National Poetry Month: Take a peek at a poet who is larger than life: Maya Angelou
Himself: Swam, job hunted, did his interview, walked, dinner by the bay.
Herself: Hid inside and outside myself not to get in his way. Did call the doc and got one pill and a really tough ointment for all those opportunistic spots. Told Lessa to write our gathering down, I wrote it down then I thought it was Thursday instead of Friday. One of these days I will have melted away to nothing.
Reading: Finished “The White Dragon,” and am starting on the latest Jim Butcher, “Changes.”
Gratitude: Who ever owns that new company, the owner of Pizza Nova, and all our HP’s…owners all.
Books, books, wunnerful books kept me happy and occupied for only two hours. Darn it. I had been hoping to be out of the house until after his interview. Instead I hid first by doing laundry, then when I heard his voice echoing down the stairs, I muffled the sounds by going outside. Did I say it was cold? Then when the very noisy Amana refrigerator turned itself on, I was able to come inside again distracted by the sounds and a book.
They know all the same people. Amazing. He worked with G’s last boss before that company expanded. If the interviews with his references go well, they will be calling him for another interview.
I dare not think of it at all. Dare not hope in this job forsaken climate. Dare not think beyond my nose. I put the whole thing in the hands of everyone’s gods.