Posted by: aauntiem | April 19, 2010

Hits Just Keep on Coming

Last Friday, while I worrying about my engorged Labia, each member of my five person team was being called into my manager’s office one by one.

I am sure each one stared out at the strange fork metal art without seeing it or, managed to look without registering the Army Santas on the front of her desk as she told them the personalized and individual story.

In the movies when someone is let go, it always begins like this: “Mr. So-and-So, I regret to inform you that you are no longer needed in this position.”

In real life, as I found out this morning, it is less surreal than it seems on the big screen. Somehow, it is more intimate and every day. More matter of fact:

Before breakfast I had a job.

After the end of May I do not.

Before breakfast Picasso and I were planning to have a baby this year.

After lunch we are not.

Before breakfast I had medical insurance.

After the end of May I do not.

So on and so on the list goes, until I am left in a bathrobe eating ho-hos and ding-dongs as men in uniforms come to take away all my earthly possessions.

As you can see, I am very practical in harrowing situations and never feel the need to overreact.

Truthfully, my office mates let me know late Friday and I was given official word today. It was made real today. So, lucky for me, I have had time to process the information. To let it sink in.

I can’t imagine how Friday must have felt for those on my team that had to go back, one by one, to their desks and continue as usual. I am thankful I was able to break down in private—before anyone had to know or see my face.

What is sort of hilarious and equally horrific about the whole things is that I have only been here going on four months—not even long enough for everyone I know to be clued in on the change. The job is so new, in fact, that I still teach at night.  I was just getting used to the idea of working at a regular 40 hour a week job. Of, as my father called it, finally being a grown-up.

I guess it is back to the drawing board. Where, I swear, I have spent all of my 20s (on a porch, making new plans).

I am officially at PlanZ, so far removed from the first plan that I am not sure I even remember it.

And, everyone keeps saying to me two things:

#1: If you could do anything, what would it be?

Thoughts on #1: If that mattered, I wouldn’t be losing this job. I would be leading a Women’s Status Commission for the UN and not have time for silly questions like what does my heart desire OR I would have 9 babies and run an organic co-op farm OR be smart enough in science to have gotten a degree in marine biology and be teaching dolphins to high five me for fish sticks OR something other than answering this question.

#2: No matter what, everything will be ok.

Thoughts on #2: This is a lie I believe we tell our selves. Sometimes, it is not ok. It is the suck and we should acknowledge this.

Really, though, the thing with me is that I need a plan. I am an organized, list making, plan needed lady. Without a plan, I feel like I am spiraling out of control, like I can’t hang on or keep my head above water.

So, I cried this weekend for the fear of not being able to pay my way, for the disappointment of job hunting, for the dang stupidity of earning a degree in English Literature. But, mostly I cried for having to abandon my plan and the baby I won’t be having.

Today, despite the suck, I have a new plan.

I am going to go back to school. Again. Getting another degree. Again.

Only this time, I am going drop back and punt. I am going to get a degree in reading education.  That means I have a month to find a part time job that pays all my bills (un-likely) and another four months before school starts.

But, at least I have a new plan.

I applied to my alma mater this morning. They better dang let me in. I am really not planning to not get in.

And, in the meantime, I am trying really hard not to freak about the fact that I will be:

  1. Taking classes I could teach
  2. Sharing classes with my students
  3. Not having a baby
  4. Getting closer to thirty without any career prospects

You know me. I am also busy making ridiculously inappropriate food.

So, what ingredients do I call for when everything falls apart? The glue that holds the world together you say?

So, I combine ground beef, ketchup, and other condiment style foods?

That’s right, people, we are making meat loaf (and possibly a martini to get the whole 1954 effect).

Picasso’s Dad’s Meatloaf                        Serves 6

4 Weight Watcher Points

1/3 cup Ketchup

¼ cup Mustard

1 egg (or 3 tbs egg whites)

1 lbs. Ground Beef, lean

½ cup plain bread crumbs


Salt, to taste

Hot sauce (1-2 dashes, to feel alive people…don’t tell Picasso)

Then, take a blurry picture of your friend bopping her head in.


Next, add your egg.

Then Ketchup.

Then Mustard.

Then parsley, salt, bread crumbs.

Mash this



Get gross.

Remember you have lost the will to live.

Side Note: You are drinking a martini. You are making meatloaf– so many women, entire generations really, have been where you are. There is no hope.

Side Note: What was with the light in these photos? Making the skin look iridescent. Creepy.

Next, mash it into a loaf pan.

Squirt ketchup on the top.

Bake until goey (30-45 minutes per lb. at 375 degrees) and then slice into six pieces.

Don’t take any finished product pictures. But, eat up crying and singing ALL BY MYSELF, Bridget Jones style.

Then, make your self feel better by placing the leftovers in a antique dish.

Aren’t those birds excellent?

Using the 50s dish is creey, right. I know.

Rolling with the Punches,

Auntie M.



  1. Yikes. That is a double-whammy indeed. I am sorry to hear about your job loss…Better to find out now, I suppose. I got let go from a position when I was about 6 months pregnant, and that is no fun (luckily, I was basically offered a downgraded position, and while I wanted to tell my company to shove it, I needed the health insurance for my boy). I hate to say that things will work out, because like you said, sometimes they don’t and it sucks. But I have a feeling you’ll be OK. 🙂

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