Manna, and it's time I said thanks

So I sort of feel like my job needs a tribute. Over three years working with the same people (well some of the same people plus a revolving cast of characters), the last two of which have been spent in the same cubicle (I feel like it has my perma-germs), on different aspects of the same large-scale IT project meant to make the government itself fitter, happier, and more productive (p.s. we downloaded this Radiohead lullaby album from itunes and it is awesome). That's something.

Without this job I've had for the last three years we probably wouldn't own our home (and have been able to fix it's myriad quirks and dangers) and I wouldn't have saved enough to be able to try freelancing now. It was pretty much manna from heaven as it was something that I really needed and that has sustained me and us so very well and I did very little to get it. Seriously I sent out a bajillion resumes and went to muchos interviews to get my job BEFORE this one, but this one I just got a phone call. And just like the Hebrews, I have complained plenty about that manna. Because it was never quite what I wanted, even if it was very much what I and my family needed.

Though I'm impressed and grateful that computers work, do I really care to know about system design? Not really. And is there even a spot for the barest schmidgen of creativity in this job? Not really. But there's no point in dwelling on that part now.

This sweet day has its bitterness. The bitterness is mostly me never having appreciated what I had enough.

Give me a few months and I'll probably miss having people around everywhere too. Brilliant people and people you wonder how they are keeping up the charade of competence. Nice people, most of them, though some are neurotic. A good number of genuine people with a few fake ones thrown in for contrast. People I trust. And people that trust me. Just people whose faces I will no longer see. People I spend more time with then I spend with El Esposo. People that threw me a surprise baby shower. How stinkin' sweet that was. These are people that realize there is more to life than when the servers will be available, or whether I have filled in my timesheet correctly, or what my status update is this week. I almost certainly should have given them more credit.

Goodbye Job.

Freak out time

So today a woman on the elevator asked me when I was due and I said "eleven days."

WHAT?

I hope we don't drop her.

I am for real

I finished! My first really big freelance editing project. I'm pretty proud of the publication as it should be very insightful and impactful for people that read it. I may talk more about that when it is officially published. I feel like an actual professional or something.

And now I can finally organize all the baby stuff.

Feeling Elliot Smith

Rainy fall days always make me think of Elliot Smith. This has been the case ever since a little over 5 years ago when I was working at this depressing temp job because no one would hire me to do anything real and one day I walked down the street to Dupont Circle (the location was cool, the job was not) and started to feel as if the rain were playing a song on everyone's black umbrellas (they had to be black). At first it was just a sort of familiar rhythm, then I felt like I could hear piano keys being played by fat fingers, the tones getting lower and lower. It seemed that everyone was walking 3/4 time, too. Eventually I figured out that the world was playing Elliot Smith's Waltz #2. I've blogged about this before (probably five years ago) but it seems right today, too. Here's the audio of the song since I didn't like any of the live versions as much:

Feeling Expansive

The other day I asked El Esposo if my face was bigger. He said yes. And when I asked about my backside he said definitely wider. Which is fine, so I say. The baby's gotta come out somehow. And the extra er fuel - yeah that's what it is - is for helping her grow after she is born.

But then somebody sent me pics from my work baby shower just a few days ago and I was like is that really me? That short round woman? (I think the roundness makes me look shorter). And also I am growing out of my maternity clothes now. Not convenient. But I just have to hold out for two more weeks wearing work-appropriate attire and then it's all about wearing sweats and just embracing the bigness.

I know people get tired of it but I really welcome the idea of sitting around in sweats right now.

Zombie "Us"es

I'm not sure if that was the right way to pluralize us. Anyway, here we are in all of our utter putrescence:



The pic doesn't quite give the full effect, but we did win first place at the zombie party, mostly because of how utterly disgusting El Esposo was AND because of our extra-special prop of the Unborn! Which is her latest nickname. Four weeks to go! BRAINS!!!