"Well, I'm back."
In the last six months, I have finished my dissertation and thus put a cap on my nine years in seminary. I have fruitlessly applied for jobs both within and outside of my field. Some of those jobs were actually nixed, with no one hired at all, because of the economy and lack of returns on endowments or lack of tuition-paying students. And with the admin. assistant jobs, nobody will hire a PhD. We're just not perceived as team players (for good reason).
Ergo, new job plans were needed. Enter C., a friend of Tua's parents, who is a free-lance indexer (she writes the back-of-the-book indexes after carefully reading the manuscript). It's right up my alley, personality-wise and skill-wise. I'm now a member of the American Society of Indexers, am getting high-speed internet access in the next two weeks, then I start emailing scores of letters to publishers. I can't tell you how glad I am to be doing work where my degree is a help, not a hindrance.
For graduation, I was given an author-inscribed copy of Doc, by Mary Doria Russell, money, and a 40-gallon water-heater. I have been taking baths several times a week, revelling in the fact that Tua no longer has to carry 20 gallons of hot water over from the house to the barn. Although it was fun to joke about my "slave boy" drawing a bath for me. Especially to sort of stuffy people.
In other news, my favorite pet chicken, Redneck, was killed and partially eaten by loose dogs last week. I was angry and sad like you would not believe. Still am, really. But Tua wrote this short story about our girls that has pretty much redeemed the situation. It's like a chicken (and duck) version of Watership Down. He pulled out the main characteristics of our hens and elaborated on them, creating a story of the founding of an independent coop. It's a sweet, funny, wonderful little story, and I love it. It's a worthy tribute to a sweet, funny, wonderful hen.
Tua and I are now heading out on a dessert-before-dinner date, to get creemees at Sandy's.
Ergo, new job plans were needed. Enter C., a friend of Tua's parents, who is a free-lance indexer (she writes the back-of-the-book indexes after carefully reading the manuscript). It's right up my alley, personality-wise and skill-wise. I'm now a member of the American Society of Indexers, am getting high-speed internet access in the next two weeks, then I start emailing scores of letters to publishers. I can't tell you how glad I am to be doing work where my degree is a help, not a hindrance.
For graduation, I was given an author-inscribed copy of Doc, by Mary Doria Russell, money, and a 40-gallon water-heater. I have been taking baths several times a week, revelling in the fact that Tua no longer has to carry 20 gallons of hot water over from the house to the barn. Although it was fun to joke about my "slave boy" drawing a bath for me. Especially to sort of stuffy people.
In other news, my favorite pet chicken, Redneck, was killed and partially eaten by loose dogs last week. I was angry and sad like you would not believe. Still am, really. But Tua wrote this short story about our girls that has pretty much redeemed the situation. It's like a chicken (and duck) version of Watership Down. He pulled out the main characteristics of our hens and elaborated on them, creating a story of the founding of an independent coop. It's a sweet, funny, wonderful little story, and I love it. It's a worthy tribute to a sweet, funny, wonderful hen.
Tua and I are now heading out on a dessert-before-dinner date, to get creemees at Sandy's.