Tuesday, July 7, 2015


So yesterday was just a super day for us, right?

I mean, I know we were pretty surprised.

This came with essentially no warning, other than those signs those of us who have worked the service industry learn to sniff out. Once you've seen it done to someone else, you can kind of see the signs when they decide to turn it on you. While he and I had become suspicious, we were still caught off guard.

These things happen.

The best thing you can do is sit down, have a strategy meeting, and start figuring out where you can tighten the belt.

Jason's Funemployment Day 2: Jobless Boogaloo involved job applications and conversations with parents and mowing the lawn (despite the lawnmower insisting on breaking twice, and Jason managing to get it back together with twine, genius problem-solving skills, and maybe a little bit of a prayer both times), making delicious dinner, and taking Audra to daycare a little late since she insisted on being up at 4:30 and therefore going down for her first nap around 7 am.

We're doing pretty well, I think. I guess I feel like a 'currently' is in order.

Right now, we're:

Learning: Not to rely too heavily on plans, since they have a way of going all cattywampus just when you need them to stay steady. This may rock that five-year plan we were so proud of having together.

Wearing: Pajamas before 9 pm because why not. Seriously. Give me one good reason why not.

Reading: The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson, a chronicle of what you might call America's greatest migration - that of her own citizens, black people trapped in the post-Civil War, pre-Civil Rights South. The truth of the Jim Crow laws, their abject cruelty and how they hemmed in the everyday lives of hundreds of thousands of people, is something you don't really learn about in school. It's something people don't talk about. And I am diving headfirst into this intense book. It reads almost like a novel - Wilkerson looks primarily at three specific people, a woman and two men, all of whom escaped the Jim Crow South to varying levels of success in the North. It's an incredible book. I have trouble putting it down, although it's a bit of slow going. Highly recommended.

Also Reading (Because there's never just one): Fat Girl Walking by Brittany Gibbons, the blogger behind Brittany, Herself. I don't read Brittany's blog - I've read entries here and there, but my friend Liz, she of the 'just randomly thought of you and bought you this gift and it magically is the perfect thing for you right now' bought this book for me as a gift. I'm only a few chapters in and it's painfully hilarious - hilariously funny but also sort of painfully true to small-town experiences when your shape isn't exactly what people consider 'ideal' and you have trouble knowing the difference between smart and sassback. She's really, really, really funny - but be warned that you'll be knee-deep in cursewords and some pretty serious TMI. It's... kind of what she does. Also highly recommended - this is a book you could sit by the pool or the beach and laugh until your sides hurt and other people are staring and you won't even care because they obviously don't know the true happiness that is this book.

Cooking: Last night I was craving soup, which is basically my rock-solid staple because I can throw together an amazing soup with literally two cans of beans and sheer determination if you make me. So I decided to make Garden Chili - a basic chili with ground lean beef, a can of fire roasted tomatoes, kidney beans, and some pattypan squash and sweet potatoes we had on hand. We also were able to throw in a few tomatoes, some okra, a spicy green pepper, and even about a cup and a half of fresh pinto beans from our garden! It was a very cheering meal. Add some avocado slices and chopped up cilantro and it really did the trick. Tonight Jason heated up some Mojo Chicken from Publix, roasted some baby asparagus, and we had horseradish potatoes on the side. So... we've eaten very well, is what I'm telling you, for having had to cut our food budget already.

Stress-Eating: Taquitos and chocolate from the QT gas station by my workplace, a place I badly felt the need to visit at about 9:30 this morning for no reason other than wanting to stress-eat taquitos. They were my worst craving during my pregnancy and apparently they're my new comfort food. I suppose that's... better than nachos...? No?

Watching: The last of Good Eats on Netflix, Sens8, and... whatever else. I tend to watch a lot of David Attenborough documentaries, as that man could make a dung beetle crawling along a desert floor sound like riveting television. But right now I can't focus well enough to do much of anything unless it's work or video games.

Working: In fits and starts of absolute concentration, followed up by something akin to static in the back of my head keeping me from thinking about any one thing for longer than ten seconds. I'm just worrying too much. It's wonderful to have my job be a place I can go to get away from my stress, though.

Growing: A pile of tomatoes spread over five different plants, most of which have yet to become ripe, okra, cucumbers we keep forgetting to pick, basil that has gone to seed, three kinds of spicy pepper (jalapeno, serrano, and one called 'garden salsa'), Amish pie pumpkins, pinto beans, and fresh sweet corn. We have two pumpkins right now, one starting to finally become orange and the other still a beautiful mottled green.

Hoping: For some kind of merciful twist of fate that turns this into Jason's Unexpected Vacation, rather than long-term budget-scrunching. It's good to be hopeful, right?

Planning: Audra's first birthday party. I have to figure out the cupcake situation. It's... it's going to be a situation.

Loving: My family, this 'us' we've made, the three. Tonight Jason and I just sat and played with Audra and her new birthday presents from our wonderful, generous friends and family up in Illinois. She pushed her new baby doll stroller around, with a toy lion and fake rocks from her new dump truck in it, cooing happily. It was perfect. She is perfectly our daughter. (Her newest crib-friend is a stuffed dinosaur her cousin D made her at Build-a-Bear. I caught her talking to it. She's clearly in love.)

Praying: Well... always.

But maybe a bit more often right now.


  1. I'd be happy to send you a prime pantry box if there are items that would be helpful.


    1. You. Are. Lovely. I feel like I would just fill it with toothpaste and Cheetos.

  2. I am glad your husband is doing the most of this unexpected vacation. Hope things change soon though...

    1. We are too. But really, he was pretty miserable there and they were not utilizing his intelligence and skills at all. Maybe this will be for the best!


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