The Best News Ever

I am overjoyed to be back on my little laptop, sucking up the free signal at the St. Peters Bakery, which is part of the St. Peters renaissance, taking back the sweet creek-side village from the clutch of biker gangs. But that is not the best news ever.
On Tuesday after work, I stopped by the Credit Union that holds my car loan to make my monthly payment, as usual not a minute before it was due. I was smelling like coffee and my dogs were barkin'. The teller was sweet and helpful and looked up my account, as I can never remember the number. "It looks like this will be your last payment" she said. I stared in disbelief with a big, dumb smile on my face. I guess I had not been paying close attention and had resigned myself to car payments until the end of time. I thanked her profusely (as though she had payed off the loan herself) and she said "I always like to give good news". "This is the best news I've ever gotten!" I said.
When I got out to MY car, I told Nigel that at last he really belonged to me and thought we should do something to celebrate, but we were both hot and tired and so we went home to rest, he in the carport and I on the couch.

Soul Rash

I think part of my lack of blogging material has been due to the fact that I have recently been excited about a plan for 2-3 days only to have it make a hairpin turn and go another direction. Sick of regurgitating the whole tale with no ending, I've stopped talking, although I haven't stopped dreaming.
One of my baby steps towards my independence is that I now have a job. But along with this job comes a fairly constant feeling of humiliation and an eery sense that my life has gone absolutely nowhere since 1998. I am working in the cafe at the local health food store and while my coworkers are pleasant and the work is un-demanding and requires none of the preparation I so loathed in my last career, everyday I stand in front of the community that watched me grow up, in my 33-year-old (and slightly paunchy) body and ask "anything to drink with that?". It would only be worse if I were pressuring them with deep-fried potato products instead of fermented mushrooms and soy. I know, I know, its all in the attitude, but I'm afraid mine isn't very good right now. I am watching friends have the careers, the homes, the babies they've been planning for while I sleep in a twin bed in the middle of what feels like a perpetual yard sale.