[Insert obvious vintage TV theme song here]

Yes. I am moving up, thankyouverymuch. No, I can't believe it's my life, either.

After almost exactly two years of worrying about when the money would run out and we would become officially destitute, I got a job. And not just any job. I got an incredible job in a lovely, professional office with stunning views overlooking gorgeous downtown Knoxville.

Pardon me while I gush. I'm happy.

At the end of April, after two years of trying to find a job, any job, any job at all, I saw an ad on Craigslist which stood out in its unique tenor and candor. Everyone that I mentioned this ad to asked with a crease in their foreheads, "Are you sure it's not a scam?"

That's a reasonable concern. I hear that in the western part of the U.S., Craigslist employment ads are usually quite legitimate and reliable, but here in the East, they're a pit of iniquity. I learned how to spot the scammers in 2009, but they got smarter and changed their tactics. So I had to learn the new keywords to avoid this year. I'm still getting spam from one of those fake ads that I accidentally replied to in March.

Anyway, this ad stood out. The person who wrote it could really write. He said at one point, "The more you know about computers, the better, because Attorney is willfully ignorant of such matters." Oh, you know I loved that turn of phrase. It reminded me of Mr. Pelham, a dear old family friend who passed away more than twenty years ago.

So I sent my resume and a few days later, I received an email asking for more information. 'Scuse me while I get real Southern -- I just about died. I wrote my replies, slept on it, leapt up in the morning, proofread the letter, and hit "send." Held my breath.

It worked! I have no idea how. There was an interview -- the day after a major storm damaged the daylights out of my beloved Prius -- and then I got the job. As unbelievable as it all seems, I became an official legal assistant to a family law attorney in downtown Knoxville.

I -- have difficulty putting it all into words.

My head is still spinning.

I'm largely lost at work, still. I was warned, though, that I would feel this way for about half a year, so I'm not discouraged. The work is incredibly interesting. My boss is so smart and fair -- he's able to see both sides of a story. I'm not nearly as objective as he is, but I love being around someone who's so intellectually generous. I'm learning so much! I can't believe how quickly I'm learning, and at the same time, I feel so very stupid and slow sometimes, as if I should have already learned everything and put it to work flawlessly.

It drives me crazy to make mistakes, and I make them every day. They're usually fresh, new mistakes, though. A thousand details go into every pleading, and I am not yet accustomed to looking for all of them. For instance, if you don't put "Notice of entry requested" at just the right place at the top of an order, the clerk's office will not send the attorney a copy of the order after it's been entered. Oh, my goodness. Such a tiny detail has such an impact on the efficiency of a law office's workings!

Mostly I'm just in awe of my turn of luck. I have a job. Our finances are so much more secure now than they were two months ago. Wesley and I get to carpool, and our hours together are so pleasant. I'm exhausted when I get home, and I kind of miss the freedom I enjoyed for 14 years to go about on uncrowded weekdays to run all my errands and seek cheap entertainment. But -- I'm engaged, I'm interested, I'm having fun, I'm enjoying downtown Knoxville like nobody's business, and on top of all that, I get paid to go to work.

I really am moving on up.

Tiny nibbles

Nothing says "I tolerate you" like a card that says "bite me."

For the red-hot relationship that's cooling off in a hurry, this sumptuously crafted card of varying textures and whimsical images really hits the spot. It can be yours for $4 plus shipping. It's an average 4.25x5.5" size, so if you feel like mailing it to your soon-to-be-ex, it'll take a standard stamp. (Whatever that is this week.)

Personally, I'm inordinately fond of the dragonfly brad. It makes my heart go pitty-pat. It could do the same for whomever you're dissing.




For the slightly more annoying ex-flame, might I recommend a globally-themed au revoir?

It's a festive way to say sayonara, and it even has a darling little resin-encased bug on one of the brads. Fun stuff. Yours for four bucks plus shipping! Just email me!

Fixin' to get ready

Years ago, Wesley and I saw a Blake Clark stand-up routine in which he quoted his brother as "Fixin' to get ready" for -- oh, I forget what. The point is, that phrase is perfectly useful for a number of Southern pursuits.

And I am, in fact, fixing to get ready.

I'm going to post my snarky cards for sale on my blog.

No, my blog doesn't have the wide readership it used to have.

Yes, Etsy is elegant and more popular.

But darn it, Etsy has the same lax attitude toward security as Facebook. I am not a fan.

So here's my personal assurance: If you buy a card from me, I promise not to tell anyone your name or address or email or PayPal info. You can count on me. I can keep secrets. I have, for instance, never told a soul what Jennifer W told me in the summer of '83 about exactly what she had or had not done with A Certain Boy at Separation Bridge between the girls' camp and the boys' camp. Never. I have NEVER told anyone. And you cannot drag that info out of me now.

(And I did tell Jenn that she absolutely could NOT get pregnant that way, too, because I am nice like that.)

So if you want to buy a snarky card -- or maybe a handmade scrapbook album or two -- then keep watching the blog. They'll appear eventually. And I'll make my PayPal info known to you then, too.

Something nice on the Internet

I've had a bad couple of days. I tried to do something nice, and it turned out to make some people unhappy. That sucks. And the way things are on the Internet, with people able to attack without any knowledge of whom they're affecting or how their words cut -- in real life, with real consequences -- it's really hard to find a safe place to say, "I'm sorry, really sorry, that I made you unhappy. I didn't mean it," and ensure the apology is credible.

I Googled "something nice on the Internet," and I got shopping websites. That's sad, isn't it? In this economy? We have to put out money in order to find a salve for our wounded souls.

So if you, like me, are looking for a respite for your weary soul, here's my contribution, starting here, starting now:

- I just saw three birds of prey, one of which was so much larger than the other two that it might have been an eagle, soaring and sparring over my tiny town. The little ones were chasing off the bigger one. And they were definitely all birds of prey, although I couldn't identify them against the hot, white sky. I've said it before, but I'll say it again: Nature is awesome.

- My little dog is a hero. She sounded an alarm last night. I misunderstood and thought she just needed to go outside, so I put on her leash and opened the door -- and there was our kitty Virgil, outside on the porch! He must have sneaked out the last time the door was open! No one knew except Doris Daylily. Good dog! Good girl!

- My neighbor's garden is a riot of daylilies. It's just a joy to see. She told me that she has one in her back yard with blooms bigger than her head, and the name of that cultivar is "Primal Scream." That name is a scream, if you ask me!

- I'm not waiting until tomorrow for a better day. I'm making my day better right now. Ice cream may be involved, but it will be a nice day if it's the last thing I do!

My white whale

I was going to write this post about how I can't find a used copy of "Dodgeball" on DVD. It's my personal white whale. I go to used DVD stores -- mostly just McKay Used Books & CD's, the best store in the whole wide world -- and I scour three sections of the used DVD's. I look in the Recent Acquisitions, Bargain, and Comedy sections. The only section that's even alphabetized is Comedy. That's easy. I go to the D's, see a copy of "Dodgeball" on VHS (?!?!), and there's no other "Dodgeball" around, and then I spend an hour or more going through every single DVD in the Recent Acquisitions and Bargain departments.

It's a quest. For comedy. I like to laugh.

Wesley pointed out that I could buy a used copy from Amazon.com, and I could. It would cost more, and I would have to pay for shipping and handling, but I could definitely find a bargain copy of "Dodgeball" if I would just concede that I can't find the used copy of my dreams at McKay.

But I can't. I cannot give up. I can't just throw in the towel and call it a day. I've already spent at least 12 visits to used DVD stores and uncounted hours scouring the shelves trying to find one good copy of "Dodgeball" -- in Widescreen -- for $4 or less.

Hey, man, if it's in the Bargain section, it could be $1.95. I'm just sayin'. Is all.

But all this thought and time and effort have already been put into the search. I know that one day I'm going to walk in, and the movie will be sitting there on a shelf, waiting for me, with a Jesus light shining on it and angel choirs singing a resounding "Laaaaaaaaaa." I can't quit now and just order a copy online. Winners don't quit, and quitters don't win.

(And I, the original uncoordinated loser who was always chosen last for any team sport, can't believe I just wrote that line without choking on something. Snort!)

Anyway, this reminds me: The next time I'm at McKay, maybe I should put some time into finding copies of books I've never read. Like Moby Dick. Never read it. It wasn't assigned to me in school. I once checked it out of the library in fifth grade. Three pages into it, there was an illustration of a guy with his arm inside a whale's eye socket. His WHOLE ARM. I was only 10 years old, yeah, but it grossed me out so much, I ran back to the library to give the book back.

I've never read The Scarlet Letter, either. I saw the movie a few years ago. It was OK. Seeing Demi Moore trying to act is kind of hilarious. But somehow I don't think that's how I was supposed to interpret the flick.

The Lord of the Flies? I know what it's about. But the actual reading of the words on the page hasn't been something I've done. I've already been acquainted with badly behaved little boys. I knew them in school. No deserted isle required. Why read about it?

These are only a few of the mighty tomes I've managed to avoid. So today I'm making a list. Next time I go to the used book store, I'll try to find something that increases brain function -- rather than draining it. Like "Dodgeball." I really like the parts with Steve the Pirate. Gaaaaarrrrrrrr.

Trip reports don't write themselves

(Woodrow, Emily, and Doris at Anna Ruby Falls)

We went to Helen, Georgia for a few days. It was very near heaven. I really needed some North Georgia mountain time, and I got it, plus some faux-Bavaria time, and some Hansel & Gretel fudge time, and just a smidge of Wildcat Creek time.

The weather was pretty rotten for the first couple of days -- cloudy, rainy, and downright cold in the evenings and mornings -- but it became sunny for our last day.

I introduced Woodrow to that part of the world and told him ALL the stories I could think of that stemmed from my time spent in those parts. Including the time that Wesley came to visit me, and I found him in Helen on the payphone, having already drunk too much beer, really, and his friend Chip reached across his shoulder to hang up the phone for him, and Wesley almost decked him until he saw me through bleary beer-soaked eyes and totally forgot that he was almost ready to get into a fight.

We laughed a lot on this very short vacation.

We also took Doris Daylily with us. I have never traveled with a dog, so this was a brand new experience for me. I have to say that it was incredibly pleasant, and I recommend it. Doris was amazingly well-behaved and a wonderful traveling companion. She didn't complain and seemed to love everything and everyone.

Even more interesting, everyone seemed to love Doris Daylily. All kinds of people came to visit with her whenever we took her out of the hotel room --which, of course, was whenever we walked out of the hotel room. Everyone seemed to want to pet Doris, and they would come to see her when we were dining or walking around.

I have a theory -- I think people leave their pets at home, and when they see a pet out and about, they pay attention to that pet to assuage their lonely souls.

Or something like that.

Whatever -- Doris loved the trip. She didn't love the carpet in the motel room, though. It kept her from sliding. Doris loves to run and slide.

And I bought a ton of food souvenirs -- other than the aforementioned fudge, I also bought Farmer Cheese at the Old Sautee Store, flat crisps, and ginger snaps; deep-fried peanuts and muscadine-flavored cider Fred's Famous Peanuts; and I got a gorgeous, handmade butter bell from Mark of the Potter.

We didn't get to slide down Sliding Rock or tube on the Chattahoochee -- the weather was a mite cool -- but it was a fabulous trip. Y'all should get out, too. You look pale and listless. I'm not just saying that. I mean, I'm really worried about you. Can I recommend North Georgia? It did a ton of good for me. I'm just sayin'. Is all!

... and frogs, oh, my!

Every time I come to post something on my little blog -- and I do like blogging, you know. It's so much more solid than Facebook updating -- I have to try to weed through the overwhelming thoughts in my head. I could talk about anything. I mean, I really should have narrowed the scope of my blog when I started it so many years ago.

I should have made it be about clever, cutting comments that slayed lesser-than people.

Or I should have made it about quitting smoking. Oh, wait! I did that on a different blog, didn't I?

(And yes, thank you, I am celebrating two entire years without nicotine. Thank you so much for noticing! I could never have done it without Chantix.)

But seriously, I have so many things to say, I hardly know where to start and where to stop.

1. Frogs -- I have made some cards using some favorite Club Scrap frog images. They were part of the incomparable February 2009 collection entitled "Artifacts." I can't do enough with these Aztec-inspired thingamabobs!

And in other frog news, I hear a frog at the creek down the road from my house. Just one. I hope that he/she finds another frog soon, and that they make tons of tadpoles before it gets cold in a couple of months. I do like frogs.

(Bunny trail: Did you know you can buy frogs from PetSmart? I'm not sure how I feel about that, really. On the one hand, I want a frog of my own badly. On the other hand, I'm not sure they should be held captive. Unless, of course, being held captive is all that keeps them on the Earth.)

2. Trips! I'm planning a cruise with my darlin' stister Yamy! February of next year, we're taking off for the Western Caribbean. I'm so psyched! On the other hand, I feel I must quote my husband's uncle, who said upon returning from his first-ever cruise, "It was like being stuck in a bus station for a week."

EEK!

On the *other* other hand, that uncle and I have absolutely nothing in common. In fact, I think he's kind of a doofus. He loves golf. Loves, loves, loves it. There you go.

But -- totally beside the point -- isn't that an amazingly descriptive phrase? "Stuck in a bus station" would be bad for an hour. A week? Oh, my. Painful.

Still, Wesley's uncle didn't have my brilliant sister with whom to cruise, and I'm pretty sure they didn't have martini clinics when he went for a spin around the Caribbean. So my cruise will be much, much more sparkling and fabulous!

Another trip? Around noon on Monday, I'm taking off from tiny little Philadelphia and running away to the North Georgia mountain town named Helen.

I love Helen.

Well, OK, I don't really love Helen, not per se, but I love North Georgia mountains. I spent my childhood summers in that part of the world. (I've already ranted recently about my fond memories of Camp Cherokee for Girls on lovely Lake Burton.) I love those mountains, I love that dirt, I love those creeks, I love that part of the world, and I miss it pretty darned badly right now.

So we're going to Helen. While we're there, I'm going to take Wesley and the kids to slide down Sliding Rock in the Wildcat Creek camping area. It's late August, so the water will be extra-special frigid, but I'm really hoping we'll be the only people there on a Monday after school has started.

I want to find a trail to hike. Which one? No idea. I just need to get some dirt and elevation in my system.

I would like to drive past camp to see if it looks OK. I don't need it to look the same, the exact same. I just need it to look OK. Someone sold off the boys' camp, and it has been parceled off into lakefront homes. That breaks my heart more than I can convey. The boys' camp had been there for well over 60 years. Now it's some rich person's trophy wife's weekend getaway.

3. Gosh, I'd like to be a rich person's trophy wife with a mansion on the lake.

4. Oh, yeah, except, I have a soul. Darn it! Darn thing keeps getting in the way of my hopes and dreams.

That's all for tonight. Isn't it enough? I hope I have photos of the trip when we get back. Bye for now!