Bits of news

Pathetic: When the seat you are sitting on becomes usurped by a sleeping cat. Stan crawled up in the office chair and lay down behind me. He is now sprawling on the back four fifths of the seat, whilst I take up the tiny portion of space on the front edge...What is WRONG with this picture? I thought we were supposed to have dominion over the beasts of the earth?! But I can't really bring myself to sit ON him...That might kill him.

Last night I was trying to decide what my favorite word is -- and I can't decide if it's rendezvous, nepotism, or usurp.

Oh- the interview went okay, but I'm pretty sure I don't want the job. Ah well. On the upside, another slight lead looms on the horizon. Not sure if it's a mirage or a real possibility. In the meantime, life goes on and I am fairly happy. Odd.

The other day, the doorbell rang and it was the little girl next door. She had a big box in her hand and I thought, is she selling me something? I was trying to summon my sales resistance... But, no, it was just that they had half a key lime pie they couldn't finish and wanted to give us the rest. Give? Pie? Oh. My. Word. That was good pie. I was thinking recently how I need to cut down on my sugar consumption again because I've let it get a little out of hand, but how can you do that when people are at your door handing out free pie? As we stood talking, Stan suddenly darted out the front door and made good his escape. I think he'd been scheming it for some time because he went right for the hedge- a smart move, seeing as how I am not one to bash through hedges, even for a beloved pet. So I had to wait around and lure him out and chase him some more before I finally got him in my clutches again. PHEW! That rascal.

Some more weird names we are apt to call Stan lately: Cinnamon Roll Boy( he looks like one when he naps)( yes, I DO have sugar on the brain), Trapper Dan ( NO idea WHERE this one came from but it's one of Brad's creations), and Phyllis McReynolds (another bizarre creation of Brad's.) I'm surprised Stan hasn't become so confused as to develop multiple personalities or some kind of identity crisis. Poor kitty; he has a different name for every hour of the day. Oh -and another one: Cuggy MacFarlane. Yep- all Brad. I hesitate to expose people to our weirdness but it just seemed like such a shame to not blog about something so bizarrely silly.

My resume bloomed

There's nothing quite like the advent of spring to slough off your old ways of thinking and reinvigorate you for life ahead. Warmer temperatures are pretty much a miracle working cure for my spirit. Suddenly, things seem possible that I thought were impossible. It's like I never knew there was anything beautiful in the world- and then I saw a daffodil for the first time in my life. I know we don't have the bleakness of dirty snow to contend with down here but orange and brown can get pretty tedious on the eyes after four months...

And there's nothing like a seed of a resume blossoming into an interview to remind you that life could change very quickly. I thought that seed had died- I had forgotten about it. I have sown so many resumes in so many places that I can't keep track of them all. There are a few that I actually do monitor more closely than others, but seeing as how the harvest has been fairly pitiful, it's not something in which I invest a whole lot of emotional energy. ( Hmmmm- is that a cause or an effect? Some kind of defense mechanism, no doubt.) (Or is it affect? Andrea? Keith? Other English majors?) In this particular case, I had cast my resume on the waters over a month ago with little hopes of any result but lo, yesterday, it returned - in the form of a phone call.

Now, part of me thinks that I should sit down at the beginning of the interview and say that they should just skip right to the part where they tell me that they aren't going to choose me after all and we can get this whole charade done and behind us. Honestly, it seems like a long shot. So much so that I hesitated even to mention it here. I don't want people to be all, "Oh, Claire! I hope you get the job!" because what if I don't...or what if I do and I hate it. I didn't even tell my parents about it yesterday when we went on a walk together. I just didn't want to talk about it. My hopes are not up at all, by any stretch of the imagination. I'm just going to go and do the interview and that's that. I'm sure I'm qualified for it but I'm not really sure I want to work there. But- actually getting a job almost isn't even the point. As pathetic as it sounds, simply getting an interview is a pretty big deal at this juncture. It means that at least there are possibilities out there! After living in the same old confined, dreary, depressing rut for months ( a rut at least partially of my own mental creation but very real and all-consuming nonetheless), it's an encouragement to know that THINGS CAN CHANGE ON A DIME dramatically if God wants it that way. And if they don't change right away, well...there must be a reason.

They're baaaaack...!

So I was skipping merrily into the bathroom tonight singing the Texas fight song ( not really sure if it was the Texas fight song - it's the one that says ..." something something something...deep in the heart of Texas!"- don't ask why because there is no reason- it just feels good to sing it) and suddenly, out of the blue, I saw a cockroach crawl out of the closet. WHAT?! I was just thinking the other day about how glad I was that we were in a bugless season and I didn't have to walk around the house in fear of vermin. I guess there is no season that is bugless around here. So yeah. I killed it. But I am TERRIFIED of doing the laundry tomorrow...Who knows what may be hiding in that laundry basket...

Yes, I'm still here

Daddy called me tonight - basically to check and make sure I was alive seeing as how I haven't posted anything in about two weeks. Well- not true. He knows I'm alive because he saw me at church on Sunday. But, he did raise a good point: I've not been posting recently. I don't have any real good reason. I've written posts a few times in the past few weeks but not published them because they turned out too negative and I was ashamed of being so whiny. I mean- come on, I really have no right to complain about anything. I have a more comfortable life than millions of other people on this earth. I should just hit myself upside the head with a cheerful two by four and get on with life. It's kind of a strange feeling when you can't explain why things seem so dark. And when you try to analyze all the little reasons, it still doesn't add up.

Plus, in true winter-blah fashion, it seems like there hasn't been a whole lot to write about.

Except...now that I think of it...

Last Monday it was very nice and warm and Katie and I got frappucino-esque drinks and went for a walk in a wildlife conservation area thingy. And we just had a marvelous time. We saw many turtles and she even reached into the bog and pulled a little one out - it was a snapping turtle- and we both stared at it for a while, as it retreated indignantly into its shell. Katie is brave- I couldn't even touch it. Sometimes we didn't even walk; we just stood in the sun, talked, and enjoyed being warm...and outside! I like Katie!

And Grandpa poured the last of the orange juice onto his cereal on Sunday morning. Took me quite aback. Plus, when I did his laundry on Friday, and asked him to bring his sheets up so I could wash them, he didn't seem to think it was really necessary. When I tried to convince him that, yes, it was about time I washed them, he said okay, but he was going to just bring up the sheets and leave the pillowcases on the pillows- and just turn the pillows over. I had to fight the urge to laugh and scream and wave my arms around in horror. I didn't want to get into a knock-down, drag out fight with an eighty three year old man, so I let him have his way. I'll get those pillowcases yet.

Plus I got a beautiful wreath and some very nice chocolate for Valentine's Day.

And we had dinner at Dan and Pari's the other night; she fixed a fantastic Indian dinner for us. That was a lot of fun. Nothing like ethnic food that is authentic! Plus, the cook kindly took into consideration that I don't do super-hot food. It was perfect -- spicy but not too spicy.

Speaking of dinner and super-hotness, last night I had a disaster. I had gotten these wings for a special treat- Grandpa loves wings. Last time I made them for dinner, some weeks ago, they disappeared alarmingly fast, and in their place there was a mound of chicken bones. Kind of like the reverse of the story in Ezekiel. Anyway- for some reason, when I was shopping for them this time, I thought I got Barbecue flavored wings. But no. I had gotten buffalo wings. I thought, "Oh well, no big deal," until about half way into the first one when suddenly my lips burst into flame. Well- it FELT like it. I was already in an absolutely foul mood- a raging/soap box/tirade/flaming/warpath/righteous/ avenging/resentful tornado of a mood- and thus far had been mostly successful in containing the outward effects of the funnel cloud of my temper ... so when my lips spontaneously combusted, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. So I sort of did a little of both.

Poor Grandpa and Brad- they just kept on meekly eating what I had set before them. I guess they have hardier stomachs than I because I gave up, stalked to the fridge and reheated some leftovers... and, shockingly, there were no other takers. I kept on telling them they didn't have to eat it and I kept apologizing, which Brad kept telling me not to do...he kept saying that everything was fine...which was flatly contradicted by the strange sight of his almost neon orange-pink lips. Grandpa tried valiantly to comfort me by saying something about how we just had to try to think harder of all the millions of starving people in the world. Is the thought of malnourished North Koreans any excuse for self immolation by buffalo wings?! As if scorching our innards into shriveled crisps would somehow miraculously provide them with sustenance... Fortunately, I had also just bought some sherbet- at the request of an ice-cream deprived Brad- and so with a great ironic twist, that really got Grandpa laughing, I produced a freezing dessert- the perfect antidote to The Dinner from The Bad Place.

Thankyou for calling, Daddy. I guess I could write something after all.

Grandpa made a funny!

Last night we were eating some grapes for dessert and Grandpa murmured," Someone's taken the wrath right out of these."