Tag Archives: unemployed

Moving, finally


We joke that our house is the “Malcolm in the Middle” home of the neighborhood. Our forsaken front yard is crabgrass which naturally browns in the winter. Except for the weeds, their greenery is exquisite. (It is hard to say that modestly.)

The arrival of spring weather brings new weed growth, something we celebrate here because it let’s us fake a lawn. I like it also because it gets my son out of the house and the mall and puts him squarely behind the mower. Granted, one of his favored malls is an outdoor mall and he does engage in the activity known as “walking” sometimes, but I like the physical productivity of mowing.


I’d be remiss to not interject that our boy, EJD also participates in Krav Maga, the Israeli fighting system a couple of times a week but that is a newish activity and it does not reap immediate rewards, for me, like lawn maintenance does.

So, as I was saying: we were talking foreclosure. Dude had only been out-of-work about 6 weeks before he landed this post, but regular paychecks haven’t been ours for a few years. I’ve worked here and there, but have no career and I have found no one wants to hire a middle-age woman with no discernible job skills whose hours are partially restricted by son-ferrying obligations. Hey! I’m a fun gal who is dependable, honest and reasonably bright. But the same can be said of people a quatra-zillion years younger than me. Who you gonna hire?

Anyway. Dude got a job. Dude likes his job. We.gonna.move. Our son knew a move was in the cards and fought it kicking and screaming but he seems to have climbed on board. Maybe because now we’ll live by the beach and have family within driving distance. His sister makes her formal move to acting capital Los Angeles next week, hopefully her presence is part of the allure but I doubt it. They are fighting now, separated by 3,000 miles and they are fighting.

I really have to stop here and pat myself on the back, it’ll just take a moment.

Phew, OK done with that. A passerby may have thought I had an itch but no, a self-congratulatory pat was in order. Almost grown children arguing. Not speaking. Wait. It reminds me of my younger sister and me! We are not speaking either! Connections! So exciting! It’s sort of like an episode of the ancestry search show “Who Do You Think You Are?”

My sister is MJH and she will reside about 8 hours away from our new home. Exciting times. Heh heh.

On my list now are home repairs, packing, sorting, Good Will trips, a possible garage sale and more packing. Groan. It will be worth it in the end though because finally, we’re moving.


The Great Unwashed


My husband The Dude, and I and our two kids have joined the surging whirlpool of The Great Unwashed.

Except we are The Great Unwashed With Out Jobs. Since the great unwashed refers to common people, the “lower classes” as determined by a Victorian novelist and playwright in 1830; I’d have to say we are a step below them because now The Dude, the sole provider of this household, is unemployed. Soon to be anyway. January 13th is his last day.

It is frightening out there, and it is frightening in here. By “in here” I mean in this particular house and in this particular brain.

Sleep is a stranger. I read the reviews on these super-sonic wrinkle creams and I laugh. I know worry lines can’t be hidden. Except maybe by cosmetic fillers, but members of The Great Unwashed With Out Jobs can not afford cosmetic fillers.

The Dude hasn’t been paid in a regular and timely fashion for a couple of years. His employer is a shyster (a person who gets along by petty, sharp practices*.) The Dude and I learned an invaluable lesson from this experience – do a background check before you do business with anyone.

This is where that whole hindsight thing comes in.  Maybe I’ll go join the members of Occupy Charlotte, they took being a member of The Great Unwashed to a new level. I did donate two blankets and two pillows to their cause, knowing we will be moving I figured the exchange of bedding helps both of us. But now I might need to reclaim that donation along with a patch of grass.

I’m so tired.  I lay awake nights for hours, it seems I catch a few minutes of rest before I’m up and unable to sleep again. Last night my son came downstairs, it was after midnight. He just couldn’t sleep he said.

He knows his dad got laid off. I think of myself as pretty chipper, a fairly optimistic person trapped in a negative thinker’s body. EJD is still on his swim team, doing well in school and he’s active with his friends. But he knows things are not well. The air is heavier. Sweet boy. He laid down with me last night hoping for a cure to his wakefulness.

It was funny because I’d just been lying awake thinking back to when he was younger and would crawl in bed with me. His sister still will crawl in bed with me sometimes and I love it. But I was missing my boy. Then all of a sudden, there he was. Unfortunately our snoring dog annoyed my beautiful son and he quickly scooted back upstairs. I told him something I learned from The Dude, “focus on your breathing. It will clear your mind.”

I hope it worked. Didn’t hear from him again anyway. I saw a “for hire” sign up at a strip mall in town yesterday, I love this particular strip mall. It’s old timey. I’m going in tomorrow and will try to sell myself. I’d planned on doing it today, but I have a headache from lack of sleep, I can hardly keep my eyes open and can’t close them either.

I might miss something, something I should have seen a long time ago.