I’ve got some skills. But not that many.

This is a test of my recently downloaded version of Microsoft Word 2010. In my ignorance, I assumed that using one Word program was as simple as using another Word program. And, I guess, that is a mostly true statement. However, it is not all fun and games when you are trying to remember skills that have not been practiced for more than three years now. It is not that Word 2010 is some revelation of new technology, but I think my lack of familiarity with the format of the program could potentially hurt me in my job search.

It is sort of like heading back to your old home town after moving away 10 years ago. You know where everything is…but there has been some rapid suburban development since your departure, and you can't quite get your bearings. When did they build that new grocery store? Didn't that used to be a corn field? Oh…I was headed to the Dunkin' Donuts on Main Street, but I guess they closed that one down and built a new one over on 8^th Street? Now, I know how to get from the High School to the Mall, but now they've built a new freeway entrance, and I can't figure out where to get on the stupid thing!! It's confusion, but not a void of knowledge. You've been away for quite awhile, things have changed, and now you have to find your way around again. For example, this Word 2010 now has a Blog Post feature. What the heck is that and how do you utilize it?? So , that brings us to this entry, and my attempt to use the thing and become the Word Wiz I once was.

That's another thing, I used to be the girl in the office, in my early to mid 20's, that could guide all of my older coworkers on the complexities of Microsoft Outlook and the mysteries of the Mail Merge. I was the girl who fixed the printer problems, and could manage the computers with confidence and ease. Just goes to show…in today's world…you take 3 years off to be a stay at home mother, and the train of technology speeds off without you. Progress waits for no man…nor woman either.

Now I fear I may be the one looking cluelessly at my blinking curser in the new Excel format. I don't want to be that clueless person, so I guess I'll do my best with my 60 day Free Trial of Office 2010, to learn all there is to know and be ready when they ask me (at my next job interview) If I actually KNOW what I'm doing around a computer, or if I just surf the net and update my Facebook profile all day. Hopefully, I can say I'm a pro at "all of the above".

Yeah, I liked that Reading Rainbow show. So what?

I love reading so much. I would gladly neglect everything else in my life to be left alone, reading. I don't need to shower...nor do I need to eat...nor do I need to socialize. I just want to be all alone with a never ending supply of books.

Let me start out by saying I don't like that Kindle thing. I don't want one. You might think that because I am such a voracious reader, that I would enjoy such a gadget. But you would be wrong.

I enjoy the physicality of books. I like to choose my books from the vibe they impart to me from the shelf. I like to judge a book by it's cover...meaning that I do appreciate and choose books sometimes based on the lure of an attractive outer shell. I like to see the book, hold the book, and perhaps read the first few lines of the first chapter. The style of writing will usually catch me within the first few sentences, and I can quickly decide if the book will hold my interest from that point on.

I like a nice thick, heavy, clock-you-on-the-head, kind of book. I am not trying to be intellectual or some kind of a braggart, but I read very quickly. Too quickly. I can usually finish 500 pages in a couple of days. And that is not uninterrupted reading either, but whatever time I can glean between daily chores and children and the distractions of living life. If I did have the opportunity to read 100% without interruption, I could knock out a pile of hefty novels in record time.

If a book is too small, I may just put it back on the shelf again. I find a short book terribly unsatisfying. Like those tiny brownie bites they think are going to satisfy your craving for chocolate, when actually, all they do is leave you staring at the empty wrapper and wishing you hadn't even bothered to waste the calories.

I like real books from the library. I like getting them for free, especially since I polish them off so quickly. It is such a waste of $14 of my precious dollars to purchase a book at Borders when I'm going to finish it in less than a weekend. I'm not opposed to the second hand book stores, or even Goodwill's hit or miss book section, but the Library is so perfectly clean and categorized. So quiet and peaceful. I can touch the books, skim the slightly yellowed pages, and let the book sell itself to me.

Thats one reason I just really dislike the Kindle. Your buying a service. Your buying a lightweight, computer generated, breakable, GADGET. I am overwhelmed with gadgets as it is. I do appreciate my computer, and my cell phone, but I don't need to curl up on the sofa on a quiet evening with yet another gadget. Gadgets are not cozy. Gadgets cannot withstand me smashing them into the sand at the beach. I don't want Amazon updating my "book" with it's special offers and free download opportunities. I just want to do it the old fashioned way, by turning the pages. With my fingers.

Yes, yes, I know, it is meant to appeal to the techie generation...those people who have their i-phone always in-hand, and can't be bothered to heft a real book in their laptop case, as it would throw off their balance as they try to text their boss with one hand and sip their latte with the other. A real book is antiquated. It is just so much easier to download your next book club recommendation, rather than waste your precious time getting cross-eyed in a bookstore!

My lifestyle choice is to be a rare, but not extinct, creature of the past. We few remaining specimens are hardcore, but mostly docile creatures. We are instinctual, but expressive...often verbose in our descriptive communications. In the modern world, we fear our main source of sustenance will soon disappear. The newspaper and magazine are soon to be relics...and daily pulp communication will be completely online. Why read the Washington Post or a Glamor magazine when you can just check out the website? I fear that the encroachment of the Kindle, and it's brotherhood of imitators, will soon devour the books that sustain my kind forever.

The Bookworm, a proud species, will be forced to evolve into something else. Some hybrid of the Computer-Nerd and the Spectacled-Librarian. I don't want to be extinct. I want to have the title carved into my headstone when I die:

Here Lies Jennifer Watts.

Mother,

Wife,

Bookworm.

Nothing is Something

I should do something. But I don't feel like it. I mean, it's not as if I have not done anything all day. I probably did more before 9am than most people. However, that after lunch lethargy just drags me down. I still have a sink full of breakfast, and also lunch, dishes to wash. But first I have to empty the dishwasher of the clean dishes. Blah. Boring. Maybe I should make the children do it? Yes, that sounds like a plan.

That still leaves me sitting here. Like a lumpy lump.

There is laundry waiting for me. But the basket is all the way down in the basement. So far!! If I try to bring all these dirty clothes down in my arms without a basket, it will be 2007 all over again, and I will have another broken leg from falling down my stairs. No thanks.

So...no laundry then either.

Yard work? Nope, too hot. However, my daughter did give me a compliment this morning in saying that I have become a "gardener". I guess because I planted some flowers in a couple of pots and they didn't die yet, and I mowed the grass on Monday. That qualifies as gardening.

TV is deadly boring in the afternoons. So I won't be going down that road.

I've already done my daily internet job-search, and actually applied online for two positions. Even if I never get a call for an interview, I feel I've accomplished something in the "work" venue by sending out the applications.

I could bring the giant mountain of Diet Pepsi cans to the recycling center. But that would require me to load up the van with those sticky, drippy things, and drive all the way over there. Not that it's far, but it is the principle of the thing.

I don't know what principle I'm shying away from, but it sounded like a legitimate excuse to me.

Should I run the vacuum cleaner? No..better not...the baby is napping. That would wake her.

Golly! There is really nothing for me to do today! I guess I"ll just continue to sit here, like a lump, and maybe bark some orders at the older children to do something.

I might be doing "nothing" but obviously, if you've read my excuses (above), you will agree that that is absolutely the proper thing for me to be doing at this moment. They, on the other hand, should be productive with their day. The freedom of youth is short lived!

Soon, the dulldrums of adulthood will be upon them. I feel it is only fair that I prepare them in advance by making them do the chores I don't feel like doing today.

For their own good.

*Yawn*...maybe I'll take a nap.

Butter Makes It Better

I know I've been neglecting the blog. I saw it happen to other people, but I swore it wouldn't happen to me. In all honesty, my avoidance of writing has been a two-prong issue.

Issue 1: As mentioned in my last post, everyone in my house was barfing. Puke can really keep a person away from the thoughtful, reflective, alone-time of writing a blog.

Issue 2: I honestly didn't feel like I've had anything interesting to say. This issue, in retrospect, should have been a non-issue. In reviewing past entries, any moron could clearly see that I've written a lengthy blog entry regardless of their relevance or interest to anyone else but me.

So...I guess I have no excuse. Moving on then, what shall todays topic be? Food? Ok, I think that will work.

I have lately been worried about my relationship with food. Not only because of the obvious extra weight I've been carting for about 3 years now, but also because I have begun to wonder if my love of food is abnormal in any way.

I would not suggest that it is just a "woman thing" to be comforted by certain foods, but if my husband is any indication, a mans viewpoint on eating is very different from a womans. He could care less about food. Really. It is something he does merely to keep living. Yes, he may "enjoy" a good bowl of chicken and dumplins', or polish off his (small) serving of food and say "Dang, that was good, honey!". But in reality, food is nothing to him. He eats because his body needs the fuel. He is not a snacker, and never has been. I'm sitting there, popping Wheat Thins like a champ, (and oh yea, do we have any of that cheese block left in the frig?) and he can stand right next to me and not eat a single cracker.

I am trying to understand him, and in the process, understand myself, when it comes to food. What is better than a nice warm roll, fresh from the oven? Well, a nice warm roll with butter, of course! What is more delicious than the blend of Thanksgiving dinner, singing together in delicious harmony on your fork....cranberries, turkey, stuffing, gravy? Not much compares with that. Give me a nice, crisp, salad and I'll enjoy the heck out of it, but I'd enjoy it even more if you make it a Chef Salad (minus the ham, double the turkey) or my all time favorite, the Waldorf Salad. Italian food, Chinese food, Mexican food? I'm there. I'm all in.

And Brian, well, he's there...but he'll only have a bit..then he's full. The little switch inside his brain that tells him to "Eat the food, savor the food, love the food." is obviously turned off. His switch is simply stuck in the "Eat the food" position. Then it has a small warning light that blinks when his tummy gets full. Unlike my warning light, which appears to have burnt out, and never warns me against the evils of the second helping.

One point of contention between us is the issue of ice cream. He simply does not understand the pleasure I derive from eating the stuff. He just doesn't get it. I have already psycho-analyzed my love of ice cream, and I can clearly trace it back to my childhood in Pennsylvania, perhaps the Summer Ice Cream Eating Capitol of the United States. There are Mom & Pop ice cream shops in every town. Not only that, but if your a long-time resident, you know exactly where to go for the biggest scoops and best flavor selection. I have many (and I mean many) happy childhood memories of eating a big scoop of mint chocolate chip or cookies n'cream (depending on the time line..was it before or after 4th grade? I pick a favorite and stick with it.) and sitting on a sticky picnic table with my family, enjoying the treat like crazy. Usually, we'd go for ice cream after supper, so the sun would be going down, lightning bugs would begin to emerge into the fading dusk, and the heat of the day would dissipate. I'd sit on the sticky bench, swing my tanned and scabby knees, and lick that cone for all it was worth. Ice cream equals good memories for me.

Brian, on the other hand, thinks ice cream is a too-sweet, too-filling, too fattening item, that people in Pennsylvania are addicted to like crazy heroin junkies. I guess down in Georgia, they didn't indulge in ice cream too much. They were too busy sipping' sweet tea on their porch swings.

I wish I had his nonchalance about food sometimes. He's just moved beyond it. Of course, he doesn't like to get into debates about food with me. He is in the best shape of our marriage right now, due to his consistent running habit, and his general disdain for indulging in most food. I must also concede that he is Active Duty Military, and it is part of his job to stay fit.

But maybe because over the course of our marriage, I've seen his weight fluctuate, and now it has evened out and he looks great, I can only measure myself against him, and feel bad. I'm not huge, and please don't take my descriptions of food as an indication that I'm spooning ice cream down my gut between bites of Wheat Thins and swallows of gravy. I'm carrying a good 20 extra pounds, yes, but the point of this discussion is more to understand my attitude towards food than my daily consumption of it.

The other day, we went to Burger King for lunch. We both ordered the same thing, a chicken sandwich and fries. As I was polishing off the last of my sandwich (I'm not a total pig, I avoided the majority of the fries), I noticed that first, he'd abandoned the top of his sandwich bun. Half way through the meal, he'd discarded both buns, and was eating his sandwich quite naked. I got annoyed, both at the fact that I'd chowed down on my own sandwich without a second thought to the dangers of the "carbs", and also that he'd even bothered to order a sandwich at all. Why not just get chicken nuggets if your going to toss the bread??? So annoying!!

Just one of those times when his disdain for food, and my enjoyment of it, causes me to feel annoyed at him and embarrassed by myself. I hate carrying extra weight, but I love food. I really just wish I could separate myself from it like he has. He has the self control that I am lacking. He never associates a good meal with a good memory. He is simply never the one to suggest that we get dessert. Good Lord! He doesn't even care all that much for the Holy Grail of ALL Food - Chocolate!!!

I've got issues, clearly. I would just like to know more about how to deal with them, I guess. I don't want to turn off my love of a good meal, but I guess I wish I could adjust it more easily. I can say "no", but sometimes, I just associate the pleasure of eating with happiness, and I think that is a slippery slope that I'm already tumbling down. With a nice blueberry muffin in my hand. With butter, of course.

PS. Photo credit for above picture: Pennsylvanians do INDEED love their dairy. That is a 900 pound butter sculpture that was featured at the 93rd Pennsylvania State Farm Show.

Barf. Yack. Vomit. Puke. Heave. Hurl. Upchuck. Spew.

I don't know where they picked it up. I don't know how they're passing it around. I can't even predict when it's going to end.

It's the stomach bug that won't die.

Our family, starting with my oldest, have each been somehow affected by it for more than a week now. It's slow to start, sometimes not really causing more than a lead-ball feeling in your stomach and some mysterious gurgles. Sometimes it sends you straight to the toilet. And back again. And again. And again. Or sometimes, you just get that bad feeling and you know it's coming on and you grab the nearest trashcan or pick the kid up and cover her mouth as you run to the toilet in hopes of making it there in time.

We really don't know where it came from. I thought my oldest had contracted food poisoning when she first came down with it. But within three days, the youngest was in our room at 3am, and puking by 5am. And here we are, a week later, and my middle daughter has finally succumbed.

Luckily, Brian and I have not suffered more than some mild cramping and nausea. So far.

Tomorrow is our big Yard Sale. We need to unload some crap to fund a possible birthday party/cookout for Brian's upcoming 34th. I simply cannot pray hard enough that I can make it through at least one more day without contracting this barfing malady.

Our Water Salesgirl is down for the count. She had grand plans to sit with her cooler and her mini cash register, and hawk some ice cold bottled waters for $.50 each. We promised her she could keep her profits. Unfortunately, this thing does not let go after just one day. It knocks you out for a good 2-4 days, at least. So, alas, the adorable Salesgirl will be hovering over her trashcan puke-bucket, and watching her second full day of the Disney Chanels greatest summer reruns instead of pocketing some extra cash. Sorry, honey!

One more day, you crap-tastic Bug! Leave me out of it! I've been washing my hands like a germaphobe with OCD. I've done the laundry promptly after each sweaty, feverish child has felt well enough to roll off of her back and back to an upright position. I've invested in some anti-bacterial spray to coat all the commonly used surfaces in a fine mist. I've used the power of positive thought and crossed my fingers as I chugged the Pepto Bismol, and hoped for the best.

Nobody wants to be sick. Especially not me. I just need one more day. Or, better yet, let my luck hold out, and my stomach to armor up like the Batmobile (in the Christian Bale version, not those cartoony 1990's flicks) and protect me from coming down with this at all.

I will not get sick. I will not get sick. I will not get sick. (positive thoughts).

Send your kid outside...my kids need somebody to play with!

My two older daughters went on a short outing today around town. Since the town we live in is so small, you could probably ride your bike around the entire thing in about an hour, or less, I sent them off without parental supervision. I gave them a few bucks to get a scoop of ice cream at LindeBee's . A few bucks was worth the couple of hours of quiet I got (no TV, no arguing) by getting them out of the house.

Abby rode her long board, and Elysse rode her new bike. A lot of parents in our neighborhood seem paranoid to let their children wander much further than the immediate circle of our block, but not me. I encourage them to get out and explore. Like I said, the town we live in is tiny, and I think it's good for kids to get out there and learn the short-cuts and back alleys of the place they reside. You might think I'd be one of those paranoid parents, seeing as how the two older girls have never lived anywhere but on a guarded and gated Air Force Base, but honestly, I'm not too concerned.

A good friend of Abby's was initially not allowed to come over to our house after school because her Mom didn't "trust" the town of Medical Lake. Her family lives about 10 minutes away, on base. Although she attends school here in town (high school!), her Mom never bothered to come down here and drive around a bit to get to know the place. If she had, she'd have seen that the town is so quiet, the most action we see on a given day is the rumble of a freight train passing on the tracks at the edge of the city. The loudest inhabitants are the cows and the teenagers, but honestly, the big thing to do for the teenage crowd around here is to hang out at the Young Life meeting over at our church. They're all there!

So, I visited this reluctant Mom, and told her the town was really not anything to be concerned about, and she relented. I mean, I can't promise that HER kid will make all the right choices when she's here (there is that ever-present group of "bad kids" hanging out across from the skate park - gasp! - smoking cigarettes!!), but I can assure her that there is a heck of a lot LESS to worry about in the rural streets of Medical Lake.

Some of my fondest memories from growing up in small towns in central PA was the freedom I felt riding my bike. In Lewistown, I'd ride up to my best friend, Becca Conklin's house, and we'd take off for the day. We'd ride to Rec Park to play at the playground. We'd ride downtown to get a slice of pizza at the Original. We'd ride over to the Middle School to play hide and seek among the shady trees.

When I was older, and we moved to Linglestown, none of my good friends lived in my neighborhood. We would choose a meeting spot, usually on a corner in a neighborhood somewhere between their house and mine, and we'd hop on our ten-speeds and hook up. My parents never worried about me on these long days of exploration. I just recall my Mom giving me a time to be home (for supper) and that was that. This was surely before the days of constant cell phone communication, and if I needed to reach her, I'd better hope I had a quarter in my pocket to use the pay phone at the Turkey Hill. But I never needed to call. I was having too much fun.

I want the same thing for my own kids. I feel happy that we found a town where I feel safe. They can take a quick trip down the hill to the Conoco gas station for a soda or some M & M's. They can go a bit further, and swing by the skate park or LindeBee's. They can follow one of the paved jogging paths over by the lake, and look for deer. There is no shortage of wildlife to be seen here. Also, with the lake within less than one mile from our house, maybe someday they'll go the route of Huck Finn and grab some fishing poles and head down to cast their lines in the clear water.

That last one might be wishful thinking, as Abby is about as much of a sport-fisherman as Brittany Spears is a starting quarterback. But until she gets her drivers license (only one more year, yipes!), she's stuck with the low-key, town-bound activities she can reach by skateboard.

Anyway, today was bright and sunny. Washington has finally seen fit to warm up above 70 degrees, and I wanted the two girls to get out and breathe some fresh air. I hope someday they will look back on their time in this town with the same nostalgia I feel for my days of bike riding adventures. I hope they find a short cut to the park, and a cool and shady spot to relax on the grass and look up a the clouds floating above their heads.

Kids today need that stuff. This is a good link if you want to read it. Break away from the magnetic pull of television, computers, video games, and the caves they create inside their air-conditioned houses. They need to get out there and play. I will continue to encourage, and sometimes, threaten my kids to get them outside. And I hope someday they will thank me for it. Or at least for the ice cream I bribed them with.

Unhappy 4th of July

This post may sound mopey. Just warning you.

Hope you all enjoyed your summer holiday, with family reunions and picnics and fireworks. I hope your grass was green and your flowers were blooming. I hope you had a sunny day, maybe took a dip in the pool or hit the beach? Did you barbecue? I bet your patio table was overflowing with macaroni salad, juicy watermelon slices and piles of burgers and dogs. Sounds like fun.

Why didn't you invite me? Because I live across the country from you? Well, I guess thats true.

That seems to be the case with so many of these holidays. We understand, you can't invite us for drinks and sparklers with the kids, if flying across country is the only way we can attend. I know your probably not thinking about us...why should you? You've had plans for months with your favorite neighbors, old friends, and the grandparents. You probably just figured, everybody would be out there, enjoying the holiday weekend, surely the Watts family must be too.

Actually, that is not the case.

I am not going to cry about it, though I have been known to shed a few lonely tears on various holidays past. My family is a unit unto itself. Over the 12 years we've been married, we've had our good years, and our bad ones. On a good year, we might be visiting relatives on Christmas. On a good year, we might be attending a burger-burn with a few friends and a lot of acquaintances. On a good year, we may be all alone, but actually enjoying ourselves (more on that to follow) and making a happy holiday memory or two.

I know not every family holiday is all nostalgic scrapbook memories and singing by a campfire. I know that your sister in law is going to manipulate the situation and make everyone uncomfortable (again), and your cousin is going to drink far too much and lose his six pack all over the blooming rosebush in Grandma's garden. I know your Mom is driving you nuts with her nagging, and you are absolutely dreading the fact that your best pal has yet another boyfriend/girlfriend who you can already predict will make everyone around the table cringe with their bad manners/inappropriate dirty jokes/snorting cackle of laughter. But people, regardless of these holiday hiccups, just remember, it's better than being alone.

Being alone (even when the 5 of us are together) can really be depressing. Especially when I have to think about all the memories (see above) being made at said holiday celebration, without us, yet again.

But this is the life of a military family. And this is the life that we have, and have had for a long time. We are in another new town this year. We have made some tentative "friends", but they could more accurately be categorized as "new acquaintances". We are not total sad sacks, we did get a couple of invitations for 4th of July celebrations, but this year has just been a bummer and those prospects deflated like a shriveled birthday balloon.

We started out at church this morning. Today's service was held outside, at the lakeside park for a combo church service and Freedom picnic. We dressed in American-inspired regalia, with the girls sporting red, white and blue and adorable braided pigtails. Brian and I were more toned down, but we smiled as we carted our kids and our plate of homemade brownies and our patio chairs to the gathering of church folks around a balloon bedecked stage. Within 5 minutes of our arrival, the whining began.

Can you believe, on July the 4th, it was probably no warmer than 55 degrees there by the lakeside? Smarter individuals were wrapped in blankets and piled with sweatshirts. My family shivered and shuddered in our Sunday skirts and lightweight t shirts. I wore flip flops! Within about 15 minutes, I sent my Hubby home to fetch some pants and blankets. Luckily, the park is just 10 minutes from our house. He made it back before the service ended, and we all benefited from the added layers of warmth, but the whining had only just begun.

"Is it over yet???" whined the 9 year old, as she rocked her chair dangerously close to the family in front of us, eventually giving up hope. and slumping over as if dead in her seat.

"I'm lightheaded....I'm so starving!!!" whined the teenager, as she slouched in her chair, legs sprawled out in a most inappropriate way, as the Pastor led a patriotic prayer from the podium.

My youngest child was the most chipper during the long and frosty service, but her behavior wasn't exemplary either. Not unless you approve of wiggling like a worm on a hook and singing her own songs (loudly) during the hymns.

The service concluded, and the Pastor called everyone to line up for the barbecue and pot-luck, spread out deliciously by the industrious volunteers. Plastic table cloths and aluminum foiled delicacies waited on tables linked like train cars beneath the pavilion. But as we joined the line up, it occurred to me that my dietary restrictions (no burgers, not ever!) were going to limit my feasting to the pasta salad and brownie plates. My 9 year old began sobbing because the line was too long. The Teenager was single-minded in her hunger, and was ready to bowl over any elderly church lady or small child between her and a juicy hamburger. Husband got fed up with everyone, grabbed the patio chairs, barked a few orders at the stragglers, and marched us all to the minivan. We drove home, sullen, hungry and sobbing, and it only got worse after that.

The combination of general bad moods and cold weather, compounded by the onslaught of multiple headaches, pretty much squashed any additional holiday afternoon plans. We'd been invited to a co-worker's house on the Base for a 4th of July dinner, but it was decided it was best not to attend this year. Later, to add that cherry on top of our darkly clouded afternoon, the baby hit the bathroom with a case of what she calls, "diet-rita". I leave you to translate that for yourselves.

Tonight, fireworks start downtown at 10pm. If we had a party of friends and relatives to drag us along, we might consider attending. But as it stands, hubby has no intention of navigating the crowds, the kids hate the loud bangs of the firecrackers, and 10pm is far past everyone's bedtime at our house.

No wonder we're all alone....who the heck would want to hang out with us???

I don't hate holidays, honestly, but I really wish that we could look forward to them like everyone else seems to. I make every holiday a "family" event in my own mind, so when I have no "family" around to enjoy it with, my celebration always finds some way to fall flat. I'm always just a little bit sad. Maybe some day, we will live someplace where a few hours drive will bring us to Grandma's house. That would sure be nice.

Oh God, no joke, the baby just barfed everywhere. Happy 4th of July. Blah.

Lost In Space

Been gone for about two weeks now, on vacation, but now it's back to life as usual. However, finding what is "usual" for us seems to be lacking the reassurance of past homecomings.

Everyone in my house is feeling like they have a permanent case of jet-lag, despite the fact that we've been home for almost 5 days now. I brought home a nasty and miserable cold, and my oldest daughter suddenly developed a stomach bug that won't allow her to move far from her bathroom. On top of that, the entire family is out of sorts and exhausted all the time.

It's not like it is our first trip to the East coast and back...we've been traveling that route for years. But something is different this time. Maybe because we've only lived here in Washington for 4 months before the trip, we technically came "home", but not to one we've had a chance to be fully invested in. Everything here feels surreal to me...the streets are familiar, my bed is soft and welcoming, and the old routine was awaiting me like a faithful dog at the front door. But none of it is waking me fully out of my stupor. None of it is triggering a settled feeling, to the contrary, it's creating more of a twilight zone effect. I'm walking around, doing my thing, but feeling like I'd benefit from a good 10 hours of solid sleep, and maybe some kind of shock treatment to get my wandering brain back into alignment with daily life again.

I do feel more of an urgency to get a job than ever before. Not that anyone back on the East coast even once questioned my prolonged (going on 4 years now) unemployment. Nobody seemed to care much what I'd been doing with myself or what I planned to do in the future. It was more like a personal realization that came back home with me, weighing so heavily on my mind that I can hardly pass a moment without pondering my (lack of) career possibilities.

I've always got the book...I think to myself as my eyes open far too early in the morning (my internal clock is still set 3 hours earlier than WA time). It's not a bad book. If I put some hard work into it, do some editing and rewriting of a few weak chapters, it is really pretty decent. I'd be willing to pay an expert to read it and offer their suggestions. I'd be willing to take the criticism of a critique, especially if it might offer the possibility of (gulp) actual publication.

This really seems probable when I hear about the glut of authors who have jumped on the self-publishing bandwagon. My husband works with a guy who actually has his own book for sale on Amazon. He worked with a self-publishing company, and he's been fairly successful with his efforts. However, from the combination of poor reviews on his Amazon page, combined with my own husband's cringing critique of the few pages he "managed to stumble through", the book itself is never going to make it onto the Best Seller list. In truth, it is riddled with misspellings, confusing chapters, and dialog that only the author can claim to understand. But it's published! And the guy has had his own book signings and copies have sold...so what the hell am I worried about??

The hard work? The possibility of rejection and failure on so many levels? The possibility that my own judgement about the book is skewed by my own ego?? Yes. Yes. And also, Yes.

So, being an author is always out there for me, but the specter of failure that haunts my imagination is a bit more frightening than I'm willing to deal with at the moment.

Then, what to do? Send out resumes to jobs I find interesting. Am I qualified for these jobs? No, but who cares? The worst I can do is bomb an interview, and in that case, at least I can say I tried. Do I want a career in banking? How about social work? Have I considered becoming a liaison for visiting foreign exchange students? Maybe I should just keep it simple, and restock books on the shelves of the local library?

Whatever I end up doing, I need to do it fast. My daily intake of gallons of coffee is not snapping me out of my stupor. No matter how many hours I sleep at night, or what pill I take or cough medicine I chug to knock me out completely, I still wake up every day in a fog.

Something has got to change. Any suggestions?