I got passed over for another design job. This was one I felt fully qualified for, and the money/schedule were awesome.
Feedback fro the recruiter was that they wanted someone with more "project management experience." I questioned him on that -- stating that most of the things in my portfolio, except for my most recent professional office job, were all project management oriented, from soup to nuts, start to finish, design and conception to QA and launch.
What more project fucking management experience can I prove I have. So I wondered -- is this "feedback" code for "we don't like you so we're just not gonna bother."
Whatever.
I shouldn't joke.
I have way too many friends who are in active recovery to suggest that when you have a run of shitty luck you should crack open a beer. Tanager recently wrote that when she fills ice cube trays it makes her think of ice in a glass of hard liquor... When I fill ice cube trays I think of ice cold glasses of wonderful water.
So I guess I'm not an alcoholic. But I've got a genetic predisposition towards it, and I watch my behavior carefully when it comes to alcohol.
We don't go out drinking ... mostly because it is prohibitively expensive, and because it's much cheaper to do it at home. And being at home we don't drink to excess. The night wears on, we go to bed with just a couple margaritas or a beer or three under our belts. And this isn't some sort of every night occurrence or ritual.
Plus, I don't like to drink excessively in front of the kids. It isn't pretty. No kid deserves to see his or her parent passed out drunk on the couch, droolin' and pukin' away.
How the hell did I get on that topic?
Anyway -- I'm not too let down or too surprised about not getting that job. The money and flexibility would have totally kicked ass, but what's not meant to be is not meant to be and I'm cool with that.
I'm still lookin'.
Had breakfast today with a good ole friend who reads this journal. I brought Geoff with me instead of having Doug drop him off early at school. Geoff is normally not very well behaved at restaurants, but this morning he was a dream, a charmer, and well behaved beyond belief. So aside from the joy of spending time with C., I had the joy of having a well behaved child. It was a wonderful relief after what I went through last night (keep reading).
He didn't eat any of the food he ordered, but I brought it all home and he had a wonderful after school snack. He's been getting up between 5:30 and 6:00am, and he'll come close our bedroom door and start raiding the cabinets first thing. Little jerk.
This morning he came in and sat on our bed. Doug's alarm went off and he started saying 'Wake up, Moron! Wake up, Moron! Wake up, Moron!" like he was a talking alarm clock. He's done this several times. It's gotta be something from Spongebob or elsewhere on Nickelodeon. Damn them
Sometimes, he'll sit on the couch and imitate the beeping of the alarm after Doug hits snooze. So we yell at him. "HEY! BE QUIET! We're still...zzzzzzzzzzz."
He eats everything in sight in the morning -- he's a daytime eater, when most of us are still abed he's had his second breakfast, like a friggin' hobbit.
He's done with food at about 6pm which is ... now. He'll be skipping dinner, and he will put himself to bed while we all eat at 7pm.
Daylight savings "Spring Ahead" can't come too soon. He'll get back on a normal schedule, a right schedule, and it will be bliss.
Here's how my night went last night. Thank God Baby Ben is on vacation and I had my day free. I don't know if I would have been able to hang out with him.
Keep in mind, I almost wrote this at 3am.
10:15pm: Bed -- reading "The Wicked Day," which I never finished reading in college and I found in a box when I was cleaning.
10:25: Mordred finding out what I already know thanks to Mary Stewart's horribly repetitive writing couldn't keep my attention. I pass out.
11:00: Hear Doug running the printer as he cranks out reports for work. Am soothed gently by knowing it works and he doesn't need my help. I never hear him come to bed.
1:00am: Jack puppy starts barking. I figure that he needs to go out and pee, that he didn't get a late enough chance to complete the task at 9pm when I took him out before. I take him on leash with Kinger. Neither of them do more than piddle and sniff the newly frozen ground. We spend about 15 minutes outside, I give up on that and bring them in, putting Jack back in kennel.
1:20: Jack resumes barking. I've been awake 20 minutes listening to Doug snore. I opt for couch. His revenge for my Geneva Convention violations of the other night. I hush Jack and reassure him. He is silent 10 minutes, I sleep, he barks. I shush. This pattern continues for a while, until...
3:00: I figure maybe he's hungry. Kinger will sometimes eat all the food out of the dish and we'll forget to check it in the evening. Seeing as Jack will sometimes only eat if you're standing over him, if he loses out he loses out. I take him out, fill the food and water dish. He eats. I'm thinking, full belly, happy puppy.
3:15: Jack is in kennel, starts barking again. I give up. I take him out of the kennel and we sit on the couch together, his tail wagging with glee, me sleepily watching a Saturday Night Live "Best of Adam Sandler" thing on Comedy Central. When Jack shows signs of wanting to actually go to sleep I...
4:30: put him back into the kennel. Turn off TV, and pass out dead on couch.
5:30: Geoff comes out to the livingroom and asks me to change the TV channel to Nickelodeon.
My day begins.
I got another 1/2 hour of sleep between 7-7:30 when I crawled back to my bed.
Needless to say, I took a huge nap this afternoon.
And to think, I thought Jack would sleep like a soggy angel last night after all that swimming. Not the case. Doug and I are thinking that he's old enough to spend the night in our room with Kinger sleeping on the floor instead of in the kennel. During the day he's still too puppy-esque and destructive to leave out of the kennel when we are not home.
We'll see how tonight goes.
Alright - we just feasted on my homemade unbelievable Chicken Parmesan, and now I'm ready for bed. Tomorrow is supposed to be windy but 70, so we'll wear shorts and maybe go...
geocaching??? Hmmmmm. We shall see. We shall see...
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