God doesn't want me to work at Home Depot

That's my conclusion for today, as you fly the friendly and I would hope not hostile skies. Or at least I assume you're on a jet plane, headed - HOME! Eee. Excited for you. But back to me, obviously. So there was some random Weather happening yesterday, freezing rain and sleet and snow, all the things that allegedly never deter postal workers, but schools - forget it. K.Lo is on a 2-hour delay OF COURSE because I had an interview at 8:30AM. Someday I'm going to look back on these mishaps and shake my head and sigh. Rueful laugh. Oh wait, it's already happening. I think I'd feel more put out if I could stomach the idea of being a greeter. Here, pretend to be a mega-extrovert for several hours! It will be great. And you don't even get a discount on your garden supplies. As it is, I cannot even get through to say I can't be there. Awful. I'm either re-routed, because no one wants to take that message, or sent to HR, where the call is dropped before VM can pick up. Every. Time.

So you know, I hope the other one works out. Have interview tomorrow afternoon at a consignment shop that said they weren't hiring until, apparently, they saw my awesome application? Right right. Anyway, I'm sure they pay much less, but do offer discounts, first dibs, and most importantly, scheduling around the fact of being a mother. Which frankly is priceless.

And yeah, the Pam Beasley Question. That's totally it. It's enough, absolutely. I'm enough even without that. Duh, right? But then I get in my head that should I be required to work (and I need to) to avoid that razor's edge, then it has to be fraught with meaning or otherwise completely worthy of my time, and me of it. And then I swirl down into the conventional spiral of college education and The Promise aka Great Lie of "you can be whatever you dream!" as long as you get one and oh wait that's clearly not true. And then I plunge into darker channels about bringing children into this world and what was I thinking - oh wait - Love. And despite my combined Wrong Education and lack of Right Experience, I can and should still change the world. But roadblock, roadblock. Red tape and more tape. It's depressing even scratching the surface, which of course I never do. I delve. And I struggle to get back to that hopeful waiting thing, but whine, it's hard. So many available options to talk yourself out of it, convince yourself that you somehow don't have value in the world - but again, that's the wrong question.

Stupid human condition.

I fell asleep during the latest ProRun last night - how could one not, really. I have to go back and finish it before discussing what on earth - how - the winning team was the winning team. I mean, Michelle's was perfection, but Daniel's? Am I missing how that dress wasn't a life-size Barbie dress from the 80s? Like the kind literally for a child's doll, not someone trying to dress ironically. Those were shoulder pads, I'm sure of it. And that color! Blech. Collectively I thought the other team of two should have won - for once, I really liked P's in particular.

And are you watching the Amazing Race?? We're not quite caught up, but last week's - Hanoi! and pho! a pho challenge! What! And our missing ingredient was apparently coriander. Now all I need are some live chickens squawking in a shoulder basket...

All right well. I've officially missed my ridiculous interview. Best get on with the day.
love to YOU
your penelaotang
p.s. I FINALLY watched the lice ep of SouthPark. My baby, Hope! genius.

dear old-same,

Look at you with your motorbike riding self! Now if you're ever on Amazing Race, you know you can handle any challenge involving a clutch. Whereas I'd still be screwed on that (and bungee jumping and spelunking). I loved your story! And I feel like over time and with practice you'd absorb what you'd need to absorb, no longer overthink and it'd become part of you.

And the sheeple. I mean. Yes, to all of your thoughts. And I do think you captured the wild ride, I mean beyond the bike-ride, the sense of place - the clipped rooster, the van driver with questionable yet common humor, the roads just running on through.

I'm on the same page with wah - life is hard sometimes. The child sickday, the snowday, the rescheduled a thousand times interview, and then they never called back after the snowday, and I'm just over it? I mean open to the interview if it ever happens, but also sort of deflated and trying to remain hopeful rather than dispirited. Although there's nothing that's looked remotely appealing over the past week, as far as applying for more things.

And then in freelance land, the aforementioned completely messed with my schedule and I've still failed to complete my article. Suck. Post-camping, it will get done, but I'm no less antsy about it. And then I tend to get meta-antsy on top of that, pondering the epic investment of time that freelancing involves and the payoff that's probably not worth it, but maybe? The spark of hope flickers on. I don't know. I shouldn't think so much or look down at the road lest I veer off and well - you know.

That car commercial J.Lo posted on FB? Let's talk about that for a second. I mean never have I wept so copiously over a commercial. But it's like Bailey's story! The little puppy and then grown dog, her faithful presence as the guy's life progresses from single-life to relationship to family. And by the end her muzzle is gray and FOR THE LOVE OF - . I can barely handle it.

Oh, so there are butterflies! Four of them. And I didn't see any of them emerge from their cocoons, they all just appeared at intervals and I scratched my head over it, but then it's not like they cause a great noisy commotion, being lighter than air. And ew with the spots of red all over their house that I don't like to think about. But today I added some flowers, which they really, really like, as opposed to the sugar-soaked wadded-up kleenex you can use instead. Imagine. And we're going to take them camping and release them there.

I have anxiety about camping - it's like going for the first time again, with the cabin. Because in theory you know what they have there and what you don't have to pack, but in reality you're still going to forget something that's probably important. And how will the puppy do. Will she nip heels and pee all over the place? I mean more so than usual. And those damn pizzas  bought for tonight were so big they don't fit in my fridge. Unwieldy! Overall it seems like I'm bringing way too much food, but obviously I'll bring home leftovers. It's just those pizzas sending me over the edge.

So I'm up (camping, yay!), I'm down (life anxiety, boo), I'm all over town. But floating on okay...
love to you and may you happen on more magical characters in your unfolding tale,
pen

dearest oldsame,

Laos! The last part of your journey has arrived. Or you have arrived to it. I cannot be-lieve your long-loved knife was taken, and how vexing that its fate was due to an oh-so-simple lapse in human mindfulness, a mere glitch in the everything-is-in-its-proper-place-for-my-next-phase-of-travel rundown. Ach. Eff. It's so. unfair!

The LentenFestival-retreat-type weekend was delightful in the end. A lot of leadup, and some trepidation over it being all-too-much and worrying over the success of things like the Easter Garden. But the garden was successful, as was the decoupage, and both were displayed during Sunday service and officially dedicated in prayer. I mean. Thankfully I wasn't asked to stand or anything, but it was both mortifying and beautiful at the same time. The garden came out so. good. And not just aesthetically, but everyone old and young alike seemed to love it. It lives on in the Fellowship Hall, where I hope it will receive enough light and whateverelse it needs to stay alive or even thrive. Hopefully not die. We'll see.

All the rest - bells was a success. Our variety show portion I mean. I think people got it. And the rest of the show was a delightful blend of young and old, talent and silliness, magic shows and a keyboard performance and the tango. And then a synchronized swimming skit by a group of the older men that was totally posted on youtube, so I'm sending you a link. Saturday after gardening and birdhousing and musicalinstrument-making, I went around the hobby showcase to see the things people delve into in their ordinary lives - again, how delightful. Coins and photos and felting (like actual spinning of the material) and robots and art. And I briefly learned to knit. I think I'm officially sucked into the knitting group on occasional Thursdays, though it's doubtful how long my schedule will abide. But the older ladies in that group were just so. pleased. that I might be interested, how can I say no now. Hmm.

I miss you and hope you come to visit soon, even if it's not in March. But I hope it's in March - is that even a possibility still? I haven't tallied all the places you've been monetarily thwarted and spent to see if you can come here first before Cali, even though probably you are completely yearning to be back in your true homeland, not just stateside, and I completely understand that. If I won the scratch-off lottery and were able to buy a plane ticket, I'd visit you tomorrow. And take puppy with me.

The caterpillars, which I have yet to blog about but I'll fill in the gaps shortly I promise, lie dormant in full chrysalide mode on the dining room table. Today is rain and cold and some homemade soup I think. March holds: more jobhunting, cabincamping, consignmentsale-ing, 35thbirthday!-ing, fairtradesale-organizing, oh and Easter. And planting! Right? Some flowers and some lettuce at least.
love to you in laos-land,
penelaotang.

dear oldsamey,

You're right, I have stopped labeling my posts. I don't like the new interface either - like they have tried to "simplify" it with all the white space and aesthetically I can embrace that, but its simplicity is actually complicated. It's a lie. And, I finally became so fed up with Windows Live writer, with its own impositions on formatting and the inability to add more label-categories, that I uninstalled the whole dumb thing. It was no longer bringing anything extra to the table and in fact was inciting hostility.

Two futures lay before me for the weekend - some travel, which will apparently include snow. Or staying home with puppies, the bigger of whom is ill. And smelly. And making me say things like, "Only my dog." Only Bender, possessing less sense than God gave a turnip (#blessherheart), would continue to seek out with fervor some substance that makes her grossly sick. Anyway. While less exciting, this Plan B alternative would be kind of thrilling, as it would involve a. alone/down time and b. a lot of catching up on TV. I think I'm now three behind on Grey's, one on Downton, one or two on Carrie Diaries? New ProRun. And then (completely ambitious) I still really want to watch P&P with Colin Firth. All in one go.

Or... read. I do heart my latest book in its soothing, magical prose.

Or... some work. Gag-cough. It's not that I'm not grateful for the quasi-abundance of topics in my q, even knowing half will ultimately be tossed (I can sniff out potential problems with editorial approval a mile away), but I'm more and more getting frustrated with freelancing for the time/effort it takes and correlating payment. Like after seeking, sifting, sorting topics, claiming them, figuring out if I can actually do them, writing them, finding pictures, labeling, titling, submitting them and holding my breath on their acceptance, it's like defeat waiting to happen. Granted when that $25 a pop comes through it's a brief but solid thrill, like winning a scratch-off card. Yay. And it's much more awesome to work at home, filling in the gaps of time and not dealing with human coworkers. I get the trade-off. But then. 98% of the topics, when available, are irrelevant, or problematic, or incite great snark. "Activities for Kids on Caffeine?" I think not about pinteresty crafts and lessons regarding chemical makeup and properties of the compound, but rather, Should you really be giving your kid caffeine? Won't it make them hyper and stunt their growth. How would you even reign in their caffeine-riddled energy to do an activity. And every time I see the "Chinese Teething Myths" topic in queue, I want to take a shot. Of hard liquor. Because it's been months now seeing it, and it's been claimed, unclaimed, claimed, unclaimed, and ultimately never written. Because it is a ridiculous topic. Why not just make it "Ancient Chinese Secrets," just as nonsensical and pointless and vague.

I suppose I should engage in something productive now. Like perhaps packing for the weekend, at least the children's things, or finishing my church mod-podge, even though I'm waffling on the overall design (is it cool? does it need something more?) and lamenting my lack of purple paper to fill in the remaining six gaps.

love to you and weeeeeee! enjoy your motorbike ride,
penelaotong

dear oldsame,

I call to you across the waters, across the farawaylands, as my dragon self breathes fire. It stretches itself on the beach and lances lychees with each talon and orders rum with coffee and hurumphs and sighs with no other dragons at all to play with. It snorts as it lifts its head to the breeze, knowing that even though it's the last place on earth it would want to be- dubbed a 'hedonistic beach party' by LP, it is in some sort of paradise. It is reminded that though it's alone it has some sort of larger purpose, and doesn't want to be ungrateful for the places it's got to fly and see- even if it longs to be in the mountains or at a different beach... or not be a lone dragon anymore, like something mythical and extinct.

The lunar new year dawned as I slept in my cave at the perfume grass hotel. A much better place if I'm going to be made to pay $20 a night. (up from $11). Roused only briefly to hear the dissonance of all the noise being made- deliberately to chase the bad spirits and luck of the old year away. And invite the new. I went back to bed as the fan circled overhead and the old tile and wood stood solid against time.

Yesterday I drove myself a little crazy- I had the joy of seeing my 2 paychecks +flight come in. Paid. And finished with the workplace.  I paid off a creditcard and some bills, with money to spare--I was excited to start executing and accomplishing. I then descended into internet scheduling hell of coming and going from laos. Which I still haven't figured out. And coming and going from here. Which I still haven't figured out. And even though there's an immediacy I suppose I have time and i'm going to have to leave it to God to determine when I get to Saigon and to Cathy on the 15th. And of course it's His business why i'm here even if it's not exactly mine. The only 2 things besides that was washing my face and looking up to see a lychee fruit stuck in my hair. (Which mildly amused me and perhaps made God laugh outright.)And finding no satisfactory postcards to send to anyone. I guess there's no point in trying to move in such a time of transition from the dragon to the snake. My year is over and Cathy's begins. Apparently without a spring. They call it a blind year. I got two. Yours is coming old same. One more year. Trod and gallop on.

Anyway I've meandered away a good couple hours here. It's time to stretch the legs and move even if i can't quite leave yet. I'm excited for you and your puppy. What's with the name? And the car- what are you going to call it? I can't even believe the louse situation. Pretty outrageous. Did you watch the SP episode yet, or at least have jlo watch it... I don't sound outraged on your behalf but I am. I blame the calming effects of the rum and the sensory pleasing effects of the coffee. Self medicating one step at a time. Though the music has been much too loud. I need a break.

Huff. Black streams snake into the air and are pulled apart. And up I go.
My love, M.