Day Two Unemployed & Incredulous Splendor

My agent is more potently effective than I ever imagined! By 9am I receive a phone call securing employment in a growth-rich environment downtown for September 25th.

I never should have underestimated her power. It was obvious, the way she wielded the sand at the park in her mighty clutch. While the other children tossed it haphazardly, she plotted and planned her every move. Nary have I seen anyone work a playground like that.

The Boss is using sign language to tell me she's done her breakfast. I suspect her lack of vocabulary may be due to past stroke, hard to say - we haven't discussed it. I best move swiftly, she can be temperamental.

Unemployed Day One & Elephant Toes

While the rest of the free world returns to work, I on the other hand will remain, at home. It is with the absolute good fortune of the company of fifteen-month-old child whom I shall hereby refer to as "My Agent". Small, nearly bald, temperamental, regularly soiling herself - all agent-like material if you ask me. Besides, I could use the sound advice. I've agreed to watch the wee one for the next ten business days armed with a high chair, a play pen, some wipes, diapers ~ the usual artillery. My major concern is her reaction towards Simon. He's a great dog, a dog of all dogs! But upon first glance of him, it was vaguely unsettling to watch her face turn inside out as she delivered a peppery loaf in her pants. A lingering calling card to say the least. Tomorrow ought to be interesting.

Rounding the corner towards the “f-year”, this isn't exactly how I imagined my life. Spending the morning of my birthday getting a pedicure though, did wonders to ease any pangs of anxiety about being without a master for only the second time in my life. Rolling around in the nether regions of my brain I try to reinforce some form of confidence that I haven't completely botched my life by making one poor decision after another. However, when asked to choose a toe nail polish colour from the cabinet containing extensive variations of red, I find myself spinning in a swirly confusing filled arena of ruby reales and punch drunk pinks of indecision, fearful that picking the wrong colour may somehow seal my fate in the glossy classic sanguine salmon peach polish. Buckling under the pressure I allow myself to be swayed and eventually clamoring in agreement with whatever story the poor young lady was schlepping about her sister liking this colour in order to get me to make up my damn mind and get on with the appointment. In the wake of this choice I find that I have said yes to an alarming cherry red reserved solely for the crooked wrinkly piglets of eighty-year-old women, this, sadly, is the one thing that I am quite sure of. While I'd fit in quite nicely in a cherry tree, it's not the look I'd normally go for. Happy Birthday Baby, tomorrow’s another day.

BTW ~ Ladies (Just Jump In & Boo's Tattoos) thanks so very much for remembering my BDay. Loved the message on my machine - the singing was too frickin' funny and the e-card had both Omar and I in stitches. You rock.