Life has taken a turn for the better. I was hoping, hoping, hoping that a magic job would appear out the blue for Frinklin or myself (not for lack of trying on either of our parts) and save us from the forced move back to San Diego. And...one did.

The same day my Dad called me to discuss putting our house up for rent or sale - while I was on the phone with him, no less! - Frinklin got a call from a staffing company telling him he was hired. It was 9 at night and it took a little while to sink in. A couple of phone messages later the pay rate was discussed and the offer immediately accepted.

This 3 - 4 month assignment pays very, very well. So well I could even quit my job if I had an inkling. Which I don't. But I could! And then reality sets in and I remember that this is not a permanent position. Which is fine, because I'm really enjoying my job. It's a lot of time on the phone, which is taking some getting used to. But people are genuinely excited when I call, and they call me back, which they didn't do all that much when I was in sales at Borders. Not that I wasn't a good sales person (in my humble opinion), but cold calls are a sucky way to make sales.

All this didn't do much to change the fact that we've averaged about $8 in the bank for the last couple of months. And waiting for the job to start (and the paychecks to flow) is killing me. I was lucky enough to get my retirement payout this week from the last year of state employment. So it appears we'll survive for the time being...

Posted by: Ensie at 10:46 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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I wish I could say that I wasn't expecting this, but I've learned that I am not essential to the workings of the State of Washington (although Borders does appear to be falling apart without me, just sayin').

I got to do the long walk to my boss' office this morning and after a brief chat was informed that I "have been identified for lay off." No severance. Which I suppose I can understand. State employees do get paid out for some leave, but I don't have much left - stress over the last several months has had me laid up more days than I would have liked.

Over the next 4 - 6 weeks, a "layoff committee" will search the state system for jobs that I might qualify for. Hopefully something that pays more than I'm making now, and while I'm hoping for the moon, something in Tacoma? I'll also be searching for employment on my own.

I don't know what this means for our house or possible move back to San Diego. I've declared that we were moving before when Frinklin accepted a last-minute job offer that saved our asses, until his crazy new boss fired him. He's waiting to hear on an interview from last week and has another on Thursday. If he is able to find a job we are still in a tough spot, having only one job between the two of us.

I've put in some promising applications and have my fingers crossed. I'm living the Lily Tomlin quote, "It's going to get a lot worse before it gets worse."

Posted by: Ensie at 09:25 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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I've always jokingly described myself as poor. Mostly when I didn't have enough money to pay for whatever pair of fancy shoes, exotic handbag, or some other useless item I wanted at the moment. If I didn't have the cash on hand, the item went on one of several credit cards with balances that never completely got paid off.

Sometimes the phrase, "We're so poor!" would crop up after I paid all of the household bills. While these bills never took up all of the available funds, seeing my bank account shrink all-too-rapidly the same day I received my paycheck was frustrating. My husband and I would complain to each other that we needed more money to spend on dinners out and trips to San Diego to visit my family.

In February 2008 Frinklin lost his job. We told each other it was for the best, that he hated that job, that he could now use the time to look for something he really wanted to do. Grand plans were discussed; he would go back to school, start a career in writing, or even spend more time acting! I withdrew money from my healthy 401K to pay the mortgage for a couple of months while he searched for his calling.

After a few months of anemic unemployment payments it was clear that Frinklin's search for his perfect job would have to be reexamined. The few writing gigs he had picked up paid next-to-nothing and steady income was required to maintain our standard of living. Our conversations often started with, "I know you don't want to stay in medical billing but..." Dreams were set aside, and Frinklin began sending out resumes in his field.

In April things at my company took a turn for the worse. Instead of the much-anticipated (and hopefully, much sales generating) website launch happening in January, it was pushed to a later month. And pushed again to an unknown date. A short essay entitled "Why I Should Get to Keep My Only Method of Communication" was required in order to keep your BlackBerry or cell phone from being confiscated (although in many cases, it still was). Travel budgets were eliminated. The word "layoffs" began to be whispered around the halls.

Despite assurances from my boss that my job was safe, I applied for a position with a non-profit that solicited book donations for poor children around the world. The pay was comparable with what I was currently making, the people were nice, and I was convinced I would get it. While on a self-financed trip to an industry trade show in LA I networked for my current position as well as my potential new job. A few days later I received a call notifying me that my department had been slashed and I was a casualty. I spent two hours frantically contacting my customers and e-mailing myself documents and contacts from my work account until I was cut off. After 11 years at the same company I was set free with a couple of month's severance and instructions on how to set up Cobra health insurance.

I didn't get the non-profit job.

No problem, right? I have severance, and unemployment and Frinklin's unemployment. I'll start up an Amazon store and sell the extra books I accumulated over the years. We're good for a little while. And I'm sure he'll have a job any second now. And it will give me time to look for something I really want to doÂ…

After two months of searching for a job, a position opened up at a (sort of) local school for the developmentally delayed. A friend employed there made sure my resume made the top of the interview pile. After a couple of nerve-wracking weeks I was in – I had a new job! When my first paycheck arrived it was less than I made on unemployment.

Frinklin continued to search. Tallying up the number of resumes sent out, he had submitted over 2,000 in the last 4 months. While he had a number of successful interviews, none materialized into actual paying jobs. He began to search the local retail outlets for something – anything. Even part-time work would be a blessing. Along with the housing market, the job market was tanking.

I continued to mine my 401K for mortgage payments (as well as a few other necessities, like car payments) and started worrying about the remaining balance. Maybe I wouldn't be rolling it into an IRA anytime soon. My credit cards were melting at the edges from their frequent use on groceries, gas and other essentials. We stopped going out to eat. We stopped going out, period. Our active social life, it turns out, revolved around money - dinners, movies, pedicures (for me, anyway). Goodbye cable. See you Netflix. Sayonara Paperspine.

In August my severance ran out. In October we stopped paying our mortgage. The two events were not unrelated. My 401K ran dry. I called the lien holder on our house to discuss our options. After waiting on hold for 43 minutes, I was told several times, by several people, that unless I could make the total monthly payment they would not like to have any payment. No partials, no breaking it down, no interest-only options. But please give them a call as soon as I was ready to pay the current and any outstanding balance in full. Perfect.

Frinklin's unemployment ran out, but after a week-long hiccup was extended for another 13 weeks. Past due notices were piling up. I stopped opening them, something I had never done before. I hid from the mailman. I started searching for a second job. The land line phone was disconnected because it cost an extra $30 a month, plus the only calls we seemed to receive were creditors. Even worse, as Frinklin's parents traded off being unemployed for a few months, their home went into foreclosure.

The holidays were a bust. Our oldest dog went downhill suddenly and had to be put to sleep the week before Thanksgiving. I realized I really missed being able to pick out special gifts for everyone. I know it's materialistic and wrong to say such a thing, but I prided myself on being an excellent gift giver. My family sent much appreciated gift cards. I declined decorating the house and we skipped getting a tree. Save for a couple of (quite fun) parties, we avoided talking about Christmas.

I experimented with stopping my anti-depressant medications I had been taking for two years. It was costing us a couple hundred dollars every month, something we desperately needed. I started having panic attacks (probably justified) about losing our house and having to send our two remaining dogs and five cats to the humane society. I was only getting a couple of hours of sleep every night. I'm ashamed to say I started blaming Frinklin for his inability to get a job – something he worked at night and day.

January kicked off with something new from the mortgage company – a warning of impending foreclosure. Unless we could come up with several thousand dollars fast, our house wouldn't be ours for much longer. Tearful phone calls were made and my parents saved the day. Despite my own father being laid off in December, his lengthy severance package, consulting income, and a new job allowed for some financial assistance.

Last Friday my in-laws' house sold at auction. Several months ago they had discussed living in an empty house owned by another family member for a period of time while they saved for an apartment (and my father-in-law found a job). When the phone call was made to discuss the arrangements for move-in the empty house suddenly became unavailable. And when I say "unavailable" I mean that it's still there, empty, but the family member would prefer that it remain that way. Frinklin's parents would be homeless in 20 days.

So we're getting roommates. I didn't struggle with the decision to invite them into our home, but I'm not exactly pleased we'll be sharing a tiny house with two people, three dogs, and another cat. I'm trying to remain gracious and understanding, to make them feel welcome and not resented. But it's hard. They won't be paying rent, but will help out with utilities. It will take a tiny bit of weight off our shoulders, all while sharing one bathroom.

While writing this entry, we were waiting to hear back on a very successful series of interviews Frinklin had been on with a Seattle hospital. We got the news yesterday that they have decided not to hire him. I wanted to call the hospital and tell them how great my husband is, how this job would be perfect for him and how by giving it to him they would be saving us. But making myself sound desperate and crazy probably wouldn't win him any points.

Because of the generosity of my family we still have our home and I'm able to keep taking my (much needed, it turns out) anti-depressant medication. We're learning to live on $40 a week. I wish I could be more hopeful, but the last year has taught me that things can always get worse. I've cried buckets over losing my old job, the one that was so perfect for me in retrospect. We both wonder if the decision to move to Tacoma from San Diego was a good one – if things would be different if we were still in California.

So blogging has fallen by the wayside over the last few months. The only thing I've been able to concentrate on is getting to work and making it home. I'd love to report that my marriage is stronger, that this has drawn us closer together, and in some ways it might have, but this year has also taken its toll on both of us.

I wish I had some profound statement, or even one of those crappy clichés ("God never closes a door but he opens a window") to place here along with a story about how things are turning around. But I'm still waiting for the breeze from that open window to tell me that the winds are changing.

Posted by: Ensie at 07:25 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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1 Ensie, I wish there was something more I could do aside from telling you that I am thinking of you both and hope that things work out and damn soon. Sometimes life just sucks and there's no getting around it. There's nothing anyone can say to make it better...You just have to plow through it and hope you make it to the other side mostly intact. Remember that you are stronger than you think. *Hugs* - Lynn

Posted by: Lynn at January 28, 2009 10:35 AM (5Sevo)

2 This is the year of the Ox, and that is supposed to be a sign of prosperity. Frinklin and I are both "oxen," but so far prosperity has a habit of passing me by like a comet, always on its way somewhere else. Maybe this year it will land in our backyard. Stop by if you need some space from your roommates. I'm always here, watchin tv and drinking wine in the dark

Posted by: Jen at February 02, 2009 07:48 PM (LMqvC)

3 I wanted to let you know that I am thinking about you and sending you my love. I miss you.

Posted by: meagan Knepp at March 19, 2009 05:30 AM (BV9Ko)

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Life has been...different...lately.

I always thought that when people joked about state employment they were just exaggerating. There was no way that it was as bad as they described. There had to be people who were invested in their jobs and worked at a normal pace, right? Not everyone could be a clock-watching Union member biding their time until retirement, right? At least the people I would be working with would be committed to their jobs, right?

Right?

Apparently not.

I should say now that there are several people in my office that are great to work with and have taught me a lot. They've been nothing but supportive and work hard every day. I enjoy working with them and would happily do so anywhere.

But now, the Dark Side:

There are a number of people I am required to have interaction with who do nothing but drag down my day. They spend more time whining about their jobs than doing them, and getting what I need from them is like pulling teeth. In the last three weeks I've had the following occur:

-- After placing a recycling bin next to the trash can near the fax machine I was told, "you don't have jurisdiction over us - you can't MAKE us recycle!" and then was forced to play hide and seek with the recycling bin for a week (please note that state agencies are required to recycle).

-- Been informed by one person in Payroll that he will not use e-mail. WTF?!? He requires that all communication be sent to him via Post-It. POST-IT. If it doesn't fit he wants it on multiple Post-Its. How is this allowed??

-- Multiple people have advised me to "pace yourself" or "slow down" because I work too quickly and continuously run out of things to do. I'm not going to slow down just because everyone else is working at a snail's pace. Speed the fuck up.

-- After touching a file on someone's desk, a Supervisor was informed that I "went through" that person's desk. After explaining that I glanced at the contents of the folder because the owner of said person's desk would not get back to me via e-mail (see above) and I thought I could get the answer I needed from the folder. Everything was fine after my discussion with the supervisor, but it was truly a mountain out of a molehill.

This is a sampling of the major BS that I've dealt with since starting my state job. It really emanates from a group of just a few people, and the majority have been great, but dealing with just those few can really fuck up your day. In addition the pettiness - and downright meanness - level is unbelievable; it reminds me of junior high school.

I really want to do well in this new position, but it's been a while since I've been the low person on the totem pole. I'm not used to having to ask for permission to do everything, and I've never worked in such a process-oriented organization before. It's hard to keep from stepping on toes, especially in a place where people can hold grudges against you forever. My office mate actually took two months off after starting due to workplace stress from workplace relationships.

I know I'm making this sound like a terrible job, but it's really not. I'm enjoying the work. I've always loved what I've been hired to do, and I'd love to make a career of it. I'm not heavily supervised, I'm given a lot of freedom to take breaks and lunch when I want, so my schedule is my own. Most of the people I work with are great, and have been extremely supportive.

At this point, I'm going to continue on and do my best to keep the drama to a minimum. Hopefully things will quiet down as time goes on and I settle in.

I'm counting on it.

Posted by: Ensie at 07:29 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Tonight, on what feels like the hottest night of the year, I'm feeling nostalgic. I want to blame it on the Summer Olympics, or the fact that for the first time in 11 years I'm starting a new job, or possibly my 32nd birthday that passed relatively quietly last Sunday (a little too quietly dear family --ahem-- not a single call from anyone? Katie, still waiting to hear from you?). But it's really the warm August weather, and the fact that I've been spending too much time on Facebook.

I KNOW. Okay. I sound like an idiotic teenager.

But something interesting happened after I started using the Facebook account I signed up for two years ago and hadn't touched until a month ago. I ran into a couple of friends I hadn't heard from in a long time. Friends I really hadn't talked to since high school. And then I decided to look for someone I really wanted to talk to, a friend from England that I haven't spoken to in a a while, and I found her, which connected me to someone I wasn't expecting to see, my first girlfriend from years ago.

Which brings me back to the nostalgic feeling.

Every year about this time I get a little bit "Camp Sick." Once upon a time I was a camp counselor at Camp Winacka Girl Scout Camp in San Diego. I was hired as I was graduating high school and did the job for two and a half summers (leaving part way through my third summer ill with mono). The job involved spending just over two months in a rustic cabin camping situation with kids ranging in age from 5 - 18. Sometimes the campers were even a few months older than we were as counselors. Most of my time was spent at Rocky Ridge, with the horses.

Every single day it was hot. And not 80 or 90 degrees, I'm talking close to or over 100 degrees. Sweating was a way of life. I remember being miserably hot. But I don't remember being unhappy. I remember everyone glowing with healthy tans, hiking everywhere, and sleeping in open-air cabins or under the stars in the few cool hours we got ever night. Rarely did I go to bed before 2AM. Late evening were the only time staff had to spend together camper-free for meetings or, lets face it, to flirt. We gladly awoke at 5AM with red, bleary eyes and intimate knowledge of our coworkers. Get your minds out of the gutter, we were just talking for Gawd's sake!

During that time, every emotion felt raw, and every nerve felt alive in that way that it does when you're a teenager and everything is life and death. I had my first taste of living away from home and was falling in love for the first time, a relationship that was fraught with drama that thankfully has become a good friendship this many years later.

Re-reading my journal entries from that time (something I rarely do) finds far too many with statements overwrought with emotion I could barely contain. I wrote like crazy at the time (I remember having to leave meals or other events sometimes and frantically search out paper and pen to unleash my feelings somewhere), unsure of what to do about caring for another woman so strongly. I couldn't even tell her!

My favorite night was spent with my British friend, Scotty, at Sunset Rock, so named because it overlooked a large valley from an outcropping and you would sit and watch gorgeous sunsets from that vantage point. One evening we climbed to Sunset Rock after dark and laid out on the warm stone. Looking up we counted over 60 shooting stars she listened to me tell her what I had been keeping secret all Summer long. I don't remember what she said to me, or if she hugged me, but I do remember that I felt reassured and loved, and that nothing changed.

That is the night that I feel a sweet longing for on hot, sweaty days. I even miss the sharp pain and intense sting of those feelings I had those summers. But I've given in to maturity and anti-depressants.

All I feel is the heat.

Posted by: Ensie at 03:14 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Jesus Christ. I slack off for a little while around here and the place goes to shit. My stats are down, my biggest search result is for "Afrin Addiction" (even, it appears, someone looking for Afrin addicts for a national TV show?! Too bad I've been ill!) and my main page is showing nothing.

Time to get crackin'!

I've been laid up in bed for the last week fighting off a giant wad of mucus that lodged itself inside my sinuses. I had to use the Neti pot every two hours for several days to clean out my insides. It was just this mass of nastiness that came pouring out every time I would blow my nose. So pretty. I'll spare you any more details on that front. Also blessed with a raging sore throat, I finally gave in and went to the doctor on Saturday after my fever spiked at 101 degrees Friday night. He gave me antibiotics for a sinus infection but swears that it's all allergy related. Thanks Doc. I can barely afford to pay for this visit, but I'll schedule a trip to the allergist ASAP! Just give me the drugs and get me home.

Finally able to get out of bed for decent stretches of time, I've got to get the house in order for my family that's coming to town next Monday. I'm sure a thorough house cleaning won't stir up anything I might be allergic to!

And then there's The Jeffrey incident...

Saturday evening I sent Frinklin out to play with Kevin and a bunch of friends from Frost Park. They went to dinner and the Dock Yard Derby Dames bout. I was bummed to miss it, but had no voice nor lungs with which to cheer. He had a great time, but upon returning home at 10 PM that evening the dogs were bouncing around like crazy things. I was trying to settle them down when Perdita decided that she MUST have the thing that Jeffrey was chewing on in his excitement.

Jeffrey was lying on the end of our bed and Perdi leaped on his head, growling. When Jeffrey growled back in a playful way, she took it seriously and latched onto his head. Frinklin immediately pulled Perdi off The Jeffrey, but she seemed to be caught, and a moment later when she came away, we could see why. In the 5 seconds that the minor argument over a stupid dog toy had taken, she had torn open the front edge of his ear and it was gushing blood. Blood all over me, all over the bedspread, all over the floor, the wall - everywhere. It was like a B-grade slasher movie in our bedroom and The Jeffrey was the victim.

Suddenly I felt great. All the adrenaline in my body shut down the sick molecules and I felt 110%. I brought The Jeffrey into the dining room to look at his dripping ear and started issuing commands:

"Honey, can you please get me a towel to hold to his ear? It's not deep, it's just bleeding a lot. And then I need to get dressed so we can take him to the emergency vet. Did you check to make sure Perdi was OK before you put her in her crate? Can you hold him please? Hold the towel here. I'm going to put my bra on so we can go!"

Two minutes later we were in the car, Frinklin driving and me sitting with The Jeffrey. The emergency vet visit was quick. Upon examination she decided he needed surgery to cut away a strip and sew up the laceration. A few facial cuts had to be dressed and tended. Pick up at 1 AM. As we said goodbye and paid (in advance, of course) my adrenaline wore off and the sleeping pill I had taken at 9:30 (so long ago!) caught up with me. Woozy and stumbling, I slurred my speech as I spoke to the receptionist. Thank God Frinklin was with it.

I barely woke up when my pup came home in the middle of the night. He had to be lifted onto our bed where he sleeps with us. The next morning I awoke to a very, very unhappy dog.

In this one you can really see the how he looks like a beat up boxer...

Poor thing. He looked like a lopsided mummy for a day, but the bandages came off this morning and he's outside lying in the sunshine right now. The are no hard feelings between he and Perdita.

Posted by: Ensie at 02:04 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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As an outside sales person, I fought for years for a Blackberry. I never did get one. None of our 60+ sales force throughout the United States was ever given the one tool that could have made our lives so much easier. Then again, I was only given a laptop a few years ago.

When I actually went to my boss and asked for the specific reasons I was not allowed to have a Blackberry I was given these answers:

1. They cost $500! We can't have just anyone running around with such an expensive piece of equipment.

2. You'll have to be available and more responsive to your customers, and do you really want to have to do that?

3. When traveling, you can always stop at a coffee shop that has Wi-Fi, get a cup of coffee (not paid for by Bob's Hogs), and check your email on your laptop.

4. (After a meeting with my #1 customer where response time was the #1 reason they said they often went with us and actually suggested that I be given a Blackberry to increase our business with them) "First lets see the business increase, that I'll look into getting you a Blackberry." Huh?

I can't tell you the number of significant sales I've lost over the years because I was traveling and couldn't get to my email, or had to ridiculously ask my high profile customers to call me with a huge proposal instead of just being able to read the stupid thing online.

So, a week after almost our entire sales force was cut, I walked my ass into the local AT&T store to pick up a smart phone. No more crappy-ass Razr for me (man, I hated that thing). I immediately gravitated toward the Blackberry Pearl, but the double button typing immediately put me off. I checked out the Blackberry Curve, which I thought I wanted, until I saw the Blackjack II....

I debated for a few minutes until I saw the difference between the Blackberry and Blackjack browsers, and the ease in use. The Blackjack just feels more intuitive. I was able to take it home and set it up quickly. I was downloading applications, getting new ring tones, and customizing it immediately, something I've seen Blackberry users struggle with.

It holds up to 10 email accounts, I can use both Opera and IE to browse, Frinklin found Octrotalk for me so that I can use GChat in addition to texting...what more could I ask for?

Posted by: Ensie at 04:06 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Squeeee!

I'm totally in the new Tacoma City Arts magazine this month - the July issue with Deborah Ritchie on the cover. It's now monthly, and it's just out. Apparently copies are now available at the Stadium Thriftway, but I haven't seen them anyplace else yet.

Looking through the current issue, it looks like a really good one. The piece on Deborah Ritchie of Deborah Page, the highlight of Frost Park's Chalk Off, the preview of the Tall Ships festival...I'm really looking forward to reading through the entire thing.

And why am I in the mag you may ask? Just a quick question about what I'm reading recently, in which I mention Jenette Faluda's book Half-Assed: A Weight Loss Memoir, which you can see a preview of here:

You can also check out her blog Half of Me here, where she goes by the handle "Pasta Queen".

Her book is an interesting look at what it's like to go from over 300 lbs. to half that weight, and the mental and physical adjustments that come with that change. Faluda lost the weight on her own, without the help of diet programs, and continues to maintain her weight loss, holding herself accountable to her own conscience and her blog readers.

Posted by: Ensie at 12:42 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Let the word eating begin.

I didn't get the job that I was already doing in my head. In fact, I wasn't just doing it in my head, I was making connections at BEA that I thought might be beneficial. I wasn't telling anyone I had the job or anything, but I was picking up business cards and saying I might be in contact with them in the near future.

It's hard to admit that my gut feeling was wrong when it's never been before. I've always been right about this sort of thing in the past, from the time I was a teenager. Maybe eleven years of working for the same company has thrown me off.

Posted by: Ensie at 11:10 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I never really wrote about attending the Emerald City Comicon, although I really should have. I always seem to pick up really interesting art instead of just comics at these things. It's a tradition. A couple of years ago I picked up Chris Malidore's The Revolution Has Begun penguin art. This has disturbed visitors to my desk ever since. He's expanded since then and created the Survivalist Penguin, and a couple of others that he doesn't appear to have on his website yet. You can pick up his art locally at Spy Comics in Federal Way.

This year I fell in love with a couple of pieces by Katy Hargrove. She grabbed my attention by wearing a massive headdress (relatively effortlessly) while she worked her table). Her portfolio included a lot of fabulous creations, but what really caught my eye were her cockatiel pieces. I quickly snapped up buttons of both, sharing the story of my own recent cockatiel loss.

Never one to shy away from controversy, before leaving the table I had to take a peek under the "18 and over" page that covered a framed piece of art. I was delighted to find a hysterical looking boob streaking across a blue background. I debated buying it then and there, but nearing the end of my set budget for the day, I decided against the purchase.

Over a delicious dinner that evening at Redfin Sushi I told my group of friends that I wished I had the space in my home for a "weird art" gallery. A place where I could place all my odd purchases and never regret them. Not that these pieces wouldn't be beautiful or excellent examples of their genre, just that they may be quirky or bought just for me. A place I could put my framed, freaked out boob; had I brought it home.

I stayed home on the second day of the 'con, while Frinklin wanted to go back with friends. While there, he saw that the boob had not yet sold and made the executive decision to purchase it and make it mine.

While I don't yet have a house large enough to have a room devoted to my own art collection, I'm sure I'll find a space for it. In the meantime, it's making me laugh every time I see it.

Posted by: Ensie at 11:05 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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It appears that laundry problems are going around.

A little over a week ago my less-than-a-year-old washing machine died what appeared to be a relatively undramatic death. The spin cycle ceased to work, prompting a call to an appliance repairman. I hoped for a belt replacement or the like, but after a relatively short inspection, it was declaired that the machine's computer had died and it would be at least $450 to repair with labor. Considering the fact that I had paid less than that for the entire machine just a short time ago, replacement, rather than repair sounded like the better option.

Frinklin and I hit up the Sears Outlet off of Sixth Ave to find a (hopefully) inexpensive replacement. There was very little to choose from in our price range, and after a pushy salesman pushed a little too hard, we walked out without anything.

What I really wanted was to find the man that sold me my original washing machine three years ago. He refurbishes old washing machines and dryers and when we moved to Washington and needed something cheap and fast we found his number in the paper and bought an old (15 years plus) machine for very little.

While I was on vacation in San Diego over the last week Frinklin spent time doing laundry at a local laundromat. Things went fine until the last day when he took in our 8-year-old feather bed that exploded in a washing machine and left a huge pile of feathers behind - enough to fill an entire laundry basket. The owner of the laundromat was less than happy with him.

It was time for us to find a washing machine - pronto.

Luck was on our side. After a couple of phone calls to numbers in the News Tribune, we found Bill, the gentleman we had bought our original washing machine from years ago. After some assistance moving out our old machine from Mr. Freitas, we picked up a brand new machine in Lakewood, its only problem being a punctured cabinet from a forklift accident that has since been replaced. Bill gave us $50 for our old machine (Yay! No lawn ornament!) and a one year parts, labor, or exchange warranty. Kevin was once again on hand to move the machine upstairs, I connected the water hookups, and everything was a go.

Our new washing machine is fantastic. It's much better balanced than our last and hasn't balked at taking on our king sized comforter or a couple of massive dog beds. If anyone needs a good place to buy a washer or dryer, I highly recommend Bill in Lakewood.

Posted by: Ensie at 08:11 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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When I was new to the Pacific Northwest and still missing absolutely everything Southern California with an ache that would never end I went on a cereal eating binge. I lived on cereal. And not just any random cereal. For some reason I chose Honey Nut Shredded Wheat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for over three months (apparently I'm not the only one to do this). I went through a box every couple of days, four or five boxes a week. I would supplement occasionally with meals out, but that was essentially what I lived off of.

At the time I was severely depressed and didn't have any friends in my new home to find my behavior odd. Just one husband who gamely kept me supplied and a therapist who told me that as long as the cereal wasn't hurting me she didn't see anything wrong with it. After three or four months I found the right mix of medication, the homesickness began to lift, and the cereal hunger lifted. I still wanted cereal, but just for breakfast, and maybe could I have something different?

Until last night I hadn't touched Honey Nut Shredded Wheat in two years. But last night there was a Cereal Party at the House of Freitai and as a nod to those sad months I brought a box of my OCD food of choice for others to share. I also brought along a box of my current fav - Special K with Strawberries, which I have each morning.

Frinklin brought a couple of his favorites, as did everyone else. We each gave a quick speech about why had brought our specific choices before diving into the selections. Surprisingly with nine different types to choose from, no one had duplicated anything. Sarah brought bananas and there were several options for milk - nonfat, reduced fat, whole, soy, and chocolate.

I didn't grow up in a house where sugary cereals were allowed and because of that sugary cereals taste SO sweet to me. We didn't have anything overly sugary represented last night other than CoCo Puffs, which I didn't eat (other than a bite of Kevin's terrifying chocolate nightmare). I did enjoy small bowls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch (sweet, but not overly so), Rice Krispies (with a bit of honey, the way my Grandma used to make them for me), Apple Jacks (yuck), mix of Rice Krispies and Cocoa Krispies (OK, but I don't like chocolate cereal).

I'm sure this will become a regular tradition. As you can see, we are serious about our cereal.

Posted by: Ensie at 04:00 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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I have a long history of locking myself out of things. I'm really good at locking myself out of various vehicles. I went through a stretch where I did it weekly, sometimes twice a week. Twice I did it while the car was RUNNING. I'm pretty proud of that accomplishment.

I've been locked out of my computer more times that I can tell you. Or various websites that I swear I can remember the password for, but upon my three attempts suddenly find that I need to call customer service because I no longer have any type of access. I finally had to create a hidden secret "cheat sheet" that I use to get to the various portals around the internets.

I thought I'd really done it a couple of years ago when Frinklin and I locked our selves IN our house. Yes you read that correctly. IN the house.

The deadbolt to the front door broke due to shoddy workmanship of the previous owner (a reccurring theme) and since we don't own a key to the back door, and our back gates are padlocked shut (a detail that will become important later in this blog entry) we were trapped. A very kind locksmith came and removed the deadbolt, re-keyed the front door, and fixed the crappy job the last owner had done with the whole thing. I highly recommend Jack at Security Lock, Safe, and Alarm.

I really didn't think it would be possible to top locking myself IN my house. But yesterday I did it.

Yesterday I locked myself in my backyard.

Really, it was all the cats' fault. But lets back up.

Remember how I told you earlier that there is no key to the back door and the gates are padlocked shut? We've been having issues with the back door not shutting all the way unless the deadbolt is thrown. The wind will push it open and 4 of our 5 indoor only cats will sneak outside to frolic on the deck, eventually making their way under the house.

Yesterday I happened to be walking past the back door and noticed it was waving gently in the afternoon breeze. Immediately panicking I jumped into action and ran outside. All four adventurous cats were outside. Making a grab for the one closest (Clyde), I felt fur and threw him in the house, slamming the door behind me. One down and three to go! An orange streak flew past my feet. Percy! I snatched him up and grabbed the door handle, leaning in to open the--ow! Open the--

Oh for fucks sake. I hadn't latched the deadbolt, but the small doorknob lock was thrown and it was good and closed this time. As Percy squirmed in my arms I grabbed for another orange kitty and picked up a clawing mass of Barney. As his talons sank into my body I thought, "this is bad." Turning to the right, I watched as Moby slipped under the house.

As I lost more and more blood from Barney's slashes I realized I was going to have to let the cats go, even if they did go under the house. I was either going to need to try to climb through a window (all locked), climb the fence (six feet high), or find a friendly neighbor with a cell phone to help. Fortunately, a friendly neighbor happened to be standing just on the other side of the fence.

"Excuse me?" I called, trying not to look insane with orange cats dangling from my limbs. "I have locked myself in my backyard and am in need of a phone. May I borrow yours?" Hopefully proper grammar and being the picture of politeness would help my cause.

"Uh, IN your backyard?" replied the kind neighbor.

"Yes. You see, my door is locked from the inside and I lack a key (Ow! Barney stop it!). And my gates are padlocked (Dammit! Ow!)." (Big smile)

"Sure." Kind neighbor tosses cell phone to me over fence. I should explain at this point that Frinklin was out assisting friends with their 72 Hour Films Festival (tickets on sale now!) submission. I called him. And called him. And called him. Angels be praised - on the third try he picked up. I make no apologies for the messages left that sound something like, "Iamtrappedinthegoddamnbackyardandyouarenotpickingupyourcellphonewherethefuck
areyourightnowIreallyneedyoutocomehomeandhelpme!" To his credit as soon as he did pick up the phone Kevin, Joe, and Frinklin did rush home to rescue me. I sulkily entered the house, sans cats.

Ah yes. The cats.

The next three hours of my life were devoted to cajoling two stubborn kitties out from the tiny (non) crawl space of the house. Percy decided he'd had enough of the great outdoors and came quietly, but Barney and Moby found a playground of smells, sights, and a possible doorway to a wonderland of adventure through that little gap in the concrete. I'd like to say that Frinklin and I tempted the cats by calling their names and offering them treats, but that did absolutely nothing for 2 hours and 45 minutes. Also ineffectual; lying on a towel to avoid dirt and other backyard debris while peering under the house with an industrial strength flashlight (although I got a close up look at one of our air vents). The best technique was to stand absolutely silent and still for 10 or 15 minutes, pretending to be a part of the house, then pounce when the cat came out to explore. Good to know for future reference.

I really need to get the back door re-keyed so that we can unlock it normally. And probably need to have the entire thing worked on so that it actually stays closed when the wind is blowing. Hopefully I'm working a good average and I won't lock myself back there again for another three years, minimum.

Bonus trapped in moment! Trapped IN my pants!

Posted by: Ensie at 12:50 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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1 Dang. What a crazy afternoon/evening. And you handled the situation much better than I would have. At the point I would've realized I'd locked myself in the backyard, my head would've just asploded.

Posted by: Cassioposa at May 04, 2008 04:54 PM (/fI+2)

2 damn. I would have.... um... I dunno. Uttered alot of curses. Many of them well-conjugated strings of cursewords. I can demonstrate that curse-conjugation skill for you someday, if you like, though I suspect you may have the skill within you.... Nice to know your peaceable kingdom is all well again

Posted by: JCBetty at May 04, 2008 09:46 PM (lvOTL)

3 This is something I would do. Glad you got all your various cats back inside.

Posted by: Jenyum/Tacomamama at May 06, 2008 03:58 PM (LMqvC)

4 JCBetty, Oh, I uttered A LOT of swear words. Don't worry. I may have even been speaking in tongues at one point. It was not pretty. I'm surprised I didn't scare away the Kind Neighbor. Fortunately I didn't though, and he stuck around long enough to lend his phone.

Posted by: ensie at May 07, 2008 12:49 AM (0Y/90)

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This morning started off rough.

Frinklin got up early to help out friends with their 72 hour film festival submission only to find that one of our cars was broken into overnight. It was nothing terribly dramatic, and unfortunately (or fortunately, since it meant there was little damage to the car) it was a situation where one of the doors didn't close properly and was jimmied open. Everthing in the vehicle had been rifled through but the person who broke in only stole my expensive and very cool pea coat. Note to self: don't leave expensive and cool stuff in car.

In the grand scheme of things this isn't a huge deal. The car is relatively unscathed, nothing major was taken, and both Frinklin and I are mostly just annoyed. But it's unsettling to have someone violate your privacy and your space. This is the second time that Frinklin and I have been robbed. Both times it has been due to a door left ajar; last time it was in an old apartment we couldn't wait to move out of in 2001.

Before moving to Tacoma I received a lot of half-joking warning about the crime rate here. I, myself, have joked about livng in a city where crime is just considered part of daily life. A few months after moving here Violet came to visit from Chicago (where she was terrified of living in her own haunted house and somewhat crime-ridden neighborhood alone). Her first night in town we told her we lived in "the good part of Tacoma" with a lower crime rate, "less violent crimes."

Frinklin went on to say, "We do tend to have a lot of kidnappers and serial killers though," naming Ted Bundy and a couple of others. We laughed it off (I know I'm going to hell) and got ready for bed.

Just as we were readying the pull-out couch Violet looked outside and asked, "Are those police lights?" We all rushed to the window to see cops blocking off our street and officers with German Shepherds marching up and down our block. A helicopter began circling overhead and spotlights swept the ground. Frinklin called the non-emergency police number and was told in a stern voice to, "Stay inside. Lock the doors. Do not exit the house unless instructed to by a uniformed police officer." Oh. Great.

Violet told us the next morning she slept better that night than she had in months.

"The police were everywhere! I felt so safe!" she smiled.

The TPD is no longer hovering around my house and even when I call them to report a prowler they don't bother to stop by. I've had my car egged twice, my mail stolen, the guy trying to get into the backyard, and now the car, all in three year. But I feel relatively safe due to the 90 lb. German Shepherd/Pit Bull (who's my puppy?) that doesn't like strangers sleeping next to me at night.

It's just emotionally draining to have someone violate your space and have to put your stuff back together again. And there's the enevitable "what if" thoughts that haunt you. What if they come back? What if they took something I didn't notice? What if they try to break into my house next? What if they hurt my animals? What if they hurt my husband or me?

I'm tired of thinking these thoughts. What I'd really like to do is leave a big 'ol sign on my car that says, "Hi. This message is for the person who broke into my car and stole my coat. I've lived in Tacoma long enough to know that a video camera is the best way to keep your property safe. Bring back the coat - put it on the front porch. I've got you on tape breaking into the car. If you don't return the coat within 48 hours, I'm turning in the tape to the Tacoma Police Department. Thanks."

Posted by: Ensie at 12:14 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Tonight I had my first bad experience at The Hub. Which is really unfortunate, considering the fact that I've had really great experiences there previously. I wouldn't normally write about one bad time at a restaurant, except that not only was the food not good, but the service was bad too.

First - let me say that I was there the week The Hub opened in a group of 8 people and our waiter was fantastic and the food was delicious. Then was back last week and the waiter was almost oppressive he was so attentive. Kevin declared his steak "possibly the best in Tacoma" which is saying a lot considering what quality steaks there are to be had. I had pizzas both time and both were good.

So tonight I sat in the bar side of The Hub for the first time with Frinklin, Cassioposa, and Angela. Cassioposa got there first and ordered a glass of wine, only to be told five minutes after ordering that her chosen red was not available. After choosing another the waitress returned again and told her, again, that they were out. Cassie finally asked, "What is available?" and was told, "Oh, pretty much everything..." Not helpful. Fortunately her third choice actually was in stock.

Once we were all seated and ordered drinks it took a good 15 minutes to flag down our server. Granted, the restaurant was busy, but not frantic. We placed an order of fries as an appetizer and proceeded to order our entrees. A ceasar sald for Cassie, a pizza for Frinklin, chicken picatta for Angela, and the flat-iron steak for myself, asking that the fries be substituted with mashed potatoes. I sensed trouble as our waitress didn't bother to ask how I preferred my steak.

Our fries never came. When our food showed and I asked I was told it was a side order. I love it when servers tell you what you ordered. It's not that there can't be a misunderstanding - it's just that I know what I wanted, so I'm not the one that's wrong. The order for fries finally went in at that point.

My steak came, as did Angela's chicken picatta - with fries. When I stated that I wanted mashed potatoes my steak was sent back, only to be returned shortly with word from the kitchen that the restaurant was out of regular potatoes. It was just that no one had informed the wait staff. There was no opportunity for them to warn any patrons that their meal may need substitutions or the like.

At this point we were all starving. I ate my steak (tasty, but cooked more than I would like) with sweet potato frites and three of the saddest asperagus you have ever seen. As Angela said, "I would have been embarrased to plate those!" She half-heartedly picked through her over-peppered, tomato covered, so-so chicken picatta. Frinklin's pizza and Cassie's salad were pretty good, although Frinklin noted his pizza was a good couple inches smaller in diameter than it had been in the past. Our french fry appetizer (made from yams, lest you believe they had received a shipment of regular potatoes) showed up half way through our meal.

When our checks arrived our sever was kind enough to discount my steak and remove the cost of the appetizer completely. It was explained to us that the Head Chef walked out earlier today and that the Bar Manager had also quit. That could definitely explain the irregularity in our meals. While we sat and discussed this development and our meal our drinks were collected and table began to be bussed as though we were not sitting and chatting. There was no reason to throw us out, as there were plenty of empty tables, but we took this as our cue to leave.

I don't know exactly how much the Head Chef and/or the Bar Manager have an effect on the Serving Staff at a restaurant, but it seemed as though our waitress had no idea what was going on this evening. I don't think I'll be sitting in the bar section again. I hope it was just a fluke and that The Hub find a new Head Chef and Bar Manager soon.

Posted by: Ensie at 09:18 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
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There's been a lot going on and I've steadfastly refused to blog about it. I'm not exactly sure why. Maybe it's the fact that it has to do with money and the lack thereof. Or the fact that some of it's job related, or again, the lack thereof. I can tell you that I've felt overwhelmed and exhausted when it comes to dealing with life and have spent far too much time curled up in bed as of late. Then again - at least I'm not out spending any money.

Frinklin's job search is on it's eighth or ninth week now. He's sent out a couple of hundred resumes and has had something like four interviews, which s a little disheartening. It's not that his job skills are lacking or resume is poor, it's that for one reason or another he hasn't been a perfect fit for the jobs available (Interviewer: "I see you live in Tacoma, how do you plan to get to Seattle each day?" Frinklin: "Actually I worked in Seattle for two years previously and loved taking the commuter train. I also own a car, so commuting is no problem." Interviewer: "Interesting. We're still concerned about your ability to get to work each day." Frinklin: "??") or there have been a gazillion candidates. The Seattle/Tacoma job market is extremely tough at the moment. See Richard Florida's new book for confirmation.

On the upside, Frinklin picked up some freelance work this week (thank you company who smiled on us!) and the State of Washington concluded their investigation into his unemployment claim last week, so a check finally arrived. Yay!

I can say, it you've ever been in this position, it's all about having funds available to shift around. I'm having to move money from my 401K to other places, and was using a credit card to cover something for a time...until one of my credit card companies decided that they would be halving my available credit without any notice. Gee! Thanks! I completely understand that there is huge credit issue occurring currently, but freaking out and cutting off one of my liquid sources of monies - not cool.

In other news I went on a week-long Conference to the Homeland of Bob's Hogs and Weiner Pigs. It was great fun to hang out with all the fellow Bob's Hoggers. We had "pajama parties" each night hosted by my roomie and myself where we "networked" for a couple of hours with drinks. It was the best part of the entire week. Beet was in fine form. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that we spent an hour "learning" how to color code an Excel spreadsheet. Actually, I spent that hour chatting online with Cassioposa and Kevin while Beet droned on about color coding Excel cells.

The trip home from the coference was an adventure. I'll leave that to my next post, hopefully tomorrow, from my new laptop (hint, hint).

Posted by: Ensie at 09:24 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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When one thinks of gout, you don't picture it being a disease that waylays modern folks in this century. Sort of like scurvy, dropsy, or even consumption. While these conditions still exist, in the Western World we just don't worry about them as they did in say, the 19th Century.

But when Frinklin began feeling stabbing pains in his right toe so painful that he was almost in tears, I suggested that we head to the doctor. He had felt something similar every 6 - 8 months that lasted for a few days, but never anywhere near this level of pain.

The doctor was busy and so we headed to Ugent Care. With a few careful prods to Frinklin's toe the doctor proclaimed, "Gout!" and sent us out the door. Frinklin was provided with a couple of prescriptions for anti-inflammation and reduction of uric acid as well as instructions on changes in diet.

I left with a smirk on my face. Why? Because one of the major causes of gout is eating too much red meat. It causes a build-up of purines in the system, which leads to too much uric acid, which causes gout; a swelling of the joints as a response to a deposit of uric acid crystals. And I've been telling my husband to eat less red meat for a very long time.

I'm not the type to lord it over someone when I'm right. But honey? I'm so right on this one.

Posted by: Ensie at 10:52 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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1 Dude, Frinklin, lay off the venison. My grandpa had gout and he was a butcher for many many years. I'm with Ensie--before he got it I thought it was something like scurvy. Get better!

Posted by: Erik Hanberg at March 06, 2008 12:02 PM (9T8gB)

2 I'm not the type to lord it over someone when I'm right. Wha huh? You aren't? Have you met you?

Posted by: frinklin at March 06, 2008 04:32 PM (yNgp+)

3 OK, maybe I'm one to lord it over YOU when I'm right.

Posted by: ensie at March 06, 2008 06:01 PM (yNgp+)

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"Goddamn it!"

I knew exactly what pocket of my fabulous new purse I had placed the parking garage ticket in and now it was gone. Completely vanished. I swept my hand around the interior of my entire bag with no luck. My purse was even clean, having just transferred a limited number of items from my old handbag to the new one. It had to be there.

But it wasn't. I turned all the lights on inside my car in order to better search the front passenger seat better. Still nothing. I didn't have any pockets, so it wasn't hidden anywhere on my body. I hadn't moved it or touched it during my meeting at a Seattle restaurant. I had hardly done anything with my purse the entire time.

You know the parking garage rule if you lose your ticket, right? You pay the maximum amount. And this garage's maximum was $40. Not a lot by most garage standards, but more than the $12 or $16 I was expecting. And hey, I live in a one-income household now. I have to save that money for extravagant purchasing of unnecessary goods. Oh, and bills. After a good 15 minutes of searching I gave up a faced the inevitable and drove the plank.

"Hi," I started as I rolled down my window and extended my credit card, my mouth babbling frantically, "I lost my parking ticket. I know...I'm so sorry. I know it means I have to pay the maximum. I just, I don't know what happened to it. I put it in my purse and it just disappeared. I just had it! I don't know where it went! Here's my card." At that point I realized I had been talking at the attendant while he just stared at me so I shut the hell up.

I received a big sigh in return and, "What time did you get here?"

"I had a meeting at 11 so I was here at 10:45."

"OK. Write down your name and phone number on this new ticket and I'll swipe it. It will act like your ticket." He handed me a blank parking stub.

"OK?" I wasn't going to argue. I would have given him my social security number and the promise of my first born as at this point as it appeared I was going to get away with the downtown parking equivalent of murder. Or if not murder, at least a felony hit and run (I know, I know crime isn't a joke, you don't need to remind me). I passed back my contact information and he gave me a receipt for $16.

As I started the dance of thanking him profusely, he leaned over and grasped a stack of receipts and pulled one free.

"See here? This is the last person today who lost their parking ticket." A very clearly $40 charge printed dead center stared back at me. My profuse thanks went up a notch. I wondered if I should get out and hug him. Thank God a car pulled up behind me, forcing me to pull forward, leaving the parking garage and the attendant behind.

I'm not exactly sure what it was that prompted the parking garage attendant to give me the cheaper parking rate. It's true, I was having an excellent hair day yesterday as well as wearing a fabulous new outfit. But he could only see so much from behind the car door. And maybe he thought he was hitting on me? Although I was clearly wearing my wedding ring. Are things going to be awkward now? Does this mean I have park someplace else now even though this is the best parking garage in Seattle?

Sigh - weep - sob! /drama

Posted by: Ensie at 04:13 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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With the upcoming change in the law (ESSB 5037 Bans driving while using a handheld cell phone without a hands-free device, starting in July 2008) regarding cellphone use while driving I contacted Bob's Hogs about providing me with an earpiece for my current adorable cell phone. I love my phone. It replaced my Nintendo 64 of phones that I carried for several years until it died a tragic death that may or may not involve a cereal bowl half full of milk and a precariously balanced phone on a shoulder.

My current phone, the AT&T LG CG225, has been very easy to use for business purposes. The address book has been especially great, allowing me to enter people in and add up to three phone numbers per person, note if they are colleagues, VIPs, or family. I also have a number of pictures stored on my phone, my wallpaper was a picture of Pharaoh sleeping.

Bob's Hogs apparently does not send out earpieces for my beloved CG225. They informed me earlier this week that I would be sent something new and Bluetooth compatible. Once the fancy, new phone arrived I would need to purchase an "earbud" myself and become one of those obnoxious people who wander around grocery stores appearing to talk to themselves.

The new phone arrived today and it's a Razr of of all hideous awful things! Seriously - a Razr!? I fucking hate these things. They're ugly and uncomfortable to use and the internal address book sucks ass. I can't believe I've got to carry one. Ugh.

I did download a couple of new ringtones - "Popular" and "What Is This Feeling" from Wicked (SHUT UP)- to make my new phone a little more likeable.

Plus there's the pink Bluetooth earbud thing I found. Which is pretty cute.

The irony of all this is that I should really be carrying a Crackberry, as I'm in outside sales for Bob's Hogs. I spend a lot more time in the office than I should because I'm tied to my computer. Bob's Hogs won't give their Sales Team Blackberries, so we get Razrs instead. According to Beet the official reasons are things like, "You can't be trusted with expensive pieces of equipment like that."

"You mean, like our laptops?"

Doh! Hole in that logic!

Posted by: Ensie at 10:24 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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It's long been suspected that I am a bit of a shopaholic. My house would confess this sin with closets busting with too many clothes and and a large tower of shoe boxes. At one point in time I owned 37 pairs of pants of varying types, styles, and fabrics. In my defense, not all of them fit or were in wearable shape at the time. I am afraid to count the current number of pairs of pants that I own for fear I may eclipse the aforementioned number.

I grew up in a middle class family that didn't make a lot of money, but sacrificed to allow me to have a broken-down horse that was a gift from a family friend, eventually trading up to a nice horse that was moderately priced. As I grew up, my Father worked extremely hard and earned a much better income that allowed my younger teenaged sister to enjoy riding a horse that was imported from Europe. We hardly saw my workaholic Dad during the week but we reaped the monetary benefits. So I lived without money and with money.

I've held a job pretty consistently since I was 14 years old. My only unemployed periods were my first year of college and after a nervous breakdown my second year, second semester of college. In May I'll have worked for Bob's Hogs and Weiner Pigs for 11 years. I certainly haven't always made much money, but it's been enough. The really interesting thing is that whenever there has been a money crisis, money always shows up.

When The Jeffrey got terribly sick and we though his liver was having all sorts of issues but it turned out to be bladder stones that were ripping his insides apart my commission check was unexpectedly high.

When one of the cars unexpectedly needed the brakes done Frinklin had a random monetary bonus kick in. This has happened TWICE with two different employers who almost NEVER gave cash bonuses. Weird.

When I was 21 years old and had an ancient Ford Bronco II that insisted on breaking down every other day my Grandmother stepped up and gave me a cash infusion out of nowhere "because you need it." I was able to fix the car and take care of some other things that had been weighing heavily. She told me she had set aside the money for college or for a wedding, but at the time I wasn't in school and was a lesbian. Thanks Nana!

Anyway, back to the point.

Because I've had a fortuitous relationship with money, I've not been particularly careful with money. I've always been able to pay my bills on time, have good credit, and don't have any collection agencies stalking me. And I have a nasty habit of spending money I don't have. Even when my husband is out of a job.

Like yesterday. When I was at the new Nordstrom Rack in Southcenter after making a particularly successful sales call and meeting up with Frinklin after he had a particularly successful (cross fingers!) interview with what appears to be a great potential employer. I was looking for a Perlina purse that I had fallen in love with a few weeks earlier when we were a DINK household to celebrate our particularly successful (although potentially fictitious) fabulous day.

I found the Perlina bag, and it was cute. But then I turned a corner and There. It. Was. I heard a rushing in my ears. Frinklin spoke, but I heard nothing but the Angels singing. I walked forward, and touched It. The chorus intensified.

Finally, Frinklin's insistent voice broke through, "How much is it?"

"What?" I didn't look up. I was too busy opening pockets and noticing the cheetah print interior. So amazing!

"Ensie...how much? It's got an electronic tag on it. It's going to be a lot."

"Fuck," I said. Reality setting in, "I can't get this bag. It's going to be crazy expensive. It's Dolce and Gabbana." Searching out the tag I finally answer Frinklin, "Holy shit! It's four hundred dollars!" I got silence as an answer as I continued to fondle the bag. My heart raced.

"Honey. Buy it."

"What?"

"Buy it."

I thought my husband had lost his mind at this point. He's unemployed! We only have one income! I started to argue with him briefly, but then realized I was arguing my way out of a kick-ass Dolce and Gabbana bag that I didn't know how to quit. I quietly whispered, "OK!" as though we were getting away with some sort of crazy crime. An employee was flagged down, the bag was freed, and we were out the door with our loot a few minutes later.

The only down side was that I didn't know how much money I had saved on the bag. It didn't have an original price on it. I spent a good hour searching the interwebs for my bag (which is tan leather, oh so soft, with a cheetah print interior), only to find that it doesn't exist. There is only a mutant version currently available, priced at $2,195.00:

Perlina, I feel bad for cheating on you, but I love my new D&G bag. And if it makes me an uncontrollable shopaholic, so be it. I challenge anyone to step into the realm of really good handbags and/or shoes and then try to go back to crappy ones. If nothing else, I treat my quality items like gold so they last forever.

I'd like to give a huge thank you to my husband, who gave me the OK to buy something I love and really wanted. I told him that he doesn't have to buy me anything for my birthday or Christmas this year. I love you honey!

Posted by: Ensie at 05:30 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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