a day in the life

4:15am. The hall light clicks on to begin the nudging hell, reminding me that I do have to get up and face reality.
4:35am: The “jolting” alarm goes off, which I promptly slam to snooze.
4:40am: The “soothing” alarm sounds, which I also immediately turn off, I just don’t slap it as hard as the other.
4:45am: The light in the bedroom flips on. I drag pillows over my head to block the light.
4:46am: The "jolting" alarm goes off for the second time; I shut it off again and pull it into the bed with me so that I don’t have to move so far the next time.
Fuck.
4:50am: The television comes on. The nightmares that are the news are being read in non-committal murmuring tones, and I give up and struggle out of bed. I pull on worn red shorts, ATA t-shirt, a sweatshirt and flip-flops.
Coffee smells, if I had half the sense to load the pot the night before, beg me downstairs.
Jasmine, still curled on her bed, opens one eye, pretends she doesn’t see me, and doesn’t move until she realizes I’ve got her food bowl in my hand and am headed out the garage door to pick up yesterday’s ignore mail/bills, today’s paper, and her food.
Four cups of coffee or eight espresso shots and damned near an hour later, I am re-dressed and out the door to run. The iPod [thank you God for MP3 players] helps me forget that it’s dark and cold. I remember that Puckerlips once vented that the only reason I run is to impress men. Yep, that’s gotta be it. The streets are just lined with them at 5:30am, and they adore women with exercise-induced snot running down their faces, too. It’s quite attractive.
Back home, I read emails until I realize I’m freezing. Shower. Find something that fits and doesn’t have to be dry cleaned. Intend to eat fruit for breakfast (who am I kidding? What fruit?) , but I really want to eat any greasy thing I have in the house. I end up with a bowl of ramen noodles instead.
To the dentist. Seems that my stress level is playing havoc with my gums. I literally will the numbers to be better than the last time, and they are, so I am granted a three month reprieve from an expensive, miserably painful treatment.
Home for a few hours. Do laundry, knit, and wait for the guy who’s going to fix the lamppost that was trashed in yesterday’s storm. He never showed.
Load Jasmine in the car for her annual exam. Her dental issues are worse than mine, and she has to have a cleaning done, which I schedule for next week.
I find something in the depths of the freezer for dinner, but the microwave’s acting up again, worse than usual. I swear so loud and slam the door so many times that it starts working, out of complete fear. Good plan.
Memo to appliances – if you stop working, I will throw you out in the cold. I’d happily fix you, but the manger of the service department at Clark’s Appliances decided a few years back that he needed to hike the cost of a show-up call by twice what it used to be. Cook top? Kiss my ass; I will use the grill all winter long. At least charcoal and lighter fluid work. Dryer? I’ll hang my clothes in the garage.
I’m tired and fed up and have had two glasses of wine. I’m considering a third. I wouldn’t mess with me right now.

statistics

In my Outlook job search folder are 828 emails. I have a stack of applications 4” thick that I printed out before I abandoned printing and just started saving all the correspondence on the computer instead, along with an Excel worksheet.

From the beginning of my working life, until late 2008, all I had to do was apply for a job, and I got it.
More recently…

2005: three job applications, three interviews, hired.
2007: one job application, one interview, hired.
2008: three or four applications, that many interviews, hired.
October 2008 – July 2009: an estimated 50-75 job applications (at least two a week), three interviews.
July 2009 – present: 164 job applications, 10 interviews…..

I had hoped the interview of a week and a half ago would be my last…..apparently, it is not. The reject email arrived today.

Onward, then.

recipe of the month

Fall in the Midwest begs for soup. If your doctor’s been on your ass case to eat more vegetables, this recipe might be just the ticket.
A caveat about my recipes: I tend to throw in a lot of editorial comments. All my measurements – unless I’m making pastry or sauces or something where the science actually matters – can be called “more or less,” as I never measure that accurately.

This recipe is adapted from a recipe I found from The Moosewood Restaurant.

Autumn Minestrone

2-4 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup chopped onions
2-3 garlic cloves, minced or pressed

2 ½ - 3 cups peeled & cubed winter squash (acorn, delicata, buttercup)
2 -3 celery stalks, diced
½ -1 cup peeled & diced carrots
2 ½ - 3 cups cubed potatoes
1 tablespoon dried oregano
2 teaspoons salt (to taste)
½ - 1 teaspoon ground black pepper
6 – 7 cups chicken stock (or water)

4 cups chopped kale
1 15 ounce can of cannellini beans, drained

Warm the oil in a large soup pot on medium heat. Add onions and garlic, and sauté for five minutes. Add squash, celery, carrots, potatoes, oregano, salt, pepper, and stock and cook for 10 minutes, or until the potatoes are almost done. Add the kale and beans and simmer until the kale is tender and the beans are hot.

So, the notes:

This is not a good recipe to prepare while drinking. By the time you get done peeling the squash, you’ll wonder why you ever thought this was a good idea. I’d recommend using a smooth-skinned squash, so you can at least use a vegetable peeler. Ever tried to peel an acorn squash? I just did. I’m on my second umpteenth glass of wine now, if that tells you anything.

You could add cubed chicken breasts to this soup to make the non-vegetarians in your household happy. On the other hand, those folks are probably going to fuss about “that funny green stuff” floating in their soup bowls anyway. Give up. Make them a hamburger.

I think a dusting of parmesan would be good, too. I serve this with fresh French bread and obviously, wine.