The Jobless Goddess

            We’re about to go over to the “mainland” for our Christmas shopping trip. Along with wrapping paper, tape, and double A batteries, we’ll be looking for great deals on toilet paper and Scrubbing Bubbles. This is what we’ve come to.             Periodic trips off island to eat Big Macs and buy Tide. And the excitement that comes from this whole thing is akin to earlier feelings about a ZZ Top concert or a book signing someplace. It’s pretty darn thrilling.             We have to call the Steamship Authority to make a reservation to take the car over to Cape Cod. This comes to $80 for me, Chris, Dan, and the car. This is why we don’t leave very often. If we did the same thing in the middle of high summer it would be close to $200. And people wonder why I’ve taken up crocheting.             So this is what will happen:             We’ll get up at the butt crack of dawn to make a 7 a.m. ferry on a Sunday. We’ll leave early for the boat because I will need a coffee from

            There’s a sermon here somewhere. What to be thankful for? Everything, pretty much. For children who are alive and body parts that still work.             Let’s see. I’m living and breathing. My kids and husband are doing the same. I have memories that keep me happy and thinking. I have siblings who keep me guessing and engaged.             I have a roof over my head and food in my cupboards.             There are people right here in my town who I know have neither. They keep me hoping and dreaming.             I’ve got enough food in my pantry right now to feed twenty people tomorrow. The only problem being that I don’t have twenty people coming.             For years, my best Thanksgivings have been cooking for other people who I know don’t have a place to go. That means a true Thanksgiving to me. Feeding somebody who wouldn’t have otherwise had that great big fat meal I love so much.             I love all the foods….turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, pies o

            Seriously, I just realized earlier today that I wrote an entire blog talking about how I’m 53. I’m 54. How do you spell denial?             Personally, I love aging. I was never a hot chick in a bikini anyway so I don’t really know what it’s like to feel devastated now that my breasts touch my belly button. They were halfway there when I was nine.             Maybe I just forgot that I’m 54. God knows I forget a whole lot of other stuff. This all comes to the forefront because I’ve recently watched that Still Alice movie. I’ve always liked Julienne Moore because she’s not your usual cleavage actress. But in Still Alice she really gets to me. She’s got the familial Alzheimer’s and it ain’t pretty. God love her for playing that part and at least bringing a discussion to the table.             The older I get the more I realize that courage is the most effective character trait you could ever have. Anybody can do a lot of stuff, but unless you’re willing to move out o

            Well, still jobless. Big surprise. I’m 53 years old and apparently my skill set looks a lot better on a 25 year old.             Nothing new there. A lot of things look better on a 25 year old.             The thing is that I feel like a 53 year old offers more stability than a young ‘un. It’s not like I’m going to throw my hands up in the air any time soon and declare, “I’m outta here!”             I’m more likely to ask, “Do you have a retirement plan or a 401K?” or “Is there any way I could work here until I’m 82? Because that’s about when I could afford to leave. “             I am not bashing young people. In fact, I wish I were one. They have options and they can walk away from a crappy offer. I really can’t afford to do that at this point.             Let this be a lesson to you. If you’re over 45 think twice about leaving whatever job it is that pays your bills. I’m not saying give up on your dreams or settle for some boring same-old life. I’m just saying

            I just bought a roasting pan, the black one with white flecks. It is almost identical to the one I grew up with. I’m 54 and this makes me ever so happy.             I am not sure that a beef roast evokes such strong memories in everyone.             Growing up, we had roast on many a Sunday at home, or when I was very young, a roast at my grandma’s house on Sunday. That was the best meal of the week.             The whole process today of searing the meat, cooking the onions, carrots, and mushrooms in a little red wine before they went into the big roasting pan, the whole thing was awesome.             Right now, it’s all sitting in that fantabulous roasting pan at 325 degrees and I know better than I know my name, that shit will be delicious.             What was it that made me not go out and buy a twenty-dollar roasting pan about 25 years ago? Why is it so important that it’s taken me my whole life to make that purchase?             It’s been nothing to spen