Say hi to our newest family member...

Falstaff is an 11-week-old lab/great dane mix. He came from the Coast Animal Control office, where these pictures were taken. He's been home just about 24 hours, and we're all learning fast. Frank's dog Sturmz sets constant limits and the little guy tests them mercilessly. Falstaff retrieves fairly reliably, and uses his crate with moderate good will. The pound lady told me he "sleeps through the night," which is kind of a relative phrase. I went to bed at 9:30 last night (Frank was driving for the County) and when Frank got home at 4:30 am, Falstaff decided it was morning. After all he'd been asleep for more than 7 hours! I took him out and aftere much whining by the side of the bed, he got to snuggle in with me, and we all slept a few more hours. Then, about 6 am, Huey started crowing. Through some glitch, most of chickens, including Hugh, had spent the night outside the coop, and he was announcing MORNING. Usually he doesn't get out till about 8 am,and then he doesn't crow as much. I decided it was indeed morning, and I got up and took the puppy out, then got Huey back in the coop where he was quiet. Trying to run Falstaff's energy off is going to help me lose some weight....



Falstaff (Sir John) is a character created by William Shakespeare. He first appears in Henry the 4th, Part 1. He's a disreputable guy, but brings much-needed humor to the history play. We think the puppy will grow into his name, tho he's already adding humor...

Time vs. Money: The eternal conundrum

So now I have lots of time. I feel GREAT about that. I've been sleeping till 9 every day, putting minimal effort into finding work and keeping up the house, going into town to get my mail, and working on beaded jewelry. I feel like I could be happy like this for a long time. Problem is my checkbook, while not yet running on fumes, is rapidly being drained. The unemployment folks are going to call me on Thursday for a phone interview, to ask me why I was fired. ("Was I warned?" "No.") Then hopefully the payments will kick in. The whole thing right now reminds me of some elaborate game of "Chicken" -- how long can I hold out before the on-coming train destroys my credit rating...

Ahh, Unstructured Time

I used to think I handled my time well, but not this time around. Yesterday my big accomplishment was sorting through the mountain of clean laundry and matching up all the socks. That and buying Beth a new mouse to replace the one that died.

Then I saw my job advertised in our local weekly, about 5 inches of classified liner ad, ending with "Training & Support provided." My, my, they must've changed something since I left.

It looks like I will go back to one of my previous gigs -- doing respite care for Mike, one of my favorite kids. (If this post goes right, there'll be a picture of him in it, taken just before I left for the full-time debacle.)



He's a fun and interesting kid -- hears perfectly but talks like a deaf person, has extra sensitivity in his hands, feet and head, so cutting hair and nails is cause for screaming fits. Thus the long-ish hair. He uses some sign language and I do a running translation to make sure i've got his meaning. As a respite worker I'm not allowed to transport him in my car, so we spend our time together walking to the playground or the ice cream store or just walking the alleys so he can indulge his fascination with cars and trucks and heavy equipment. On rainy days he turns over the two living room swivel chairs and we go for long "truck rides."

Too bad the fun factor doesn't correlate positively with the pay -- in fact it's the opposite: The more fun the job, the less you make.

The Universe has the Last Laugh

Remember at the beginning of this blog I said I wanted to sort out what in my life had to go? The universe was listening. So on 7/7 it said, "Whssht. The job is the thing to go." I was fired. "Things aren't working out." Fat severence check. "Oh, by the way, write up a report of where things stand so the next person will be able to take over easily." And on my way out of the boss' office, "Oh, and thank you for all you HAVE done." I couldn't muster a reply. It crossed my mind to do a bit of sabatoge. wipe out some scheduling records, maybe for the entire month of July. But instead I called each of my employees and told them what had happened, and that I appreciated their work with our clients.

For several days I felt "irrational exuberance" -- then one of the office people called asking about the status of a particular case, and boom, I started crashing. I got so ANGRY, mostly with Frank unfortunately, but then grief for me has always contained equal amounts of fatigue, sadness and irritability. Talking with Frank I figured out it isn't the actual job, the reality of it that I'm grieving for -- it's being told in essence, "You didn't learn fast enough. Now your chance is over."

Ironically I felt like I really was getting the hang of it. The venting here actually helped. I got back on good terms with the bi-polar client, the word just hadn't reached my boss.

Now I've applied for unemployment, Frank and I went to the City last weekend with his mom and nepehew, did the frantic tourist thing, and now I'm logged in from a cafe in San Rafael, near where we're house-sitting till Monday.

I was already contacted by someone from one of my old gigs and asked to come back. Too bad it's only a few hours a week at half of what I was making as a supervisor...

After that, I plan to get some "healing time" in every day, going to the ocean mostly, trying to quiet the buzzing in my head.
Then Frank and I are starting in on a business venture together. More on that soon.

This is a Keet

A keet is a baby guinea fowl. This one is in good hands with Frank.