Tuesday, August 31, 2010

(There ain't no cure for the) Summertime Blues

I am a little spooked as I will be losing my therapist after tomorrow’s appointment.

So much is right with my life, but I still don’t have a job and it stresses me. I search the want ads daily, and there is not much there that is appropriate for me. I cannot drive a truck, lift 50 pounds on a regular basis or function as a line cook.

I am a trained librarian-- a good librarian. But none of the libraries in the area will even give me a chance.


I wonder if it is my age. Or that I am fat-- something I have been working on with slow but steady progress.

People have encouraged me to volunteer at a library, but my experience has shown that most libraries do not hire talent that they can get for free. Been there, done that, didn’t get hired. So I keep searching for any job that can use my talents and hoping that while on the perpetual diet I will one day cross the line to “acceptably chubby” and someone will hire me.


Or I’ll hit the Lotto. Oh yeah... gotta buy a ticket for that, huh?


Meanwhile there are wedding “thank you” notes to finish and photos to edit and organize. I did say that there is a lot that is right in my life and one of those things is my recent marriage to Mark. He is a wonderful man. Not perfect, but just right for me.


It is a two-trailer-marriage. He lives a backyard away from me, as the hummingbird flies. And we do have hummingbirds. We live in a beautiful valley, mountains on both sides, a river to the east of the highway, the narrow-gauge railroad tracks next to the river.

We are so different. He wakes up at 5:00 a.m. I am sloth until 7:30 or so. He has two knickknacks and one plant. I have all my Santos and Kachinas, along with a small jungle and a kitchen garden. He listens to classical and jazz; mostly rock & roll, folk and the blues here. But we are both extremely private people. We admit to needing our time alone, whether to write or think-- or in my case, to watch Dog, the Bounty Hunter. Mark has no concept of Dog; I don’t think that Mark has watched TV since Garry Moore was on the air. Dog is one of my guilty pleasures, especially the episode where he knocked on my former neighbors’ door and they stood there horrified. Good. Their constant domestic violence and drug dealing horrified the rest of us for so long that they deserved a good “Dog scare.”


If you had told me two years ago that I would be living in my own home in the mountains, hauling my drinking water in from the grocery by the gallon, bear proofing my trash and marrying an older and unconventional man-- I would have laughed my head off.

I was a girl with rules. I did not date men with dogs. Dogs, yuck. I would not even date writers or lawyers-- both too professionally competitive. He’s a writer. I was a city girl with city water and an Asian market down the street. Now I am becoming a country girl who is learning to keep the water supply replenished and maintain a long term grocery list for the few times per year that I might get to a city with ethnic markets.


So I am adaptable. Maybe I should consider becoming something other than a librarian. I really did love that work. It seems a shame to have to give it up and start over. It will take some long and hard thought.


Meanwhile, I will learn not to be so stressed over it. Somehow.

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