You say po-tay-to, I say hey, whoa!

Ah, the pleasure of discovery at the brewery!

9 o’clock at hight. Too early to go home and pass the hours of boredom and loneliness watching Netflix on the laptop in bed.

Bonus at the brewery! It’s Thirsty Thursday. Pints at happy hour prices all day.

The town’s best-known brewery — in part because it bears the town’s name — is dead. A seat at the bar, no problem-o, senor!

I custom-order a pint: of porter and java-nator, a coffee-flavored doppelbock. Jeremy the bartender knows me. He’s always up for creating concoctions.

Rather than my phone to read online, I pull out my journal to write.

Then it happens!

A young twosome — and only couple at the counter this uncharacteristically quiet night — places an order.

A plate sized for a side salad arrives. Only it ain’t lettuce piled on!

It’s fries!

For 99 cents, I overhear!

“Hey, whoa!! You can get a side of fries for 99 cents?!” I exclaim. With surprise bordering on a child’s discovering Santa.

Yep, says Jeremy. Any hour, any day of the week. Fries, slaw, salad too.

“How did I not know this?!” — after 2+ years of patronage. Ain’t on the menu and word just never floated my way. Until now.

“Got to get me some!” Jeremy adds a small plate of fries to a tab of a pair of pints.

Understand. Fries are not “my thing” (though I love potatoes). Plus I’m very picky when indulging that rare craving. Begins and ends at McDonald’s.

So last night’s discovery is doubly delightful. Hot fries, short steak cut, nicely seasoned crispy, not greasy, firm, not limp, with a side of mayo. Ketchup – blech! For 99 cents!

The quintessential late-night snack! Perfectly paired with a pint!

Cuz sometimes a pint-sized girl needs a snack. A pair in the night. {wink wink} A potatoes pair!


Mercury & Miscellanea on Monday

We pause our regular programming for this announcement:

Mercury turns direct this week! Thursday, September 22 at 1:30 in the morning East Coast time (so 10:30 Wednesday Pacific Coast time).

Resumes direct motion at 14 degrees Libra.

So whatever’s have wonky … delayed … out of sorts … out of sync … frustrating  … needing adjustments then more adjustments to fix those adjustments! … those heightened annoyances, oversights, errors, miscommunications … that sense of trudging through mud uphill will abate!

The brakes will be lifted and the car can move forward again — as of around Saturday.

Takes a few days to shake off the retrograde dust and be in the clear to initiate action, sign contracts, say what you mean and be heard for what you mean, generally progress or get things moving forward again.

End of September’s stacked with notable astrological shiftings on the heels of Merc turning direct on the 22nd (or 21st depending on location):

The equinox, in Libra, on Sept. 22.

Pluto turns direct on Sept. 26, after 5 months of retrograde. Distant Pluto  moves like molasses so extended retrogrades are normal, unlike quicksilver Mercury.

Mars enters Capricorn on Sept. 27, finally moving past its own retrograde cycles through summer basically. (Mars rarely retrogrades so its effects are noticeable.)

Last but not least: The new moon Sept. 30. In Libra, at 8 degrees so it’ll pass over the spot — at 14 Libra — where Mercury turned direct.

My take on all this is that these past 6 months, or from about April, have been Movers and Shakers. Shakeups. Shakedowns. Really big moves thwarted, frustrated, incomplete or if completed only with arduousness, effort and muscle — physical, mental or both!

Like, say, a series of earthquakes and tremors that keep on comin’!

Perhaps all that change, upheaval, chaos has been welcomed. Perhaps not. One thing’s for certain: It’s been confusing! Taxing even. Scary – probably. Because of the Pluto, Mars and Merc retrogrades and other planetary alignments.

Come October, things’ll begin to settle some. New realities will begin to take hold, stabilize. Fresh or altered situations and alliances will find their groove and/or you within them.

In short, everything or anything that got tossed up into the air in a seeming free-for-all-fall since spring’ll begin to make sense.

If earthquakes haven’t shaken your life, count yourself lucky!! haha, kidding. Everyone’s natal chart is unique, thereby enhancing or mitigating these universal shiftings.

Nonetheless, no one can escape ’em entirely! Unless you happen to live in a cave or atop a mountain maybe. 🙂

Anyhow, enough astro ramblings for today. Just wanted to note Mercury turning direct anon and other newsworthy shifts as September rolls into closure.

Reckon October’ll bring a flowy-ness that’s been in short supply for a while. I’m looking forward to it! And to Halloween, just around the corner. It’ll be here before you can say BOO!

Harvest Moon & Other Little Lunacies

A splash o’ this, a dash o’ that kinda day.

Lunar – Lunacy

Harvest moon tonight. So named as it’s the full moon closest to the autumn equinox. A penumbra lunar eclipse also occurring. At 24 degrees Pisces.

Astrological articles abound on that. If so inclined, this one’s pretty good. Easy for laymen yet informational and instructive.

Tonight is day 2 at a “new job.” Hardly seems worth blogging on it so haven’t! And not only ’cause it’s a mere 10 hours a week (2 nights / 5 hours). My interest in the job is zip zero nada. It’s just more menial Lame Crap Job bullshit. BS = no relevance to my life purpose, path or passions.

“A waste of time.”

I put up with it “because it’s what I do.” Even that thinking’s gotten old. REALLY old.

High Tide / High Time

High time I let go of all this crap I impose on myself. This bullshit Lame Crap Jobs as “my new career.” All that I deserve when I’m capable of SO. MUCH. MORE. And HAVE DONE so much more than scrub toilets, mop floors and {fill-in-the-blank of endless menial tasks}.

It’s high time I stop letting shit jobs define me.

High time — nice tie-in with the high tide of tonight’s full moon!

Top o’ the Chart

Astrologically, this eclipse falls smack on my sun in Pisces in the 10th house. The house at the top of circular birth chart. Picture a pie cut into 12 slices. The house at 12 o’clock is the 10th-house of career, life purpose, Work (as opposed to Job).

A significant event when a solar or lunar eclipse conjuncts a personal planet in a birth chart.

Because of where this eclipse falls — in my 10th career house AND precisely on my (Pisces) sun, I take notice.

Lunar eclipses mark endings. They’re very emotional too — lunar / luna / emotions / feelings. Don’t be surprised if your emotions or others’ are intense, running unusually high!

“Coincidentally” — nee synchronistically — I just lost a career job that was very significant, connected to my true self, not just some shit stupid job. Didn’t really lose it of course (it’s right where I left it!). Long story, anyways. It’s over.

Emotions still being processed. Lunar eclipse: trying to find and follow the light through the darkness that eclipses bring.

This eclipse delivers opportunity to FEEL YOUR FEELINGS! Shit! God I hate that! Hahahah, kidding (!?).

To feel and to release.

We all have some work cut out for ourselves with this eclipse in Pisces. Something emotional / metaphysical / etheric. Something internal where the Divine and the personal meet. Something personal but bigger than you too. That’s Pisces. Universal flow and your part in it.

Last but not least, to see the Harvest Moon wax into fruition: here.


After the Job: The Road.

That was the plan anyhow.

How to celebrate the first day — days — off in some 9 months?

Hit the road!

Hit the highway for speed. An open highway is therapy. Road trips are therapy. Just me and the Subbie, the wind and the space. Bliss!

Get outta town. Go camp. Check out one of Arizona’s innumerable weird cool historic funky towns. Spur of the moment. No planning necessary except preliminary research about the location of primitive/dispersed  campsites. Aka boondocking.

Hit the road! Go! Go! Feel the wind. No. BE the wind. Listen to the sound of wheels turning. FEEL the car. Be one with her.

That was the plan Thursday anyways.

Then I drank too much. Not overly so. Just enough to give me a bone-cruncher Friday morning.

“I’ll try for Saturday. I’m not going far.” Only a coupla hours drive to a town in the middle of nowhere. Like so many Arizona towns. Just one of many reasons I resonate with Arizona! Don’t gotta go far (unless you’re in Phoenix) to find isolation, space, alone time, quality time with weird locals.

Saturday – yesterday – came. Got up late, got to yakking with the roommate. Next thing I knew, it was high noon!

Coulda gone, true, but it felt hurried. “Maybe tomorrow. Or another time,” I decided.

So I fulfilled my craving for the road with an appetizer. A jaunt to Jerome, an old mining town that survives / thrives now on tourism.

Been there several times before. It’s a great getaway for a day. An hour drive through mostly open Arizona desert, up through Mingus Mountain then winding the mountain into a mining town that died. Then got resurrected by artists and then tourists.

There’s more on Jerome, just not today.

Returned home early last night — about 8 p.m. I was wrung out and not feeling well.

By 10 p.m., my stomach was in turmoil. Heavy either from contents (beers half a big burger, ice cream) or something unsettling in the meat. Was a toss-up whether I was gonna, well, toss the cookies.

I didn’t. Yet wouldn’t have minded had it come to that.

Lights out at an obscenely early 11:30 p.m. Didn’t sleep well and don’t know why. Then awakened at an obscenely early 7 a.m. The roommate doing laundry. We discussed & agreed on a later laundry time.

So this, my last free day in a string of 4, is a kinda comedown. Tomorrow begins a VERY PT job — 10 hours a week — doing work I have absolutely ZERO interest in. Menial labor and menial wage. Again. {sigh}

I didn’t hit the road like I wanted. Oh well. The trip to Jerome did provide an appetizer, a mini-getaway. Today I feel wrung out, slow, low-energy, sluggish, sleep-deprived, blah.

Rather than uplifted and bouncy in step for days on the road.

Oh well.

There’s always … when this new job ends! Yes, already anticipating the end to this job one day before it begins!

Not a very exciting post. Then again, inner energy and enthusiasm are waning today.

What can I say but time sure flies when you have days off! I’m so grateful FOR the days off (due to end of job). I’d really forgotten what it was like not to have to be somewhere (workplace) 7 days a week!

In all, a fun and fruitful 4 days — though little got accomplished in the Road Trip Department. I LIKE having days to myself, free of responsibilities and Must Be Somewhere at X Time.

Nice re-familiarizing myself with free time. And re-acquainting myself with myself.

All for today. Toodles.

He’s standing near the counter when I walk in.

I prepare to turn left toward his office.

“This way,” he says, leading us toward the right.

“Ohhh, the BIG office,” I say. The sales office with the small kitchen area.

The wealthy sales manager’s in her chair, expecting me, smiling in her scary way. “Susie’s” not someone I’d want to cross.

I’m surprised by her presence, say nothing but I get it. The boss about to lay me off has a witness and helper if I resist, raise a stink.

No chance of that. I know what’s coming. I want out. I’m ready to go. Relief’s tapping me on the shoulder.

He’s mild-mannered, kind, gracious, low-key, the boss. He stands a comfortable 12 feet or so away. “Susie,” the sales queen, remains at her desk silent, watching.

“We no longer need your services.”

“Okay,” I say. Matter-of-factly, calmly. As if someone just informed me of the temperature outside.

He holds a white envelope. “We’re paying you for the rest of the week and two weeks’ severance.”

“Thank you,” I say, genuinely surprised and appreciative.

“Now your key please,” he says.

Ah yes, could’ve easily forgotten that,” I think. I loop it off the ring.

“There’s a box for you in the other room for your things,” he says.

“Okay. You don’t need me to work this evening?”

“No, it’s all taken care of.”

Wow, that’s fast. Getting someone from a small staff to cover my 1-hour call-screening shift on short notice,” I think.

I gather my things from my cubbyhole, fridge, freezer. Work files. Reading material. Coffee cups. A couple bowls. A can of chili for emergency dinner if I come to work empty-handed.

Don’t forget the coffeemaker. The last guy laid off forgot his. Had to come back to retrieve it. I don’t want have to come back.. Not out of hate, despair, depression, woe or anything like that. Just want a clean and complete departure. No strings left undone.

He hangs around, waiting. Not hurrying me but ensuring that my exit is complete.

“You have a lot of stuff,” he remarks, eyeing the full box.

“I know. It’s all organized, just in different areas.”

He escorts me out the door. “Thank you for your service,” he says. “Thank you,” I reply, sincerely. Part of me wants to give him a goodbye professional hug in appreciation for all he has done and been — including, importantly, the best boss I’ve ever had in the United States.

But the signs & intuition say don’t. So I don’t.

He returns to the station. I load my car with my things and pass down the driveway for almost certainly the last time. No need to return.

The last time a guy was laid off, a few months ago, the boss informed each of us of his departure and informed us he was not to be allowed back on the property.

“Is he expected to cause trouble?” I asked.

“No. It’s policy. Just be aware.”

Now I’m the subject of those instructions to the employees.

No one except the abusive bully — the kingpin, the mob’s made man — involved in this so-called “personalities conflict” likely has a clue about my departure. To most of the staff, I’m there, then suddenly I’m gone. It’s certain to raise questions and eyebrows. I can’t control what the kingpin says. I can’t concern myself with his bad-mouthing, distortions or one-sided hostile and hateful judgments.

I can’t defend myself or speak on what REALLY happened or dispel rumors, though a part of me wishes I could.

What does it matter, really. Part of why I left — had to leave — lies in just that: an unhealthy environment. A toxic workplace (the good boss excepted), a poisoning pen whose ink polluted the pages, turning them from a tale of dream job to nightmare.

Day 2 of unemployment. I’m OK. Better than OK. I’m good. Glad to be gone. Relieved. Speculating about what’s going on in the minds of my former coworkers and around the station to “explain” my abrupt departure.

Only the bully knows, really, and he ain’t talkin’. Not the facts anyhow! 🙂 No mention of the son-of-a-bitch abusive bully he really is.

The truth’ll never come out. Not from him.

But someday I’ll write a letter informing my boss of what’s gone on behind the scenes for the past 6 months. When the time’s right. That time’s not yet but soon.


The hardest habit to break, I’ve found in these past 2 days, is constantly checking the clock on my phone to ensure I get to work on time. The nature of radio. You can’t show up late!

Free time, unstructured time. What a foreign / forgotten concept!

The handwriting’s on the wall.

Or the voice.

It’s coming.

Sure as a doctor’s visit you may dread. Sure as the Thanksgiving feast you anticipate. Sure as the rain will fall tomorrow someplace in the world or the sun shine.

It’s coming. Can’t be stopped. The period at the end of this story. The closing of this chapter. The turning of the page.

It’s coming. I know that it is by the voice message this morning. From my boss, in his gentle, even, low-key tone. Nothing in the voice or content — a simple request for a callback — alerts to what is coming.

But I know. The end is here. I saw the ad for my job on craigslist three days ago.

How do I feel?  Isn’t that the question we normally ask ourselves or another   at the loss of a job or income?


This was a dream job. I worked hard, persistently and passionately, for a year for a foot in the door.

For the first year, year-and-a-half, I was like a pregnant lady. Glowing. Just to be there. Doing something I love. For a workplace I love/d. {part of me still does, always will.} For a community I love

Then it went south. The backstory: long and complicated. Reader’s Digest version: a coworker turned abusive toward me, singularly. With the need to stay silent; to inform the boss would cost me my job. Coworker’s seniority and skills outranked me.

And he was / is untouchable. The made man in the mob.

Even if management did believe the accounts of abuse … even if he did cop up to them instead of deny … they’d still keep him and let me go. He wears that aura of Untouchable well.

In fact, he’s a big bully. Perpetually saddled in his high horse. Good at his job most of the time. Long invested in the station and they in him.

At 2 years against his around 5, I can’t compete. Or survive the cut to dispel our “personal differences.”

And then there’s Stacy. Not her real name. The newest employee who arrived, coincidentally, at the same time stuff nosedived with the kingpin.

Those two buddied up as workmates. Two peas in the pod.

Again, more secrets. What the boss doesn’t know of is Stacy’s assault of me. It was verbal, right after she’d started there. Outside away from everyone’s ears but mine. It was terrible. Reportable.

But I held back. One, I didn’t think my boss would believe me. I saw how everyone in the office, including him, fawned over her. The Sycophantic Schmoozing Cunt. A phony self-serving cunt bitch who has everyone fooled. Except me.

Two-faced “always smiling always cheerful” bitch armed with a knife for the back of any one, primarily female, who got in her way in her climb to success.

And if I told anyone who she REALLY is, they’d laugh in my face, call me nuts, rally around her. I’d be the outcast in their circle of Lies and Facades.

Not a bad place to be, mind you, but not exactly conducive to harmonious work relationships either.

Her arrival altered the entire dynamic of the workplace. (We’re a small staff of a dozen so doesn’t take much.)

The Bully wanted me gone. The Cunt too.

And my boss hadn’t a clue! All he saw was “personality conflicts.”

If only … if only it had been so simple.

The abuse came in different forms, mostly from the made man. None of that matters now.

Well, that’s a lie. It does matter. It’s what triggered the landslide that I rode to the Exit. If not by my boss’s action, my own initiative.

The dream job turned into a nightmare. With no end in sight: save my employment.

My boss’s call this morning tells me Time’s Up. You’re being replaced by someone who can work with S. the kingpin.

I’m ready to let it go.

Perhaps I already have. I dunno. This job has been a part of my life — a significant part — for more than two years. A veritable lifetime for me!

Don’t know what it’s like NOT to go to the radio station every day of the week seven days a week, for an hour here, 6 hours there, 8 hours here.

What I don’t know is what it’s like to have both antagonists (bully and cunt) out of my life. To be free of their bullshit. His booming hostility and nuclear glares through the glass of the station booths that could melt butter in a second. Her manipulative bitch ways.


What I don’t know is: What will take the place of the radio station job. From perspective of both career and income.

I didn’t call my boss back. Not because of fear. I know what’s coming.

Instead, I’m going to stop by. Do this in person. My dream job deserves that.

Just two things left to do.

One, learn the final departure day.

Two, whether the bully, long involved in this conflict, will be staying. I assume so but there’s a small chance the station will cut their losses with him too.

Three, rewrite a draft letter to the boss of the incidences and colleague’s truly bad behavior that crossed both professional and personal lines and show disrespect to me as well as the station.

I can tell the story now that I’m leaving. Because whereas before I had something to lose — my job — now I’ve nothing to lose. And only one thing to gain.

Correction: Two.

  • The freedom to tell the truth
  • The opportunity to redream a  better dream job.

What better time than during a Mercury retrograde! The time of REs: rethink … redo … reconsider … review.

I’m REady to go. To let go. To be free and in gratitude for what was given to me: a job I loved for a good while. At a radio station I love/d.

Thank you thank you thank you.

Craig leads with breaking news

It’s one way to discover you’re out of a job!

A posting on craigslist!

The backstory is tremendous. Some 6 months long. Riddled with incidences with a coworker. A bullying abusive colleague with seniority and greater skills than mine. The workplace kingpin, the “made man” in mob-speak.

Though I wanted to, I did not report the incidences, abuse, complete disrespect or irreparable demise of professionalism (from the colleague toward me) for these past 6 months to the boss.

Reason: A tricky situation. S. could deny it. Distort it. Recast it to make me “the villain.” His seniority and skills he brings to the workplace — also factors. The odds of me losing me job in telling the truth to the boss were much greater than S. losing his.

So I stayed silent and continued doing the best job I could under increasing duress and pressure and negativity. It was more than the abuse from S. that ate away at me. It was the lack of recourse. There was no one I could tell — not without consequences, the loss of my job. No one I could confide in. No friend to turn to even for another point of view or support.

I was on my own. Held my own best I could in a situation where I and I alone was singled out, hated, disrespected, bullied and spit upon metaphorically by the coworker.

I endured it because there was much about the job I liked. Like. Radio is a passion.

The boss was aware of a “personality conflict.” The tip of the icebert.

What he didn’t, doesn’t know is the full extent of the situation, the incidences, the colleague’s truly abusive behaviors that disrespected me AND the workplace.

Then something happened over the weekend (details unnecessary) — the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

I’ve never seen the boss, normally a very patient, forgiving, mild-mannered, more passive than aggressive low-key person, that angry.

He attributed the issue to two employees’ “personality conflict.” Yet it was soooo much more. I just couldn’t tell him.

I didn’t expect to lose my job over this incident that profoundly angered my boss. Neither however was I going to be surprised if I did.

So yesterday — ironically Labor Day, and yes, I worked it — while perusing craigslist, as I do to keep ear to the job market ground, I stumbled upon it. An ad with my job description. Posted just that morning.

Then I knew.

As it was a holiday for the boss (and most staff), he wasn’t present to inform me.

Still to be confirmed:

Is it I who’s been let go? (100% yes is my hunch).

Has the (abusive bullying) colleague involved in this long “personality conflict” also been let go?

I don’t know. Can’t tell. Contradictory wording in the ad. Ad reads plural positions; headline reads singular.

I will know when my boss and I meet and I get the expected pink slip.

Like I wrote, that’s one way to discover you’ve lost your job! See it on craiglist. The great revealer. The teller of “secrets.” The breaker of hot news.

Who knew?!

For now, will leave it at that.

Wow! Such sea changes!

First a deep sudden uprooting from my home, now the end, presumably, of a dream job. Once a dream job, I should state. My sole source of income.

Massive changes on the home and work front simultaneously. QUITE the handful! Mouthful. Body-full. All levels-full!

Not a religious person one bit. Times like these, though, cause me to wonder: about a greater force, higher force, spiritual force at work — or play.

When the rug’s pulled out from under and everything in the room’s turned upside down and topsy turvy suddenly:

What do you believe in?

Whom do you believe in?

Is there a benevolent force?

A divine plan or purpose to all things — from tragedies to triumphs?

I don’t have answers, only speculations and wonder.

And, I daresay, a need for a new job! Correction: better work. Meaningful work. Prospering work. A return to the purposeful path from which I have strayed too long and too far.

I rest knowing that “even the worst things” happen for a reason.

Two options.

When a door’s shut, even slammed suddenly, you can choose to be a victim and dwell, moan, play the “woe is me card.”

Or you can choose to see it as opportunity for better. For even much-needed improvement. A new road. Uncharted territory. A mystery. A new storyline.

I like and choose the latter. 🙂

Love that Labor! But Ohhh the Beauty of a Burger …

Everything has a place and everything in its place* — and the dust of the move is settling as those things find their place.

*the singular truth I’d have contributed to humankind had someone not beat me to it.

My Genius Mind at Work

I’m impressed that I made it work. That I took a buncha incongruent parts and constructed within a tiny confined space a whole that flows. If it could be humanly done — as opposed to alien-done, their superpowers at bending, transforming, reshaping, shapeshifting exceed our own — I’m the one to do it.

In this 3-D world, always comes down to spatial reasoning and conceptual thought / intelligence / genius.

My little bedroom, though tight with furnishings, is functional. Doable. Livable. Yey to my brain for being so darn smart in figuring out the solutions to this space puzzle!

Labor Day. More Like Play Day!

Today is Labor Day. Accordingly, I shall be laboring away while most Americans shall be playing, kicking back with BBQs, holidaying, chilling, doing nothing, enjoying these dog-day summer days on the precipice of autumn.

I love labor! But oh what I’d give for a burger. A good burger. A work of art. The quintessential joy of a true American / Westerner.

Early in the year, there was a staff change at the station. I took on the shifts of the retiring member. Only one hour a day added to my normal weekend night shifts. I did it willingly, gladly. The station needed the help and I needed the extra hours (even if only 4 a week).

The result: I work 7 days a week. An hour here. An hour there. 8 hours here. 6 hours there. For a PT sum of 23 hours a week.

I’ve not had a day off since early this year.

Handcuffed. No Relation to Jail.

It’s wearing me out. I can’t go anywhere. Can’t travel. Not even a day trip. So my contemplative musing this Labor Day isn’t appreciating the value of labor and work ethics. Got that wisdom in spades! I wrote the book on work!

Well, maybe I didn’t write it. That might’ve been my dad, haha. But I sure as hell co-authored it!

Learning to work is NEVER my issue. Mine is: how do I work less! Rather, restructure my work life so that there’s space for me. For fun. For travel. Exploration. Adventure. A change of environment. Fundamental needs for my soul.

There’ve been shifts at the station recently that trouble, distress me tremendously and deeply. Give me pause. Give me reason to reconsider my heretofore solid commitment to that workplace.

It’s Mercury retrograde now (until Sept. 22), hence not the time for decisions or actions! It’s the time for the REs:







So that’s how I’m celebrating my Labor Day! Reflecting on where I’m at, where the workplace is at and becoming, where I’d really like to go.

In the words of the Soup Nazi on Seinfeld, NO SOUP FOR ME! Or grilled burgers and potato salad at the Labor Day picnic as the case may be. 🙂

May your Labor Day be one of productivity and gratitude for those fortunate to have jobs they love.

For those who don’t — either for unemployment or underemployment or jobs they hate — may your Labor Day reconnect you to your dreams and true self.

Wise Words

To close in the words of Martin Luther King, Jr.:

“All labor that uplifts humanity has dignity and importance and should be undertaken with painstaking excellence.”

I mourn the loss of work ethics in America. That man, I know, shares the sentiment and on this day dedicated to the value of work is rolling over in his grave.


Moved the Mountain, then I Got the Broom

The mountain is moved.* Now begins the dust to settle.

*most arduous move in some 55 moves

Moving from a 1-bedroom mobile home with a backyard storage unit into a rental bedroom in another’s house has been no easy feat!

Once I got 99.2% of my possessions into storage — still that tale of a lifetime to tell! —  once THAT mountain was moved! — the next great challenge was how to artfully and effectively arrange too many furnishings ** and the basics of simple minimalist living into one very small bedroom and closets

** too many furnishings is element of storage unit story yet untold

Mine is a genius mind in spatial reasoning and geometry. Do NOT give me algebra, trigonometry or chemistry! Therein lay my dad’s mathematical genius, my son’s too. Thus if there are many parts to put together, compose, structure, build, assemble, coordinate toward the most effective and efficient use of space, I Am Your Girl!

Yup, I’m extremely good at tetras! (Have been asked many times!)

So if a buncha elements need to be arranged in the best possible order within spatial confines, constraints and parameters AND IF IT CAN BE HUMANELY DONE, I’m the one who can do it.

Four days after intensive labor, of arranging and rearranging shapes and objects, I’ve got my room in working and livable order.

Ditto the closets.

Ditto the kitchen — well, my portion of the refrigerator and cupboards.

I also — get ready — cleaned the floors of the entire house (minus the roommate’s bedroom and office, which is locked)!  Yet another tale waiting to be told. A tale beginning with a nasty 4-letter word: mold.

I am a workhorse from another planet!

I exhaust myself. Yet like that Duracell battery, I keep on ticking. I Get It Done. Whatever NEEDS getting done.

Some 12 years ago I had a boss who told me something I’ve never forgotten. His name was Lance. It was at an utterly Lame Crap shit job (one of dozens) hence the job had no relevance to me true self and Lance’s opinion meant nothing really. Still I remember to this day what he said.

“You’re a work machine.”

Now, most folks, pretending they even shared my work ethic and most don’t, would be offended by that.

I wasn’t. It was a compliment. A backhanded compliment. I do indeed habitually and too often work like a machine. (Unresolved father issues.) But I get the fucking job done! Like no other.

I’m a powerful  force trapped in a petite 5-2 female body!

Not tooting my own horn. Only telling it like it is.

The Force of Work is Within Me. The Force of Work IS Me. I may keel over from it one day! But at least it’ll be while getting something productive and necessary done!!

I can’t rest on my laurels just yet. There’s still stuff to do. Sweeping up the dust kinda stuff. Ain’t the same as pushing a 13,000-foot high mountain on one’s own strength and will!

My little bedroom is mostly in order. I’m relaxing with not one but two beers during the cocktail hour on the front porch of the house of George (my roommate, who happens to be away at the moment).

Ain’t nuthin’ like a good beer or killer cuppa joe after Hard Work into Infinity.

Hard Work: Where every fiber of your being, mind, body, muscle and tendon are engaged in and focused on one task. Or a thousand tasks.

Hard Work — truly Hard Work — requires complete commitment, focus, endurance, fortitude and survival skills.

Hard Work requires: Neutrality. Impersonalness. It requires putting yourself aside and all feelings about yourself aside to accomplish one goal and one goal only: Get The Job Done.

Even if you fucking hate it.

Even if you can’t lift one more muscle.

It was the Germans who said: “Arbeit Macht Frei.” Perhaps it’s partly my genetics that compel me so in my Workhood.

Whatever forces came into play, I Moved A Mountain.

And am enjoying tying up the loose ends and sweeping up the dust.

Because Every Iota of me is present in the work.

And THAT, my dear readers, is a Work Ethic in action!

Gratification unsurpassed.

Satisfaction unparalleled.

(Your mileage may differ; so does the mileage of my national compatriots who wouldn’t know the meaning of work ethics, never mind engage in any, to save their sorry lives!)