Caterwauling

Between cracking a tooth on the pizza I got for dinner tonight, and getting a call that my long-lost cousin who finally returned to the radar just up and died, I’m going to say this night can feel free to end soon.

I forget which of my boys said I’d be an excellent mother. Probably because I started singing “You Oughta Know” and promptly forgot about it.

In any event, I took the kids to the Veterans Day parade and out for Taco Tuesday. And I didn’t drink. Which I do think makes me deserve some sort of “Mother of the Year” award.

At lunch, my two favoritest people in the industry (both from different states, and both who employed me at different times in my illustrious career) ran up to greet me. The kids are like, is there anyone you DON’T know in this business?

That made me happy. As will the drinks on my calendar for later with my cherished friends …

I got to talking with a fellow Stuppendous Badass about our unique (and perhaps uniquely underappreciated) ninja roles within our respective empires.

Moreover, we got to talking about what we could do if we could ever break the shackles we custom-built so well.

We excelled at becoming the centralized cog in a very big wheel. And they don’t make them like us, you know — my friend has a hard time finding equally hard workers, and I have a perfectly miserable time finding equally smart/capable workers.

How do we get to do what it is we want to do when we have no hope of ever having the opportunity to FIGURE OUT EXACTLY WHAT THAT IS?

Last time I worked in this building, I was out of pubs entirely. And job-wise, I was never happier. The harassment wasn’t a good time, so I left … and fell back into pubs again.

I could excel in that whack-a-mole-hole perhaps if I didn’t have so many pubs and 50 side jobs (and first dates. *cough*) to boot — how do I get back to a role I wish I could have loved for a lot longer?