All I need is a miracle

As of Tuesday, I will have been out of work for three months. I have submitted probably a hundred resumes, made calls, etc. And mostly, I've been met by dead silence -- the black hole. The only responses I've gotten have been a request for an interview -- which I went on, it went well, and I was summarily rejected via letter -- and an interested email about another job. When I followed up, the position had been filled, but I was told I was on the "short list" for future opportunities.

All of this makes me feel bad for my fellow job seekers, but it also makes me pissed at them for being the competition. There are very few jobs out there, and too many people looking. It's very ugly. Part of me wants to retreat from job searching altogether and just embrace my life as a SAHM. But I don't want to give up. My next opportunity is around the corner, I keep thinking. All I need is the stars to align properly. And perhaps a minor miracle.

The layoff diaries continue

So yes, I am still without a job. As I've mentioned, this layoff is a lot easier than the previous one for a multitude of reasons, the biggest being my son. He is a joy and great company. He's smart (I'm not the only one who thinks so -- doc couldn't believe he knows more than 50 words at 18 months), sweet and really fun. I am starting to see the appeal of the SAHM life. And quite frankly, I don't want to go back to a 60-hour-a-week slog of a job. I want to work part-time to keep my foot in the workforce and get a chance to really be involved in raising my little guy.

But as nice as it is to be home with the Boo, pulling him out of daycare was truly horrible. I cried all the way there and back on his last day. I know intellectually I did not fail him, but emotionally that's exactly how I felt. So now I need to find another group situation to get him some socialization and education. We're going to try Gymboree and see how that goes.

As for benefits, I was lucky enough to get them working 27 hours a week at my old place; however, I'm realistic that I may not be able to get into a similar situation. So for now, there's our old friend COBRA and unemployment.

I'm better than I was before about this, and I know a lot of people are in the same (sinking) boat, but it feels almost like somebody died or I got dumped hard. Every day takes away a little more of the hurt. I'm looking forward to when I can just be neutral and completely OK with everything. As for now, I do feel blessed I get this time with the boy. It's such a cliche, but they really do grow up fast.

Where is my hair?

I haven't had my hair professionally cut since I was pregnant. M cut it for me after Boo was born, just to get it off my face. So I decided it was time to get the mom cut. I asked for it to my shoulders. But she kept cutting and cutting. And now it's to my ears. M is traumatized. I am adjusting. I have gotten a few compliments on it, and Boo can't grab it as easily. Still -- it's my hair. I feel like a boy. This is why I hate the hairdresser.

The year the comedy died

First George Carlin, now Bernie Mac and Isaac Hayes (hey, he was the sublimely funny Chef). All the great comedy is dying this year. Make it stop.

Down to one

M and I really love to eat out, and we have our favorite haunts. One of these favorites is Rovezzi's, located in Worcester and Sturbridge (formerly in Rutland, too). And trust me, if a couple of Italians raised on our grandmas' food like it, it's good.

Well, tonight was the last night for the Worcester Rovezzi's. Citing the bad economy, chef Chris said in the Telegram that the Worcester location on Grove Street had been losing money for the past 10 months, and it was time to close. Since we adore their food and Sturbridge is a hike, we left the Boo with his nonna and had a sumptuous meal. We went all out -- apps, dinner and chocolate cake for dessert. The staff was professional, and the food was as good as ever. Arrividerci to a great place to eat.

Oh, the popovers

I heard today that the Cocke n' Kettle restaurant in Uxbridge is the latest casualty of the recession. (M and I call it the Rooster n' Kettle, because we are eternally third graders and saying cock makes us laugh like Beavis and Butt-Head.) For my out-of-state and out-of-area readers, the CNK was this old-time New England restaurant in an authentic restored colonial, complete with fireplaces and wide pine beam floors, where they served these amazing popovers and fritters and had early bird specials. M and I would often take a Sunday drive down to Uxbridge and indulge in a several-course meal for one low price. No more. Let's all have a moment of silence for free food that fills you up before the main course comes.

Good weekend. Keeping it on the down low. Peace out.

Amy Winehouse, the train wreck

Read this Rolling Stone article, and tell me you don't want to go to London and smack Amy upside the head and tell her to get her shit together. Such a talent, and such a waste. At this rate, she'll be dead by the end of the year.

By George, I'm sad

I am a huge George Carlin fan. I saw him in concert several years ago (his routine was cleaned up, since it was at the South Shore Music Circus, but he was still hysterical), and it was one of the best shows I've ever been to. When M told me yesterday he had died, I felt like I lost someone I knew. His rants on religion, growing up Catholic and politics were the most honest, right-on (if blisteringly angry) things I've ever heard. His albums kept me company on many a six-hour drive out to Syracuse, laughing until the tears poured down my face.

Goodbye to a genius. This one feels personal.

God is so good, indeed

My grandmother is almost 92 years old. She has 11 grandchildren and three great-grandsons, Boo being her third. She also has two great-granddaughters on the way this summer.

When I handed my precious son to her for the first time, she took him in her arms, looked up at me, smiled and said, "God is so good." My eyes filled with tears. That's exactly how I feel. He is such a blessing. When I was rocking him this morning after his feeding, I was thanking God for him, as I do every day.

And then I read this article. I'm warning you right now: If you are a mom, do not read it without a bunch of tissues. I was sobbing by the time I was done. I think I need to go visit my son in daycare.

Hold your children tight. They are gifts.

I stayed up for that?

After that last touchdown, I knew it was all over for the Pats but the crying. Which I heard coming from downstairs in a long, keening wail.

At the 2 a.m. feeding this morning, M woke up, looked at me and Boo and said, "It wasn't a bad dream? The Patriots really lost the Super Bowl?"

"I'm afraid so," I answered.

And speaking of losers, Belichick, get over yourself. Stomping off the field like a baby. You're like school on Sunday: No class. You lost. Be gracious in defeat.

Until next year...