Not My Cup of Tea, Not Even My Cup

Okay, I'm sorry, but this is going to be a total 180 from my last post. I do not feel tall and beautiful, I am not a strong little flower. But I will preface this post by warning you that I've been having a buttload of anxiety and depression this past week topped off with a heavy dousing of hopelessness the last two days. Also, it's 8am and I'm eating Candy Cane and Dark Chocolate with Mint Truffle Hershey's Kisses as I write this.



Does anyone else feel like the world totally sucks right now?!?!



As I drove Brandon to work this morning, I chanted out loud "I hate my life, I hate my life, I hate my rotten lousy life". I can't get a job in my field, I have family members who like to share my personal information, I have seemlingly reasonless anxiety that verges on dabilitating, and so many people in this world are just cruel, selfish and thoughtless.



Now that I think about it, as I was chanting I probably made Brandon feel like it was his fault, which it totally isn't. That man loves me so much. He puts up with the bad/mean things I do on purpose and snuggles me and tells me he loves me no matter how grouchy and unkind I am.



And he works so hard and gets so little in return. Which is reason number one why I'm so infuriated this morning.



Brandon works for a company (which shall remain nameless because I just can't afford to be sued for libel right now) that DOES NOT appreciate him. He's been working for them for two years and has put up with all sorts of crap from them. He moved from Calgary to Edmonton, was laid off, and then moved back to Calgary to continue working for them.



Granted, this probably wasn't the best/smartest move on his part, but the opportunity for decently paying jobs has been sparse. I'll get to that little bundle of wonderment later.



Anyway, Brandon has proven his loyalty time and time again. Finally, after more than a year working for them, they finally decided to move him from the bottom of the pile and give him a promotion. He was ecstatic! I was ecstatic, though wary. And for a few months, we were golden.



I wouldn't say I live a life of luxury. I don't go out and buy every and anything that tickles my fancy. I have a lot of self-control when it comes to spending our money and I generally run with this question in mind: Do I need it? If not, is it worth it?



So for those few months at said un-named business, we weren't living the life of money, but we were finally at a point where we didn't have to worry if our bills were going to get paid, or if renting a movie this week was going to put us past our overdraft limit. We were finally safe.



And then....



On Monday, Brandon came home from work and told me he wasn't working the next day. Even though he'd been promoted, for the past month or so, he'd been doing a job that had nothing to do with his position. He'd been invited to participate in the training required for his new position, but on Monday after he got back to the shop, he found two pieces of paper tacked up on the wall. One was a list of all those who would be participating in the training the next day, and the other was a list of people who would be doing other jobs for the day.



Brandon's name wasn't on either. Which means, his promotion was revoked.



Say what?!



I hate that saying, but seriously, WHAT?! This is absolutely ridiculous! I know Brandon had a review last week and that he'd been missing some things on his job sites, newbie mistakes, but even the vetrans at the company STILL make those mistakes and no one says a word about it and they still have jobs every day. And can someone please tell me why new guys who've only been there for a month are working, but Brandon is told to stay home?



I've told Brandon to TALK TO THEM! Tell them how he feels, give them his perspective. But he tells me he's tried, and nothing ever comes of it. So, some might ask us, why doesn't he just quit and find a new job? I've been asking him that same question for over a year. The fact is, it's a really good safety net. Brandon doesn't have any post-secondary education, and at this point, we can't afford for him to get any. And in all honesty, I don't think it would make a difference. I've got a bachelor's degree, and where do I work? At Ricky's All Day Grill in Shawnessy.



Graduates can't get a job anywhere because everyone wants five to eight years of experience. And the economy is so crappy right now that the babyboomers are coming out of retirement. Who do you think they're going to choose? The vetran who they don't have to train? Or the new guy who is eager as anything but doesn't have a lick of experience?



Boooo on the economy! BOOOOOO!



So now we're stuck between a rock and a hard place. Brandon doesn't get any respect or appreciation, but he can't quit because there aren't any employers who will hire him without experience and pay him what he's getting paid now.



I don't want it to be true, but right now.... it feels like money is everything.



This whole situation is so not my cup of tea. It's not even my cup. And all that Brandon said to me this morning after I'd finished my chanting, was "We just have to work through it". But I'm tired of just working through it. I don't want to push through all the time, head down, shoulder to the forces.



Is this all we'll ever get? A month or two every couple of years where we can finally walk at ease and breathe without having to look over our shoulders? When will "safe" replace "fear"?

The Cracks Beneath Me

Dear Ashley,

I'm sorry. I suck at writing consistent blogs. Please love me.

Cherie

This past summer I tried my hand at planting a vegetable garden. Since I'm still only renting and our yard doesn't get much sunshine, I planted my garden at my sister-in-law's house. Sadly, I planted too late in the season and only got a box full of tomatoes. And not good tomatoes. Green tomatoes. The kind of tomatoes you have to put in a paper bag above your fridge and check up on until they finally turn red and you realize you haven't checked up on them often enough because they're all soft and squishy now.

Oh well. Next year.

I also tried planting some flowers. I bought a packet of Morning Glory seeds and two large flower pots. The directions said to soak the seeds overnight and then plant them 12 inches apart. Since my flower pots were only 12 inches across, I naturally planted about 30 or so seeds in each one.

There were still quite a few seeds left over after that, so I found a 4 gallon pail, punched some holes in the bottom and very quickly realized that I didn't have enough soil to fill it up. So I filled the bottom of the pail with cardboard and paper and layered the top with the rest of my potting soil and planted the rest of my seeds. (I'd like to take this moment to say how incredibly difficult it is to plant tiny seeds that have been soaked in water. They stick to your fingers and won't let go. "Get in the dirt, you little scoundrels!" I kept telling them. "Be planted!")

As soon as I put the pots and pail in the back yard, I looked in sadness at my makeshift flower pot as the soil started to sink down into the cracks between the cardboard and newspapers. I figured I wasn't going to get any flowers out of that one.

Over the next few weeks I babied my little garden and watered it every day and moved the pots around as the shadows changed direction throughout the day. I also grumbled at the holes in the soil, obvious signs of somebody foreging for food. Either a squirell or a bird. Those little rascals.

But finally... tiny little leaves started to sprout and eventually, even two little leaves popped up in the pail. One of them ended up being a weed, but I did get one flower out of that pail!

The two pots blossomed.
But even though a little green stalk had emerged out of the pail, no flowers bloomed yet.

When the frost finally hit, I gave up on my garden. I stopped watering and stopped plucking off dead flowers and eventually it wilted and all the flowers were gone.

Until today. I've been driving to work lately but today I took the bus and on my way home, I got off the bus early so I could walk and admire what is left of the Fall colours. As I walked through the gate in my back yard, I spotted one flower still standing tall. And guess where it was.

This was a little miracle to me. It had frosted half a dozen times and even snowed a little twice. And yet, this one flower, in a crappy make-shift pot with a shallow bed of soil, that hadn't been watered for at least a month, was still there, tall and beautiful.

The flowers in the two pots were beautiful and brought me a lot of joy over the summer and it made me sad to see only one flower bloom in my 4 gallon pail. But when I saw that little flower today, I was awed.

I hope I can be like that flower for the rest of my life. Standing tall and beautiful even after the frost has come, even if I've been planted in a dingy old pail with the soil sinking down into the cracks beneath me.

I Have Lost My Friend!

My sister-in-law, Kristen, has four children under the age of seven.

Last Friday she picked me up and the six of us went off to the Farmer's Market. We wandered up and down the crowded bustling aisles comparing prices on carrots and Brussels sprouts and finally decided on one booth close to the entrance.

I stood to the side with the stroller and Kristen's three oldest children as she wandered around the booth collecting what she needed. Her youngest, Enoch, was following her around and "helping" her get some corn on the cob. He held onto one side of the bag and she held the other, but since he's so little, it was more like a leash for him. She filled the bag and guided Enoch back to the cashier.

But then she took the bag away and handed it to the lady behind the till and Enoch decided to prove, right then and there, that he is indeed, two years old.

He stood behind Kristen, arms limp, completely still, head thrown all the way back, and bawled. "WaaaaHa! WaaaaHa! WaaaaHa!" Each wail a carbon copy of the previous one. He had lost his friend. His eyes were squinted shut and he seemed completely oblivious to everything around him. This was in its truest form, a cry for attention.

The girls behind the counter, and some of the ladies in line, were giggling, and I, still off to the side with the stroller, was standing there nearly doubled over with laughter. Kristen just shook her head.

As soon as she had finished paying, she turned around and touched Enoch's shoulder, holding out the bag of corn on the cob. He slowly opened his eyes and tilted his head back down, still wailing, and took one side of the bag again. Almost instantly, the crying stopped. Kristen let go of the other side of the bag and started to walk away, leaving Enoch there to follow her back to the stroller, dragging the bag of corn behind him, his face streaked with tears. This kid has "pathetic" down to an art.

Two-year-olds: making the world a more complicated, dramatic, and entertaining place.