How can unemployment be fun? I admit I have to make it entertaining but isn’t that what we do with work? It’s an excellent opportunity for creativity. If I do a good job looking for work I treat myself to a nice jar of Nutella and the task of learning how to draw a reindeer so I can paint it on the window
It’s unfortunate that so many people want to know what you do for work whether you’re looking for work or not. If I tell them I’m unemployed then they want to know what I’m looking for and give me lots of suggestions. I try to beat them to the punch with “I’m just going to let the right job find me.” They may respond, “Oh you must have lots of money!” To which I say, “Doesn’t really matter.” At this point they hate me and walk away. I have had my fun.
Why doesn’t it matter? I live very low on the food chain. That could change any minute but that too is out of my control. What I have to watch out for is my own anxiety which smells pretty bad. Luckily, many first interviews are by phone now. I got a call about a catering position the other day. They asked when the last time I catered. I started babbling about how I ran a kitchen at the mental health center for over ten years and considered bragging that no one got food poisoning but “food poisoning” is not the phrase I wanted to be remembered for. Instead I mentioned that food safety was very important. She liked that.
I have been on a career search since I finished a decade working at the community mental health center. I tried counseling at the military base. I worked in hospitality, and at The Halloween Store.
I always take a small trip between jobs just like some people do between marriages. This time I went to Paris. This is where I figured out that what I do for a living is not that important as long as I have the flexibility to see my family. I love my family and we laugh sometimes harder than anyone else can make me laugh. Paris might not be the funniest city in the world but it can be a silly place despite the terrorism. Isn’t that the way of the world?
Here is some silliness from The Chateau of Chantilly which we went to for the cream and stayed for the horses.
There is a Museum of The Horse here and a giant race track. The museum has real horses in the stable and lots of statues and carousel pieces.
Here is Beth trying to get a rise out of a giant carousel bunny.
There are extensive grounds at this chateau, and we found ourselves at the Hameau on which Marie Antoinette based her little village. At the edge of the village were these excellent things. I don’t know what you call them, but we had them all to ourselves!
Beth as the lady with one pearl earring and her scary outerspace consorts whose heads are made of straw.
Beth is a medievalist so she naturally looks better in period garb, as opposed to me.
I look a bit out of sorts in this scheme. My expression would fit in better were I on a roller coaster.
Here are The Dauphin pictures, both are pretty good I think. Once again Beth just seems to wear it better.Although you can definitely tell we are related.
But enough of this silliness. I hope you don’t take offense given all the tragedies in the news but sometimes I have to just look for the bright side. If I look hard enough I will find a reason to keep on. Here are some more silly things we saw on our many walks.
Here is Beth greeting another bunny. It is too bad he is locked up in the Museum of Taxidermy.
Next is an international warning sign we saw on the windows of L’Hopital de St. Denis, the old leper hospital.
You can see the ancient decaying walls separating the hospital from the neighborhood but inside it seems pretty modern. The old building which had “Baths” for leprosy therapy is now some kind of outpatient treatment building next to the Musee de Moulange.
This is an example of Moulange.
It’s a French casting technique which was used to teach medical personnel about skin diseases and wounds. You can see why a leprosy hospital might have lots of these wax models on hand and turn them into a museum for freaky foreigners.
When we visited a cemetery to look for the graves of Dumas Pere, Njinsky and Collette, we were sorely disappointed. Colette’s grave was fine, we couldn’t find Dumas Pere, and look at Njinsky’s grave!
I would sue if they put something like that on my grave. I know they are basing it on this particular role.
But could he not be remembered like this?
I don’t know how I will be remembered. I hope it’s like this. Roaming around Paris, the night it was bombed, but because it hasn’t happened yet, I am oblivious. I delight in finding an unexpected police call box. The world goes on without me. Life is silly.