The thing about being unemployed is that you tend to lose track of things like holidays. I mean, I just realized that there's no reason to think that any of the three companies I applied to this morning are actually doing business today.

This whole "writing sample" thing is becoming a nuisance, too. One of the jobs I was applying for this morning wasn't actually for a writer, and they still wanted a writing sample. I'm not sure why. (Maybe they're trying to screen out illiterates who paid a professional service to write their resumes and cover letters?) Anyhow, I wasted half an hour writing something I could attach to use as a writing sample and I have no idea if it will fulfill their needs or not. (I suspect that I've only proven that I know what a paragraph break is and that I abuse commas.)

I guess if I get desperate, I could be a phone sex person. There seem to be plenty of ads looking for "creative" women who can spin "fantasies" and who like to talk on the phone.

What's up with my life otherwise?

Well, the seedlings are--seedy. I swear none of them have grown a fraction of an inch in the last week and one of the forget-me-nots lost two of its six leaves. I can't figure out if I'm over-watering, under-watering, over-sunning, under-sunning, or what. Stupid plants.

In the arena of fun and frolic, the R.C. and I took ourselves out to the Chamberlin Observatory last Saturday evening. The R.C. heard tell that they were having an Open House and letting us mundanes come in and take a peek at Saturn through the Big Telescope for the modest fee of a buck a head, so we trotted out, wrinkled bills in hand, to take a peek at the rarely open historic building and the "20-inch aperture classic refractor telescope."

(I don't know why I got all folksy there, but I'm better now.)

The building was fascinating, especially up top, where the telescope is housed. We got to watch them rotate the dome and reposition the telescope. Several times. Sadly, billowing cloud cover prevented them from finding any astronomical bodies that anyone could actually look at, but it was 'way cool to watch them trying. Well worth a buck, we both agreed.

Checking the literature, we see that we can make reservations almost any Tuesday and/or Thursday evening and, for three dollars, get another chance to actually look at something. It's definitely on our list of Things To Do This Summer. (They do an Open House once a month, but we have a small hope that the extra two bucks a head will cut down on the hordes of shrieking children present.) (That's sour grapes on my part--every time we wondered aloud what this or that bright spot in the sky was, some eight year-old piped up to inform us that it was Saturn or Venus or whatever. Little know-it-alls.) (It's true, though, that the Tues-Thurs opportunities are limited to a dozen people a time, where the Open House evenings are for all comers. It would be nice to have the opportunity to look through the telescope for more than three seconds without the uneasy guilt of picturing a line of 50 people waiting impatiently for their turn.)

Yesterday, I did--pretty much nothing. A 30-minute walk to check a flower bed where some peonies should be bursting into flower any day now. A short conversation with my mother* on the phone where I confirmed that I'll be back out her direction in a week or so. A lot of reading.

I'm already thinking of holiday cards for the upcoming year. The R.C. pointed out that now, while I have a lot of time on my hands, might be a good time to start working on potential designs for cards for the fall. It's not a bad idea, even if I am seriously considering buying cards this year. I mean, why spend hours making cards when for $20 I can buy enough cards for everyone on my list and then come? The commercial ones are prettier, too.

Still. Pretending that I might make cards was a good reason for me to dig out the paper, paste, and scissors yesterday.** In fact, I amused myself for an hour reorganizing the box I keep paper and scraps in and digging around to figure out what bits and pieces I have that could be turned into cards. I even came up with one potential design.

And, speaking of digging, I did finally get around to pulling out the drawing supplies this past weekend. I spent some time on that, as well. Mostly flipping through the pages of old sketchbooks and admiring or condemning various drawings. If the amount of time I've spent thinking about drawing translated into practice, I'd be all limbered up and ready to produce something recognizable by now. (I seem to be using Harold Hill's Think System for learning to draw these days.) I was almost there, back when I was taking classes but of course daily practice helps a lot.

My teacher had a certain amount of contempt for creating shading and depth with pencil effects (See example), something I was reduced to learning out of a book when, in despair, I looked around the class and realized that everyone there was a thousand times more creative and experienced than I was.

You're supposed to do a lot with line, of course, but even though this was ostensibly a "beginning" drawing class, she didn't teach us about that. I'd like to use that as an excuse for why I'm unable to produce the desired effects when I try to sketch, but I know better.

Drawing is just like writing. Those who have genius do go farther, but no one goes anywhere without practice and anyone who practices regularly can achieve a certain minimum proficiency.

I need, for instance, to practice until I can achieve with pen-and-ink, the same 3D effects I learned to achieve with pencil. More than that, I need to learn to look at things, until I can see shapes and patterns. (You might wonder why someone so auditory took on a hobby so visual. I know I do.)

So. Plans for today include....

Well, I don't have many at the moment. I got up. Drank coffee. Did the job-hunt thing. Now I'm blogging. At some point I need to gas up my car. I intend to go out to lunch.

Life's pretty exciting in the Unemployment Lane these days.

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* I hear she got all fired up Saturday and demanded that we all appear on her doorstep next weekend and help her wind up her affairs so she could check herself into a nursing home, but by the time I talked to her on Sunday, the mood (or the problem or whatever it was) had passed. From what she tells me, the disease is progressing faster than anticipated, but I won't believe that until I see her again. She's--not reliable on things like that.

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** In Anne's World, you're never too old to play with paper and paste and scissors.