Fortune Cookie

Chinese New Year is upon us. As I am wont to do, I checked my lunar horoscope for the coming year. Unfortunately, the Year of the Horse does not look particularly auspicious for a metal ox born within the hours of the rabbit. According to Theodora Lau, author of The Handbook of Chinese Horoscopes, my sorry metal ox tush is going to have a one star year. Hmmm. Thanks, Theodora. I decided to go back a page in her book, to the Year of the Snake, to see how I should have fared in 2013. You know, just to see how accurate she might be. Well, I was supposed to have a four-out-of-five-star gala time, but looking at it from this vantage point, it’s hard to see how that could possibly be correct.

I guess some good things did happen. I can’t say the year was a total bust. But I suppose that this would be a good time to tell you that I am no longer a commuter mom. I know, right? You didn’t see that one coming, did you? Yeah, neither did I. But, the important thing is, I still am the "mom" part; that will never change of course. I’m just not one that commutes, for the time being anyway, since the company I worked for reorganized a few months ago, and their reorganization did not include me.

Although I’d love to pretend that the company is falling apart without me, I am not naïve enough to think that I can’t be replaced. Although they said they aren’t going to replace me. Probably because I’m totally irreplaceable. You know that I am. I prefer to use that adjective instead of “unnecessary,” which is the one that kept popping into my mind those first days. Because they tell you that you should just leave everything—don’t update anyone. All that stuff that you did, that’s in your head, no one needs to know that stuff. And then you’re there and then you’re not. And maybe it will take a week or two, maybe a little more, or a little less, and it’s like you were Never. Even. There. You know what I mean. People know you were there. But things move on—it’s not always bad or good. It’s just . . . different. But thinking about this sort of thing can kind of bring you down.

I’d like to think that this change is not a bad thing. I wasn’t always so happy there, you know, the last couple of years. And being around, being closer to home, has had its benefits. While not exactly the happiest of situations, I’ve been able to run my cancer kitty to the vet when he needs to go, and stay up late to help soothe the girl child when she’s feeling down. And for that I am grateful. Perhaps this whole thing is the universe kicking me in the butt and telling me that it is time to move on. But, you know, I wouldn’t have minded doing it on different terms, like, maybe, my own? I didn’t even have time to say good-bye to my bus friend. I wonder what she thinks happened to me. I wonder if she misses my snoring.

Surprisingly, I’m really busy. I thought I might not have much to do but that was just wrong. I’m writing again (did you notice?) and I’m taking a class and I’m brushing up on skills and I’m doing a lot of laundry. Well, it needs to get done. And I’m cooking new dinners a lot. I google “what’s for dinner?” and a whole bunch of stuff comes up (I love the internet) and then I pick something like “potatoes” and then I get all of these potato recipes and then I make one. The family is really loving that.

In general, though, I have good days and bad days, and things are getting better. I seem to be past the point of randomly bursting into tears, which is a good thing because that can get a wee bit embarrassing at the supermarket. There are only so many times you can stand in the middle of the produce section and blame the onions before the stock boy leans over and whispers “but they’re still in the mesh bags.” Next time, I’m bringing a knife with me. For the onions. Not for the stock boy. Just in case you weren’t sure.

I imagine that I will have to change the name of the blog now. I am not sure what it might become because I am not sure what I might become. These days, my full time job is finding a full time job. For the time being, I could call it something like, maybe, “looking for a full-time-job-mom” but then if I do find a job where I have to commute I’ll have to change it back again. This could get confusing. I am confused enough.

I am going to get sappy now and thank all of my friends and family and acquaintances and former colleagues and even strangers for all of the connections and introductions, offers of help, and frankly, just for the kind words. It all means so much. I have to give a special shout out, though. On the day I was let go, I had only a few hours to get my stuff together. The husband was coming to get me—I had a bunch of bags to bring home. One person stayed late specifically to help me carry my stuff downstairs and waited until the husband showed. I can’t imagine how I would have done that alone. Jim (and you know I never use names but I’m doing it this time because I want to embarrass you) you are a mensch, as we say in Yiddish. I can’t thank you enough.

The husband and I were too wiped out to cook that last night, so we picked up some Chinese food on the way home from the office. After we ate, I opened my fortune cookie. It said: “Tough times never last but tough people do.” Who knows? Maybe Theodora was wrong—it may be a five-star year after all.