On the Balls of Our A$$ets

I don't know about you but just the thought of Thanksgiving makes me want to crawl into the basement with a 40-ounce beer and some Neil Young albums this year. Before you point out that the Grammy-winning singer-songwriter is Canadian, I know. Thanksgiving has already passed for our neighbors to the north, and that's how I'd like this holiday to be: over. Unless our turkey is stuffed full of cash and served with a side of new opportunities, I'm just not interested. It's not that I'm not thankful. I am. Believe me, after looking for a job for what felt longer than any Ken Burns documentary, I realize I'm lucky and beyond grateful to have landed a new gig . Still, it's been a tough year. With Thanksgiving a week away, it's time to make those plans. And yet I just don't know if I want to spend the day looking at the same people who know all about the less-than-spectacular year we've had. If we do, we're bound to have to endure more of

We've just passed the 11-month anniversary (but who's counting?) of my husband's lay off. His severance package will probably run out before I finish this post. So things have definitely been a little scary here and I don't mean in the fun, Halloween-scary kind of way. This is more of the "Here's Johnny!" Shining  off-the-rails-crazy kind. He's had several job interviews but so far none has yielded even a second meeting and, thus, he's been on the receiving end of those soul-destroying "We've decided to move forward with a more qualified candidate" emails. Ugh. Morale is plummeting faster than our savings account balance and we've been forced to do some unpleasant things. While we haven't had to turn to drug dealing, pole dancing, or Labradoodle breeding just yet, (mainly because other, more qualified applicants beat us to it-ha!) I have found myself haggling over butter prices at my local market. Yes, I'm not pro