Today I am just observing for an hour. Next Wednesday, I will be the one who’s observed and then I’ll attend meetings. Strange stuff.

But I can’t wait.

Thank you for all your good wishes. I’m just going along and getting along and hiding out right now.

Oh, good news here.

And, a feast of Stephens, except one spells his name differently:

An artist who’s right up my alley. That first page? The one you see when you click on the link? I love that. I love it so much that I wrote Stephan Britt and asked if he’d sell me a print of it to put in the boychild’s room so that we can all look at it and point things out.

He sells coloring books, too. We’ll be needing some of those–one for our house and more for gifts.

The other Stephen is author Stephen Goodwin, who wrote Breaking Her Fall, which I devoured in three days. My sis gave it to me. Everyone I’ve linked to it says it looks tragically depressing, but I have to tell you, it’s not.

It’s sad and it’s awful, but it’s beautifully written. I think a reviewer on amazon criticizes the way the children are portrayed and how the reader doesn’t really get to know them, but the reader misses the point entirely. The book is written from a father’s point of view and I’d venture the guess that it’s probably very, very hard to get the inner workings of a 14 yr old daughter when you’re her dad.

I loved every word of it. Near the beginning, he wrote, of his wife’s divorce lawyer that she was “an intense woman who wore purple, whose eye liner was purple, whose lips were purple, and whose voice made me think of a coyote who’d just smashed his nuts on a rock.”

That’s not at all an adequate representation of the book, but I laughed a real whole lot when I read that line and called The Husband into the living room to read it to him.

I’m writing down everything I read this year. I’m on books five and six simultaneously right now. I decided to do that after reading my favorite bookstore’s massive list of everyone’s favorites for last year. I noticed that a few people keep charts of everything they read, which appeals to the listy person in me. The store keeps their lists online and if you’d like to read over what people like, e-mail me and I’ll link you.

I really want to participate in a creativity exercise whereby you do something new every day in February and post about it on a collective blog by midnight every day, but I know that’s setting way too high a bar for myself. After all, I am the person who owes something to a certain vintage tea towel swapper from months and months ago.

I get stuff for packages to go out all ready and put them in boxes and then cannot bring to tape up the box and mail it off. I can’t explain it, but there is a significant example of my penchant for procrastination in my guest bedroom.

After last Wednesday, which went really well, I think, but which was strange as far as job interviews go, it’s taken me a few days to sort my thoughts and get my act together and pen a smashing, direct, carefully-tailored thank-you note.

I also had to collect three sets of transcripts from two institutions and had to follow up with each school to make sure they’d sent everything. Nothing like faxing away your credit card number and getting exactly zero response!

My interviewer asked me at least eleventy times if I had any questions about the job, and I didn’t and I still really don’t (thanks to a potential future coworker who schooled me on every single aspect of the job), but I feel like it’s a kiss of death to leave an interview without asking questions–I guess it could make it look like I just don’t care about the job. But, it’s the exact opposite: I do care about the job. I just don’t care about the details. I don’t care what it pays–we’ll survive that. I don’t need any benefits–we’re totally covered in that area. I just need the damned job! Can’t exactly throw myself on the ground and wrap my arms around someone’s ankles and beg, though, can I?

Hmm. Can I?

Not a pretty mental picture.

I forced myself to write, on my thank you note, that I do, after reflection, have questions and told the interviewer that I’d call her this week. I dropped off that note and my application and other paperwork yesterday and called this morning. She called me back about two minutes later to answer my questions and to set a schedule for the next phase. After telling me last week that the entire process would be lengthy and slow, she was able to step things up, so I have a short, required follow up next Wednesday and a lengthy follow up the Wednesday after.

I’m shaking. I can’t get hold of the Husband and I certainly can’t dance around at work, so here you go!

Oh. Must remember to call one of my references and tell her that I put her down. I would hate for someone to be caught off guard! That actually happened to me last year. A few years ago, I was an adjunct professor at a college and a former student listed me as his reference for a law enforcement job in another state and a detective called me back and left me a semi-ominous message about needing to call him back immediately. After a quick and proper freakout, I called back and breathed a tremendous sigh of relief when he told me what he wanted. I felt terrible when I had to admit that I had no idea at all who the person was and tried to finish on a good note by saying that if I couldn’t remember the person, it must have meant that he wasn’t an awful student.

I bet that guy hates my guts now.

Moral of the story? Always let a resume reference-type person know when you’re giving out their name and phone number on a job application.

A friend who works where I do told me at lunch last week that I need to go into my boss’s office and plunk myself down and tell him that I believe he retaliated against me and demand an explanation.

I said, you know, that’s a great idea, but I just can’t do that right now and I probably won’t be able to at all. Then we embarked on a lengthy discussion about men versus women in the workplace and how showing any reaction at all gives the other party a big advantage. I agreed and finished with the statement that I will be able to talk to my boss again when I can finish whatever I have to say with “and by the way, eff off. I quit.”

Then we talked about being bitter and whether or not bitter fades.

Breathing in and out and looking over some paperwork before heading elsewhere for polite grilling, lots of careful conversation and smiling without lips sticking to teeth, non-sweaty palmed handshakes (I = clammy of hands, so this is hard for me) and promises to do anything asked of me if only I can have this job, prettyplease.

The boy is having a bit of trouble breathing in and out right now–he’s got RSV, which is scary, but not so scary in an almost 2 yr old. After three doses of a steroid, he’s grumpy and wild and sleepy all at once, but he’s been fever-free for a full day. We’re keeping him home for the rest of the week because I hate parents who sick up childcare with still sick but sorta mostly better kids. The ped said the Crabcake can go back to school tomorrow, but I think not. Plus, I estimate that the boy will have successfully torn the entire house down, brick by brick, almost two yr old tornado style, in another two days and I’m excited to see what our insurance will do for us.

I got an awesome package in the mail (fabric as art! for me!), a fantastic new year’s card on Saturday (with a photo magnet! for me!), several wonderful e-mails and such nice comments on my post yesterday. Thank you for every bit of it. I’m grateful.

is low.

L-O-W.

Well, not low, but peevish. Pensive. Persnickety. Ill’er-n-10,000 “go to hells.”

How about that instead?

Last week, in an effort to be honest, I told my employer that I have a job interview tomorrow. This, says the Husband and everyone else I have ever met in my lifetime, was a colossal mistake. Thirty minutes after I told my employer, he questioned our agreed-upon arrangement (seriously, I have a memo and everything) where I pick up the girl every afternoon in lieu of a lunch hour and bring her back to work for the last ninety minutes of the work day.

My gut clenched when he questioned it and when he cooly informed me the next afternoon that I cannot bring her any more, I was devastated.

It’s no big deal for McPantses: she’s reqested to go to the after after program a few weeks ago and is thrilled that we’re “letting” her. It’s only another $200 a month (but all those onlys do add up, don’t they?)

It’s a huge big freaking deal to me, though. I enjoyed my time with her and I enjoyed my wildly decorated office, where she had her own little desk and chair at the very back. While my employer assured me that it has nothing to do with me or McP, I know that the decision was purely retaliatory. His children came here often. Another woman’s daughters came here every day after school. However, a new person started work today and my employer claims that he’s worried that she will want to bring her three kids (incl two very young daycare-aged kids) here and we can’t have four kids here every day.

I haven’t seen or spoken to him since Thursday afternoon, when I left his office without speaking (couldn’t talk–was trying too hard not to sob at work). I’ve been hiding in my office with the door shut. I actually cleaned out my entire desk right before the end of the day Thursday and straightened up the office. I could leave anytime now with one box of junk.

No matter what happens with my job interview tomorrow, I have to find a new job. The upside to this situation is that it finally gave me the push I need to leave a comfortable job with a comfortable salary. It also helped me realize something the Husband (and everyone else I have ever met in my entire life) has been telling me for years: my employer is not my friend. I’d say last week cinches that one.

Nancy from Renaissance Yarns commented that Trekking XXL 126 (the world-famous neapolitan colorway in pink/cream/brown like Brach candies) is now available in the U.S.

I happen to know from personal experience that Renaissance Yarns will ship cross-country and they’re quick about it. Getchew some stripey yarn today!

If I need to up the yarn hoardy ante for you, here are some fabulous flickr pictures.

***

On the real world news front, I am happy it’s 2007 and hopeful that I can wow someone into thinking I am the right gal for a new job. It pays less than I currently make and it involves a complete change for me, but I am almost convinced that it’ll be a positive move for me and for my family. Unfortunately, I am competing against someone I like very much for one position, which means that one of us might end up stiffed in the end, but I guess that’s how it works, isn’t it?

Improve, improve, improve. Oy.

***

Crafty tutorials for one and all, oooh-ahh, neatly categorized and linked from a very industrious gal at My Quest for Life. Now that’s a way to start the new year!

I should probably resolve to put more pictures here. That would be nice, yes?

We had a lovely quiet day yesterday involving much laundry and a small purge of goods. The kids didn’t get dressed until the afternoon and we headed out to the playground after that. But in the morning, there was coloring on the kitchen floor (really, for the boychild, on the kitchen floor, but it came up with a baby wipe) and riding on toys that are much too small to be ridden.

You probably can’t tell, because it’s not the greatest picture in terms of resolution or lighting, but McPantses is pointing out the spider she drew and counting its legs. She did that immediately after criticizing the fire truck the Crabcake forced me to draw. It seems that I left off the light/siren. McP was more than happy to correct my mistake.

Each kid had a big sheet of paper (torn from our massive, never-ending roll of white butcher paper from the school supply store), but the boy preferred to move back and forth to whatever piece his sister tried to color. He finally gave up after scribbling on the floor and moved on to this:

Now that the boy has a garage worth of riding toys, he has decided he prefers scooting around on tiny toys like the schoolbus he’s abusing in this picture. I think that the entire line of Radio Flyer small toys lives in his room and they do get ridden throughout the house, but yesterday, it was all school bus and ambulance.

Happy new year. I declare 2007 to be the year that everyone who is trying hard to have a baby succeeds.