Author: Josh

Elise and I celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary this past Friday.  Five years. Wow.  It’s scary how fast time passes us by as we age.  It seems like just yesterday that Elise was drooling and pawing at me, begging for my love and attention.  I was a free agent at the time and negotiated a handsome contract and now here we are today, contemplating our child’s college fund, health care reform and prescription strength glucosamine.

Our anniversary was not unlike most recent days.  We wake up on a quest to find a combination of sustainable source of nutrition fortified with fiber, a pair of eye glasses or the child.  We were more tired than usual because we babysat Jack the night before.

I had an interview that morning and got home in time to cook fajitas for Christine, who was over to pick up Jack, Elise and myself.  Christine and Jack left, I went to work and Elise played with Maly and cleaned house.  In passing we had this conversation more than once:

“Sooo…  what are we doing tonight?”

“…”

We had previously agreed that we wouldn’t buy each other gifts because the weekly compensation I receive from the Texas Workforce Commission will more than likely have us selling plasma and home furnishings by mid-October.  I serriously thought about rigging a nice evening at Taco Cabana or Jack in the Box but recounted our previous anniversaries.  I like to celebrate special occasions with nice food.

• Year One
• Year Two
• Year Three
• Year Four

Christine called to let us know that she had a 20% off coupon from Louie’s 106.  Like any other unemployed schmuck I said, “Uhhhhmmmm… hell yeah!” like I found a half-smoked cigarette on a street corner next to a syringe with minimal needle rust!  Well, not really, but it afforded Elise and me to have a discounted anniversary meal and revisit the “kyew-pon versus coo-pon” dispute.

John & Christine watched Maly while Elise and I had dinner.  Elise had the Bronzed Alaskan Halibut Filet with Smoked Yellow And Red Tomato Coulis, Fire Roasted Red Onion And Rock Shrimp Arepas, Wilted Spinach and Oyster Mushrooms and a chardonnay wine flight.  I had the 8 oz. tenderloin filet stuffed with Crab Meat, Corn and Smoked Gouda, Green Peppercorn Cognac Demiglace and Poblano Bearnaise with a cabernet sauvignon wine flight.

After dinner we picked up some night cap booze and half of a Italian cream cake at HEB and went over to John and Christine’s for the evening.  We came home shortly after midnight to realize that although I had the camera in my pocket all night, we never had our picture taken together at dinner.  I set the camera’s timer and we posed at the kitchen table that was once my dad’s when he was a bachelor.

We always have a snapshot taken on our anniversary.  It lets us reflect upon our lives and our past together as a single, loving entity of enveloped souls and say things like, “Wow!  You could barely see your ear hair back then.”

“Hey, Pot, it’s Kettle.  Guess what?  You’re black!”

One would think that being unemployed would lend ample time to keep the website updated. Truth is: there is plenty of time but not a lot to document.

Since becoming officially unemployed I have been doing a new kind of work. I get up, shower, shave get dressed and go to the office. I spend 3-4 hours in the morning sending out coverletters and resumes and researching companies. At noon Elise makes sandwiches for lunch and we eat out on the deck and play with Maly. I go back to work until 5:30 or 6.

The family refers to my job searching effort as working, which it is. My current job is not a job I’d wish upon many.

Six weeks of dedicated and diligent job searching have rendered three interviews so far.

Things are looking a little bit better and I’m getting more bites as time progresses and I employ new job searching strategies.

We took Maly to the zoo today for a lazy Sunday family outing. We saw lions, tigers, lemurs, turtles, monkeys, all kinds of birds, bears and leopards. While out we found out how to not take a self portrait.

I’ve been a huge fan of the band Tool for the better part of 13 years. I quietly and anxiously waited to hear of a local tour date supporting the release of the album 10,000 Days. When tour dates were released, I made note and two months later, with credit card in hand, I purchased two tickets for the show at the Cynthia Woods Mitchell Pavilion in the Woodlands.

Elise and I saw Tool at the CWMP five years ago and to date, that was the best concert that I have ever attended. It was a show in every sense. The stage was set with video screens that methodically displayed images of life, death, science, the occult, religion, philosophy and what a third eye might find appealing. There were actors dressed as aliens who decended from the top of the stage from ropes, released upon the stage and danced. The music was dulcet, raw, pounding and soothing. We sat there on the grassy knoll and shared a 16 oz. Miller Lite, Buffalo Wings from Hooters and a jaw dropping, mesmerizing performance from one of my favorite bands.

This past Monday I expected nothing less than aural ecstacy from Tool. My parents watched Maly for the evening and everything was set for a perfect evening of entertainment.

We arrived at the Pavilion on time. We had to wait in line for 45 minute while two older men used hand held metal detectors to scan, one by one, the thousands of people in line. Once to the gate we were informed that we couldn’t bring our binoculars with us.

“We brought our binoculars with us five years ago”, I contended to no avail.

We found “our spot” where we stood five years ago. A nice area in the grass in the general admission area of the pavilion. The intro began, the lights dimmed and before we knew it, Tool released itself upon the crowd. Kind of. The kid behind us began his own drunken beer slinging mosh and within seconds the bouncers had him with his arms pinned behind him and escorted away.

The band just wasn’t there. There was no energy. I had read on Tool’s fan site that Maynard had been sick the night before. That obviously carried over into the Houston show. It was a disappointing performance. Halfway through the set, Maynard asked for a moment of silence from the crowd to remember those who lost their lives on September 11th. There was no moment of silence. There were screams from the pit and a guy far stage left who screamed, “SMOKE POT”. I’ve never wanted to punch a total stranger more than at that moment.

Elise was having a hard time seeing, she also immediately noted the lack of energy from the singer and the cigarette smoke was getting to her. She offered to go stand in line to buy us a couple beers. She waited in line for half an hour and when she was two people away from ordering, the concession stands were closed. At 10 p.m. beer sales were closed.

Cigarettes and the smell of marijuana and the drunk people — now I understand why Kenny G. gained so much notoriety. It’s the likes of adult contemporary who us 30-somethings turn to when we can no longer stand the wafts of patchouli and pot, the sight of strangers’ sweat, exposed skin and tattoos that will be the source of regret in six months, or the notion of irritated and anxious crowds who strive to be entertained.

There were a few of us out there: the long-time fans who never bothered with cultivating a MySpace identity. I nodded and they nodded back. We were the ones who also left before the encore and listened to the final song as we whisked back to our cars to avoid the crowd before the show ended.

Yesterday morning I got an email from my boss stating that the company that is buying the company I’ve ran for the past three years will not be needing my services in any form after this Friday. I thought I was positioned to help in the transition and have at least another month of employment.

As soon as I finished reading that email I started breathing like Tony Soprano (the fictional Mafioso character, not my fish), my stomach knotted and my heart began beating faster than normal.

I was furious all day yesterday. I half-assed worked out at Tae Kwon Do last night. After a long day I came home and started my bedtime ritual with Maly. I bathed her and put a clean diaper on her. During this time Elise and I were “discussing” my current situation, mood, and plans for the future. It was at the point when I was dressing Maly in her pajamas where I found it necessary to reach my penultimate, volatile point in my self-absorbed malevolence. I yelled at Elise and used obscenities that not only should a five-month-old not hear, but also not a 31-year-old wife.

Elise understood my frustration and played the role of my unintentional, verbal punching bag. I calmed down and we talked more. I fell asleep peacefully last night after being calmed down.

I woke up and went to work today. It was late in the morning when I found solace again. I stopped whatever it was that I was doing and realized that we’ll be okay. So, I’m losing my job. I won’t lose my relationship with my wife or my daughter or any of my family or friends. I won’t lose my house. I will have lost my 1 GB thumb drive that had my resume and coverletter on it because it will have fallen out of my front left pocket somewhere during the Labor Day weekend. We will be okay. I came to terms with that today. I’ve been overly exacerbated because of losing my job and having been the provider for five months. But late this morning a glowing, pillowy goo of goodness and serenity engulfed me and pulsed a bright white light as if to say, “Take all the time you need. Things will be fine. No worries. You will prosper beyond anything you’ve ever imagined. SHIT! The cops!!! Put that away and roll down the windows. Nevermind.”

Things are going to be okay for us.

My two hourly employees called me at home tonight within half an hour of each other to tell me that they’re both quitting. I encouraged them both to stay and ride out the next two days. That’s they’re decision to make.

I don’t know about everyone else, but mine are going to be okay.

“The mentality that I had going into interviews was that I didn’t need the job.  It’s kind of like when you like a girl, you don’t show her that you like her, then she wants your nuts real bad.”

“I’m sooo going to go to my next interview and say, “You want these nuts, don’t you?””

The company is moving the weekend of September 8th.  That’s next Friday.  This week I’ve been training the marketing and IT folks who will be taking over.  Saying that the past few days have been rough is an understatement and coming to the realization that the company will only be around for six more days is jolting.

I have very few job leads and an answering machine that blinks with calls from corporate recruiters who sound like strip club DJs — not that I would know what a strip club DJ sounds like.

I wonder how much a strip club DJ makes.

Last Friday we went stargazing at the Wild Basin Wilderness Preserve. We showed up 15 minutes late and joined a raucous group of Adventure Girls, Wild Basin Wilderness Preserve volunteers and two member of the University of Texas Astronomy Club. We viewed Vega and Jupiter from three telescopes just outside the Preserve’s main building. At 8:30 we were instructed to finish up our stargazing, gather our belongings and begin forming a line at the beginning of the trail behind us. It was at that point that I hauled ass back down to the parking lot to get Maly’s stroller. I hurried back through the gravel parking lot, through a mini trail, up two flights of stairs, over a bridge, through another trail, battled two tree-perched ninjas and finally met Elise and Maly to begin our tour of whatever it was that we were going to be touring in the dark on this rocky trail. We put Maly in her stroller and made after the rest of the group that had a good head start on us. We hurried to catch up with the others, along the way Maly was bouncing around in her stroller as I plowed over rocks and limbs. If she grows up to be a normal physical funtioning human I will be surprised after the jarring I subjected her to on the trail. We finally caught up with the rest of the group as they were circling the end of the trail and heading back to the Preserve. I still have no idea why we were guided down that trail after dark. My guess is that there were members of the UT Astronomy Club hiding in the bushes attempting to recruit Adventure Girls. Thankfully we showed up late and dodged the $3 per person fee otherwise I would’ve had the Preserve pay for Maly’s accupuncture therapy.

It was previously decided that upon our return from Des Moines on Sunday, we would start putting Maly to sleep in her crib and employ the baby monitor. Up until this point Maly had been sleeping in a cradle that her maternal Grandpa made for her.

I didn’t sleep well that night. Not well at all. I don’t think Elise slept well either.

On Monday night we recounted our individual experiences from the night prior.

It was pitch black in our bedroom. We were both lying on our backs, ready for sleep.

“Oh, hey!”

“Hmm?”

“I had a really weird dream last night.”

“Oh, yeah. What happened?”

“We were sitting on the floor in our bedroom with a couple of our friends. I said, ‘Hey! Y’all listen to this’. The room fell silent as I grabbed the baby monitor. I turned the monitor up as loud as it would go and giggled as I whispered, ‘Shhhhh. Listen.’

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. We heard the baby’s heartbeat. We could all hear the baby breathing, too.

Then there was a something like a growl. We all fell dead silent and everyone’s eyes got huge. Then a sudden thump, a fraction of a whimper and then silence from the monitor. Something was in her room and…”

“Uuuggh!!! Why did you have to have THAT dream?!?!”