We are doomed

I started a new job at the end of September.  It is a part-time, no benefits, fairly low paying job.  And yet, I am finding it quite stressful and anxiety producing.  Every day I am astonished at how rude, inconsiderate, and just plain nasty these kids are.  They lie, they cheat, and they do it looking you square in the eye.  The last time I worked with kids (about 15 years ago) they were no where near this miserable.  I want to shake the parents and holler at them, "teach your kids some manners and common decency!"

Every day I plaster a smile on my face and hope the kids are less evil than the day before.  So far I've been disappointed every day.  I find this a worrisome reflection of our society.

(Obviously there are a few good eggs, but the vast majority are extremely unpleasant.)

It may be time to start looking for yet another new job because I don't know if I can keep up the good cheer.

But they taste so good

I've been eating whole wheat waffles for a couple weeks now. I would eat my two waffles and then immediately take my daily vitamin. And then immediately get extremely nauseous. After one bout of vomiting, I decided it must be the daily vitamins because they often bother me without sufficient food in my stomach so I stopped taking them. Although usually two waffles is sufficient. But I really like these waffles, so it was easier to blame the vitamins. Except I'm sitting here, post waffles, feeling quite nauseous.

Years ago I was tested for Celiac Disease and was diagnosed with IBS instead. However, experiences like this make me second guess the diagnosis.

(And before you suggest I return to the GI for additional testing, I am without health insurance, so that ain't happening any time soon.)

Toe Shoes

I've been coveting a pair of Vibram FiveFingers for more than a year. I first saw them being worn at Second Home Nature Center and promptly went home to Google "toe shoes." After reading a negative review last fall I put them out of my mind. But this summer they kept cropping up everywhere. I saw a young couple wearing them while grocery shopping (much to the horror of my fiance). I read a blog post written by a woman with serious foot problems (metatarsalgia) who found relief while wearing her VFF. I decided it was time to at least try them on myself.


It took four pairs before I found the right fit. The first pair was too tight, so I tried one size up. But that one was way too loose and too long. Disappointed, I left the store, afraid that my feet fell into that in-between size and that I might never be able to own a pair. During the next few days I did some more internet research and found that sizes vary between styles. Knowing that, I decided I should try on a few more pairs before giving up. If there can be variability between styles, there might be some slight variability even within the same style (I had my heart set on the Sprint, pictured above).

So I went to a different location of the same store and tried on two more pairs of the same style in my size. The sales associate brought me out a pair of pink Sprints to try on for fit before he hunted for the slate color I wanted. The pink ones fit much more comfortably than the first pair I tried on at the other store. My theory was proved: variability does exist! But no way did I want pink shoes. I sent him back to seek out the slate color, which when I tried them on fit tighter than the pink but looser than the first pair at the other store. Perfect, sold! (Again to the horror of my fiance, but since he doesn't walk with me, his revulsion shouldn't present too much of a problem.)

I'd read lots of cautionary tales on the importance of acclimating your feet/legs/ankles to the minimalist style shoes. Doing too much too fast can risk injury. My first day out I walked my planned 15 minutes. I walked slowly and carefully, concerned about every little pebble or crack in the pavement. But while I could certainly feel the ground beneath my feet, nothing hurt! After my allotted 15 minutes, I stopped home and changed into traditional sneakers to continue my walk. On day 2, I followed a similar pattern except I extended my walk in the VFFs to 20 minutes. I also went "off-road" to walk through the grass around the perimeter of the neighborhood park. This felt better and more natural on my feet than the warm pavement. On day 3 I moved up to 30 minutes without any problems. Today I'm planning to take my VFFs to Second Home Nature Center and try them on the trails there. I expect the wood chips will be more pleasant than pavement.

The only sensations of acclimating I've experienced is a feeling of stretching on the underside of my toes between the ball of my foot and the pads of my toes. Speed wise I am definitely moving slower, but I think that's fine initially. I hope I can increase my speed as I become more confident in walking almost barefoot, something I haven't done much of outside the house in several decades.

Greener Grass

I really, really like not working. (I know, you're thinking, who wouldn't? Well, hush up, we're talking about ME right now.) I think I was born in the wrong decade, possibly in the wrong century. I would be perfectly happy to stay home, clean the house, do the dishes and laundry, and mow the lawn. Obviously cooking is a sticking point, so we'll just skip right over that, since I am fortunate enough to have a man in my life that enjoys cooking.

July is a delightful time of year to be unemployed. I get to watch every stage of Le Tour de France. I get to go for walks every day. I spend hours reading and usually do some writing, too (well, journaling might be more accurate). I also spend a good amount of time job hunting because, unfortunately, I have bills that must be paid. Eventually my money will run out and I will be in trouble.

So I must hope to find a job before that happens, even though there is nothing out there in the world that I would rather be doing than what I am doing now. I am just not drawn to any career or calling. I have no passions that can be translated in to paying jobs (unless someone wants to pay me to walk or read? Yeah, I don't see that happening either.) Someone recently described my work history/life as being like that of a gypsy. While I think that is a bit of a stretch, I can only tolerate doing something unpleasant for so long. Given that I find working unpleasant, it is probable that I won't ever stay in one job for the decades (or lifetimes) typical of previous generations. I'll probably always be looking for greener grass.

In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy my unemployment while it lasts and try not to let worrying about finding a job or running out of money ruin it for me.

A la Carrie from Sex & the City

I hate parsley. It's not just that I find it annoying or mildly unpleasant. I HATE it. I hate that it is the obligatory garnish sprinkled on top of everything I order. Sometimes I try to pick it off if the pieces are big enough. But it can be darn difficult to remove from red sauces or an alfredo. Every time they set my dish in front of me, I curse (mostly to myself). I always remember after the food arrives that I meant to ask them to hold the parsley. Never have I remembered as I am ordering. It always sours the meal for me but never wholly ruins it.

However, last night when the waitress set my fettucini alfredo down on the table, I had a sinking feeling. Not only was it covered in finely minced parsley (making an attempt to remove it absolutely pointless), but there was also giant chunks of freshly ground pepper. Which I hate even more than parsley. When you order a mild dish like alfredo, you'd think it might be implied that things like pepper are not desirable.

Apparently I will need to not just ask for no parsley, I will need to ask for NOTHING placed atop my food for decoration or presentation. Vile. It certainly eliminated any enjoyment I had for my meal last night.

On the Home Front

This past November we put our house on the market. As it turned out there was virtually no interest in the house. It was priced too high, the yard has too many trees, and not having a furnace tends to scare away potential buyers. Winter hit hard and early and people just don't want to house hunt in the snow. We lowered the price once, but then decided to take it off the market, unwilling to lower it any more.

I'm not keen on cutting down the trees, nor can we install a furnace, but we can continue to make minor updates to the house. It might improve the marketability of the house or maybe we'll make it into somewhere we want to stay (although it is a bit smaller than we would prefer). Since de-listing the house, we installed a utility sink in the basement, hung some insulation, and replaced all the hardware on the kitchen cabinetry. Obviously I am using the term "we" loosely. It is super helpful when doing home improvement projects if your other half is capable of doing pretty much everything himself.

Next on the list is a slightly larger project- replacing all of the interior doors. The original dark brown doors are pretty beat and look rather dated. Eventually we want to replace them all with white 6 panel doors to match the ones I had installed on the family room level when I had it finished 4 years ago. Also on the to-do list is a new light fixture for the dining room and doing something about the flooring in the master bedroom. Our real estate agent described the carpet in there as "interesting."

The list of things we could do goes on and on, but that's just part of home ownership.

Vent-a-licious

My friend Melanie recently implied that I'd forgotten how to blog. And perhaps she's correct. I'm not feeling very creative. It seemed as though my blog had turned into a big, old vent. Complain, complain, complain. But then again, I started this blog as an extension of my spiral notebooks. And frankly, much of what I do in my notebooks is vent. It gets it off my chest and out of my mind, thus preventing some major dwelling. And me, I'm prone to dwelling. Besides, I'm quite sure there's no one left reading this little tiresome blog, so I might as well use it to my benefit.

I'm sure it will come as no surprise that I am still singing the same old tune. The "I HATE my job" tune. Because, to be honest, I hate every single thing about my job, except for the fact that I have my own office with a window and a door. Beyond that I hate everything I do, I hate "the company," and I hate my commute.

Another thing I hate is hand washing dishes. I bought a dishwasher so that I would never, ever have to hand wash dishes again. But I've found one time that I don't hate it, after finally getting home almost 11 hours after I left, after an excrutiating hour in the car, cursing at the drivers around me, with a throbbing, pounding headache from blasting the heat in an attempt to melt the giant blocks of ice from my windshield wipers. As I sit here typing on my laptop I keep realizing that my shoulders are clenched tightly up around my ears. Even after I force myself to relax them, they creep right back up.

I know some of you (I'm going to pretend I actually still have readers) are thinking to yourself, work isn't supposed to be fun, that's why it's called work. I understand that in theory and maybe I just don't have as strong a constitution as you all. Feel free to condescend all you want (to yourself or those around you), and I will continue to curse you out in the quietude of my little brain.

So I'm telling you this right now. I can't do this much longer. I will NOT be working at this job at this time next year. No matter what. So there. The end.