This, that, and the other (irrelevant personal bits)

3 Mar

So, for all my good intentions, I’ve yet to review even one book this year (or, indeed, for the past however many months).

Which definitely doesn’t mean that I’m not reading. I am, quite a bit–even if a rather large percentage of my reading is rereading, it still counts, right? And there is always the hope that I’ll get around to write reviews for some of these books.

As I’ve mentioned before, one of the reasons for the lack of reviews is that I’m working at a food franchise. In a reversal of what I understand is most common, I had never worked retail. Most of my coworkers are teens or young twenty-somethings working their way through college. Almost unanimously, they intend eventually to pursue a career in their field of choice, far away from the food industry or any retail/service job, it at all possible.

My case is…slightly different.

For causes beyond my control (though a direct result of my choices) I was out of the work force for almost a decade. When I was finally able to come back (late 2009) the economy was in the crapper and the gap in my work experience effectively shut me out of any of the jobs for which I had actual experience.

Add lack of transportation (read: I had to apply for jobs within realistic bike-riding distance) and my choices were severely limited (read: retail/hourly part time menial jobs).

So I got a job–about fifteen hours a week to start. Within two months I was consistently working between 35 and 40 hours a week. By the six-month mark, my boss had wrangled a small raise for me (25 cents per hour) and I was working overtime almost every week. On my feet.

Thirteen months later, I’ve been approved for another 25 cents per hour raise and am being trained as a shift supervisor. Which, when approved, will mean another 50 cents per hour raise. It will also mean a lot more responsibility, and working between 45 and 50 hours a week. Still mostly on my feet.

Throughout this time, I’ve been–and am–very grateful for the opportunities given me.

And now I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished and am accomplishing with my life.

My curriculum vitae, while varied and colorful, is not precisely impressive. And though I have started college three times already (first, Veterinarian Medicine; second, something called Secretarial Sciences; third and last, Foreign Languages [German and French]) I don’t have a degree. Being chosen to be groomed for management at this point in my life is just…well, it feels amazing.

Thank you, W and PB, for this opportunity.


In other news, I have completed training for something else and am waiting (anxiously, I confess) to hear back. Getting this particular job–even in a freelance capacity–would be an incredible personal triumph. All good luck wishes greatly appreciated!


Remember Pounce?

He’s now almost nine months old and so gorgeous! I’m in love with this cat, no matter how often I can be heard muttering pinche gato! under my breath on any given day.

Being a responsible pet owner, I had already planned to neuter him as soon as I could scrounge together enough cash. Both my other cats, Shadow and Candy, have been spayed for quite a while, but still, right? My time table was moved forward quite a bit, though, when I agreed to take care of a coworker’s kitten for a bit.

Well, at least it was theoretically for a bit.

And it was theoretically a kitten too.

Cleopatra (formerly Isis–the name didn’t fit) came to us on January 2nd or 3rd. Instead of the kitten I expected, I got a gorgeous, long–almost Angora-like–haired, tortoiseshell cat (the colors of a calico but with tabby markings and a white belly). A female, not spayed, ten month old cat.

And Pounce…well, he pounced.

After spending some minutes in shock, I separated them (as in, got closed doors between them) and scheduled a vet appointment. Pounce  got snipped on January 10th.

Cleo is due to deliver sometime between March 10th and 15th.



The Supreme Court has finally ruled that hate sorry, hurtful speech, à la Westboro Baptist Church (aka, Fred Phelps family cult), is protected free speech.

I believe that coming to such a decision was not easy for any of the Supreme Court judges–just as I believe that most of them struggled with Roe v Wade back in the day.

So while I am saddened by the fact that these assholes will feel emboldened to blight the lives of many more bereaved families, I am proud to live in a country where the law endeavors to protect all minorities, up to and including hateful ones.

2 Responses to “This, that, and the other (irrelevant personal bits)”


  1. Saying goodbye again. | Her Hands, My Hands - 27/01/2015

    […] 90lbs yellow Lab. All the other cats in the house (and there were more than I would have liked, but I can’t seem to be able to say no when people tell me, “it’s you or the shelter/street”) wisely deferred to Candy. […]

  2. Decisions, decisions…(aka “and then there were none.”) | Her Hands, My Hands - 05/03/2015

    […] as Shadow, and perhaps a shade heavier than her. When a coworker had to move without warning in January 2010, I agreed to foster Cleo. Little did I know that her owner would up and quit, never contacting me […]

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