what the salary would be, but probably close to six figures, what with the risks involved and all.
I wouldn’t have to wear heels, which is good because I have disfiguring bunions. Now, before you get all grossed out, it’s not some kind of fungus or oozy growth. All that means is that the bones at the bottom of my big toe jut out and cause pain. But I got them from wearing high heels when I slaved away in the radio world for many, many years.
I bet crossing guards can wear their tennies. In the summer, I could wear a pair of shorts, tube socks (so I wouldn’t have to always shave my legs) and tennies. If it’s really hot, I could even wear a tube TOP. In the winter, I would wear my ski bibs and a burglar mask. And I’d always wear that Miss America sash in the attractive orange reflector material. That’s what keeps you from getting smashed on the road.
Oh, yeah. I almost forgot about the cars whizzing past all day. I’m not sure how I’d do with that. I don’t really like getting hit by cars. I mean, they come pretty close, don’t they? What if I sneezed from all the exhaust? Then I’d close my eyes and pull my hand from the wave that means, “turn right, turn right, turn right, turn right,” to cover my mouth, which means, “come at me, come at me, come at me, come at me,” all while the violence of my sneeze propelled me right into the oncoming car.
Yipes. That’s not gonna work. Also, I’m claustrophobic and the thought of cars whipping around me like that, trapping me on the yellow line, is starting to make my gorge rise even as I sit here.
And the older I get, I’m finding that I don’t like people looking at me. I’m afraid that I’ll just break and freak out on the car in the front of the leaving-school line one day – you know, like a “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE LOOKING AT, HUH SISTER? YOU THINK YOU’RE SO COOL, BIG 16-YEAR-OLD WITH A BRAND-NEW ESCALADE…WELL, YOU’LL BE 50 SOMEDAY AND YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU’LL WEAR TUBE SOCKS AND TENNIES TO WORK, TOO! IF YOU CAN EVEN GET A JOB. SO WHY DON’T YOU STARE AT SOMEONE ELSE FOR AWHILE, HUH???
OK, I think we can mark crossing guard off the list.
I do think my plan is a good one – envisioning myself in each job I run across. I’ll know the right one when I see it. Today’s errands, besides the stupid laundry, include a run to Costco, the grocery and the liquor store. (I haven’t had any wine this week as a weight-loss sacrifice, so I’m treating myself to something super-yummy tonight. I am planning to share it with my friend Patty, just in case you thought I was going to suck down a whole bottle myself.)
Anyway, I’ll ask the check-out people how they like their benefit packages. Have a great weekend! And watch for those crossing guards.