Karin Mitchell's books on Goodreads
Between Families Between Families
reviews: 5
ratings: 8 (avg rating 4.75)

Friday, April 20, 2012

Oops and more reasons I'll never get a job

Sometimes I feel awkward.  Like, middle school awkward.  The kind where you just know people can see it.  You bought the slightly off version of what's cool and your underwear's sticking out, or you stared too long until it became weird, or said something that made the world come to a screeching halt and now the whole world knows how odd you are.  How ill-suited for normal company.

It doesn't happen a lot anymore.  I live in a place that I'm perfectly suited for and that's partly why.  I'm also good-looking and a lot of leeway comes with looks and age.  But when my friends from home hang out, the middle schooler peaks out of me.  Facebook is the worst for this.  I should really abstain more. 

When I lived in St. Louis, I was never part of any group.  I had friends who were drug dealers, and friends from the honor's society.  I had friends who were in college, and friends who were in drama at my school.  I sprawled and felt awkward in most of those settings.  I liked learning about different people and I always had a few folks in any given group that I felt a connection with.  So I lingered on the outskirts of lots of groups. 

I was never happy living there.  Circumstances were never right, I never felt like I fit.  Eventually, I gave up and left.  I moved to Colorado and I've been happy ever since.  And even though, I'm the one who did the leaving.  Still, sometimes when the core of one of those groups has gotten together and had a good time, I feel like a loser who got stuffed in a locker and forgotten about.  That's the thing.  Of course they forget about me.  I haven't lived anywhere near them in 9 years.  But on certain vulnerable days, I feel sad and left out when my friends who are still friends and see each other often, stay friends and see each other often.

Oh, and I've been applying for jobs.  Which involves a lot of rejection in the current employment climate.  It's not exactly uplifting.  While thinking, or obsession as the case may be, about what to say on a cover letter for example, I compulsively check email or FB or whatever.  Which also means, I start to get a little wacky and free with the commenting.  Then I found a job I thought sounded really interesting.  So I contacted the only person I know who works for that organization.  Wouldn't you know it, on FB.  And then I realized he'd be my boss.  Which is probably super uncomfortable and stupid but whatever.

Also, all this writing has had me on the computer a lot.  Tomorrow, I'm taking a break to go to Denver and attend an information session on attending grad school.  I'm seriously considering getting a Master's in creative writing.  Is that the dumbest thing you've ever heard or what?  What the hell does anyone do with a Master's in Creative Writing?

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Vanilla Candles are not toxic if you were wondering

ChompSki's had horrendously bad gas lately. Like, what the fuck did that dog eat? Tires, skunks, and bear shit. Has to be. Then he puked it up and ate it and NOW he's farting. I've been joking that he should have the decency to at least finish it off with a vanilla candle chaser.

So then Magnus decides to take the advice instead. I catch him in time. He's only licked a little bit of flavory wax off his fingers when I stop him. My house is getting taller and taller by the minute. The high shelves are in demand and getting fuller and more crammed. And damned if I can ever find my beer.

I remark on having caught him in time when Rob shares with me not to worry: the candles aren't toxic. He knows from calling poison control. He was wise not to mention this to me. I've turned into some what of a fretter, in a way I'm not especially proud of. I'm afraid I may raise a mama's boy.

A short time later, Rob shares how he spent 20 minutes driving around town because he was so enjoying singing Concrete Blonde's "Joey" at the top of his lungs but was determined to get through the entire song without laughing and was having trouble. Not laughing. He was having trouble not laughing. Singing "Joey" at the top of his lungs for 20 minutes wasn't a problem at all. That's why the 20 minutes. I swear I'll start whislting it if he ever comes to a meeting I'm at late.

In other news, I've been spending some time on creative writing and started this blog:
My plan is to do some writing on there every day for six months. We'll see how it goes. I know I've been known to start other blog projects in the past and... ahem, not follow through. Hopefully I'm more deligent on this one.

Monday, April 9, 2012

Easter weekend was a delightfully slam-packed weekend. We visited friends in Denver. Dyed easter eggs, went to the park, went to IKEA and dinner at Steak N Shake. I went for a run. Went out to a series of bars that included a lot of live music and dancing. I'm a good dancer and kind of a looker when I get gussied up and the light's all dim-like. So I'm a catch, even when I'm already wearing a wedding ring. Apparently. This boy hits on me. Goodlooking kid too. In grad school for aeronautical engineering. I think I even spelled it right. It went over real well when I told him I was a stay-at-home mom. He wandered off, gathered his gumption, and came right back and tried again. He was all nervous too. And did I mention he was the best looking guy at the bar? He was. He apologized and said he just had to tell me I had the most beautiful blue eyes. This was AFTER I told him I was a stay-at-home mom. We'll go ahead and call that a win for me.

Then we came back to the mountains and dyed more eggs with Magnus and my nieces and then I went to a BBQ at a friend's.

I stopped nursing recently. My first response was to tear up. No tears actually exited my eyes. But then I discovered why women talk about having their bodies back. I can leave and go to a BBQ or out with the girls and bedtime is not disrupted. I don't feel weird about boobs during sex now. And in theory at least, I could buy a sexy bra now. And there's subtle things to that. Like that I actually went out with the girls and got hit on and didn't feel like I was stealing a small child's dinner to do it. All those subtle ways remind me of how much I like being in my skin. Moving around in the world and saying the weird things I say and shaking my ass in a dive bar. Just good to be out and about in spring.

Monday, April 2, 2012

I'm a big fan of an escape route. Imaginarily mostly. Its my out- my way of dealing when I get frustrated.

In college I was going to quit and become a truck driver. Well, until I started having seizures and stopped being allowed to drive. That was kinda sucky.

Today I lost my first piano student before it even started. She just found another teacher closer to her house. Nothing I should take personally. But I'm just about out of patience with not know what the fuck I'm doing. So I took it kinda hard.

My escape was to Borneo this time. To be totally honest, I don't even know that I could find Borneo on a map. Well, with some time, I'm sure I could. Pacific somewhere, right? See.

Anyway, I told my mom I was quitting life and moving to Borneo and she told me the following:

My grandfather was stationed in Borneo. He didn't like it. Said that pigs were very important to the family there. So much so that he'd once seen a human woman nurse a pig.

Its annoying when even my escape route has an image of a loose-titted woman nursing a pig from around the corner.