In which I fuss for awhile, but then there’s a recipe at the end so it might just be worth your time.
We’re leaving on Thursday.
I slept in this morning because there was no reason not to, and because I sleep a lot when I’m stressed out — it’s my preferred coping mechanism, and I figure it’s better than booze or pot, yeah? This fucking go-to-Indiana-and-sell-roofs gig is stressing me out. Not only in and of itself — I’d never apply for a construction sales position if I saw it in the paper — but in tandem with our fairly fucked up financial situation it’s just got me off my center.
Bread picked at me for sleeping so much, so naturally I picked right back at him about other stupid shit. Before it blossomed into a full-fledged fight, we silently agreed to attack the house instead. Dishes, garbage, sweeping, laundry. It was a frenzy of domestic activity. The dogs couldn’t figure out where to lie down to escape our cleaning wrath and finally went outside to get away from us.
We met on the porch and had a nice talk. He said he’s stressed about money but the whole point is to go and work hard and make some, and that overall he feels good about the gig. I said I hate sales and have no construction experience and am worried about hating the job, or worse, totally sucking at it. He told me I’m personable and smarter than anybody else going. (How cute is that?!) Of course, ‘smart’ isn’t always the necessary ingredient. There’s lots of things I suck at that so-called less intelligent folk excel at. Sales, for instance. *rolleyes*
I once spent a summer canvassing for the Oregon Public Interest Research Group. I showed up at OSPIRG in the morning, attended the daily meeting, got my clipboard, and was dropped off in some nice neighborhood in Portland. I spent the morning knocking on doors, informing citizens of whatever OSPIRG thought they should know, and soliciting donations. Lunch. Then an afternoon of the same.
IT WAS THE WORST FUCKING JOB EVER. Ever. EVER. My feet hurt, my tummy hurt from nervousness, and I never once made quota. I really wanted to like it because it was good work, but I didn’t. I quit in a month. I can stand on stage and sing in front of ten thousand people, but that job? Would have given me an ulcer if I’d made myself keep doing it. I get some weird variant of stage fright knocking on stranger’s doors. I’ll chat your pants off if I meet you in a bar, but I’m chicken to knock on your door and offer you something I believe in or that I know you want and need. It’s just how I’m built.
Anyway.
Bread’s truck is leaking oil and coolant. We can either take it and fill it full of oil and anti-freeze at every gas stop, or we can put tires on the jeep and take it instead. Bread hates the jeep because it’s too small and sitting in it for extended periods aggravates his back, plus it’ll look stupid with ladders bungee’d to the luggage racks and it’s ugly and rusty compared to his nice big late model truck. It gets great gas mileage, though, and the A/C rocks.
His truck is big and attractive and looks professional and he’s already put the ladder rack on it, and it’s much more comfortable and will haul more stuff… but it’s expensive to operate. And it’s leaking like a sieve. And none of the local shops can fix it in time. Plus fixing it would take money we don’t even have. And the A/C needs to be charged.
So I made breakfast at about two o’clock this afternoon. Hash browns, scrambled eggs, veggie sausage, gravy. Kind of a variation on that breakfast casserole people make with real sausage and a can of cheese soup. “God damn!” I said, licking the whisk. “I’m a veggie gravy-makin’ genius!”
Bread said, “You do make good gravy!” And coming from an inveterate meat eater, that’s a high compliment!
So here’s how I make vegetarian gravy, yo. My secret ingredients are paprika, prepared mustard, and soy sauce. I know, I know, it sounds weird but it totally works. Plus my gravy? Never lumpy.
Mush’s Kick Ass Vegetarian Gravy
Great over breakfast, or mashed potatoes, or whatever you’d put gravy on.
2 T. butter
2 T. flour
1 c. hot water
1/2 c. milk
1/4 tsp. each: paprika, dill weed, basil, oregano, parsley
1/3 cube Knorr vegetable bullion
1/4 tsp. prepared yellow mustard
dash tamari or soy sauce
salt & pepper to taste
In a medium sauce pan over medium flame, thoroughly whisk the butter and flour together. Let it cook until bubbly and golden.
Mix hot water and milk together (to take the chill off the milk) and add it to the roux along with the bullion cube. Whisk until the gravy comes to a simmer and starts to thicken. Reduce heat slightly.
Add spices and whisk well. Add the mustard and tamari, and salt & pepper to taste.
Serves 2-4.
In which I’m alone!
Bread went to Iowa City with BoSe to visit Best Buy (for electronics) and Paul’s Discount (for clothes) and I am alone in the house for several hours! I’m so excited!
So naturally I’m using the time to surf, do laundry, and scrub the bathroom.
But still!
In other news, they want six hundred clams to fix the truck. Christ on a crutch, y’all.
In which we pull another all-nighter! Egad!
After the class on Saturday, we went to BoSe’s house and lounged around. For hours. And hours. And hours. I surfed. Finally I got Luna settled as a pillow and Kaia settled as a footwarmer and the guys suddenly wanted to leave.
We went to the Dead Cock and ate — upstairs and everything — and then went back downstairs for Rockstar’s gig. I waited and waited and waited for Raybo; she finally showed up sometime after eleven. I also hung out a little with Gorgeous and AmmZon and and an unusually gregarious Ya.
I danced. I drank. I sat in with the band and sang. I drank water. It was super fun.
The bar closed at two, Ray had afterhours again because she’s cool and she has a big old house. We stayed up til four, then I passed out suddenly and unceremoniously on the basement bed. I remember Bread snuggling in with me…
…and Bread woke me up at ten-something, mumbled those words: “Gotta let the dogs out.” We walked to his truck, hit the store for breakfast ingredients, texted everyone we knew, and drove home.
I made sausage & gravy for Bread and BoSe; White Trash Breakfast From Hell for me. Bloody marys. By two I was passed out in bed.
Right now I’m blogging from the 2nd Street coffee house on our new laptop, which I adore and love. (Yes, I’m fucking dork. Yes, this is the second entry in a row with a stupid cell phone shot of my laptop. Yes, I know I’m a corndog.) NLW came and bought me breakfast and everything; Bread’s off seeing if anyone can fix his damn truck for him, then he’s having lunch with BoSe.
We found someone to house- and dog-sit for us while we’re gone and man is that a relief.
Now all we have left to do is clean house, stock up on pet food, pack, and get the hell outta Dodge. Oh, and I have to finish paying bills. And we have to get Indy cell phones ’cause our carrier doesn’t work there. Whee!
In which I go to school for software training. God, I love school.
Today we had a training meeting for Xactimate, this software we’re using. It was not daunting. It’s complex software, certainly, but not rocket science. What I really want is a finished output document so I know what the goal is.
We watched two short vids about adjusting roof damage; one went into great detail about how to to identify hail damage faked with a ball peen hammer. It was awesome — I’ve seen better acting in pornos — and had all the contractors in the room chuckling.
We got our ‘deployment’ schedule and we (and all our close friends on this gig) are going in the second group. Which is next week. We also got a list of all the tools and equipment we need, and the only thing we’re lacking at this point is an adapter to run the laptop and printer off of a car lighter. That’ll be an easy acquisition at a Best Buy along the way somewhere.
In celebration of our upcoming roadtrip, Bread’s truck started leaking oil rather rapidly and the front passenger wheel is squeaking. He is, as you can guess, extremely aggravated by this development and has been cursing under his breath for hours. My jeep, on the other hand, is still sitting in the driveway on a flat doughnut with a flat tire in the back.
Tonight, the JCGB is playing at the Dead Cock. I might go over and sit in and sing a few, and make an effort not to get shitty drunk.
Right now I’m sitting in BoSe’s living room, on his wireless connection with the laptop, digging some tunes in my iTunes library (which I moved it onto this machine the day it arrived, yo) with earphones, feelin’ groovy. Wireless. Love wireless. Yum.
In other news, the more I learn about this Indiana gig the more I think it’s gonna be perfect for Bread and hell on wheels for yours truly. Hanging out with dudes, doing office support for construction sales? In the cab of a black truck? In the dead of summer? With my husband, who can be a real bear to work for? Aaarrrggghhhh! *bangs head on desk*
Update: Turns out that I might be able to stay in the hotel room and be the computer/paperwork chick, while Bread and BoSe go out and pound the pavement. That? Would be SO SWEET. OMG, please God, please let it be that way. Please please please.
Update: Hotel reservations. Indianapolis cell phone. Pay our current bills at home, pay next month’s too. Worry about whatever work Bread’s truck is wanting. Hope this friend of ours will really agree to stay at our house and feed the animals. This project is exhausting.
In which my site’s beginning to generate email.
Today I got two emails from random people who had found my site (I’m getting about 13k hits a month this year) and had something to say about what they’d read.
The first was from a guy who also rocks himself to sleep, and wanted to know if I’d ever discussed my rocking with a doctor.
The second was from a guy telling me he was glad to hear I no longer hate Heinlein, and who suggested a couple titles to me.
So cool!
I love the Internet. Love it.
In other news, we got our deployment schedule and we haven’t left yet. Soon, but not yet. So I spent most of the last 48 hours lying around doing nothing, blessed nothing.
In which I hate — with a passion incandescent — morning, morning people, and everything having to do with either. (Behold my bitchiness unfettered!)
Bread invited me to go to bed with him at about ten last night. Since I’m a grown woman and dislike being put to bed like a child, I said I’d be there in a bit. When I felt like it.
I require a certain amount of space. Private, personal, alone space, and I haven’t been alone for weeks. He’s always there and I haven’t been home by myself in too long. And since I know it’s gonna be far worse in Indiana, I decided to hang out alone for a bit. I stayed up until twelve, alone, by myself. Then I went to bed, where Bread was hogging the sheets and wouldn’t get out of the middle of the damned bed and was twitching and snoring. The third time he woke me up, I moved to the office daybed and crashed out in peace.
This morning, a good fifteen minutes before my alarm went off, Bread was at me to get up, get a move on, let’s get going. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and loud and fucking disgustingly, irritatingly cheerful.
God save me from morning people. Why can’t I have a somber “Get up, it’s 7:45”? Why the bouncing and cheeriness and loudness?
He’s in pre-trip mode, all excited like we’re going on vacation. Which we’re not. We’re going to work. Sales, for chrissake. This is so not a vacation.
He just took away 15 minutes of sleep from me, and naturally I was grouchy and grumpy and rude and he knows better. I told him to fuck off and go away.
Then he had the nerve to get all up in my shit. “This isn’t how you’re going to be in Indianapolis, is it? Because this shit isn’t gonna fly! You’ll have to get up early and we’ll be working long hours and–”
Blah motherfucking patronizing blah.
The man is five years younger than I am, and he had the nerve to fucking stand there and lecture me about getting up like he was my father. In other words, I was awake less than two whole minutes before I was consumed with a fiery rage so bright I had to close my eyes and actually think about breathing. If he’d just told me what time it was and left the room, I could have waited for my alarm to go off, pressed snooze once, and gotten up. Like a normal goddamned night person. But no, it went like this:
He quit talking and left the room. Then he came back a couple minutes later. “Oh come on, Michelle! Get up! We have to drop my truck off at Haney’s then go to borrow my mom’s then I have to meet Steve for coffee and –”
And my ALARM hadn’t even GONE OFF YET. There was no reason for anyone to be saying anything to me yet. My day HAD NOT YET STARTED.
“Shut up,” I said. “I am lying here, breathing, waiting until I can get up without saying something to you that I will always regret. Go away, for the love of God. I’ll get up in a minute. I swear.” Aren’t I good? I did not say, GET THE FUCKING HELL AWAY FROM ME YOU FREAKISH MORNING PERSON! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!
He made some grumpy well-you’re-a-fucking-bitch noise and left the doorway, but he came back 45 seconds later! Which part of GET AWAY FROM ME BECAUSE I’M INCREDIBLY MAD confused him? I was so mad I could just barely deal, but then he had to open his mouth and start fucking talking again. “Can I just say something while you lie there all pissed off?” he said.
Oh God, no. Please. Just go the fuck away. Let me get up, get showered. I hate you so much right now I’m about to pop an artery! Fuck the hell off, man!
“Yes,” I said, in the sweetest voice I have. “Please do.” It was either that or murder him with my bare hands, and he’s big.
“I’m leaving at 8:30, no matter what!”
“Fine. Thank you. I understand.” Just get the fuck away from me before we get a fucking divorce, you moron!
He left the room and I breathed and said my mantra in my head. When my heart rate was normal and my skin was no longer hot, I got up and took a shower. Then I got dressed. I collected the items I needed for the day.
I was standing by the door ready to go at fucking 8:29 A-fucking-M.
Yes, I’m an impossible bitch in the morning. I know that. He knows that. He also knows that nagging me, cornering me, bitching at me, and worst of all, lecturing me before I’ve had coffee? Is a Bad Idea, and he did it anyway.
And I? am a fucking saint. I held my tongue and was in the truck at 8:30 like he wanted.
I hate being apoplectic before coffee. Seriously. It’s just not healthy.
In other news, I got our new laptop via DHL, so that cheered me right up!
In which the Universe is really funny. Ha, ha.
We’ve accepted this gig in Indiana, right? Leaving the day after tomorrow, yeah?
So naturally in the past three hours, Bread’s gotten two job offers. One for production building in Colorado for a good friend, another for a comprehensive remodel of a high-end house here in town!
Good one Universe, good one. You crazy bitch.
In which I’m overheated, excited, a little stressed, and realizing how deep my poverty-consciousness goes.
It’s unutterably hot and humid outside. I just had to walk to the bank and back because Bread’s got the big black truck. I’m all sticky. There’s a severe weather alert out for thunderstorms, and at lunchtime it turned dark and rumbly in a hurry but only rained big fat drops for a few minutes and it’s like a really damp oven out there.
A SEVERE THUNDERSTORM WARNING REMAINS IN EFFECT UNTIL 530 PM CDT FOR JEFFERSON COUNTY.
AT 443 PM CDT…A SEVERE THUNDERSTORM WAS REPORTED CAPABLE OF PRODUCING GOLF BALL SIZE HAIL…AND DAMAGING WINDS IN EXCESS OF 60 MPH. THIS STORM WAS LOCATED NEAR PERLEE…OR ABOUT NEAR NORTHERN FAIRFIELD…MOVING SOUTHEAST AT 15 MPH.
THE SEVERE THUNDERSTORM WILL BE NEAR… BECKWITH AND SALINA BY 455 PM CDT… FOUR CORNERS BY 510 PM CDT…
A SEVERE THUNDERSTORM WATCH REMAINS IN EFFECT UNTIL 900 PM CDT TUESDAY EVENING FOR SOUTHEASTERN IOWA AND NORTHWESTERN ILLINOIS AND NORTHEAST MISSOURI.
Golf ball-sized hail, people!
I’m existing in a funny combination of excited and freaked out. On the one hand, it’s a job. I’ve been working since I was 16 and a job’s a job. I’m blasé. On the other hand, I have really only the vaguest idea of what I’m getting into, so I barely even have enough information to properly wig out on.
The sudden exit is going remarkably smooth so far; the money’s been there, I got an LOA rather than having to quit with two days notice after working here for six years, our electronics shipped out on time and will be here in the morning, etc.
But. Then there’s the house, the cat, the dogs… the four people we’ve asked so far can’t take any of those duties for us. I think Nanner will be able to drop by the place every week or so to take the mail in and pet the cat and put food out for him, and Bread’s asking another friend of his to just drive through occasionally to make sure the doors are all closed and such. But this is shit we’ve got to get resolved in the next two days and it’s kinda major.
I’m having some fun observing my own thought patterns about money. This gig is supposed to be quite lucrative, and I have a mental monster who keeps trying to pop up and say bullshit! there’s no way you can make that much that fast! even though I know that people do. Hell, I have friends that do. I seem to have some deep-seated lower-middle-class abundance issues and it’s been interesting to root them out for a look at them. I seem to have a belief that I’m only supposed to have enough, no extra. I’ve noted in myself a feeling of mild relief when I’m back to a check-to-check existence after a spell of abundance simply because it’s familiar.
In other news, a funny ISP tech support story almost worthy of Userfriendly: One of our support techs just wasted three entire calls trying to fix a customer’s DSL. He did all the troubleshooting, even swapped out her DSL modem for her. Finally he called her back to quadruple-check her settings only to hear her say, “Oh, I switched my DSL to another provider. Could that have anything to do with it?”
True story.
In which I’ll be in Indianapolis by Friday, for fuck’s sake.
Somehow or another my husband managed to get us both hired to go to Indiana to do this contracting job; it’s basically a variant on insurance adjusting. It sounds like it’ll be ten hour days, six or seven days a week. Outside. In the heat. Doing what amounts to door-to-door sales.
Apparently the reason people do this to themselves is because it’s possible to make an assload of money at it, and God knows we need some healthy cashflow.
Often people do this in teams. In our team, Bread will be the construction & estimating guy, and I’ll be the computer/software/paperwork girl, and then we’ll cross-train each other.
In the next 72 hours we’re getting a loan, buying a laptop and printer, closing up our house, doing something with the pets and plants, packing, and splitting town. Gonna be gone for a month.
Bread’s been in construction his entire life. The idea of selling a bid but not actually having to do the work tickles him half to death. I’ve forgotten more software programs than most people even know, so I feel confident about my part. We’ll be staying in a hotel. Truck and Bowling Jesus will be there. BoSe will be there. A bunch of other people we know will be there.
I have to quit my job or get an LOA… and cancel the barn party… and then I have to tell my band. They’ll freak.
And if this gig works out, I’ll miss Amma in Mount Pleasant and will have to get to Chicago to see Her.
I’m freaked. Utterly, totally, hands-shaking freaked.
On the other hand, I’ll end up with a laptop! This seems like a rather intense method of getting a laptop, but hey — why take ‘er easy when you can take ‘er hard?
In other news, it’s 6/6/6. Happy Rapture, my Xian fiends! (Er, friends!)
Update: Check out my new laptop. Yum.
Update: My employer has just approved my LOA. *huge relief*
Update: Brett got his ladder rack fixed to fit the truck (yay!) but we still haven’t found any dogsitters (boo). Who wants to come live in my house in the country for a month? I’ll even keep paying the DirecTV on for you. Peace and quiet, a million stars at night, swimming in the pond! You can walk around naked out here! Come on!
In which yes, as a matter of fact, I *will* shop for food.
Truck needed some devices, so he called me for a day trip to Iowa City because if you wanna buy electronics? I’m yer bitch! We got out of town around noon, and AmmZon drove us straight to Best Buy like the speed demon she is.
Laptop, laptop case. Printer/scanner/copier. Digital camera. Cables, memory cards. Check.
I had him buy a display model laptop because it was the most bang for his buck, so we had to wait for them to remove their security software from the machine. Truck took me out to Olive Garden for my trouble and we all ate ourselves into a coma. Yum.
Back to Best Buy to pick up the laptop (and make fun of the staff), back in the car, buzz back to Fairfield. Whee!
I got dropped off at band practice. We had a great rehearsal; everyone was in a good mood and the temp drummer is getting up to speed nicely. After, GSW dropped me at Ray’s, and then she and I walked up to Truck & AmmZon’s so I could get Truck’s new Toshiba laptop on the neighbor’s wireless network connection. (He’d called and said he wouldn’t be able to sleep if he didn’t get the thing on the Internet, a sentiment I can totally get behind.)
Which brings me to now: I’m sitting with Ray and AmmZon, drinking a much-needed glass of water, blogging from Truck’s new machine. Damn I love the Internet.
In other news, I really need to drink more water. I’ve been totally off my water cure for weeks and weeks and weeks now. Hydration is where it’s at, people.
VSCO
Instagram has become unusable crap, so please click the icon below to see my latest pics.
4 random books from my Library!
