gainfully employed
the terrifying job interview over, i'm in recovery. i might need to make more soap. of course, i didn't get the job. when i think about it, i've NEVER got a job that way - by applying for something posted in the paper. it's always something i went to talk to someone about because someone who knew someone heard that they might want someone.... or.... one of the best jobs i ever had, i got because i just marched into a place i was sure i'd like working, handed the boss my resume and a portfolio, and said, "i'd really like to work for you; here's my resume and a little bit about what i can do" it was a sewing/design job making window coverings for an interior decorator. she spent the next few months figuring out how she could afford to hire me, and when i'd given up hope of hearing from her, she called me.
another great job.... a friend was head of the culture dept for the small city where i lived. she had this idea for an inflatable dinosaur tent for the annual children's festival. she asked if i thought i could sew something like that... COULD I? could i ever! the result was Stella Stegasaurus, a 30 foot long beauty of a tent with enormous, heavy-lashed eyes and big, pink, kissy lips. a big zipper opened up her side, the kids all rushed in before she deflated, somebody quickly zipped her up, and story-telling happened every hour in the most magical place imaginable. the sunlight came through her like stained glass. i don't think those kids will ever forget being in the belly of a freindly dinosaur.
then there was the job of 'creative carpenter' for the Dawson City museum, back in the days before they had any money to hire 'experts'. i got to design dislplays, build them and furnish them. this meant poking around in the mountains of dusty old boxes in the attic full of artifacts. (back in the days before everything was catalogued and stored properly) one of my most thrilling finds was several boxes of Victorian clothing... all painstakingly made by hand - every stitch! there was a magnificent baby's christening gown, all embroidery and open work and hand-made lace (there was no other kind of lace back then) and a lady's jacket in the softest salmon colored silk velvet, high collared and small waisted with leg-o-mutton sleeves and at least a dozen tiny pearl buttons. i dreamed of being the lady who wore that. the building itself was thrilling. it had been constructed to house the government offices back in Dawson City's heyday. a magnificent, sprawling 3 story edifice replete with rich wooden floors, wainscotting, paneling, coffered, high ceilings, wide stairs and carven banisters. Even the attic, which had never been used for more than storing dusty boxes, was all beautiful woods, and had rows of dormer windows all along both sides of the roof. it was my favorite place of all. i often took my lunch there. the building was an icebox, though. there was no money for heating fuel. on cold days we ran little electric heaters in odd corners, where the tour guides would gather in little blue clusters to thaw their aching fingers and toes. it was never open during winter, only during the summer, tourist season, but if it was only as warm as a spring day outside, you didn't go in THERE to warm up. you could count on it being at least 20 degrees colder inside. this was lovely on those very hot summer days. built in air conditioning. when they finally got some interest from Parks Canda, (read "financing" because tourism was catching on, and it was now a money-making proposition) the first job was to put in something resembling a heating system. the old furnace in the basement was wood fired - probably the boiler out of a sternwheeler. and in checking this out, it was discovered that the old girl rested in a hollow... possibly the lowest point on the street... and the basement filled with water... which froze each winter and never really thawed out. she was squatting on a beheamouth! an iceberg! no wonder she never really warmed up! it took all of one summer of pumping out the water, and blasting hot air under her bloomers to melt that!
i feel better about not getting the job now. disappointment is a good teacher. it seemed tailored for me; something i'd do well and enjoy. i'd have been Assistant to the Dean of Fine Arts at a small city college. having a background in art and design, years of experience teaching and performing violin, and business and finance training and experience, it would have been a good mix. not to mention the very substantial increase in pay.... And, of course there's the family... pretty much all in the city now, and just me here. that still bites. but we'll have to work with what we're given, i guess.
what's that scripture that tells us not to mourn over our losses? ....that perhaps we are being spared something worse?
because, if i lived any closer to the kids' dad (who lives in that very city and is an extremely difficult person) i might have to kill him.
another great job.... a friend was head of the culture dept for the small city where i lived. she had this idea for an inflatable dinosaur tent for the annual children's festival. she asked if i thought i could sew something like that... COULD I? could i ever! the result was Stella Stegasaurus, a 30 foot long beauty of a tent with enormous, heavy-lashed eyes and big, pink, kissy lips. a big zipper opened up her side, the kids all rushed in before she deflated, somebody quickly zipped her up, and story-telling happened every hour in the most magical place imaginable. the sunlight came through her like stained glass. i don't think those kids will ever forget being in the belly of a freindly dinosaur.
then there was the job of 'creative carpenter' for the Dawson City museum, back in the days before they had any money to hire 'experts'. i got to design dislplays, build them and furnish them. this meant poking around in the mountains of dusty old boxes in the attic full of artifacts. (back in the days before everything was catalogued and stored properly) one of my most thrilling finds was several boxes of Victorian clothing... all painstakingly made by hand - every stitch! there was a magnificent baby's christening gown, all embroidery and open work and hand-made lace (there was no other kind of lace back then) and a lady's jacket in the softest salmon colored silk velvet, high collared and small waisted with leg-o-mutton sleeves and at least a dozen tiny pearl buttons. i dreamed of being the lady who wore that. the building itself was thrilling. it had been constructed to house the government offices back in Dawson City's heyday. a magnificent, sprawling 3 story edifice replete with rich wooden floors, wainscotting, paneling, coffered, high ceilings, wide stairs and carven banisters. Even the attic, which had never been used for more than storing dusty boxes, was all beautiful woods, and had rows of dormer windows all along both sides of the roof. it was my favorite place of all. i often took my lunch there. the building was an icebox, though. there was no money for heating fuel. on cold days we ran little electric heaters in odd corners, where the tour guides would gather in little blue clusters to thaw their aching fingers and toes. it was never open during winter, only during the summer, tourist season, but if it was only as warm as a spring day outside, you didn't go in THERE to warm up. you could count on it being at least 20 degrees colder inside. this was lovely on those very hot summer days. built in air conditioning. when they finally got some interest from Parks Canda, (read "financing" because tourism was catching on, and it was now a money-making proposition) the first job was to put in something resembling a heating system. the old furnace in the basement was wood fired - probably the boiler out of a sternwheeler. and in checking this out, it was discovered that the old girl rested in a hollow... possibly the lowest point on the street... and the basement filled with water... which froze each winter and never really thawed out. she was squatting on a beheamouth! an iceberg! no wonder she never really warmed up! it took all of one summer of pumping out the water, and blasting hot air under her bloomers to melt that!
i feel better about not getting the job now. disappointment is a good teacher. it seemed tailored for me; something i'd do well and enjoy. i'd have been Assistant to the Dean of Fine Arts at a small city college. having a background in art and design, years of experience teaching and performing violin, and business and finance training and experience, it would have been a good mix. not to mention the very substantial increase in pay.... And, of course there's the family... pretty much all in the city now, and just me here. that still bites. but we'll have to work with what we're given, i guess.
what's that scripture that tells us not to mourn over our losses? ....that perhaps we are being spared something worse?
because, if i lived any closer to the kids' dad (who lives in that very city and is an extremely difficult person) i might have to kill him.
posted by grannyfiddler at 4:11 PM
3 Comments:
Yes, I wonder if he knows how he's been spared? ;-) That would have been quite the show, meeting in the hallowed halls of academe!
It sure feels like you're on the road to something different; I've got a twitch of an inkling... Any more involvement with Habitat?
he has no inkling, poor innocent.
habitat's Christmas party/dec. meeting is in a week and a half. should be fun. they're building a duplex in the infamous city of my nemesis this summer. i hope to be very involved in the planning/construction of that. been watching their national job postings, but so far the're all in the eastern part of the country... tempting, but too far from the kinders. i don't even look at the international postings any more. far too alluring.
some local parents are trying to start up a children's festival this summer. i might just possibly get lucky enough to find a sponsor who'll pay me to build a cousin to Stella!
Nothing profound - just hi from one granny to another.
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