Saved-by-Grace-Saturday

This week's saving graces:


1) Finding my favorite (for now) box of chocolates again:

Whitman's Soho Artist Inspired Chocolates.

I discovered them last year around Christmas and then couldn't find them for a long time (and believe me, if there is anything that I believe deserves an effortful search, it is chocolate). Nowhere to be found this past year at Christmas... and now I find them as the big V-day approaches. They are beautiful. They are different. They are only $5. There are only six of them which means there is no guilt or shame in eating THE WHOLE BOX (not saying I did... not saying I didn't, just sayin' there's no shame.)

I may also have caved in my mid-week slump and ate some DQ fries with ranch... and maybe, just maybe, a blizzard. I am so weak.

2) IRS... yes, that's right, the IRS is one of my saving graces this week. I worked out our taxes last night and figured that our return will pretty much cover what we have incurred in credit card debt over the past year (i.e. out-of-state tuition costs and out-of-pocket birth costs). SCORE!!! It is such a relief, I want to go hug an IRS employee.... but I don't know any.

3) If you read my last post, you know I was bummed about blowing a job interview. I am 99.9% certain that I didn't get the job, but if they were to call I could now tell them to go suck it... of course not in those terms... or any terms, really, I still want the job down the line, so I wouldn't show any signs of rejection resentment. But, I would have to tell them, that I have other laboral obligations... yes, that's right, a job.

As I have mentioned before, I am a lowly grad student. I taught as a graduate assistant instructor for most of my graduate studies. There is this silly rule, however, that only allows you 14 semesters, no exceptions, of this kind of assistance... at least the last time I checked. Apparently, after I had already confirmed the 14 semester rule and given notice of my last semester of teaching, they added a few exceptions. I was busy having a baby and caring for a newborn so, I guess I missed all of the notices that were surely sent out to relieve grad students of the impending doom of joblessness... So, anyway, I am eligible to teach for a few more semesters. YAY!!!

As you may suspect, it is not a lucrative position. In fact, it will just barely cover child-care expenses for two lil' tykes. But I will get health benefits again, instead of paying COBRA (which has sucked big time) and I will have time to work more on my dissertation.

Watch Me Blow this Job

I had an interview for my dream job last week… in Chile. (the interview wasn’t in Chile, the job is)

Since my husband is Chilean and I have always been strangely fascinated with the whole Spanish/Latin-American “thing” we have talked about moving back to Chile to live. I have always thought that if I did live in Chile, I would want THIS job. So, after months of jobless (depressing as all hell) job-searching in this hemisphere, when this job was advertised, I figured it was DESTINY (like, what else could it be?) and I applied, ecstatically.

There were a few things that give me pause. The “chosen one” must be in Santiago at the end of January… which if you are calculating, makes for a very fast cross-continent move (which would be hell, really, for a few months)… but for this job, I am willing. It would mean at least a year of grueling work, with a full time job and trying to finish my Ph.D., long distance and get settled in a new country.... but for this job, I am willing. Plus, I do still have some unresolved feelings about living in Chile for the rest of all eternity. I lived there for almost 4 years, so I know exactly what I am getting into, but for this job (and my husband), I am willing (to at least give it a try for at least a few years—that sounds fair, right?)

Not only is it THE job I want; I think I am a really good candidate… I mean a REALLY good candidate! Like phenomenally good!

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to transmit that to my interviewers…

It was BAD.

Like SAD BAD….

No worse, like PATHETIC BAD!

First, it was a phone interview (which I hate). Second, they notified me the day before, which left me (count with me folks) exactly ONE evening of preparation (and apparently I did not prepare the right questions or research the right aspects of the company/position). Though it makes perfect sense that the interview would be conducted in Spanish, I was kind of thinking about questions in English, so when it was, indeed, in Spanish, I just felt really clumsy… which sucked, because the Spanish in my head is perfect and eloquent and smart.

So I haven’t heard back… (they may have even burned my “dossier” [as they called it]… ranting that they would never ever consider me for any position ever)

Are you thinking what I’m thinking?

I didn’t get it, did I?



That sucks…............................ I think...

Aren't You Jealous?

Our neighbor-friends hosted their 2nd Annual Seafood Boil yesterday. It looked like this:

There was crab, shrimp, crawfish, corn on the cob, baby potatoes, and garlic bread. Then we dipped everything in butter... because, as you well know, everything is better with butter. As an added bonus, we ate with our hands, which is just so satisfying at some primitive level, wouldn't you agree?

I made flan (I make awesome flan) and a chocolate cake for desert.

Everything was so good, I will be salivating until next year.

I even ate a crawfish, aren't you proud. I have eaten them before, but they were bigger, almost like a mini-lobster. These ones are so tiny, it kind of gives me the creeps. Plus the conversations on how to eat them went something like this:

L: Do you just crack open the little rib-cage open and eat them.

J: No, you break them in half and suck out the head and then....

Then... I don't know, they kind of lost me after "suck out the head." Doesn't that make you just the slightest bit queasy? I made my hubby open it for me and I just ate the tail. I'm sorry, I am a wimp.

Have you heard?... The Joy of Sex…

… has been updated.

I saw the breaking news story on The Today Show. I never read the original; it was probably already outdated by the time I was on the prowl (does that sound predatory? I should have said “on the scene.”)

The best part, for me, is that they showed these scrumptious sex scenes on the beach…

Seriously? Have you ever tried this? If you have, then you already know. If you haven’t, then please allow me the pleasure of ruining your fantasy: cold salt water and sand are not friends to intimacy. It is decidedly NOT sexy; it is downright uncomfortable. At least THAT is the word on the street, not saying I know by experience.






Whenever I see a scene like this in a movie, now I just laugh, hysterically, and think to myself: “Watch out for sea urchins… I have heard those can be painful.”

Real life sexual encounters in the great outdoors would make the best (by best, I mean most hilarious) movie scenes, don’t you agree? It never quite goes as romantically as imagined when you are at the mercy of the elements and God’s creepy-crawlies. I wish I were at liberty to swap stories. I may or may not have some very funny ones… including one that may or may not involve a pack of scavenging half-wild pigs.

Sorry, folks! That’s all you’re gettin’.

The Way it Used to Be

G used to love me best. I didn’t gloat about it; it was just the way it was. She wanted me to do everything. She wanted to be around me at all times. She loved her Papi, but only in small increments and never when she was scared or hurt.

G and I had our little thing. It went something like this:

Me: “Guess what?”

G: “I love you.”

Me: “Guess how much I love you?”

Both: “This much!” (and we hold our arms out as far as they’ll go and then we give each other a big hug)

I was initially trying to get her to say “What?” and then I would say “I love you” but it worked out this way.

Well, this is how it used to go anyway… until Papi took over the scene. Once baby Nico was born and Mami was busy… A LOT! and couldn’t do all the things she used to do for G.

Now, it is ALL about Papi. Now, I think he is great, I married him after all, but G thinks he is a rock star, that the sun rises and sets in Papi’s presence, that all things joyous and fun emanate from Papi. G wants Papi to do everything for her. She wants to be around Papi at all times. Since I am home all day with her, I am the one who gets to do most of the disciplining, which, as you know, is very enjoyable. Every time she gets a time-out she cries: “I want Papi.” When she wakes up, the first thing she asks is “Where’s Papi?” When Papi gets home from work, G wants NOTHING to do with Mami... Mami is old hat and no fun. She plays and rolls around and laughs with Papi. She wants Papi to brush her teeth; she wants Papi to put her to bed; she wants Papi to make her milk. I am not complaining that I no longer have to do all that work (and it is work, you always have to catch her first), but seriously… Papi papi papi papi papi papi, it kind of starts to get annoying, you know? And I am starting to feel like a leper.

Now, our little conversation looks like this:

Me: “Guess What?”

G: (automatically) “I love you.” (hesitation) “No, I love Papi.”

Me: “You don’t love me?”

G: “No” (pretty emphatically)

Me: “Not even a little?” (you’d think I’d muster up some dignity by this point... hmm, no... dignity is not my style)

G: “Hmm, a little.” (NOT very convincingly)

G: “But I love Papi BIG! "

She even shows me with her hands how little she loves me and how big she loves Papi. “Like this” she says, and holds out her hands.


This is how little G loves Mami:

Here is how BIG G loves Papi:





That doesn’t seem fair does it?

I mean, I don’t want to brush more teeth or wipe more little bums than necessary, but…

I WANT BIG LOVE TOO!