Public Enemy Number One

Every time I eat something covered with powdered sugar, I inadvertently inhale some, then spend the next five minutes thinking "what a sad way to die -- choking and coughing to death." What's worse, I know this is going to happen so I try to hold my breath while I pop one of those little donut holes in my mouth. But you try chewing, swallowing and tasting (because what's the point of eating a powdered sugar donut hole if you're not going to enjoy the taste) while holding your breath. Of course I could be the only person who's incapable of eating and breathing at the same time, but I doubt it, because I just ain't that special.

Just Show Up

Most days I open my email to find Barbara Crafton's "The Almost Daily eMo from Geraniumfarm.org," waiting for me. These missives from a retired Episcopal priest contain no mushy, foggy religiosity or fundamentalist "my way is the only way" crap that makes me cringe. Instead, Crafton writes deceptively simple, thoughtful and straightforward meditations that are meant to be incorporated into everyday living. Yesterday's eMo titled "You'll Think of Something" was about how simply "showing up "was more than half the battle. She ended with "Not in the mood? Don't worry. Just show up and trust in God. You'll think of something."

A friend of mind used to say "If you stand in traffic long enough you're bound to get hit." It's sort of the same message. Whether you feel like it or not -- to move forward you have to put yourself out there everyday. I like the imagery this conjures up. The traffic is whizzing by as in time-lapse photography. Head and tail lights look like red and white ribbons streaming down the highway and I'm standing on the meridian with every intention of stepping off the curb at the precise moment the car with the key to success comes wheeling by. Trouble is, at the speed the cars are moving, there's an element of luck as to whether I'm going to be hit by good fortune or just count myself lucky to be alive.

It's true that showing up is half the battle. What I didn't get (stupid me), when it comes to a profession, the other half has to be a totally recognizable expertise. Dedication, motivation, loyalty, hard work, talent, a damn good personality, and not bad looking either -- are considered so much flotsam and jetsam next to what really matters. To be considered for any job I'd be interested in I have to demonstrate -- in a particularly linear fashion -- that I have the requisite experience.

And that's where the trouble lies. My resume looks like a patchwork quilt. Hell, I've had more jobs than Law and Order has reruns. Sure I've met lots of people from different walks of life, developed a social conscience, raised 3 spectacular children, managed to stay married for an eternity, and mastered more than a few skills. Some of the work I've done has even been pretty impressive. But whoever hires me next will have to be a contortionist to see through the laundry list of "and from there I... "

To keep body and soul together, I've been temping as a secretary -- or in today's vernacular -- an administrative assistant. It's OK -- if you like being invisible to the suits. I'm not sure if it's because I'm a temp or because I don't have an office. Either way it's a lethal combination.

So, while I look for my dream job, if anybody needs their closets organized, give me a call.