For the most part, the holidays were just grand.
Well, actually, there was this…thing…that happened. Not a horrible thing, but still sort of mildly discombobulating. Although, at one point, I will admit to feeling a bit out of sorts. More than a bit out of sorts.
I’m being cryptic, I know.
I can’t help it. I promise you.
I’m one of those partially “outed” bloggers, and in this matter of which I cannot really speak, I’ve been sworn to real life cryptitude so as not to startle the neighbors with the breadth of my...lateral thinking.
Which begs the question “So why write about it if you can’t write about it?”
Because I’ll tell you why:
Because every time I sit down and try to write something fun or funny or funtastic, this thing drops down on my keyboard like an albatross holding a cinder block upon which is scrawled “I AM THE THING FOREMOST IN YOUR MIND AND YOU WILL WRITE ABOUT ME OR ELSE I WILL BRAIN YOUR MUSE WITH THIS HEAVY OBJECT.”
(I really wish I could find a picture of an albatross holding a cinder block, because that would be just the perfect graphic for this entry.)
So now I’ve sort of kind of written about the thing, and I hope the albatross is satisfied and will fly off (very low) to some place else and go harangue mariners or something.
I’ll just say this, because otherwise I know you'll worry:
Everyone here at Chateau Halushki is, knock wood, healthy in mind and body - praise be - and, no, no one in my family was attacked by a tiger, nor were they caught in crossfire in a war zone, nor did they get caught by the paparazzi upon exiting a car while wearing no underpants. (By the way, those horrific events are not listed in any particular order of quantifiable suckitude.)
And finally, the discombobulations of which I am barely speaking of are over and done with and a new day is dawning and it’s all sunbeams and star shine and whipped cream puddings from here on out.
Still too cryptic?
Let’s just say that as a family, we were in a sort of temporary severe cash flow slump. We knew it was going to be temporary (although not quite sure how temporary at one point) but the timing of the whole matter just simply was not the bestest. Two weeks before a major celebration of consumer spending is not a good time for low cash flow, especially when some members of the family still believe the fruits of this consumer spending are actually the result of magic as wielded by a right jolly old elf and not connected in any way to rock solid greenbacks.
Still too cryptic?
Then may I just further say in the way of tantalizing innuendos that I was also temporarily and necessarily engaged as a full-time member of the workforce, the experience of which was in no small way responsible for my giddily arrived at decision to display ads on my blog, as if Google Adsense were my way to a golden ticket.
For, you see, I’m no longer cut out for full-time, 9-to-5 wage earning.
I’ll do it if I must.
But I’m much better suited as a “lady of the manor” type.
You know…up by 11:00 AM, breakfast of bon-bons and champagne spritzers, and then back for a nap until my lady’s maid wakes me in time for me to give direction as to whether to prepare the lamb or the lobster for dinner.
Work is hard.
It’s even more hard when you’re doing it because you have to do it or else someone big and burly will come repossess your car and your heat and stuff. It’s even harder when the work you’re doing pays close to minimum wage and so you have to do a lot of it to make the money you need to allow everyone in your family to take lukewarm showers and without setting a timer in the bathroom. (Although somewhere Al Gore is shedding a tear of bliss after reading that last sentence. Because Al Gore reads my blog, you know. All the presidential hopefuls do.) (Heh-heh.)
After I returned home and had completed my temporary full-time tour of duty in pantyhose, there was of course the consideration of my continuing some full-time work of a more permanent sort and for some pay substantially higher than retail wages. We could become a two income household and make sure for certain that any potential future cash flow slumps were knocked out at the knees and for good and forever, amen. However, after factoring in the eventual cost of summer childcare for three children, gas money, and pantyhose stipend - because I can go through four or five pairs a day easily - I’d have to be earning somewhat more than any job I am currently qualified for would pay. Other than pole dancer at a truck stop. Because, from what I understand, I could bring my kids along with me to a job like that to bus tables and what not.
Certainly, though, there aren’t many well-paying jobs listed in the newspaper for English majors who write sentences for which prepositions are the ending in. So for all my talking in circles, and until Little Terzo is in school full time, we’re most likely going to remain a one-and-a-half income family and continue our rice and bean diet...with lobster and bon-bons only every other Friday.
I did have this kooky idea.
Naw…it would never work. It’s just this crazy notion I had one evening after painting the bathroom ceiling with Killz paint and forgetting to open the window to vent the fumes.
Well…okay. I'll tell you.
I was thinking that, you know, even though there are something like 78,453 writers out of work right now, and another couple thousand on strike in LA, I was thinking that maybe - just maybe - I could still do some kind of job where I could sit at home in my pajamas and string words together in magical and fantastical arrangements, and then post those words on The Internets - where people don’t care so much about prepositions - and then maybe, somehow, a big genie would occasionally appear from my CPU and hand me a dollar bill. “Occasionally” meaning every five seconds or so.
Wouldn’t that be neat?
And maybe, after a while, I’d turn my magical, fantastical writing site into a dot.com site. Not that I don’t adore Blogger with every fiber of my Granny underpants, but ________.com just flows better on a t-shirt. Or a bumper sticker. Or coffee mug. Or Goodyear balloon.
And maybe, someone who knew something about how to do all this crazy, complicated computer stuff would give me some hints and pointers on how to turn a blog into a .com. Since I know nothing about such things.
And then, someone else would point me in the direction of another someone else who knew things about funky graphics and eye-catching banners and who had a powerfully cool idea for revamping and updating my blog. Because, I have nonesuch.
And THEN I’d go really crazy and start a SECOND blog that was…ooooh, I don’t want to spoil the surprise since I’ve already got my bold soul cryptic on. But it would be a site with a focused theme (unlike this site, where I talk about albatross and cinder blocks in the same sentence) and which offered useful information on a specific topic (other than waterfowl and building supplies) and to which readers would flock (get it? flock?) to hear all the amazing things I had to say about…certain things…and stuff…and the readers would actually be grateful to be put in the way of advertisers who sold that kind of…thing…and stuff.
And no, I’m not starting a cinder block review site.
The thing is that at this point I’m all ideas.
But! And this is an important But! so pay attention:
But! This most recent foray into the out-of-home workplace has energized and motivated me - inspired me, even - to never work full-time outside of the home again if I can help it.
Finally, to all those people who have in the past said,
“You know what you should do as a job? A job that is a cosmic calling but also a job that puts greenbacks in your hand and warm in your shower water and sugar in your coffee? You know what you should do as a job like that kind of job is…
GOL-DAMMIT, YOU SHOULD WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE!
WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU! DON‘T YOU REALIZE YOU CAN AND SHOULD BE MAKING MONEY WITH YOUR WRITING, YOU IDIOT?!!! HOLY HECK, WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO GET IT THROUGH YOUR FAT POLISH-LITHUANIAN HEAD! DON’T MAKE ME CALL UPON THE UNIVERSE TO THREATEN YOUR BANK ACCOUNT THE WEEKEND BEFORE CHRISTMAS IN ORDER TO MAKE YOU UNDERSTAND THAT THE TIME TO DO THIS IS NOW, NOW, NOW! CRIPES, GIRL, JUST DO IT ALREADY! NOW WHERE DID I PUT MY RED BULL?”
To all those people who have in the past said stuff like that, I say
“oh…i get it now.”
Because I’m really e. e. cummings.
So anyway, it’s a new year.
And as I watch the albatross fly into the distance, cinder block skimming off the roofs of cars and setting off alarms as the bird wends its airy way toward the open sea, I feel…buoyed.
I’m going to try a few new things with my blog, try to get my writing to earn some money - even if it has to pole dance for a few months while I’m figuring out what size pantyhose it wears - and who knows?
This time next year, I‘ll be writing about my thoroughly, thoroughly enjoyable holiday.
And showering in hot water.
At the same time, even.