Geez, Louise

OK, found a job. It sucks. I'm proofreading "planned giving" newsletters. Everyone of them boils down to this: When you die, make sure your money is coming to us. Too depressing for me, even with Prozac.

Had another interview today with an insurance company. This looks a bit more promising, and I'll be working at a computer again. Wee. And they liked the fact that I was not an early morning person, and honest about it.

So, I now have money for the Eris sweater, which I will probably order as soon as this stinkin' ren faire is over. I don't think I've done this much sewing and swearing in a while. Two dresses, one tunic, stockings, underwear, and shoes. Yes, I said shoes. I made shoes. Or should I say shoe, since one is about an inch too small. Will have to make that one over, or just say the heck with it and wear my Birkenstocks after disguising the sole so it doesn't leave the tell-tale Birk footprint.

I've been taking a sock to work on while Sean is going to soccer. Four year olds playing soccer is like herding cats. Watching it is like watching a train wreck. Here is a photo of my soccer boy.

It is amazing what parents will put themselves through for their kid. Getting up early on a Saturday morning, when your first instinct is to crawl back into bed, draging yourself and your kid to the field, watching the little heathens run around, and then presenting yourself at the end of the game to create the "tunnel of parents" which the kids run through, usually faster than they did the entire game. And snacks. Can't forget about the snacks.

Time to get the heathen to bed. Time to get back to work.