I quit my job to make juice.
October 14, 2006
Filed under:The Number Nine
It’s obviously time for an update. Well past time, actually, so I’ll once again apologize for being lazy and poopy and then tell you that I don’t really mean it since I have no plan to do anything about that.
Pictures. The pictures, and everything else almost, on this site are down because I had ditched my old web host and moved them to the servers at work. Hell, it’s a web hosting company and it was free… made sense right?
Then I quit.
I’d finally had enough of that asshole to last me more than this lifetime and told him so. Only I told him in a nice way and we parted fairly positively, except that now he’s apparently found the largish folder on the server that had all my images in it. Couldn’t last I spose.
I have to at least mention though, that I will never, EVER, work for anyone who tells me that my job needs to be a higher priority than my family. He ranted and raved, I even yelled a bit, and eventually left him with a quote that I’ve forgotten the source of:
Nobody’s ever lain on their deathbed and said, “I really should’ve spent more time at work.”
There’s more to it than all of that, of course, but I just don’t have the energy right now to go on about it. That man is crap, and that job was crap sold to me as gold. I figured it out once and walked out, then got re-sold and went back. Then, I figured it out for good and decided to leave it.
I threw the resume together and got it out there, landing several interviews right away and a job offer (we’re hoping) from the second company to show interest. Same gig, almost identical, to what I was doing, with an almost identical company.
Only I like the people this time. And they all have families and don’t care if I have to wrap up some work from home and don’t spend every single second of my 40 hours with my butt in the office.
Oh, and this one will pay me about $10K more too. That doesn’t hurt a THING.
The only sticking point I can find is that I waited so long to get outta there. Bah.
The kids are awesome, and even though Georgia tries our patience to the point that I’m honestly considering either building her a little sleeping area in the toilet (where she’s sent for Time Out at least daily) or selling her on the Black Market, there is absolutely zero question that she is a blissfully happy, sensitive, sentimental, social, and sweet little girl who thinks that her daddy is the Absolute Awesomest Thing Ever. So that’s good.
Damon is, and always has been, the most amazing child ever. He’s just that wonderful. I’ve never honestly heard of the kind of kid that every parent I can imagine would want. Now I’ve got one, and I’m thankful for him every day. It gets to the point where I look at him and sincerely wonder which one of us is meant to be teaching the other. And even though mommy fits into the Absolute Awesomest Thing Ever category, he thinks his daddy is the coolest guy ever too. So that’s way good.
He’s been on school holidays for a couple weeks and I’ve been unemploy… um… between jobs, so it’s been wonderful having the team all together all the time.
Speaking of the team, the most important member(s) are doing wonderful. Jo has these moments where she’ll casually mention that her body is quite weary or sore or something and then later will apologise all over and wonder how I put up with her complaining. It’s at this point that I stare at her incredulously and remind her that 13 seconds of commenting on what is actually 24 solid hours of discomfort doesn’t really constitute “complaining” as well as the fact that her body is completely entitled to feel a certain way as it’s quite busy growing a whole other person.
The latter being a fairly important and arduous task, I reckon she’s deserving of a huge and very shiny medal for what a champ she is. Heh, complaining? Whatever.
Our baby girl, whom we’ve been calling “Jade”, is a happy and kicky little thing. Very active and has the uncanny tendency to start/stop kicking when I’ve either entered the room or touched mummy’s belly. No kidding, there are times that Jo is getting hammered internally and will ask me to “lay hands” just to get the baby to settle down. She loves her daddy too, the sweet little not-born-yet thing.
The puppy’s even behaving better and isn’t as prone to weeing on the floor when looked at sideways, though she still nips the kids feet too much in an effort to get her fellow littermates to play with her. She’s quite content these days to tear around the yard chasing children and/or bugs and tear around the kitchen chasing children and/or R/C cars.
I got wound up pretty tight in recent months, spending my days stressed to my gills and my nights attempting to relieve it, and the last 2 weeks have been an absolute blessing.
Family really is what it’s all about.
Having had more time at home these days, I’ve started on the “projects”. You know the ones. The things that you save for the weekend, yet you spend the weekend de-stressifying and unwinding and never get around to them.
The house is what I like to believe is more organized, though that might be argued in the form of Jo asking me if something is able to be found by her or did I “clean” it, rendering it either irretrievable or hidden to all but me.
I went to tackle the yard, and found that the Free lawnmower was Free for several very good reasons. Much cursing and grease-staining later, I went to clean up the droppings from the fruit trees and found that they aren’t like the foliage I was familiar with in the mountains where the tree’s labours were only palatable for birds and caused unfortunate things in a hungry and curious boy’s bowels.
No, we’ve got loquats. I think they’re a cousin to the kumquat, though all I really know is the seeds are poisonous and the name is fun to say. Plus, they’re yum. Also, a lemonorange tree, growing big and fat items that walk, talk, and quack just like oranges, but are lemony lemontastic through and through.
The fruit tree that seems to capture the majority of the puppy’s attention (and smell the strongest) confused us for a fair time as to it’s nature. We Googled it, we asked my mother-in-law who knows everything (seriously, ask her, she does) and Jo finally placed it as guava. Double yum.
So, I picked ‘em. I picked ‘em ALL. Now, we’ve got roughly 5 liters (gallon and a half about) of straight lemon juice (good for probably 5 times that in Lemonade), 4 liters of Lemon/Guava juice (which is reminiscent of the juice blends in the health food stores), and 2 jars of jam. I gave away and threw out a crapload of it too.
So I’m a Juice Guy. Plus, my wonderfully talented and beautiful sister-in-law Roni is moving back to Perth from Albany (finally) brought me her old Singer Sewing Machine for my birthday. My Mom got me my first on my 21st, and here I am at 32 with my second. I’ve already got my eyes on some clothing patterns for petite chicks and male and female active children.
Jo’s even gotten into the Make Your Own Stuff routine and yesterday created scented bath salts from… um… salt and… um… scent. Hell, I dunno, but it smells good and makes me want to not only cuddle her but sniff and lick her as well.
I’m so grinning at being such a Quaker. It’s great. Seriously, I’m grinning as I write this and take a drink of my own lemonade. And sniff my wife.
Life is sweet.
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