As if life did not suck enough, I just got off the phone with the big boss of Belle’s realty company. He informed me that, as much as they liked my writing, they are going to stick with the copywriter they’ve been using for the last 20 years. Never mind the complaints I heard about her, she’s experienced; she can write about estates from Greenwich to the Gables; she’s the bomb. I’m not.
Fired from yet another job. That makes at least four in the course of my short-lived careers.
Wild Thing, mindful of the family’s stresses — and desirous of a small privilege — brought me a little breakfast in bed today. It was a warm muffin, and it made everything better.
Just in case you’re new to The Zone, I am a lawyer. I have not actively practiced law in many years. I blame it on my children, especially Wizard, but that’s a tale for another day. Since my youngest child is now 9, lots of people have been asking me “Alto2, when are you going back to work?” I typically answer with a grunt. I despised job-hunting when I was a “real” lawyer, mostly because I never had much luck. Financially, I don’t need to work. Intellectually, I do.
Several weeks ago, Belle sprung an idea on me: writing precise, descriptive copy for real estate advertising — expensive real estate … verrry expensive real estate. I was interested, but she had to check with the big bosses at her company. This morning, I interviewed with the big boss-lady, who offered me the job! Belle’s local agency receives 2-3 listings per week, and I am now her wordsmith. I’ll get paid per piece, and I will have access to the lavish estates and condominiums Belle sells regularly. How cool is that?
I am excited and a little bit nervous. Wish me luck!
Dear Bloggie,
I confess I’m an inconsistent blogger. This is a postcard from the edge of my sanity.
Kids went back to school. My mother is here for a visit. Endless appointments, and 5 people simultaneously demanding my attention. Aieeeee — overloaded! Back soon
My birthday was in the middle of December, and at the end of the year, I was still waiting for a birthday present. Sometimes it takes my husband a while to figure out what he’s doing. On the very last day of the year, WineGuy decided on my gift: a new iMac computer! ::happy dance::
The current computer a 20″ PowerPC iMac from 2004, is nearly lame (slow processor) and blind (dying video card). So, this big-ass woman ordered herself a big-ass computer:
a 27″ iMac with 3.4GHz Quad-Core Intel Core i7 processors; 8GB 1333MHz DDR3 SDRAM – 2x4GB; 1TB Serial ATA Drive; AMD Radeon HD 6970M 1GB GDDR5 video card; and a Magic Trackpad. It’s mine, ALL MINE, and I’m not going to share it with anyone else … except for my husband … because I should. The new computer, to be named “Mama Mac,” should be here by the beginning of next week. In preparation, I am backing up iMac20 to an external hard drive. I have the proper cable to migrate data from the old computer to the new one, when it arrives, and then I’ll move everything into iCloud.
However, in order to actually work with two computers on my desk next week, I need to be able to actually see the top of the desk. The holidays wreaked their usual habit on my deskwork. Now, my desk looks like a refuge for lost mail. The old Rolodex is trapping the phone next to the computer. The pile on the left contains this year’s school pictures, which need to be filed. The pile in the left corner contains books I’m supposed to read. The giant pile on the right contains everything: mail, fliers, magazines, bills to pay and file. There could be a small child in there for all I know. I just need to clean it this weekend. Riiiiiight: my mother is coming for a visit tomorrow and just decided to extend her stay a day. No desk-cleaning for the next three days. Oh well.
Maybe I’ll just order the new printer instead. I can perch it on top of the old printer and all the flotsam surrounding it.
