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September 13th, 2019

LJI Week 0, Introduction

Here we are again.  Why is it that I am always starting a new job or facing a major job transition just in time for week 0 of LJI?  Luck of the sorta-Irish, I guess.

I'm not sure how many seasons of LJI I've done.  I *do* know I have been filling notebooks since I was about 9, starting out with steno pads in imitation of my mother's college poetry notebooks, moving on to the Nancy Drew journal my sister swapped with me after Christmas when she was 11 and I was 12  (I hated Nancy Drew, but I hated the chocolate covered mashmallows I got in my stocking even more.  At least the journal had a lock and wouldn't be as likely to make me barf if I ate it) and....I wish I knew how many paper journals I've filled in the ensuing 34 years.  I lost all of my early ones when my grandparents' house was demolished a few years back.

I still write in my paper journal almost every day, usually while waiting for the bus to work.  I also wrote my first poem in over a decade a couple of weeks ago, which surprised me.  I used to think I had to be miserable to write poetry.  Guess not.

I do more than write (lately, I have been having to steal headspace to do so).  I've been getting back into crochet after a generous gift from a friend who was tired of yarn hanging around at her house, and have actually gotten a couple of small commissions.  I also do the Yarn Fairy Project, where I make scarves and leave them around town for the homeless and anyone else who needs them. I live in North Carolina, and we are frequently unprepared for cold snaps (which is anything below 50F, to be honest).   And, for someone who is a lifer in the food service industry, I spend a lot of my off hours reading food writing, watching FoodNetwork, and cooking.

I live with the spousebeast, who has been in the food service industry only slightly less longer than I've been alive (he started as a dishwasher in his dad's restaurant at 14.  And he's 13 years older than I am.  The math does itself).  My children--22 and 20--have decided they prefer living with their father, although I hear sporadically hear from the youngest.  I guess money is more important than love, being able to be yourself, and dealing with a mother and a stepparent who are both openly queer.

Everyone chooses their own life path.

Speaking of, I also have really tragic choice in music.  Although I hope the concerts I'm seen ameliorate my tiny little collection of cds I only break out when I'm alone.
So much for the Interchangeable Snavelys.  I am now the Replacement Snavely.

Kent got tapped for a position to learn to be an expert meatcutter.  It's better hours.  A new skillset (always a bonus in this industry).  And, as he was so happy to tell me...Sundays off  (I FUCKING HATE FOOTBALL SEASON!).

I am proud of him.  Changing lanes in terms of career at almost 59 is pretty brave  (also, when he finishes the course, he's getting a raise).  But I HAD been tentatively approached.

And learned that it ultimately came down between him and the Slowmoving Mansplaining Mammal.  Kent totally deserves it, but I wasn't even given a chance to do a shift to show what I could do.

Ya know why?  I don't have a dick.  AND I can ride herd over deli with The Mom Voice.

I am really fighting between being happy for Kent and wanting to punch somebody.  I have found the glass ceiling, and it smells like sauerkraut and condescention.

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The fucking YARN FAIRY!

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