It's All Good

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Something really unusual happened this past week. Unfortunately, no, Monty had not stopped barking nor had Iz stopped asking me 146 questions every day. It was that I had two potential job opportunities.

This last year, I had looked high and low for a job. Well, I looked hard when I wasn’t writing my blog, searching for a big lipstick, dressing up my animals, making movies with Iz, or soaking up the rays at Crane Beach. Interviews, every two months or so, dotted the year; however, it seemed like the last year had been, borrowing one of my friend’s expressions, a 50-plus week job interview.

Some days it was hard not to feel like Goldilocks. You’re too hard; you’re too soft. I had hoped for a “just right” sooner rather than later; and, this past week, it became sooner though much later than I ever expected.

I was excited; however, there were definitely people around me who hoped that my “just right” would be continued unemployment. Their hope wasn't selfish. It was because they loved me and had grown accustomed to my face in this place.

I made the mistake one afternoon of mentioning one job opportunity within earshot of Iz. I didn’t think it would bother her in the least. In the past, she was always the one asking me, “When are you going to get a job, Mommy?” which I know was fueled by my “When I get a job, you can take horseback riding lessons” statement to her.

When she heard “job” that afternoon, it was as if I had said, “I’m moving to Bolivia to grow soybeans.” She said, “No, Mommy, noooooooo!” I told her there was nothing definite yet, and she said, “I don’t want to go to the after school program every day.”

After my major guilt feelings passed, I assured her that it was only a possibility. Given the way things had gone, I morphed into Negative Nancy and said, “Iz, I bet I don’t even get the job.” She seemed satisfied with what Negative Nancy had to say and went off to read a book to one of the cats in her bedroom.

In the same week, Negative Nancy had received a membership renewal for Crane Beach. For an instant, Positive Patty spoke up and said, “Pitch this. You’re going to get a job soon.” Just then Negative Nancy elbowed Positive Patty in the gut, rendering Positive Patty speechless, and Negative Nancy said, “Renew it! You know you’re not going to get a job anytime soon.”

Then I went riding with Bill one morning, and I mentioned one of the job possibilities. (I know Bill wants me to get a job, but then I know he doesn’t want me to get a job; if there were some way Bill could make me 65 and retired, I’m sure he’d do it!) He asked, “If you get a job, what do you think will happen to your blog?”

I thought for a moment and said, “I guess I wouldn’t write as much, maybe just every now and then.” I knew I had a small but very devoted audience, because I have visitor tracking software on my blog. Don’t be alarmed; it only gives me vague details and does not tell me if you are sitting at your computer in your underwear eating a frozen Milky Way while you are reading my blog.

This past year, I've found most of my solace in my kids and my friends. I've also found it in this blog, even though it's been challenging to write as much as I do. The kids, my friends, and this blog have been life lines.

After I got Iz on the school bus this morning, I walked through the front lawn; it was still soggy from the movie Iz and I made yesterday. I thought about my potential job opportunities, and I got a bit sad at the thought of leaving this place. Sometimes it was a sad place; however, most of the time, it was place filled with some of the best Mom stuff I had ever done in my life.



I thought about the possibilities; I’d get one of the jobs, I wouldn’t get either job, or Iz and I would spend another Summer on Crane Beach. Just then Negative Nancy went down the drain.* Whatever happens, spewed the fountain, it’s all good, really, it is. ♥

*I am still holding onto my Sephora application; that’s not negative. It’s just me thinking, if I had to do it over, I might really enjoy a job in that industry when I wouldn’t enjoy being the owner of my own vintage clothing store, the writer of a weekly newspaper column, a producer of short films, or a forest ranger. Don’t laugh; forest ranger was my dream job when I was 11 years old, and to think, I hated camping then though I've had a life-long crush on Smokey Bear.