It's 9:30 a.m., humid and cloudy (Boston has had record rainfall in the past few months. I'm soooo sick of rain). I just walked Jack to daycare, and came home to change into the coolest clothes I own. And by cool, I don't mean hip or stylish; in fact, they represent the other side of the spectrum- an old peach tank top that has shrunk and gray cotton shorts that are proportionally too long for my too-short tank top. Ed bought these shorts for me many years ago from the now-gone Champion outlet in Oregon. On the left thigh it reads "Ithaca College" in marroon lettering. One of the great mysteries of Ed (and his brother Steve) includes an near-obsession with obscure clothing from random high schools and colleges. So, if you ever find a sweatshirt from Ballinger Prep in Greensboro, North Carolina, let me know. I'll pay way too much for it.
I have an obscene amount of editing waiting for me on the kitchen table. I'm home working until Ed gets back this afternoon from T.A.ing for a graduate Ed course. He's been leaving the house at 6:30 every morning, coming home around lunch so that I can race the car into Mazer and work on this kindergarten math curriculum that is allowing us to live financially worry-free for a few months, maybe more. He then walks to pick up Jack, hoping like I do in the morning, that the nearest thunder and rainstorm holds off just long enough for us to get the kid home dry. Jack proceeds to ask "mama home?" and I swear I can hear it in Roxbury, hating that I won't be home until well after his dinner. Last night I got home a bit early- around 6:00-- Jack called out to me from the kitchen window as I parked the car, "MOM! HOME! Pawk the Cah!" We still can't tell if he's developing a Boston accent or just hasn't figured out how to say his r's. We're working on those r's.
I have roughly 175 pages of editing due Friday by 10am. Because Jack doesn't go to daycare on Fridays and Ed has his class, this means that I pretty much have today only to get the work done. So, yes, it makes perfect sense that I'm blogging. I am ready to dive in, really. One thing holding me back is that I'm waiting to hear back from Mass Bay about whether or not they want to hire me full time. I called the secretary the other day and she says I should hear by today. Even though I have completely made peace with the fact that I won't be offered the job--in part because I haven't published enough, and in part because it's incredibly more likely that they'll hire an adjunct that has worked for them for years and who they know well--I need to hear it from the Dean's voice. Because, as any of us who have been on interviews knows, until we hear the, "thanks, but we've gone with someone else," there's that tiny sliver of hope that fate stepped in, tapped the hiring committee on the shoulder and said, 'take a chance with her- she's great." That's my Disney upbringing talking. And, Working Girl. I just want to get the call, deal with the reality that I know is coming, and move on to my somewhat lucrative, if somewhat boring, freelance work (and thank God for that).
Speaking of freelance work, it's 10am now and time to get cracking. Maybe the call will come just as the humidy breaks for a moment- with thunder and lightening and a wicked downpour. Then, I can step outside for my second shower of the day, and let the rain wash away all my hopes and expectations for this job. You know, just like a movie. The symbolic washing away. I could use it as a launching place for figuring out the next step. Which, is something I should be doing regardless. It would just be nice to have a clear-cut scene ender, you know?