More about Jack and Loretta

"Portland, Oregon" - a song so good I'd fall in love with an Oregon boy just to have this be our song.

Update

"Congratulations," Dad said, as I walked in. "Some woman called Darlene phoned to say you have the job if you want it. You need to call her back before 7."
That was the moving company.
What luck - the creepiest place I've ever seen wants to hire me and, broke though I am, I don't want the job. Dilemma: money or happiness... Money or happiness (not to mention safety)...
We discussed it over dinner, and Mom said to call my oldest brother for advice because he's worldly. Been around the block a few times, worldly, same diff.
The first time I called there was no answer, so I left a message. The second time, a quarter of an hour later, Ev picked up.
"Hey sis. I just got your message."
"Oh. Did you believe me when I said I was pregnant and needed your advice?"
"No. (Laughs) Of course not."
"Um. Not sure whether I should feel insulted or gratified. Anyway, there's this problem..." Went on to describe the company that wanted to hire me. "...and the place - it's really run down, near Newton, right by the river, - you can see the Pattulo Bridge from it."
"Sis, do you know what they call that area?"
"No."
"The Rat Flats."
"Ah. Well, I see why."
"Yeah. I'd go with the temp agency if I were you."
"Think I will then, thanks."
Brothers. I love them.

Tomorrow's plan: Hit up the temp agencies, harrass Domaine de Chaberton (great local winery) about a job, try to do something about student loan (non-)repayment. Easy peasy.

Every flake is different

It started snowing tonight as I was driving home. I think I pulled a gut muscle giving the First Snow Happy Scream. It's so cool though! Of course tomorrow will rain and wash everything away, but for the moment it's just lovely.

Listening to: Van Lear Rose. You know, with Loretta Lynn and Jack White. Very cool album. It was one of those things you read about and think, gosh, this could be awful or it could be great - well, it's great. Thank you, Semiahmoo Public Library.

Reading: A Room with a View. Okay, I'm only on Chapter 2, but so far it's just as good as the movie. (Uh, that sounds bad... Honest, I'm not the "Why read it? The movie's coming out in October" type, but that movie was awesome!)

Thinking about: whether to take the job I interviewed for today, doing office work for a moving company. The scene was like something out of a horror flick, complete with mangy dogs scuttling around broken-down old chevys, and grimy inbred-looking truck drivers watching me from the corners of their eyes. Lady was nice enough, but the place was creepy: shoulda-been-condemned-in-'83 type of house turned into an office, rusted fences and sagging porches, and all definitely on the wrong side of the tracks. Hmm... Come to think of it, she never mentioned my wage, either.

Realizing: that just as my favourite dates have been with boys I neither pitied nor loved, my best interviews are for jobs I'm really not sure I want to have. I think it's a confidence thing, the whole this-is-me, I-don't-care-if-you-think-I'm-good-enough issue. Hmm...

Noticing: how girls speak with their hands a lot more after they get engaged.

What are you doing?

LOL!!!

Another Craigslist Gem:

Are You Missing Your Index Finger, On Your Left Hand
Date: 2005-11-19, 3:55PM PST
An artist is looking for someone who is missing their index finger, or part of it, on their left hand. Cash paid, 45 minutes of work, to do nothing but sit.
Job location is lower mainland
Compensation: $ 50.00


...One job for which I don't mind lacking the qualifications...

Tag! You're It!

Just realized the Jedno tagged me a while back, so here goes... uh, my 23rd post only had one sentence, so lets do 24th... GAH! Damn you, Jedno!
"We offered it so that you'd find a good job, and a... [giggles, but tries to sound authoritative]... a good husband!" - My poor dear mother, talking about the intention of a rosary said in the car. Some things don't change - after I caught the bouquet at my brother's wedding last week (more on that below), Mom was heard to say, wishfully, "You know, they say it really works..."
Well. I think everyone I know has been tagged by now, so I'm not going to pass the honour on, but thanks, Jedno. Thanks for the recognition. It (sniff!) means a lot to me.

Anyhoo. The wedding. I would have to say that the finest point of the evening was not the exchanging of the vows (Evan said "Absolutely!" instead of "I do"... cringe...); nor was it the bride and groom's first dance, or the bride's tearful toast to the parents; no no, the highlight of the evening was the bouquet toss. Now, normally, I hate the bouquet toss, because it makes me feel like I am lying in one of the meat fridges at VONS with a label reading "Best Before: SOON" plastered on my forehead, along with a couple of those orange "$2.00 Off" ones - but this time was a little different. I caught the bouquet. The funny thing was, I didn't mean to catch it. I don't think I was even watching the thing as it flew through the reception hall. However, as sister of the groom, I had dutifully stuck my right hand up in the air; and as the tallest female there (everyone else was Chinese and short, and I had sadistically worn heels), the flowers landed smack in my grasp, wrong way up. One deep-red rose popped off at this abuse and skittered away across the floor. The absolute best part was lowering my hand, staring surprisedly at the bouquet, and declaring, loudly, proudly, unthinkingly, for all to hear, " SHIT!!" This fine moment was caught on not one but four video cameras (Chinese wedding, what can I say?) and goodness knows how many point-and-shoots. Ahhh... me so graceful. The families will be proud.

Today I used Euclid I.1 and my belt to hang a painting of a sailboat and center it nicely over the towel rack in the upstairs bathroom. And **they** said a liberal arts education was impractical. Fools, for they have no far-reaching minds...

In other news, two of my Danish relatives - Tante Anna and Onkel Tommy - arrived tonight in anticipation of my oldest brother's upcoming nuptials. They are both 75: Anna is in the early stages of Parkinson's, while Tommy is still tall and handsome with his thin white hair and icy-but-laughing blue eyes. Tommy's cool, Anna's a bit harder to be comfortable around, and of course there's the language barrier. English wasn't taught in the schools in their day, and my Danish vocabulary is restricted to such simple phrases as jeg er tørstig (I am thirsty), godnat (good night), rug brød (rye bread), jeg ikke snakke dansk (I don't speak Danish), and jeg er forstoppelser (I am constipated - this fine tidbit of knowledge is due to my little brother's unfortunate reaction to the Danish diet on our last visit there). Oh and let's not forget the Danish national joke, which consists of asking the English-speaker to say rød skrød med flode (red berries with cream - very popular Danish dessert). Looks easy enough in writing, but the language is so gosh-awfully guttural that the phrase sounds something like this: "hrruoll skruoll mel fluhrtheh", with strong undertones of gagging. Always good for a giggle. New vocab learned this evening: bange-buks, or "scaredy-pants", which is the Danish equivalent to "chicken" and was applied to yours truly for avoiding the chunks of celery swimming around in my bowl of soup. The whole language thing is actually pretty fun - it's amazing how much of a conversation you can understand just by picking up on certain words that sound like their English equivalents. Should be doubly interesting when the French side of the family arrives next week...