Here it is again. That nasty thing called change. I write about it a lot because it helps me to process things. Like an introvert who thinks out loud, driving those around him nuts when they respond and he continues the oral yet internal dialogue. So read on if you have any interest at all in the inner workings of my twisted little mind.
I have known for the past couple of years that my childcare duties would be slowing down and I have recently been considering if I would take on any new clients or move on to a new venture. Today I got the news that I will be going to part time childcare this fall. I am torn. Am I sad, excited, scared out of my mind?! While I think I have made great strides in this area, change is not my favorite thing.
I am looking forward to having a little more freedom in my day. Maybe take more hikes or more educational field trips with those still home schooling. Whatever I choose to do to augment the household income, it will have to be something I can do in my underwear, or at least without getting out of my pajamas.
Today I have been researching getting a license to do commercial baking in my home. I fear the requirements will necessitate a complete kitchen remodel. I want to be a financial help, not a walking, talking money pit! I joined a website to link me up with proofreading and blogging jobs. Finally, I can use my Nazi-esque grammar and spelling obsession to my advantage, and not get punched in the mouth!
I have even asked for ideas from friends on Facebook. Some of these people know me a little bit and others know me too well for my own good. So far nothing extreme has been suggested. Baking, tutoring, writing, public speaking. It was even suggested I do MORE childcare. Which led to my next idea.
I did notice they are looking for "dancers" at a local "steak house." It fits the working-in-my-underwear requirement! My darling husband said I'd probably look better than any of the talent they had. I decided not to turn it into a "How would you know?" fight and instead pointed out a few of my less than desirable features: stretch marks, sagging breasts, twin skin and triplet flap. Trust me, you don't want to know. These lovely badges of honor remain, even after all of my hard-earned weight loss. Besides, the only dancing I know how to do is Jazzercise and I'm pretty sure I resemble a spastic albatross doing that.
Oh yeah. I also don't think people should sell sex. Silly me!
My foray into comedy has been on hold so long that I have a renewed sense of dread when I think of getting on stage. It was a terrifying adrenaline rush and, unlike running a race, I do not feel like getting right back on stage and repeating the experience as soon as it is over. I want to hurl. Besides, when you get on stage in your underwear, people expect a different kind of performance. I refer you to paragraph six above.
*beep*
Ooh! An email from the Oregon Department of Agriculture. Thank you, Christine S., Food Safety Specialist, for the virtual stack of forms. Or should that be a stack of virtual forms? I suppose it's time to get real or go home. Wait.....
Time to slip into my underwear and get to work!
