We’re part of the problem

One of the side effects of not knowing where I’ll be five months from now: we’re not spending any money. Oh, we’re paying our rent, mortgage, and other bills, and we’re still shopping for groceries, but we’re not spending. We’re saving. It seems like the prudent thing to do, all things considered, since we may be living off these savings come September.

A couple of things could turn this around. We could sell our house in Oregon, or I could get a permanent job. Preferably both. And then we could spend, spend, spend! My top priorities would be a new bedroom set for us and a new mattress for Jake. Bookshelves, too! I want my books back . . . I’m tired of knowing they’re all boxed up, longing for me to look at them and think, “DAMN that’s a load of books.” I’d like my own home, too, so I can bring the frog tank indoors (there’s no room for it in this rental). Then I could put the frogs into the frog tank.

Yeah, yeah, I know that doesn’t make much sense. Why have a frog tank without frogs? Well, we have to keep the tank in the garage cuz that’s the only place we have room for it, and it gets too cold in the winter and too hot in the summer for the frogs to do well out there. Consequently, we keep the frogs in little cages indoors (and they’re doing just fine, thanks, but I’d rather have them in a big tank so that I can enjoy them).

I’m operating tomorrow. Only a couple of cases, and simple ones at that, but it feels good nonetheless. I miss my old patients — have I said that lately? I wonder how they’re getting on without me.

I should probably think about getting some sleep.

D.

Progress of sorts

Folks are calling my references. That’s gotta be a good sign, right? With any luck, I’ll soon have two interviews lined up down south, two more up north (one in Portland, one in Olympia).

Keeps yer toes crossed for us . . .

D.

Brilliance in advertising

The second scream at the end is precious.

How can you not make a hilarious commercial for — ah, but that would be telling.

You would think banned commercials would be uniformly amusing, no? Flashes of genius suppressed because some TV exec convinced himself a certain demographic would be offended . . . the naughty, the outrageous . . .

Or the plain old jaw-droppingly terrible ad. The kind that loses you business — lots of it.

Enjoy.

D.

Same scene, different script

The other day, one of my patients (a retired English teacher, of course) ragged on me for getting lie/lay wrong. Of COURSE I know the damn difference. It was a SLIP, okay?

This is dedicated to her:

D.

just working

Seems like the last few days have been a blur. Sometimes I feel like Billy Pilgrim, existing simultaneously in all moments of my life — or am I confusing him with Dr. Manhattan? Part of me right now is the faithful service-oriented doc (gotta keep up that NPS!), part is gritting my teeth on commute, part is lying in bed at 5:50 AM wondering if another ten minutes horizontal is going to make much difference to the big picture. Eat, Treat, Drive, and Sleep. What a life.

I love the work, and I have a sneaking suspicion that I could get used to this routine. Folks have had to do much worse over the years, right? I mean, I’m not in a bloody coal mine. And I’m making more money, enough that we’re actually SAVING money for a change.

Still, I wish I had more free time. I leave my chores to the weekend, so by the time Saturday rolls around most of my time is spent shopping, doing the laundry, cleaning. Yes, Lucie, I know — get domestic help — but until my longterm future resolves itself, we’re reluctant to increase our spending.

Selling the house in Harbor would be a big help.

Getting a permanent spot would be an even bigger help.

Meanwhile, I keep working and hoping.

D.

Time for a poll

One of the blog’s earlier templates had built-in polls. Whine! I liked that. Only got to use it once, I think, but I had great plans. Then that template went crashy.

On to the poll. I preface this by saying I have a low tolerance for frustration. I should be enjoying the job search, right? But I wish it were over and done with. So I’m curious. Do you think

(A) The universe is a random place and your fate is whatever you make of it;

(B) A benign Higher Being has some great plan for me, and until the right job comes along, the rest of my potential employers are gonna thumb their noses at me;

or

(C) A wicked Higher Being is having a good ol’ time swinging me around by my, um, ankles.

Feel free to come up with a (D).

D.

Neighbors

So I’m gonna go interview in So Cal on Tuesday, and I’m flying out tomorrow afternoon. So Cal means there’s at least a theoretical chance we could live near the coast, thus meeting the all-important cool weather criterion. We could, for example, live in Malibu:

Robert Redford, Mel Gibson, Barbra Streisand, Richard Gere, Sally Field and Whoopi Goldberg (to name just a few) all own homes along the exclusive Malibu shore.

and that means I could be obnoxious to some really, really famous people.

Hey Sally — lookin’ pretty hot for your age! Who’s your surgeon? Whoopi, I’ll never forgive you for Star Trek TNG. No. Seriously. Cannot forgive. Cannot. Mel! Kiss my hairy Jewish ass! And Richard? Stay away from my ferrets!

But sadly, even with a tanked real estate market, there’s no way we could afford Malibu. Even Santa Monica . . . best we could do MAYBE is an overpriced apartment (they call ’em condos but they’re located in apartment buildings, so you tell me). But Malibu? Best we could do would be an old water tank on a rubbish tip.

Which sounds cool, actually. They put those tanks atop hills, after all. We could have a tank with a view.

D.

ominous

After the first of the year, traffic improved. Even now, I hit at least two sticky spots per day, and sometimes more. But the sticky spots aren’t nearly as sticky, and the really bad bits more often than not have good explanations: glass in the road. An accident for rubberneckers to gawk at. The mere presence of a cop.

I think it’s the recession. Back in the 90s, after the dotcom bubble burst, Bay Area traffic became souffle-light. This is more of the same — perhaps not as profound a plummet as that one, but far more broadly based.

Home values are down, too. On NPR the other day, I heard a Contra Costra realty board member talking about seventy percent reductions in home values. With Prop 13, new buyers will get their taxes locked in at the lower values, thereby permanently affecting municipal revenues. The Ghost of Howard Jarvis laughs, rattling his fat stinking jowls yet again, and our schools and infrastructure spending will suffer for it.

I’m okay so far . . . but I’ll be a lot happier once we manage to sell our house.

D.

Sicko

If anyone has been emailing me at my azureus account, I’ve been down the last 48 hours. Literally down. More on that below.

So TWICE in the last few days, I’ve heard stories about our president attending “an ecumenical prayer service with Christian, Jewish, Muslim, and Hindu religious leaders.” Notice what’s missing?

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