Second verse, similar to the first, but lower pay

If at first you don’t succeed, turn in an application to every job for which you may even remotely qualify!
 

It’s my new mantra.  I’m headed up to Salem for a Thursday interview for another position, this time an Administrative Specialist, which starts out a pay step lower than the PSR4, but still having the benefit of being in the main Revenue building, where there are a lot more job opportunities.  I should probably practice being charming and witty before then , get myself into the proper form….  Granted, this position is going to have a much easier learning curve, and I don’t plan on staying in it for all that long, but getting it is the first hurdle.

We recently had an employee survey, with space for comments, and a theme I noticed was that a lot of people feel like it matters more who you know than what you can do.  I can definitely see how that would work, and I’m not saying it’s particularly fair, but I think a lot of the people commenting are interpreting it incorrectly.  Instead of saying, “hmm, maybe I’d better start getting to know people if I want to change positions,” they’re sticking at “I’m never going to get hired out of this position because I just don’t know the right people, so I may as well become bitter and stagnate.”

I’m choosing to approach this whole job search as one giant opportunity to learn.  What is good about my resume?  How can I better explain what I have done in past positions?  Do I need to change how I present myself in the interview?  Are there projects I can take on in my current position that will increase my exposure to and chances of working with other managers?  Is it possible to wipe out the story about me threatening to shank my coworker with a letter opener that has apparently made its way to Salem?

This kind of journey has many life lessons scattered along the path, like marbles scattered on the floor, to be picked up as we tread on them on our way to get a drink of water in the middle of the night….

Recovery

I took a loooong weekend; four days, as a matter of fact.  The below is Cathedral Hills County Park and as you can see, it is springtime!  Such a wonderful place to hike…. 

I did a lot of hiking, a lot of sitting around.  It was lovely.  I had to go back to work, where I did fine until Jason harshed my mellow.  I’m working on thinking of him as a petulant toddler who is unable to control himself.  Unfortunately, the self-control used to not lose it with him means I did mildly lose it with the church wench.  There’s got to be a way out of here…

A trillium, in honor of my friend Jim.  May they serve you the finest mushrooms and roast beef with horseradish in Heaven!

Also, I am an auntie!  A flesh and blood auntie, in addition to an auntie of the heart.  It’s very strange, really, if I think about it.  I mean, obviously I’ve had nine months to come to terms, but, really, my baby brother is a father.  Perhaps another long weekend is required.

Post-Post-Tax-Day Day

I have survived.
I have made it through another tax day.
I don’t know if I could make it through a fourth as the primary contact for the public in a government tax office.
I am still in recovery, but I have a four day weekend coming up, so I’m hoping for the best.
Also on the hoping list, an actual blog entry. Later. Not today. Today I’m still recovering.

Drive

I love driving.  It relaxes me.  I figure that I spend less on a tank of gas than other women spend on “retail therapy” and I’m much less likely to have regrets.

So, on Saturday I headed out, shooting up and over the Greensprings, through Keno, the edge of Klamath Falls, down through Merrill and then through Tulelake.

Merrill is a tiny town, but it has what is quite possibly the best quilt shop in Southern Oregon.  And I’m not exaggerating.  The Tater Patch (in this building, around the corner) was completely packed when I arrived.  Women will actually drive from the other large towns, at least an hour away, to go there.

Once done contemplating the folly of taking up quilting as a hobby, given the size of The Stash, I headed south, crossing into Northern California.  I could spend a very long time staring at rocks.  I wanted to be a geologist coming out of high school, but was defeated by vectors.

Petroglyphs!  One of the finest collections in North America as a matter of fact!  I found this out later at the ranger station.

Apparently they are farther down in the direction my car is pointing.  I didn’t realize that as there wasn’t a sign.  Also, the trail up the bluff is straight up the hill, none of that pansy switch-backing, and a jackrabbit that reached to my knee just about gave me a heart attack when sprang across the trail twenty feet or so ahead of me.

I don’t know if you can really tell from this picture, but the rock in this part of the world is old and crumbly.  A lot of people hate the high desert, but I love it.  It’s seeing Earth at her simplest, with her bones showing truth.

Next, I headed to the Clear Lake Wildlife Refuge.  It looked pretty big on the maps, a decent-sized lake that was bound to have restrooms.

It didn’t.  This is looking into the refuge.

I drove for 30 minutes to get to this point.  I didn’t see another person.

It was beautiful and if I had been better prepared, I would have gone walkabout.  Below you see the only real water I spotted, even though the map distinctly shows the road skirting a lake.

This is the southern entrance to the Lava Beds National Monument.  I got there too late in the day to do much in the way of caving, but it looks like a good summer plan to me!

Of course, one must always be prepared to eat well, wherever one may find oneself…

Just to the left of the plume of dust waaaaaaaaaay off in the distance is Petroglyph Bluff.

There’s a lot of history scattered through this valley.

Being as it is spring here in Southern Oregon, the weather changed.  Actually, multiple times, but as I headed home, it settled in for a spell.

I feel much better so far this week.  Of course, that may be due in part to the fact that Monday is tax day, and then Tuesday is not, but I think a whole lot of it had to do with seven hours of driving on roads with a lot fewer people.

Ode to the carpet beetle

Oh carpet beetle,
With your softly rounded, artfully mottled carapace
And delicately searching antennae,
You declare the arrival of spring
With your appearance on my windowsills,
Lured by the promise of pollen beyond the screen.

Your adorably fuzzy larvae
Announced winter,
Appearing unexpectedly on the shelf near the yarn jar,
Stealthily moving on from a pair of gloves and leaving
Nothing
Right in the middle of a cable,
A bullet hole ending the useful life of a sock,
Or a gentle grazing reducing a shawl to a jumble of
(beautiful, soft, expensive) string.

I wish I could apologize for the permethrin spray.
I wish my feelings of guilt for hunting you down could
Best my urge to hunt.
I wish I could say that our life together can ever return to
What it was before I knew,
Before I saw,
Before I understood.

But the nine small balls of Koigu on my chair say
“It is impossible.”

14 Days

I am screaming at random drivers.

I actively despise two of my coworkers and I’m afraid I’m losing the ability to censor my reactions. (“Oh, you’re going on your 30 minute break?  I thought the 15 minutes you just spent in the bathroom/kitchen was your break.”  “You think you deserve that auditor position?  What, are you going to say ‘I don’t know’ every time they asked you what the basis for your adjustments is?”)

I don’t have the patience to deal with the person complaining about the $110 convenience fee that would be incurred by using a credit card.  (“Absolutely I feel that the state should use my tax dollars to make your racking up debt more convenient!  Here, let me hand you some money out of the cash drawer to sweeten the deal.”)

I am increasingly unable to moderate my reactions at church. (“I need to be here at 5 for octet practice?  I’m sorry, are you talking about the octet you left me out of three months ago, even though I had been a standing member of the octet for several years? Ever planning on actually asking me, or are we just going to act like nothing ever happened?”)

I failed to placate my grandmother last weekend. (“I don’t come to visit you because you pick on my about not being married and guilt trip me the entire time.”)

Conclusion: I don’t like me at all right now; I’m angry and snappy and impatient, and this is why don’t date.  I don’t know if I can survive the next 14 days with my sanity intact.  I’ve told the music director that I will not organize the strings for next Sunday night in a desperate attempt to reduce my stress levels coming into the last week of tax season.  Most importantly, I cannot do this again next year.  Change must and will happen, because this is not an option.