Ready to Breathe

2009 wasn't a generous host to our lives last year. Near-fatal injuries, job losses, piles of uncertainty... just a few of the highlights of a pivotal year. Moving into '10 we're still sheltering from the fallout of a few '09 fiascoes. On the medical scene, the good doctor who handles the other half of my brain (the one that lives in my husband's skull) has determined no need for a re inspection until we flip the calendar to snake eyes. My joblessness is still job-maybeness though, and the precarious game of wait and see is exhausting. At least a little exhale happened today. With the S-Corporation of Me, Myself, and I taking such a nosedive last year, we had to stop our monthly federal estimated taxes. Instead we squirreled away this and that in anticipation of a sucker punch at year end. Somehow, miraculously, the number at the bottom of the page was in our favor. This news was greeted with the spouse's hoots and hollers. I guess I could be overjoyed if the reality wasn't the fact that we don't owe because 2009 was 75% less profitable for our household than was 2008. And 2010 could be even less, depending on the whims of school boards, legislatures, and who knows what else. Still holding our breath here.

299/365 Over Employment

From idle hours to wild days. Land at JAX at 11:45, up at 5 for school. Yes, I am lucky that I can start my new adventure without burning the old bridges, but it isn't easy! The traveling, the rushing about, and the long hours of the old job really challenge me to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for 150+ kids the next day. Until I see some more of this old friend (above) I'm counting on caffiene!

251/365 Teacher for Sale

By 9 AM today I had been rejected by Kelly Services in Duval County. No, they are not interested in my qualifications to become a substitute teacher in Jacksonville. Thanks for asking. My head whirled as I cleaned house, more intensely than usual, wondering if this cleaning were in preparation for calling a realtor. Husband's teaching salary and current mortgage plus expenses does not make for a balanced equation. Then this afternoon I received a couple of phone calls. Friends and fellow presenters with leads and recommendations. How did they know I was googling the fine points of negotiating a premium for your own plasma? I believe that I do a fair to decent job at the educational consultant gig, and it looks like there may be hope in continuing it. So this evening I dust off the resume, send off session descriptions and qualifications, and throw on a dressy blouse at 11 PM for a Photobooth headshot on the MacBook.

237/365 Unemployable...That's what you are

My next communication said "The committee has recommended an individual whose skills are more specific to the needs of this position." While I'm not even certain I would've taken the job, it would have been nice to have an offer. Besides, I can't imagine an individual whose skills are more specific to the needs of this position. The consulting is dwindling, the classrooms are full, and I'm going to have a little bit of time on my hands. I guess I'll try filling it with more play and less work. Singing, theater, working out and writing.

133/365 Proud Lawn Guy

Suburban housewife I'm not. I don't wear starched skirts and high heels while swirling my appletini, but I used to enjoy one stereotypical perk of suburbia. We had our "guys." Tuesday brought the Lawn Guy, and Friday brought the Pool Guy. My grass was manicured and edged, all evidence thereof windswept off my driveway, without my lifting a hand higher than the checkbook. My filter was rinsed, chlorine adjusted, and all stray leaves eradicated from the collection baskets without my breaking a sweat. Alas, the economy, the job reduction, and the time at home. I am now the Guy. Both Guys, actually. Maybe it's coincidence, but I find myself in the pool more often, basking in its sparkling, cool wonder. When I leave the driveway I sometimes back up before going forward, allowing myself a full view of the carpet of green and my meticulous handiwork. A well-timed injury may be partly to blame, but the spouse hasn't laid a finger on the mower, edger, or weed whacker. I think he knows where to test the pool water, but he hasn't done it yet. Just as well. I own the gloating priveleges. And I gloat often.