I Hate Interviews

Well, I guess I should say I hate preparing for interviews.

I've noticed a pattern emerging: I buy an interview outfit. Interview outfit doesn't fit the night before interview. I freak out. I tear my closet apart and do six loads of laundry in an attempt to find appropriate attire. I return the interview outfit that I bought.

I have a few strikes against me:

1) It is freakin' hot in Texas (toward the end of June, may I remind you).
2) I have a tattoo the size of Montana on my forearm that I'd rather not show off to prospective employers (and I still have 4-7 laser treatments left).
3) It's freakin' hot in Texas.

Translation: I have to wear long sleeves in order to hide my tattoo, but it's so hot outside that my waterproof mascara and tinted moisturizer melt off by 8am. Long sleeves in the summer heat just don't make me happy.

So I'm up waiting for another load of laundry to come out of the dryer. And my closet full of clean clothes has yielded no results. Here's to hoping I show up to the interview with more than a bikini on.

A Few of my Favorite Things

My poolside baby in sun glasses:


Bribery ("If you get the tub sparkling, we'll go swimming today." Ha. Maybe I am an evil stepmother):


Family pictures:


Do I look like a teacher? I hope so. Not that looking like a teacher will land me a job or make me successful at that job, but I have an interview for a teaching position on Monday. And considering that I've prepared my brain as much as I can up until this point, all I can think about is my outfit and grooming. I guess that means I'll have to shave - there's no way on earth I'd leave the house with nylons on in this Texas heat (not that I've ever been a fan of those nasty things anyway).

I'm at the point in the deployment (almost four months in) where I'm looking for things to be excited about. It's gotten old pretty quickly, and I have had more than enough loneliness to contend with. But then I remember that I'm the one that has it easy - Scout's the one out fighting the bad guys and saving little children and crazy heroic stuff that you don't really hear enough about on the news. So I tell myself, "There's no time for a pity party, Erin. Stop being an asshole and get on with it."

So that's it in a very small nutshell. We've been extremely busy. And it won't stop any time soon (we still have a quilt to make, belugas to swim with, and cooking and CSI classes to take before July 18th when Scout Jr goes home).

Crazy

Since Thursday, I have succeeded in the following:

1) Drove to Louisiana, with a screaming baby and a neurotic dog, to pick up Scout Jr.

2) Shared a hotel room with my husband's ex-wife's mother, Scout Jr, Tucker, and the neurotic dog. And it was actually quite pleasant.

3) Drove to San Antonio (from Louisiana) to visit the parents, with Scout Jr, Tucker, and neurotic dog.

4) Took my dad and Scout Jr to the shooting range for Father's Day:




5) Woke up at 5am yesterday, drove to Austin, dropped off the neurotic dog to be spayed. Found things to keep a nine-year old and an infant busy all day; McDonald's for breakfast, my favorite thrift store, the state capital, downtown Austin, and a Duck Tour (it was 101 degrees yesterday - and sitting on plastic seats for 75 minutes on a bus with no AC makes your butt sweat - AWESOME).

6) Showed up at 4:30 pm to pick up the neurotic dog and they refused to let us pick her up until five. Waited until 5:15 and left with the dog, a screaming baby, and a tired but optimistic nine-year old. Showed up for Austin traffic, got through it about 7:15. Went to McDonald's a second time (terrible, I know), got dinner and headed back home, then realizing we forgot our drinks at the drive-thru and had to turn around. Huge mess.

7) Got home at eight with a tired crew. We survived the almost three hour drive (Austin to Killeen is usually about an hour).

It's good to be home. Now I have to study for an upcoming exam, get some schoolwork done, quit smoking (again), start Weight Watchers (again) and continue to entertain two children. :)

Teagan

I am soooooo excited to announce that my baby sister and brother in-law had their daughter today.

Y'all ready for this? Their FIRST child weighed in at 11 pounds, 3 ounces!

I wish I had a picture to share, but it will probably be a few days.

Congratulations, you guys!

Things I've Learned

It's been almost three months since Scout left, and I've formed a few mantras in that time:

1. After a mini-crisis, a solution will come. It just will. No matter how much you fret about it, it will either end in disaster or resolution. And it almost never ends in disaster. Either way, getting through it (particularly if an emotional breakdown is involved) will make you fierce. And strong. And you'll start to see the world differently the next time all the light bulbs in the kitchen burn out at the same time when you have none to replace them with. Doing dishes in the dark will be humorous, not tragic.

2. Yes, you will hear others whining about their husband being gone for ten days. Resist the urge to roll your eyes and judge. Someone always has it better than you; be happy for them, not bitter. But someone always has it worse, so keep your mouth shut and don't complain. Your husband is alive. Your child is healthy. Your bills are paid. You have a good haircut.

3. Even when you have "enough" money, there will never really be enough. Various financial needs will arise all at the same time. That's why you have savings. Don't get stressed out about transferring the money to checking when your dog needs an emergency spay. It is what it is.

Gulp

I published my first post at SpouseBUZZ today. I just about threw up in my mouth as I clicked on "Submit."

In the latest Kansas saga (it's always something), she might be knocked up. I use that term because it's not a happy event; the last thing the world needs is more puppies (if you have any doubts, visit your local animal shelter).

She's in heat. And like a good dog owner, I have every intention of getting her spayed. I have it on a list of 1,743 other things I need to get done. Apparently, I should have put it at the top of the list before she went into heat.

I have a fence all the way around my backyard. But when I looked outside on Sunday morning, I saw the neighbor's male dog in our yard. Oh, damn. Apparently, male dogs will do whatever it takes to reach a female dog in heat.

I went over there to tell them to come get their dog, but no one answered the door. I had to leave the house for the 5k, so I convinced myself that if he wasn't neutered, they would have already mated.

When I got back from the marathon, the dog was gone. So I trotted over to the neighbor's house to make sure they got him back. When I nonchalantly asked if he was neutered, she said no ("But he's old. I don't think he could mate," she told me. Oh yeah? If he's so damn old, how the hell did he jump the fence?). ARGH.

So a trip to the vet's office for a canine version of the morning-after pill just frustrated me more. Apparently, my mom was lying and there is no such thing. So to get her fixed? $278. Absolutely ridiculous. Needless to say, I'll be shopping around. I think I have the most expensive vet in the state of Texas.

Run for the Rovers

ABW and I completed our second 5k today (although, as I hacked up part of a lung, I seriously wondered if I would make it to the finish line; I can't seem to get rid of my cold).

It was a race put on by Blue Dog Rescue, whose cause is something near and dear to my heart.

It was so much fun to see all of the different dogs there; from the conversations I overheard, most of them were rescued in some form or fashion. It was lovely to be there.

After the race:


Lewis was absolutely exhausted (and has a horrible hair cut by the way. I don't want to get into that story right now.):


So many dogs laid in the pools that were designated for drinking, but this is the only one I caught in action. Hilarious!:


And it's so nice to have a friend who can actually take a picture of me with Tucker. All the pictures I take are of him in his crib!:

More 5k Pictures

Tucker has succeeded in demolishing the stroller with his regurgitated milk:


ABW is exhausted:


But she pretends to like Lewis long enough to take a picture with him :):


And here's the little dog who refused to finish the race on foot. His owners had to carry him across the finish line: