(no subject)

I came up with this system for having portraits done--I've written about it before. M and I planned to have professional pictures taken every year. I came up with the bright idea to have it done once every thirteen months. I came up with that after an excess of booze and crack, obviously, but it makes sense if you think about it. I figured that once a year would mean that we would have pictures from the same season all the time, but eventually, it would be summer and we could wear different types of clothes. It also helped that we had it done in October of 99, then we had a lot of them done in November of 2000 (wedding, you know) and then in December of 2001. That's when we came up with the plan. But last year, we kept putting it off for one reason or another, and I just re-noticed that the first thing listed on our big to-do list is to have those pictures made. Part of me thinks we should go get it done and finally out of the way but then again, the pattern has been ruined already.

The last time we had them done, it was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing. I had been to an interview at the elementary school down the road, so I was all made up and figured that we might as well get some use out of it. I had applied for my aunt's job as an aid--she was going to be spending less time with the children. I'd been out of school for six months or so by then, and I hadn't been job-hunting at all during most of that time. (I figured that seventeen years of school should merit a vacation.) Anyway, I don't blame them for not hiring me. The education didn't fit the job, but moreover, it was painfully clear that I wouldn't want to do that long-term. What annoyed me was that they hired this other woman, presumably because she had a kid in the school and she wanted to be closer to him. Okay. She quit a pretty good job at the university and took a pay cut to take the job. Then she finds out after a few weeks that the funding for that position was being cut in May (the job started with the return of school after Christmas break.) Apparently, they knew that all along, so in my opinion, they really should have hired me instead of screwing around with the other woman, because that wasn't fair at all to her. They didn't want someone long-term; I didn't want to be there long-term, so we could have all benefited. Oh, well.

I've been thinking for the last month or so that perhaps I should seriously consider being a substitute teacher. I actually had that strongly on my mind in the day or two before M got laid off, but I hadn't mentioned it because I knew that if I did, I'd be committed to it. He has this tendency to nag me when he takes a notion to. Kentucky apparently requires just sixty college credits to be a sub, so that wouldn't be a problem. My aunts and cousins have asked numerous times why I don't get started on that. I find it terrifying, that's why. I don't think I would be a very good teacher, substitute or otherwise. I like kids, but I don't think I would be good with a whole classroom full of them. On the other hand, most people don't have the option of not pursuing a source of income. I don't know. I don't want to, that's the problem. I want to have a nice little work-from-home scheme with a few different things going on pulling in money, and, of course, I want to win the lottery. As I've said before, I don't want to be unemployed and I don't want to be a housewife--I want to be independently wealthy, darnit. Is that so much to ask? The money issue is so complicated. Anyway, if I started working at school I would be even more like carrieb than I am already and then I might not be able to tell myself apart from her at all, and that would make my head hurt, so I'd better not. See, usually my rationales don't even need to be logical. That makes life easier.

We taught my eight-year-old niece to play Rook tonight. She doesn't have a firm grasp of it yet, but she did pretty well. We won, at least. M and I are finally pretty good together..we win at least as much as we lose, and maybe a little more.

Sweet moment of the day: My grandfather, as I've tried and failed previously to adequately describe, tries to pretend that he's a grumpy old man. He doesn't do hugs--but he'll lean towards you and sure make it easy for you to hug him. He hasn't been to a single wedding of any of his grandkids--because he missed the first one and so he doesn't want her to feel slighted, even though they've all assured him repeatedly that it would be okay. (He almost gave in and came to mine.. he did show up at the reception.) He worries about us constantly, but he doesn't really want us to know it--that sort of thing. I've never managed to describe him just right, so this probably won't sound all that spectacular, but I wanted to write about it anyway so I would remember. Anyway, he got a little Valentine's Day note from one of his great-nieces..she's about three. He had it in his pocket today, and when Mom asked him about it, he showed it to her and said that well, he thought he just might stop and pick her up a card and send to her. They were out in town so they stopped to get the card, and Mom filled it out for him and addressed it, and he pulled out a stamp from his pocket. *giggle* It's just so sweet. He had that planned all along, and it's just about as sentimental as I've ever seen him admit to being.

Anyway, it's bedtime, although the husband took a nap this afternoon and will probably be very hard to get into bed. Sleepy girls always win, though.