Job Counseling Pandemic-Style

Apple pie for dinner. Week four of quarantining. How's it going, Reader?

I taught my last class this morning and am "off" this week for Spring Break. I had some sautéed Swiss chard with garlic and olive oil for an extra-early dinner, along with a slice of bread that I baked yesterday, slathered in butter. I've honestly found my baking groove, something that's been a part of me since I was a little girl. Which reminds me -- I had an "interview" with a job evaluator/counselor the other day, all as part of the post-post divorce shit-show. It took 4 1/2 hours for a professional to interview me, pandemic-style via the internets. He ate a sandwich during the interview, and I stepped out of camera range to take care of Sophie when she needed something. The purpose of this "counseling?" I believe it was to evaluate my earning capacity and to make recommendations on how to better utilize my time. I am, naturellement, eager to get the results as I just know I should be doing more, making more money and better utilizing my time than teaching 20 hours a week and caregiving for 70.  I answered questions regarding my family's work history (where my parents worked, where my sisters worked) and then regarding my own work, from my very first job. Honestly, it was kind of fun to go through my work history -- a kind of trip down memory lane with a guy from Monty Python, except instead of looking at him behind a desk, I looked at him through a screen, right into his living room where he had a sandwich just off-screen and took bites, albeit apologetically, throughout.

I don't know what to tell you about this experience, other than what I took away. That is: if you're a caregiver of a severely disabled young adult, most people in the professional world are not going to know or care about the kind of work you've done, even if you've done that work for 25 years. They might ask you things like, If you were working, could you work 40 hours a week? or What would you need to work 40 hours per week? and you would answer, I already work 90 hours a week! and you'd say that three times when asked the question three times, and when the man sighs and re-words (let me put this more simply, he offered) the question in a way that would be easier for your tiny little mother mind™ to comprehend, you still stammer out that you work 24/7, basically, even as you realize from the very deep depths of your tiny little mother mind™ that it doesn't matter, it really doesn't matter because the very fact that you're being put through this means the real world doesn't understand and probably never will.



"I myself have worked all my life in such a building, and have never once.....

                                                                                                          AHHHH!"

The Baker is Back

via Etsy

This morning I was up at 6:30 baking a cake. I've got two cake orders today, orders I took at the last minute because My Other Job has drawn to a close, and I need the work. I have a Blue Velvet Cake with Purple Frosting and a Luau Theme to make today and a Milk Chocolate Chocolate Cake tomorrow. I will, of course, post photos later.

If you know of anyone who needs to hire a baker, please let me know. I can also advocate for children with special healthcare needs, review grants, create caregiver manuals and train caregivers, write grants and pull my legs over my head.

Reader, what are you up to this weekend?

Hour by Hour

7 AM

The hellebore is a harbinger for Spring

8 AM

I get the OK from The Brothers to wear my pajamas in the car driving to school. I do throw on a sweater to spare them my braless tee-shirt.

9:00 AM

Breakfast while working: sourdough toast, butter and jam

Who the hell cares about carbohydrates?

10 AM

Working. My work is for a non-profit organization that provides services to kids in foster care. Heavy, worthwhile stuff. 

11 AM

Shower in the Barbie bathroom

(I know you're thankful I didn't include a shot of me, actually showering)

12:00 PM
Maurice Sendak's My Brother's Book arrives in the mail

Oh my. The illustrations are gorgeous -- nearly Blakean. Here's a page:

1:00 PM
Driving to Santa Monica to a doctor's appointment

2:00 PM
Waiting room at dermatologist's office

3:00 PM
Me, contemplating the forthcoming mole check

4:00 PM
Pick up The Brothers and Noah from School in Koreatown
It was a glorious day in Los Angeles -- at least it looked that way from inside of the car where I spent much of the afternoon

5:00 PM
Contemplating a fancy soda in a fancy Bristol Farms grocery store in the depths of not so fancy Westchester, where I was waiting for Henry's lacrosse game to start

6:00 PM
Henry's semi-final lacrosse game

7:00 PM
Still at lacrosse game, and they're losing, and I'm cold

8:00 PM
Back at the desk, reviewing federal grants for another job

A New Start

I forgot to tell you that I started a new job today. I'm working with a non-profit foundation that provides services to children in foster care. I'll be helping them to build a core of medical and mental health providers to do assessments to support their advocacy. It's a part time job, but I'll be busy, and I'm thankful to have it. There'll be no more bonbon eating or lounging around -- I'm thankful to have a head tightly screwed to my neck; otherwise, it might have flown off by now.

It seems like a fresh start, doesn't it today?