Tiny Bubbles

The weather report from NOAA predicted about an inch of snow for today. Our little microclimate seems to have missed the memo, as so far we have about four inches and the snow is still coming down. I wouldn't care if I didn't have to go out later. I'm going down to the shop to have a toast to the end of Wen Chocolates in Denver. We've been saving a bottle of really good champagne (a Veuve Cliquot I think) for a special occasion. Granted, closing the shop and kitchen isn't quite the occasion we'd envisioned, but Veuve Cliquot does lend a mad dash of frivolity to the wake.
I'm curious to try the champagne; it's on the pricey end. My taste buds are usually happy with the $10-20 dollar range. As John Cleese says, if you like it, it's good wine. My new favorite in the sparkling category is Astoria Sweet Lounge, a blend of proseco and muscatel. I confess. I bought it for the pretty label, but it turned out to be delightful, and it goes very well with chocolate.
A positive note, I won the monthly giveaway at Octoberfarm, one of my favorite blogs. A set of antique pressed-glass dishes. Lovely way to start off the Year of the Metal Tiger. Thanks, Jaz.
Between the closing and the flu, I haven't had the energy to keep up with everyone's blogs and postings. I apologize. I'll get back to it eventually. Right now, I need some breakfast and some Dayquil.

Pet Therapy & Whatever

This is Kitty's new favorite spot; as soon as I sit down at the computer, there he is. It's a new

behavior that started right about the time I knew for certain that I was going to be out of work. It's becoming more and more frequent; anytime I sit down, there he is. If I leave the bedroom door open at night, I wake to find myself squished between Kitty and Puppy. It's very sweet, in a smothering sort of way.

I've had one phone interview so far, out of I don't know how many applications. I didn't get a callback for the group interview. It was for the edibles division of a medical marijuana company. I'm thinking that my lack of drug use counted against me. I have all the skills they needed, I just don't use pot. It triggers a nearly suicidal depression in me, so I don't use it. No 'just say no' anti-drug stuff going on, I just react badly so it's not the thing for me. That should have made me an attractive prospect and a natural for inventory control, but no. The interviewer told me that they'd winnowed over a hundred resumes down to about 40 'awesome' candidates. After a phone interview, about 16 or so would be invited to the group interview and from that about 10 people would be hired. It seems I was not awesome enough.

Bevin told me that the last time her company posted a job on Craigslist they got about 700 responses. That doesn't cheer me up. Unless her boss needs someone to go through resumes...

I couldn't do Bevin's job (she's a funeral director). After 7 years in hospice care and 7 years in an animal shelter I can't do any more caretaking emotional trauma type jobs. I just can't.

I don't know what I want to do next. Something that pays well enough, that's interesting enough to keep me motivated, something that doesn't suck up all my energy so that I have nothing left for the things I really enjoy. The things that make life worth living but don't provide a living wage.

It's gloomy and gray and chilly. I should take Puppy to the park, but I don't feel like going. If it were sunny, it would seem warm enough, but under a cloudy sky it just feels cold and damp. Bleh. We're in between sun and snow. Everything is in between right now, the weather, jobs, me... Everything is in flux, waiting for whatever comes next.

Imbolc 2010: The Adventure Begins

Sometimes, the Powers That Be take things a bit too literally.

Imbolc is about inspiration, fire, the awakening of seeds slumbering in the earth,

rebirth and new beginnings. So, what happens? I lose my job.

This is not quite the new beginning I would have chosen. But here it is, and it must be dealt with, no matter how much I might want to take to my bed with a bottle of bourbon and a good supply of snacks.

There's grieving and depression going on, and it would be easy to slide into a dark well and stay there. Fortunately, one of my personalities is a planner with a passion for averting disaster. I've already enlisted friends to check in with me to make sure I'm attending to basic functions like showering, walking Puppy and posting on Facebook. I have activities scheduled to make sure I get out of the house for something besides job hunting.

I have a list of upcoming free days at the zoo, the art museum and the musuem of nature and science. I have my Nano group every other week. And finally, after a nearly three year absence, I'll be able to go to Free writing Fridays. Thanks to Bevin giving me a gift card to the rec center, I can keep going to NIA; I'm addicted. I was in a pit of despair Monday night, but after class I was on a natural high.

I've known the end was coming for a few weeks. The sense of impending doom has made it very difficult to concentrate on ...well, on anything really. I haven't been sleeping well, I have a hard time being still. My novel has been terribly neglected. Now that the closing is out in the open, I can relax and stop putting so much energy into keeping my mouth shut. It's been really hard; I don't like to keep pain to myself. I like to spread it around...

I don't know what I want to do next. I've applied for some very random things. I have no idea what is going to happen over the next year as far as jobs go. My planner self is not happy, my wandering gypsy self is thrilled, everyone else is somewhere in the middle.

I'm trying to frame this whole thing in a positive way. "It's not unemployment - it's a stay-cation! Yeah!" It works for a few seconds.

After the Imbolc circle on Saturday night, I went home to bed. After a night of intensely vivid dreams, I woke up with this first thought "My name doesn't fit anymore". This happens about every 7 years or so, usually when there's a significant shift in some part of my life or personality.

So here I am, at Imbolc, with no job, no idea what I'm going to do, and my name doesn't fit. And that's ok. Somehow, it will all come out right, even though I don't know how.

Imbolc is also about hope, hope that the spring will return, the seeds will awaken, and that life will be renewed.