On Wednesdays, we wear pink…

I walked off the job on Monday and I am now at home applying for other jobs and listening to Laura Nyro records. It is not as tragic as it sounds, but maybe it is. I have $180 to my name and two bills totaling $240 due by February 14. Happy Valentine’s Day! I am taking our tax returns in tomorrow to get them back ASAP, but that will cost $80 and I can only hope we get the boon payback we did in 2010 —that was some good money, let me tell you.

Do you think I’m crazy? A lunatic? Jumping without a net? I think my husband is deeply distressed, and wouldn’t you be? I really can’t blame him. But here’s the thing: I had to do it.

I am 46 years old and if not a hairless child of God, at least a child of God. I am a good person, a smart person, and though nobody died and made me Angelina Jolie, I think I present myself very well. I work hard and don’t slack off or give trouble.

I’ve been through a lot in my 46 years. I’ve been suffering with a raging case of IBS since last year, and if that’s TMI, oh well. At least the heart attack is over, and my husband’s rare life-threatening blood disease. I don’t ask for much. I shop at thrift stores. I go to the library. If you bought me a funnel cake I’d look at you like I just got a Cartier watch.

And I’ve been through some shit jobs. I know it, you know it. I clawed and scratched my way up the chain at the newspaper, with male colleagues trying to stymy me at every turn. I loved the yarn biz, and though that ended badly it did for others, too. I was not the exception, or the rule. When you work for a small biz owner, the fish is rotten from the head down. I get it.

Did Barnes and Noble suck? You bet it did. Customers are the worst. BUT. The girls I worked with gave me faith in the next generation, and kept me on my toes. I miss them all so much, I wonder if they know how much they meant to me? And management had its good ones and bad ones, but I always felt things were handled….professionally. I wasn’t going to be kicked out the door without a lot of due process. And I never was.

The annuity firm job really only bothered me because of the crazy co-worker who left. Everything else I could tolerate. My boss was one of THE BEST bosses I have ever had. As my father lay dying in a Hospice bed, she grabbed me by the shoulders and told me to take off as much time as I needed, paid. Because I could never get that time back, and I needed to spend it with my family.

Who DOES that anymore? Who? What company? I’d like to know.

And even though I poke at Camp Scabies, I want you to know I spent a week training someone else and told them NOT TO PAY ME. Because I felt bad about leaving, and I wanted to do the right thing.

So believe me when I say, that if I walked out of a business on the fifth floor of an old office building on Monday at 4:40 p.m., telling the receptionist that I’d be right back, then got in my car and drove away with $180 in the bank, there was a damned good reason. And ask me, just ask, if anyone called me to see where I went, or why I didn’t come back.

You won’t ask because you know the answer. No one did. No one will. Nor do I want them to. We’ve all dealt with Mean Girls before, and that’s the truth. But this went way beyond that, even though they DID have a “Pajama Thursday” last week and conveniently forgot to tell me. Not that I really cared, because I don’t wear pajamas to work. Ever.

So I’m not going to write what happened, and go over it. I’ve told my husband. I’ve told my mother, and I’ve told a friend. I’m done. I don’t ever want to think or speak of that place again. I made another mistake. A huge one. But at least it’s over, and I won’t be having heart palpitations like I did every time the phone rang and it was the psychopathic supervisor on the phone for me.

Here’s a song I have been listening to for the last few days, because – well, because I do like The Kinks, and forgot what a fun little video this was. Sort of a rock and roll Atonement, if you will.



I guess I’m just a little too sensitive…..

Hey. So, I’ve been going through a difficult time again, and I know you’re like, “Come on, you’re ALWAYS going through a difficult time!” and maybe you’re right? I don’t know.

It is never easy to start a new job, and the first week went well, but this week….not so much. When you have been in my shoes, gone through what I have gone through the last four years, you lose a bit of your fight, and in my case, I’ve become timid and scared. This is not the person I used to be. Yes, I’m too damned sensitive for my own good and I know it, but it has crossed over into outright fear.

My husband is worried it is “pattern of behavior,” but after I told him what things were said to me this week, and HOW they were said, without exaggeration, he was a bit my sympathetic. I think the real problem is one my husband and my dear friend G (waving at you!) have both said: You keep landing in these toxic work environments! It’s like you keep falling into shit!

So, have I fallen into shit again? It’s too soon to tell. And I’m not going to regurgitate all the mean girl shit and bullying tyranny I’ve been subjected to this week. Suffice it to say my husband brought me THIS book from the library, and I’m tucking into it tonight:

457641_cover.inddThis weekend I took a drive up to my mother’s place, and it helped, though I am in panic mode about going to work tomorrow . Going to my mother’s house is like being surrounded in a warm hug. Sleeping under quilts on a cold night, having her bean and ham soup for lunch and homemade fajitas and margaritas for dinner. Going to see Frozen and then hitting the thrift stores where I made a HUGE score.UBDjXNYeD5-SsRcvJyqt4PrT_M2_tkHwB-1mJH7e5q4Someone with impeccable musical taste must have died because a massive album collection was for sale at the Hospice shop. This is what I DID buy. For 3 bucks — each record was fifty cents. When I think about what I left behind — some Burt Baccarach, Pearl Bailey (!) and a mint condition two-album set of the original case recording of Sweeney Todd with Angela Landsbury. But see, I don’t like Sondheim that much! I know!

This guy had classical, show tunes and jazz coming and going, and sadly, WAY too much Streisand. I don’t want to profile, but…..well, you know. But whoever and wherever he is, I thank him. For the record (oh god, the pun!) I got Leontyne Price’s Aida, Herb Alpert, Laura Nyro, Stan Getz and Joao Gilberto, Nancy Wilson and the soundtrack to Elvira Madigan (one of my favorite movies) which is essentially Mozart, but still.

And I want to tell you that I liked Frozen, and that’s no lie – I left the theatre knowing a lyric to every song, so that’s some good songwriting there. All the little girls in the theatre were singing along to every song, and if you think that bothered me you must not know me because I love to see little girls having fun.

And then I read that Laura Linney had a baby, a baby, at the ripe old age of 49, and was like, “I can still do it, there’s still time for me!” But in the light of day I’m just not sure. Still. A little hope.

And then I found Out of Africa on tv last night at mom’s, because she has so many more channels than I do, and I had forgotten how much I enjoyed the good old fashioned storytelling put forth by true professionals. Plus, every time Robert Redford gave Meryl Streep the bedroom eyes, I said, “Let’s bone,” which is something I do when I’m watching a movie with my husband but not mom, except last night when I felt it would go over okay.

And speaking of Bob, because that’s what I call him in my head, “Bob,” damn, that hurt getting passed over for an Oscar nom, but I’m not surprised because despite all he’s done for the film industry, he doesn’t play the game, and clearly, if there’s one lesson I’ve learned in life, if you don’t play the fucking GAME you will be penalized, so let me tip a 40 out for you Bob, because I’m still calling you Bob. It’s like that, homie.

And speaking of the Oscar noms, that was a whole shitload of MEH. I  was stuck in my car and heard the noms live, and only pumped my fist twice: for best foreign language film The Hunt, and best documentary Cutie and the Boxer. You know how I feel about THOSE movies.

And because I can’t tell the story enough, my husband has interviewed Jordan Catalano himself, Jared Leto, so I can brag honey has talked to an Oscar winner, because let’s be frank, that is going to happen. So once again, I live vicariously through someone else. But, fun fact, and not the E! kind of fun fact (oy!), honey said he was one the nicest people he’s ever interviewed. Which I did not see coming, but good on him, amirite?

And not speaking of the Golden Globes, not really, because that was a week ago, and BORING, I did like these two dresses:


Masters’ of Sex Caitlin Fitzgerald is giving me Judy Jetson meets Betty Draper realness and I love it!


Octogenarian June Squibb is giving me June Squibb, and that’s all I need to feel all Squibby. Love. Huh!

So that’s about it, and a lot of ANDS I know, but I felt like getting it all out. I don’t know when I’ll post again. But I hope you’ll keep me in your thoughts? Maybe just a little?