Author: Josh

Q. What’s better than being retired and sitting in your den with a wet bar, a gun cabinet and dead animals hanging on the wall while watching The Hunting Channel in HDTV?

A. Being retired and sitting in your den with a wet bar, a gun cabinet and dead animals hanging on the wall while watching The Hunting Channel in HDTV and in surround sound while lounging in a XROCKER WITH TWO HEADREST SPEAKERS, BUILT-IN LIGHTED SUBWOOFER WITH A MAX OUTPUT OF 80-WATTS AND EXCLUSIVE AFMâ„¢ TECHNOLOGY.

You can really hear a shoulder bone shatter and blood gurgling in a Spanish Goat’s lungs. Now that’s entertainment. Or reason to never turn your back to my dad when exiting the den.

Elise found my first post-baccalaureate job for me in the Austin American-Stateman.  When we went under at the end of the dot-com boom, I found my next job in the AAS.  I found my current job in the AAS.  So now I’m purusing the AAS for my next job in case I don’t find what I love to do in the meantime.

I’ve sent my resume along with a cover letter to seven potential employers.  Here are the employment positions that peaked my interest:

Job 1: Outside sales for the best local gutter sales and installation company.
Why?: Nice commission potential and I would be able to stand outside and point at peoples’ roofs.

Job 2: Wholesale mortgage sales executive for the 7th fasted growing national lender.
Why?: Position is offered as “a career changing opportunity” and I could use one of those.

Job 3: Outside sales for a local scaffolding company who is expanding into bleacher sales.
Why?: Bleachers are needed because people need to congregate and sit at varying levels.

Job 4: Account manager for the leading global provider of customised Corporate Information Solutions.
Why?: Because the actual job description is pretty close to what I do now and feel comfortable doing.

Job 5: Admissions Representative/Educational Sales for a certain Culinary Academy that may or may not be in the state of Texas and somewhere near or in the vicinity of Austin
Why?: That would be my way in – my way to pursue what I love.  They offer tuition reimbursement.

Job 6: Regional Sales Manger for a fast growing manufacturer of electrical interconnect and electronic interface products.
Why?: The job description sounds very interesting as the job requires automation/process control knowledge and the territory is in my neck of the woods.

Job 7: Business manager of natural food sales of restaurant quality, gourmet Italian foods that can be found in your grocer’s freezer.
Why?: Food, good.  Sales, good.  And my dad was a food broker in his working days.

All of these opportunities offer benefits.  Benefits are something that people really take for granted when they have them.

I feel a little bit better now that I’ve dipped my toe into job pool but know that it’s going to be a long swim once I get in.

My weekend started by driving to the office Friday afternoon and letting the girls know that they will need to find new jobs. They were all shocked, but took the news relatively well considering the circumstance. One asked the other, “So, what do you think you’re going to do now?” To which the other replied, “Would you like to Supersize that?”

I came home early, cleaned out the pool, and while shaking my head, paid the bills and wondered how we’re going to make it in the coming months.

After dinner the three of us walked to Escarpment Village and had gelatos at Austin Scoops. We talked to Tim, the owner, about his family’s new business. Earlier that morning Elise and I kicked the idea of opening our own kolache/breakfast taco/deli spot in south Austin. Tim was very nice and offered to talk to us at any time should we get serious about opening our own business. It’s an option.

On Saturday we woke up and and drove over to Escarpment Village for the grand opening celebration for all of the new, local businesses. It turned out to be a tent crammed full of perveyors and little room to walk. We quickly left and had lunch at Subway and then to Home Depot for night light bulbs and weather stripping.

We came home and spent the rest of the day watching movies.

This morning I woke up and announced, “Today is Sunday. New classifieds are out.” So instead of searching for jobs, I decided to remove the reverse osmosis water filtration system from our kitchen. Since I removed the filtered water faucet from the sink, we had to go to Lowe’s for a sink faucet cover. Then to Target to return some clothes. Then to Wal*Mart for bubbles for Maly. Then we came home and instead of searching for jobs, I decided to drain the sediment from the water heater.

After bathing Maly we sat down to find that Cocoon had just started on the TV. Elise said, “I’ve never watched this movie in its entirety.” I concurred. So instead of searching for a new job, we’re watching Cocoon.

I found out on Wednesday that I will be losing my job in the coming weeks. The business that I’ve run for the past two and a half years is being sold. A larger entity is acquiring all assets, inventory and intellectual property but not our staff. The rug has been pulled out from underneath me and I’m totally dumbfounded. The thought of having to look for a new job, send out resumes, and endure unnerving interviews makes my stomach knot.

A huge part of me wants to find that job that will make me smile when I wake up in the morning – that job that doesn’t feel like a job. I don’t know what that job is though. They say, “Do what you love and the money will follow.” I just don’t know what I want to be when I grow up and I don’t think I can make a temporary financial sacrifice while placing a huge bet on what a “dream job” may become. Since Maly was born I have pretty much exhausted our savings since Elise hasn’t been working.

Everybody is confident that I’ll bounce back. I’m not as confident as everybody else right now. I’m having a VERY difficult time with my resume. In my heart of hearts I was looking at the glass half full. Throughout due diligence I thought, “I’ll totally be taken care of.” I was wrong. I thought that because I was running a business that nothing but good things would come of it. I thought I could eventually own a small percentage of the company and in a few years, I’d be financially wealthy. I had visions of retiring early and traveling.

Now I’m looking for a job. I’m looking for a career. I’m looking to provide for my family. I’m facing change in the face and my temples are beading with sweat. I have a little photo of Maly that I printed out that sits on my desk. She looks at me and even though she’s far from speaking at only a few months old, I hear her say, “You’re going to fix it, aren’tcha Daddy?”

I made a mistake by not constantly keeping my resume updated. It’s so difficult to think back at everything that I’ve done here and put it into words. The past three years are a blur. I’ve done EVERYTHING. I can’t really put that on my resume although that’s what I want to do.

I’m very curious as to where I will find myself in a month.

We’ve had a lot of involvement with birds as of late.  On Saturday afternoon we were adopted by a bluejay who my sister affectionately named “JJ”.  He likes to hang out on the deck, poop on chairs, eat watermelon and pine nuts and taunt Elise.

Hopefully he can hold his own around the back yard and maybe even make friends with the cats.  My money is on yours truly sweeping up blue feathers by week’s end.

Last night Elise and I took Maly out for a captivating evening with the roosting purple martins from the seven oak trees at Highland Mall. This mesmerizing swarm easily rivals that of the Mexican free-tailed bats that fly out from under the Congress Avenue bridge at dusk during the Summer.  Even better, there were no other spectators around.  We were the only souls being shit on by martins in a mall parking lot!

I called Elise at 1 p.m. this afternoon and probed, “Guess what we were doing right now, exactly one year ago today.”

“?”

“We were signing the documents on a timeshare in Cabo San Lucas.”

Summer has been sort of rough for us this year. We’ve both been suffering from severe bouts of nostalgia. Late last June we built a deck in the back yard. In July we went to Vegas for six days, came home for three days and then to Cabo for a week. We were on-the-go and having a blast.

Now fun has been taken to a whole new level: “Hurry! Come here! She just farted and it totally smells like a big person fart!”

It’s a different kind of fun but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I was scrolling through the iPhoto library on my computer this evening and stopped to look at a photo of the sauder desk that my parents gave to me as a present while I was still in college. It was a great desk that stuck around for years.

Six or so years ago Elise and I decided to move in with one another.  We moved from our one bedroom apartments to a larger, two bedroom unit within the same apartment complex.  That sauder desk was one of the heaviest and most awkward pieces of furniture I owned and one of the most complicated to take apart.  Instead of disassembling the desk, I decided that it would be most efficient to angle it and squeeze it through the door, down three flights of stairs and to the other side of the complex to our new apartment.

It was an interesting site to see; us pushing a sauder desk with little plastic wheels a quarter mile though a poorly paved apartment complex parking lot.

Halfway to our new apartment we came upon a man who was walking to his car.  He looked at us, smiled and pointed and said, “Hey! You guys movin’?”

“Nope.  Just taking our desk for a walk!”

Do not set a wedding date if there is the slightest possibility that five years down the road, on that very date, the World Combat League comes to your town for the West Coast Playoffs.

“Let’s go to the World Combat League at the Erwin Center for our anniversary!”

“Umm… it’s not very romantic.”

“And Phantom of the Opera was so super awesome wicked rad.”

“Hey! You bought the tickets to Phantom, remember?  And besides, that was for my birthday, not our anniversary.”

“Damnit!”

We attended our second required baptism class this past Sunday. I feel as if I maintained my open mindedness as I quietly sat and listened with Maly on my lap. The high points of our second class (for yours truly) were:

1. Elise approached the fill-in teacher from our last class and had him write the “Bwana, anakuita” song on a peice of notebook paper AND sing it to me quietly in close quarters. I felt very dirty afterwards.
2. Our teacher pointed out that she is the church’s webmaster
3. There is a liturgical calendar that I was not aware of. Here all along I thought liturgical were the books that doctors had to buy to learn how to use scalpels.
4. Our teacher pointed out that she is the church’s webmaster
5. Cheese, crackers and Tropicana orange juice
6. Our teacher pointed out that she is the church’s webmaster

Our teacher went on to tell us that we, as parents, must become the priest or priestess of the house.

“It is your responsibility to set a good example for your children and tell them the story of Jesus”

Elise leaned over and whispered, “I’ll go buy the Lincoln Logs.”

Dear Maly,

You turned three months old this past week. You’re changing so fast and have become so bewildering that I’ve put away most thoughts of giving you away or leaving you outside until you figure out how to venture off and raise yourself.

This month you finally managed to shart on me. Mom does 95% of the diaper changing so your managing to finally hit me with your excrement is quite a milestone. With breakneck speed I attempted to dodge your flying poo as I watched it hit me on the leg. Surprisingly I didn’t gag. Here’s fair warning though: I will get you back.

You giggled for the first time this month. There are no words to describe how that made me feel. That was, by far, the happiest moment of my life. Your giggle was the only sound that mattered in the world at that moment. Your giggle fits you perfectly — It’s short, infectious, intentional and defined. You’ve only giggled for me – not your mom. She hates me for this. I can tell, just by your giggle, that you will be the one who will make others laugh and be able to easily laugh at yourself.

Your mom and I decided that it would be my job as your dad to bathe you every night. It’s our time to bond. I usually sing Guns ‘n’ Roses or Doors songs while giving you your bath and you stare out toward the sky through the kitchen window. We can’t figure out what you’re looking at. Personally, I’m convinced that you’re sending a beacon to the others from your planet, telling them that we are weak and gullible and their planned descent to destroy us should commence.

It is at this point in the winding down of your day that you turn into Satan. I pull you from the tub, wrap you in your towel and walk you into our bedroom. The moment I lay you on the bed to put your diaper and pajamas on, you start in with your constant, pouty crying. I try to distract and console you to no avail. I’ve even threatened to walk around in Speedos when you’re in the seventh grade and have your friends over to get you to stop crying.

I quickly apply a dab of A&D ointment to your butt, put your diaper and pajamas on and walk you about the house and talk to you about absolutely nothing meaningful so you’ll stop crying and fall asleep. You will have to do the above steps for me one day and I’m looking forward to it.

I do look forward to our nightly ritual. It’s not what I would have expected or even wished for, but it’s our time together and it’s better than having to explain to the police why I thought it was a good idea to leave you face down in a bed of fire ants.

You experienced your first Fourth of July this month. We drove out to Lakeway with John, Christine and Jack and watch the fireworks display from the inside of our truck. I was excited that you were going to see large fireworks for the first time. Instead you stared blankly at the digital clock on the dashboard.

You’re holding your head up quite well now. Your hands have managed to find each other so you’ll occassionally hold your hands together. You also found your middle two fingers with your mouth. You’ve begun to soothe yourself by sucking on these two fingers. You mom’s boobs are thankful.

You drool. A lot. Experts say that this is because as you grow older, you produce more saliva and just don’t know what to do with it. Us non-experts concur. I was thinking that at three months your snake-like tongue would find a happy home inside your mouth. That is not the case. I guess you’ll break your tongue sticking out habit when either 1) the other kids start making fun of you or 2) you bite it off after you get teeth and fall down onto your bottom jaw. If the latter occurs, I will buy your first replacement tongue but after that, you’re on your own.

Your mom has a degree in photography. I have many credits in photography from college as well. We are friends with quite a few professional photographers. We also own a pretty nice camera. So we did what any pair of photography-savvy, resourceful parents would do: we took you to JC Penney to have your portaits taken. Talk about crazy! I don’t know how JC Penney portrait photography employees can do their job without being hopped up on lithium. You did well at your sitting so we took you to Chick-Fil-A for lunch.

I keep meaning to arm myself with a witty rebuttal when someone asks, “How’s Maly?” or “How’s that little daughter of yours?” I’m genuinely thankful that people are inquisitive as to your overall well-being, but there’s not a whole lot to report. “Well, she’s just finished up her French lessons and will be starting her interpretive dance lessons next week.” Or “We’re training her to be a ninja and are actually going to pick out grappling hooks and short blade katanas tomorrow.” My response is usually limited to, “Well, she eats, sleeps and is growing like a weed.” Maybe it’s because I want your day-to-day discoveries and interactions to be your gift to your mom and me alone.

You are growing so fast. It’s very scary. I can’t stop time no matter how tightly I shut my eyes and clench my fists. I look at the pictures from just three months ago and see a tiny little baby resting on my chest, looking up at me and taking in all that is her dad. I give everything of myself to you and want nothing more than to provide for you and let you experience life with laughter.

Everyone says, “Enjoy it now because they grow up so fast.” That’s so very true. And I am enjoying it. Every minute of it.

Love,

Daddy

When I asked Elise’s dad for his daughter’s hand in marriage, I made mention of, “…and if we ever have children, I’m fine with Elise raising them in the Catholic church…”

In order for Maly to be baptised in the Catholic church, her parents are required to take classes. Four classes to be exact. I’m not going to name names here but her dad is not happy about this.

We attended our first baptism class on Sunday. Our teacher went into seminary school years ago but decided he couldn’t live a life of celibacy. He also spent two years as a missionary in east Africa. He sang us a tune that went something like, “Bwana, anakawuita. Bwana, anakawuita. Bwana, anakawuita, all the live long day.” I made that last part up but I do have “Bwana, anakawuita” stuck in my head. He went so far as to grammatically dissect the song and translate it on the dry erase board. It means something like “He is a part of us all” or “I don’t have any food for you, white man, but you’re welcome to one of my small goats.”

Elise and I had a “discussion” when I was told we had to take 8 hours of baptism classes. She pointed out that I have a tendency to approach things like baptism classes with a closed mind and don’t allow myself to gain anything from the experience. So I made a wholehearted effort to attend our first class with an open mind.

From our first baptism class I gained a miniature blueberry bagel with pineapple cream cheese and vision of small African children dancing with goats and singing, “Bwana, anakawuita!”