Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Monday, November 18, 2013
Felt...don't even know what to call it...something...all morning. Left work about 11:30 a.m. It's been 13 days since I've talked to anyone. When I opened my work email at home, I saw an email that said they'd decided not to interview me for the marketing manager position. Not even a courtesy interview. I knew I wasn't going to get the job and I knew that any interview would be a token one only. Both of those things were made very clear. But I did think they'd give me a courtesy interview. I don't know when I became such a failure, I don't know when it happened. But it happened. I wonder if there's any road back. I suppose not. Once you lose something, it's lost.
Saturday, November 16, 2013
Friday, November 15, 2013
3 Rubbermaid cans of leaves in the back. 3 of those tall paper leaf bags in the back seat. This was just the boulevard and the front sidewalk. Lindens, hybrid elm, and maple.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Today it's nine days since I've talked to anyone.
I decided to take my teapot, tray, and things home. I picture having to pack up my belongings at work and make the ignominious final trip down the stairs. I need I take home the pics of Buddha, too. With all the "stupid" and "incompetent" comments I get, I feel I could get the ax any minute. On the other hand, as whipping boy, perhaps I have a job for life.
I was never stupid before. I wonder when I changed.
I'm making my tea in my JoeXL mug (it's got a tea strainer inside) and I'm drinking it out of a Blue Heaven coffee cup. The saucer has a chip, but It's not big.
I got a request from a newspaper to reprint my palliative care article. I re-used it in the November issue of Clinic Link and a reader spotted it. Twi years ago, I had broached the idea of writing one-page articles on health care topics and sending them off to a list of possible blogs, newspapers, magazines. People have space to fill and will snap up good material, especially if they can just pkunk it in. It's not only a way to get some health information out there, it also gets my organization's name and brand out there. But I was shot down. It was a stupid idea. That's not what we were about and I should have known that and not suggested it. Well, two years later, it's starting to happen on its own.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Besides the unexpected tax debt, the job, the waking up dead and no cure for it, what hit me in the head with a lead pipe was that one day someone wrote that she would call that specific night just to chat. Nobody talks to me anymore, not about anything. Sometimes I say hello to the receptionist at work and she says hello back while continuing to look at her Microsoft solitaire. That's it. So, I felt anticipation. I waited. I waited up. No call. No call the next day, either. I decided not to feel that bad ever again. I decided not to hope for connection anymore. I am a ghost. I don't exist. Time to accept this.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
to stop chasing after people, begging them to talk to me, remember me, throw me a crumb, wandering around coffee hour at church looking pleasant and trying to ignore the fact that I've been going for months and still don't know a single person's name. I've also decided to stop using Facebook and social media. I must accept that there is no one in my life and there will be no one. My failure is without end. I am a failure at work. If they do let me interview for the marketing manager position, I've been given the clear understanding that it will be a token interview only. I can't even get back to where I was four years ago. I am a failure in my private life. All I have is the dog, and he was seven on May 22, 2013. I just have to last until he's old and sickly and I can put him down. And then myself.
Sunday, October 20, 2013
K was supposed to come over today to work on the front yard. It's raining, so she texted that she won't be coming. Since Wednesday when she said she'd be over on Sunday, I've been saying to myself that on Sunday I'll get to talk to someone, at least a little bit. Maybe, even, I might be able to persuade her to come in for five minutes and have a glass of iced tea or something. And now it's not going to happen.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
For a $1.99 each, I bought two 8" inch serving bowls at Value Thrift store. I noticed them because they were sitting on a shelf together and it's unusual to see a pair of something at the thrift store. I bought them because they are stamped Oxford Ware Made U.S.A. on the bottom. I always feel good reading those words. Not the Oxford Ware part - I had never heard of that pottery - the Made in U.S.A. part. So rare, these days.
The bowls are in excellent shape. Nice solid feel. Shaped well. And none of that shallow-side nonsense that makes for an annoyance when serving something with a lot of juice or sauce. Nice, good bowls. Somebody was crazy to donate them to a thrift shop. Or somebody must have died.
According to bits I found with help of Mr. Google. Oxford Ware was a line from Oxford Pottery, which was merged into Universal Potteries. Like much plain American pottery from potteries in Ohio, the prices aren't high. They might sell in a vintage/tique for $15 to $20 each. I definitely found a find. Two finds.
And they're a beautiful blue...which goes with none of the paint colors in the little house and isn't part of the decoration scheme, but continues my tendency to find and be drawn to blue pottery. Blue for Baby June, as Molly Keane writes in Time After Time. I like red, too. And greens. But blue always has been my color.