A Tosa resident since 1991, Christine walks the dog, cooks but avoids housework, writes and reads, and enjoys the company of friends and strangers. Her job takes her around the state, learning about people's health. A Quaker (no, they don't wear blue hats or sell oatmeal or motor oil), she has been known to stand on both sides of the political and philosophic fence at the same time, which is very uncomfortable when you think about it. She writes about pretty much whatever stops in to visit her busy mind at the moment. One reader described her as "incredibly opinionated but not judgmental." That sounds like a good thing to strive for!
If you haven't looked for a job in a while, trust me when I tell you it's some of the hardest work you'll do. Even harder than looking for a mate: the consequences of that hunt are serious, too, but at least you might get some good meals and good stories to tell out of the quest.
But the upside is that on a day like today, you can do the most important thing there is to do: be in it.
In case you haven't noticed, the natural world is particularly splendid these days. Goldenrod and asters and tall grasses are glowing in the light, dancing with the breeze.
Judging by the five mile hike Idgy and I just took through some of Tosa's breathtaking places, you probably haven't noticed. Along the Oak Leaf Trail, then along Underwood Parkway and through the County gardens near Willoway, we were nearly alone. Three bike riders passed us. A handful of gardeners worked on viney crops. I introduced Idgy to a half dozen folks from Willoway who were excited to meet her and speculate about why dogs sometimes seem scared of men. Coming home, a dozen three-year olds with golden hair and red cheeks were listening to water sounds at the creek, their tenders close at hand making sure they didn't wander off to follow butterflies or sudden slithery things in the grass. A few men worked quietly, building retaining walls. A neighbor watched them.
Where were you? If you can get away from your desk for lunch or swap your hours around, do. I can search, fill out forms, rewrite resumes and letters after the sun has gone down. Maybe you can do what you do then, too. Though even late, the moon is full and the sky alive with insect sounds, so there's good cause to shut down the computer, the radio and television, the houselights, and just be still.
Life is short, regret long, work unending, and all the big problems need fresh air and fresh thinking.
And now, back to work. Can anyone tell me why a technical writer needs a Six Sigma blackbelt--or what that even is?