Crafty Greys

Greyhounds Frosty, Tory and Arlo spent a busy Saturday in the sewing room supervising construction of a quilted table runner. Besides the painstaking fabric selection, they courageously undertook the challenge of staying in the way all day. Carefully placig themselves between the sewing machine and the cutting table, they made it necessary for me to step over at least one hound each trip. The shifting obstacle course also assured my path from the machine to the ironing board was equally occupied. Frosty deserves honorable mention for the exceptional job she did of consistently lying directly in front of the ironing board.


The pups are to be applauded for their vigilance and, true to the breed, also for their quickness. My occasional orientation toward the door meant they had to spring from their prone positions, beat me to the door and provide escort services to the bathroom, the kitchen, etc. It was a fascinating example of herd mentality that each of those trips included affected detours past the treat cupboard.


It was a long day for them but they hung in there like real troopers and can certainly be proud of their efforts. They were undoubtedly relieved on Monday when I went back to work and they could resume their nap schedule uninterrupted.

Wholly Uninspired

Hmmm. “Wholly uninspired” is me. It’s cold, it’s gray, and most of all, I didn’t get the job I had my heart set on. Nor did I rate an interview. Heck … I didn’t even get an acknowledgment they’d received my application. My mother would have had a lot to say about their lack of manners.

Some of you know I’ve been job seeking for some time now. While I have a job – one with decent pay, longevity and good benefits – I long for one that’s fulfilling. One that makes me look forward to work because I am contributing to life on this planet in some meaningful way. This job I didn’t get felt right and sounded like it had been designed specifically for me. I applied and then allowed myself to dream and prematurely plan and now, instead of standing at the beginning of a new and exciting journey, I find I painted myself into a corner. Of a lonely room. In the dark. Silly old broad. You’d think I’d know better by now. My mother would have had a lot to say about that too.

Jobs these days are rather precious, especially anything over $8.00/hr! Among the folks who wish to be employed, the number of people searching is astonishing. Case in point - a recently advertised receptionist position at the local grad school had 39 applicants – many of them master’s level graduates! Sad. So given the state of the employment world, not to mention my age (yeah, yeah, I’ve heard all that baloney about equal opportunity), I’m trying to remember to count my blessings. I’m really trying. Should you pass me on the sidewalk or pull up next to me at the stop light and my lips are moving, know that I’m counting. Out loud. Trying to soothe my savaged ego and my dashed hopes.

The first and foremost blessings on my “blessing list” are, like yours I hope, my family members (2 and 4 legged), my wonderful friends and my health. After that, the list has changed a bit since the job application process. I’m counting gifts I’ve recently forgotten to celebrate.

While I didn’t land this job, my state of blessedness, and thus my blessing list, was enhanced in a way I certainly hadn’t anticipated. Part of the application process, naturally, was to submit letters of reference. I asked for, and received, letters from four folks in my life with whom I have worked at one time or another – four folks who know me well and who could address my qualifications for the job in question. I was, quite bluntly, astonished by what they wrote. Each letter brought out the “aw shucks” in me. Each made me feel special and worthy and eminently qualified. Wow! The lights came on revealing my treasure chest full of blessings and I'm back on track.

For now, I shall practice gratitude for my comfortable “old” job and will gaze at these letters (which I’m tempted to frame and put on the wall!) to lift me above the ruts and remind me that when the opportunity to shine presents itself, I am capable and qualified.

Hear me roar!

Christmas Miracle

It occurs to me that I left ya’ll hanging on the saga of the broken transmission. We didn’t have to hook the greyhounds to a sleigh after all. The wonderful news is – it wasn’t broken at all. So all that fretting and wailing was for naught, but I will happily eat my overreaction and tell you the issue was (what else for an electrical contractor’s truck) electrical.

Seems some wiring got up next to something hot under there and shorted out the connection to whatever the gizmo is that makes the truck go forward. Why reverse still worked is a mystery to me. What I do know is that instead of the anticipated $2000 brand new transmission and labor cost we owed only $320 for the repair, and $153 for the tow.

Interesting note, I calculated the tow truck charge out to a per hour basis. That guy makes $340/hr with that truck. Wonder if I can trade my Accord in on a tow truck. I’m clearly in the wrong business.

Anyway … let there be no doubt about it - we got our Christmas miracle.

Blending

I was snapping photos of my dogs today - a regular occurrence around here (and one that bores them silly). This is our beautiful old Frosty girl. I noticed in this photo that her brown markings aren't so brown anymore. Just for fun I spent some time playing with the contrast button, putting back her vibrant color and then watching her gray again like time lapse photography.

It made me think about aging as a loss of contrast. Smoothing the sharp edges. Blending. I like this notion. Frosty will be 13 in March. I will be ... more than that. My hair is not so brown anymore either. She and I are becoming more alike as, together, we lose our contrast. We are turning gray together - and I'd like to think I'm also more greylike than when I was all "contrasty".

Blessings upon you in this new year. May we all become more like our greyhounds in 2009.