Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

What the heck? How did it get to be so long since I last posted?



It's been goofy around here. My deposition dry spell finally brought us to the now-or-never breaking point, so I applied for and was hired by a local convenience-store chain to work their 11-7 shift. It's not what I want to do for a living, but putting Her Nibs in day care makes me nauseous. I'm sure a day-care center would take care of her and keep her safe, but the thought of someone else savoring all of those delicious baby moments -- instead of me -- makes me sad.



The store manager is at least ten years my junior, but she seems to be sensible. She only lost a few points when she brought that difference to the forefront by commenting, "You worked for Clover? My mom used to take me there!" I guess I should be thankful that she at least heard of them.



I seriously considered a return to my old job with 9-1-1, but I really don't know whether I'm emotionally prepared for that. First, their twelve-hour shifts would seriously hinder The Oracle's seasonal basketball schedule; second, I'll probably end up being fired for refusing to work their forced overtime.



The Oracle has also a couple of career-related speed bumps ahead. He is contracted through his employer to his current company, and after ten years of a happy relationship in his position, the company selected a different firm for its staffing. Whether the new firm will hire The Oracle and his peers remains to be seen. This has me extremely nervous, and it's another reason why I applied for the convenience-store job. I figure that, if nothing else, we'll obtain health insurance in 60 days.



How did it get to be almost Father's Day? In my infinite, impulsive, lack of wisdom, I decided to invite the family for dinner on Sunday. So, instead of crisis cleaning to prepare for guests, I'm sitting her posting on Blogger. I am clearly a woman of skewed priorities.



Knucklehead is still going along. She's very wobbly in her hindquarters, but she's showing no signs of pain or discomfort. It's like she doesn't even realize it's happening. As long as she's continent, I think she'll get along fine.



My kids' school year is almost at an end. Their last day is Thursday. We'll have a ten-day lag between the end of school and the beginning of summer camp and the new set of complaints that will surely come with it.



And now it's time to pick the kids up from school. I hope to write more soon.