Your work is to discover your work...

...and then with all your heart give yourself to it. Thank you, Buddha.

Ok, I alluded to this in a previous post. Nell is packing up her potential and all she has learned and heading out to change a few things.

The day I signed the agreement to buy our house, I was told in confidence that the new Lt. Governor was inquiring into the responsibilities of my position as Operations Manager for the office. This was a clear indication that I may be removed from the position. The day after the Independence Day holiday, I was informed that the following day would be my last day in OLG, and I was offered a (life-saving) temporary appointment elsewhere in the Department of Culture, Recreation and Tourism to help with an ongoing project until I found something permanent.

My first thought went to MY HOUSE. The strong and stable men in my life assured me that this was just a bump in the road and that everything with the house had lined up too seamlessly for me to take this as a sign that we should not pursue the house. I am happy to report that everything is on track with our little chalet cottage in Greenbriar Hollow and we move in when Corey's home on R&R.

At first I was livid. The majority of the institutional knowledge for that office rested with me. I did not feel that the Lt. Governor nor his staff took the time to understand what I contributed to the office and how I could help their success during their temporary administration. Mitch had asked him to keep me on, and he said he would. I met the man once, and while I worked to get him and his staff set up in the office, I'm inclined to believe that all of that went unnoticed by him.

Really the crying and the grief and the anxiety I experienced over these last couple weeks was not over the loss of this job. There is only one Lt. Governor for me, and that is Mitch Landrieu. It was to my misfortune that he was called to serve the City of New Orleans and I could not go with him. In retrospect, I should have left when he did, and I think the universe hinted at me to do just that and I ignored it. I don't think I would have been happy working for someone else in that position.

But with everything our family has going on, I was putting off a career move for as long as possible. Ultimately it was forced upon me, and my high level of upset and fit-pitching was attributable to my not being ready to make this change.

Everything works out as it should, a statement that makes my darling husband's ears burn. When Mitch was elected and his departure from our office imminent, I saw a position with the Campaign for Tobacco-Free Living that peaked my interest, coordinating the campaign at the grassroots level in Baton Rouge and the surrounding area. I decided to try and stay where I was, and did not apply. My cousin Missy, who collaborates with TFL for the state agency she works for, told me they had interviewed for the position and selected a candidate. Moving on.

When I was kicked out of OLG, I saw that the job posting remained on the website. I let Missy know I was applying and within days was granted and interview, then a second interview, and on July 27 I accepted the position as the Region 2 Coordinator for the Louisiana Campaign for Tobacco-Free Living. Friday is my last day here at this office, and my first day at TFL will be attending a conference in New Orleans Aug 4-6.

I am already getting welcoming emails from my new colleagues. I am excited to be using my very expensive graduate degree and my work experience to serve a population instead of an individual. Everybody who knows me knows that I abhor smoking, although I do love my smoking friends and family. Y'all should expect to receive some information about cessation in the mail, though.

So I begin this very exciting new journey. The boys start school August 11. We move into the house in September. I send a plea to my children, animals, friends, family, healthcare providers, Baby Jesus and all the angels and saints to stop with the Allbritton family life-altering events, at least until my better half returns to me.

Please and thank you.

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I melted, over and over and over again

I confess, I haven't been cooking lately. Last week I was filled with dread about the boys making me eat the same shit they've been making me fix all damn summer and I decided we were going to be adventurous. A couple months ago they were very enthusiastic about their love of chicken pot pie, although Landen and I don't like vegetables.

So I thought it would be a great idea to get my ramekin wedding present out of storage and make us some individual chicken pot pie. I found a Paula Deen recipe that I altered by adding orzo and cheese, and Landen helped me make it. And then, and then, and THEN both of them decided they did not care for it, which was total bullshit, but they were forced to eat all the chicken and drink all their milk. Landen ate the pastry top and Jake ate salad that I had covered with HOMEMADE RANCH DRESSING.

I know my pot pies were good, because I ate all of mine and Cydney Wilson practically licked her ramekin clean.

I also made these breakfast melts, courtesy of my new idol. I said something about them on Facebook and several people have written me about the recipe, so I direct you to it now:

Make-Ahead Muffin Melts courtesy of The Pioneer Woman

I have made three batches for me, Cydney and Landen since Friday. I cut the recipe in half, which works fine. I hate hard boiled eggs, so I use scrambled. I actually used Eggbeaters all three times. The first time I made it with turkey bacon and reduced fat mayonaise. The second time I made it with real bacon and real mayonaise. Times one and two I used thin-sliced bagels. The third time I used real bacon and real mayonaise, extra dijon and English muffins. After all of these variations, if you're someone who likes to tweak your recipes, my favorite is real bacon (almost burned) and real mayonaise (Hellman's) with extra dijon on bagel thins. You don't want to leave out the dijon.

These were amazing to shove in the fridge and eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner until they were all gone.

This weekend we're having flank steak and homemade mac and cheese AND this:

Grilled chicken with lemon-basil pasta courtesy of The Pioneer Woman

But I may use spaghetti because it appeals to my children more than penne does.

Sorry my dear. I would send you some of all of this if it would not spoil in the mail.

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Scenes from a Skype

It has been two weeks since the boys and I set eyes on our beloved, with him being off in Kuwait last weekend, so this afternoon when we came in from swimming we got to talk to him. Though the internet was shitty.

Landen wanted to tell him all about LEGO: Harry Potter, which he got for satisfactorily completing two weeks of swim lessons and show him his ass. Landen loves his ass. I ask him if he knows he has his dad's big butt, and he says "yep." He also had a staring contest with his dad, which is almost the cutest thing I've ever seen on Skype.

Jake wants to make sure that Little Daddy is a participant in all conversations with Corey. I'm not sure why. He just holds Little Daddy at the camera and tells Corey what Little Daddy's been doing with them. He got three Harry Potter movies (on sale at Target!) for finishing swim lessons, so he talked some Harry Potter gibberish to Corey.

Y'all know I have this obsession with Corey's hands, and how his middle two fingers are always together, and Jake's hands are the same way, and I like to make him hold his hands up so Corey can see it. Landen must have his mom's hands. Jake also has Corey's high melanin levels, whereas Landen remains a little pale.

Anyway, Corey discovered this tool on Skype to make the boys laugh, and unbeknownst to him, I did a photo capture of each of them.

One time in high school Corey shaved his head and we almost broke up over it. It was a little shorter than this in his HIGH SCHOOL YEARBOOK PHOTO!

Sometimes he was going too fast for me to get a good snapshot of it.

This is particularly appropriate since he told me he had no interest in my sending him a German chocolate cake for his birthday. He would just like the icing.

He's very Hun-like.

This was the first one, and it is my favorite.

Y'all know he has a point-and-shoot AND a video camera over there, but he CLAIMS an inability to upload them to the Internet, so we have to rely on the photos other people take of him and what I sneak on Skype to see what he looks like in his current habitat.

Aw shit, I miss him so much.

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The Holy Grail of Humiliating Stories

When I finish this story, all will be both impressed with my resilience and understand why it's taken me three years to tell this story, though it is one for the ages.

One time, I was a human bobsled.

Picture it. Cannon House Office Building. 2004. It looks like this. Or one door of it does.

It was built in 1908. Those marble steps were built then too. The steps are worn thin in the middle, like someone had spent 96 years buffing bowls in them, and they are slick as shit.

Do you know where this story is going?

In August of 2004, I quit my job, which was located in this building. That same month, I was interviewing for other jobs in this same building. If memory serves, and where this incident is involved it is damn near perfect, I had interviews at 1, 2 and 4 in the afternoon, so my friend and I decided to go one block and grab some lunch. Because I had interviews that afternoon, I was wearing a favorite skirt and black sweater, and black heels. I had just swapped my heels out for flip flops to pad down to Bullfeathers to get my favorite sammich: a blackened chicken pita. Bully's had the seriously good ranch dressing.

Upon approaching the door, my friend and I notice that it is drizzling, and we mutter the same expletives regarding running around in the rain, but hungry we were and craving ranch dressing. It was only a block. I exited the door first and proceeded down the right side of the steps. No sooner had my foot left the first step bound for the second, but both my frigging feet shot out from under me and I went down like I was an Olympian on the luge. It looked like this

 

but without the appropriate equipment and attire and snow.

People were filing out the door behind me and a very young Congressman was walking in while I was sliding out. My friend behind me was shouting "Oh my God! Oh my God!"

I stopped about three steps from the bottom. My skirt was around my waist. My Spanx (but they weren't Spanx six years ago. They were just really high, really tight underwear.) were all wet in the ass area. My feet were about five feet apart. I rose and stood still while my friend helped me pull down my skirt and dust the wet schmutz off my back. All straight. I step out again.

And AGAIN I bobsledded down the steps, completely off the marble and onto the concrete. One of my flip flops fell off and flew. My purse slid off my shoulder and spilled. People just walked around me. The security guard just stood in the door to witness the tragedy.

Then it started to really rain. I thought, "This is where I've arrived. I'm unemployed. On my ass. On the ground. Showing my panties to Congress and God and everyone coming off the Metro. In the rain."  

A homely woman pushing a stroller along the sidewalk below felt the need to stop and comment.

"Wow, that marble must be slick." To which my friend screamed "YA THINK?!"

She helped me up again and straightened me out again and recovered all my belongings. For good measure, I decided to walk barefoot to our destination, since I had clearly lost the ability to walk in flip flops.

It was five hours before I could even tell the story. Recalling it is a mix of awe and humiliation. I did not get a job in that building, but they have since replaced those fucking marble steps.

I remember this story with the aches of muscle memory whenever I interview for jobs. And when my friend Em, who wasn't even there but is killing herself laughing at this for the 1,372nd time in our friendship, reminds me of it.

I also split my pants at the White House once.

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Addresses and Birthdays

Or, one address and one birthday.

Corey's new address in Iraq is:

SSG Allbritton, Corey D.
USF-I HQ
Co B 256th STB
APO AE 09342

The posting of this address is by no means a solicitation of goodies and birthday treats. However, for those interested in sending him something for his birthday, I recommend iTunes or Amazon gift cards. He downloads many a song and he still buys his Xbox games and Amazon ships to him.

His traditional birthday cake is German chocolate. If you figure out how to get him one, you're way ahead of me. He may have to take a rain check on the cake.

For general entertainment, I have no hard recommendations. He seems to constantly need AA and AAA batteries and I think he has to dust a lot, so he asked me for some Swiffer dusters. Oh, and I don't think the toiler paper over there is very pleasant. Double Bubble gum. Magazines. He's not a big chocolate eater, but he likes nuts and trail mix. Oh, and snickerdoodles and those Lofthouse cookies with the icing. If you send those, tape them shut!

That's all I've got. I'm getting him a house for his birthday. And a king size bed. And a lawnmower and weedeater. And the responsibility of supervising the movers during his R&R.

Don't pity him. When he's home he sleeps all the time.

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A list about life as we know it. Right now.

I wish I had the time and energy to be blogging regular updates about us Allbrittons. I've been having a fifth six pack glass of wine and going to bed early every night, so I can get to work early on time every morning. I've been trying to wake up, not cry and not slap my loved ones, so that doesn't lend itself to witty writing. It's tons of good materials, but I am lacking inspiration to open the computer instead of going to bed.

Jake and Landen are doing very well. We've settled into our summer routine - "Camp Mawmaw" during the week and home with me Friday through Monday. Karate didn't work out, but they are thriving at swimming lessons. Their psychologist says they are adapting very well to these changes and she is working with them on identifying and processing their feelings. Usually she talks to Pam and me after she sees them but last week, she said she didn't need to see us, they were on track.

Early in the deployment, the FRG gave out these "hug-a-dolls" which are stuffed dolls with yarn hair and ACU bodies and a clear pocket on their face for the insertion of a photo of your soldier. When I gave one to each of the boys, Jake put his in the closet and Landen said his was creepy and gave it to the dog. A couple months ago, the hug-a-doll came back out. He is "Little Daddy." Originally he was "Baby Daddy" but I had to get that changed without explaining why Dad would not like that name. "Little Daddy" has been on a couple road trips and he sleeps between the boys on Slumber Party Saturdays, and he participates in Skype calls with real Daddy.

We're getting a house. It's two-story with a little yard and gated entry in a quiet neighborhood of garden homes. Three bedrooms, two-and-a-half baths with a little sunroom that will double as the boys' entertainment room so they can't kick me off the TV when they want to play video games. We move in when Corey comes home on R&R in September.

I know. It makes me squeal with glee too. Then I have to take a stress poo. Corey is 115% on board, from Iraq, and he's much more excited than I am because he doesn't have to do all the legwork to get from "hey we like this house" to "the movers are here." Nor does he care what kind of refrigerator I buy or want to see my Top Five Favorite Drawer Pulls for the Kitchen.

I would say all of you will be invited over when we get set up in it, but you probably will never see it other than the pictures I'll put on this blog. I really don't like people touching my things.

And because changing jobs is exactly what you want to do with your husband deployed while you're caring for two children and getting ready to move into a house, I'm no longer with the Lt. Governor's office. I am still working, still with the department, but very much in transition, and this could not be described as voluntary. It will probably later be described as a blessing in disguise, but it won't be until it's defined as such that I will post the details for public consumption. I'm okay.

Corey's mission is changing, or has changed, but I don't really know details. He's also moving, and I'll have a new address posted by the end of the week. Right now he's in Kuwait, where he's been since Tuesday and will remain until the end of this week. He's out in the middle of nowhere. I talked to him for fifteen minutes today and won't hear from him again until he gets back. It's a great time for us to be completely cut off from each other.

The dog's had diarrhea all over the house today. It smells like Satan's asshole and it takes three solutions and a piece of machinery to remove each incident from the carpet.

Corey turns 32 in 15 days and I have no idea what to get and send him. What do you get the man who doesn't live at home and can use nothing? He gets movies from the black market while they're still in theatres. He can't wear clothes. He has room for no more electronics. They tell me customs won't let the boys and Murphy through to Iraq in the boxes I bought to ship them in. Damn.

See, I can still joke. Sometimes. This blog is FULL of them.

Apparently I can't make actual lists. In a blog. With pictures in it. Suck it.

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