There's too much to say

Apple pie and PB&J

Every time I sit down to write I always have an idea in my head of what I'd like to talk about.  But by the time the words begin to physically appear the idea seems pointless and uninteresting.  This morning for example, I started to write about my uncharacteristically elaborate breakfasts I've been making.  They end up resembling so sort of breakfast burrito.  I’ll make a quesadilla and plop a fried egg, black beans, fried onion, homemade hash browns, peas, and salsa on top.  As many know, I’m no cook.  But every day I’ve been making this unbelievably tasty and unusually complex meal. 

Now, I’m still not sure if any of this is worth writing about, but since it’s already written down it should be noted that breakfast appears to become the exception to my talentless cooking.  Last night for dinner I had a slice of apple pie and PB&J (in that order).  The dinner a third grader would make if left home-alone. 

I’m trying hard to not allow myself to start choking on the obvious symbolism my meals have become to my daily life. 

See, I wasn’t being honest earlier. When I first sat down and started typing I was writing about waiting.  Every day here in Michigan I have been waiting for Potato to finish his program so we can go home.  Every day I try and find things to do to making the waiting easier.  I apply to job after job waiting to hear back.  I make jewelry in waiting for the next show.  I check my email every day waiting to find out if I was accepted into art school.  Every day I wake hopeful but the waiting begins to wear on me (hence the apple pie and PB&J). 

It’s okay though.  I knew what I was getting into.  Anyway, the day I start having toast for breakfast is the day you have to start worrying.  

I need more business casual clothes

Lip smack heart attack revisited

I need to switch to gmail.  I forgot to check my spam folder for job inquiries and have a few missed opportunities.  Oy.  That does not feel good.   

This is what my drive to work sometimes (one time to be exact) looks like.  As pretty as this is, (and the photo doesn't do it justice) the neighborhood is just as quaint and beautiful.  There's a really nice park about 1/2 a mile away that I trot to with baby.  The park is just opposite a golf course with loads of ducks and a couple of great blue herrings that stalk the grounds.  Other than the excessive amount of bees that reside there it is comparable to Pleasantville.  

Pushing that aside as I am gearing up for the freezing and gloomy winter we're supposed to have this year - I want to quit my job.  That means that no, I haven't done it yet.  I know I'm a baby.  But things keep happening.  Like the last time I wanted to quite my job I went shopping after work and bought a new pair of shoes (they're horribly uncomfortable but quite adorable).  There's no way in hell I'd be able to buy shoes if I didn't have a job.  Even this shitty job.  And today I was supposed to quit but then I started thinking about the holidays and how much it would suck to not be able to buy somebody/anybody something that I wanted to buy them because I couldn't afford it.  It's always nice to have extra cash around the holidays.  But man, it does leave me up shit creek.  

But I do have to remember that there are plenty of good things that come with this job.  

1. (Obviously) Some sort of income.  

2. Babies are nice.  And there is only one.  So it's nice and easy.  

3.  This is a big one - I have the same schedule as Potato.  Because one of my bosses is in school at the same place where Potato is getting his PhD they have the same schedule.  Which means that I have the same schedule.  No weekends or late evenings.  Potato and I don't travel together besides trips to visit family but if we ever wanted to we'd have that option.  

These are the things that are going through my head as I try to put baby down for her nap and she screams at me like I'm trying to actually kill her.  It's worth it, right?  Jobs here don't come easy.  And, no boss that's hiring appears to be impressed when you say that you're a nanny.  B.S. as it may be, it's the truth.  I'm stuck until that straw breaks my back.  

ps- Potato says that the song "Bad Day" by some bad band should be playing in the background while this post is being read.

Here are some picture from the last time we drove to Chicago.  It started out nice and then we drove next to two freaky looking storms.  We never got hit with bad rain though.  Hope we luck out again tomorrow (or Friday depending on when we decide to come back).

The second to last picture either was rotated and for whatever reason decided to stay the way it was originally taken (it decided this twice) or I didn't rotate it because I didn't want Patty or Mom to cry from the horrifying sight.  It was a real nasty storm.  A "doozy" if you will. 

6th times a charm

I should write a "how-to book" on quitting your job.  Wish me luck.