It’s official. I’m losing my job. I sort of can’t believe it took this long, frankly. I signed up for a five-month gig nearly three years ago and well, I’m still here, putting together stories on lawn alternatives and editing The Top 10 Seaside Hideaways. Until August 6, when I am kicked out of the cozy nest that is Sunset Magazine (yes, people really do drink wine at lunch and subsist on organic produce).
Except for the whole eating canned beans for every meal part, I am kind of looking forward to my life as a lady of leisure. I’m hoping it will give me time to decide what to do next. I feel a big mid-life crisis coming on. I want a new career. I want to move. I want to reinvent the rest of my life. Magazines don’t hold the allure they once did (they are sort of like the 21st century buggy-makers--soon to be obsolete). Plus they are never actually written for people I believe exist (if you coordinate your table linens to the season, buy $5,000 purses, or consider $250/night a bargain hotel, feel free to alert me to your existance).
I was thinking of becoming a nurse midwife. I’ve always really enjoyed all that pregnancy, vaginas, lactation stuff. But then I saw this horrible You Tube video of a pelvic exam and decided maybe it wasn’t for me. I had no idea it was going to look so rubbery.
Aside from my interest in hoo-has, I also like books, gardening, fixing up furniture I find on the street, travel, being my own boss, not sitting in an office, photography, laughing, staring off into space, overeating, drinking too much wine, reading Dr. Seuss books in funny voices, analyzing other people when they are not in the room, walking, sailor pants, watching So You Think You Can Dance, sunshine, babies, and the planet.
Unfortunately I have no mind for making money. None. I haven’t the foggiest ideas how people make money. But if all of my interests happen to coalesce into the perfect career in your entrepreneurial mind, please do let me know. Sugar daddies also welcome.