Job-searching is wearying. You submit your little vulnerable celestial body and soul out into the job market abyss, hoping to find an orbit to settle into that's gratifying and has the capacity to support the lifestyle you've grown accustomed to. It's such an integral part of life, making a living; and winding up in the wrong job can be dreadful, miserable, agony.
I especially hate the application forms: What's the most valuable thing you took from your last job?
I want to respond, I never took anything worth more than 5 or 10 dollars.
And: What do you do when you're not working?
Well, I drink a lot of coffee, then i pee a lot. I read Soap Opera's Digest. I knit kitty hats and scarves and sweater vests. I put m&ms on the ceiling fan and see how many i can catch in my mouth when i turn it on. I milk my neighbor's ferret. I like sucking the propellant out of whip cream cans, telling kids there's no such thing as Santa and running barefoot in the winter through warm cow pats. (Much of this is true, i'll admit.)
I'm sure the people going through the applications would appreciate a bit of something to break up the monotony.
Anyhow, the toils of the hunt paid off and i landed a kick as little job at an organic garden operation working for more than minimum wage for a local lady and her family.
The farm is on the edge of some of the only extant native prairie in this region. Our soil, being largely volcanic in origin, is some of the most fertile in the world.
|Stole this pic, but i swear that's exactly how it looks.|
However, i also scored another awesome gig river-guiding in the Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness, where a piece of my heart always lives. I'm lucky as a leprechaun, in this economy especially, to be facing the conundrum of: