If I told you what it takes to reach the highest high/You'd laugh and say nothing's that simple

Je suis libre!

Today marks the first day of my liberation from Big Coffee. I woke up this morning at 5 am, unable to go back to sleep. Since, for the nonce, my time is my own, I got up a half hour later. I don't have to be well-rested -- I don't have to go to work today or tomorrow or the next day.

After working the last six days in a row for a total of 43 or 44 hours, I should be more tired, and I probably am. I was too sleepy last night to stay up like a rebellious child so instead I got up in the chilly pre-dawn light with no plan for the morning. So here I sit, half watching "Fringe."

I didn't know how the last day would be. My extreme relief and happiness to be done with this job seemed to override any sadness I was feeling about losing my daily contact with Michael and Marta. By happy circumstance (Michael insists it was not kindness on our manager's part) the three of us were working together for several hours, both of them leaving before me. I was prone to the sudden hugging of each of them which seemed to stifle the emotion that was trying to bubble up. When it came time for them to go I was okay. I choked back some tears and went back to work. Luckily, I suppose, my last two hours of working were extraordinarily busy and a little frantic. The vultures were circling as customers flocked in to clutch and claw at the free things we were offering. A memory that will not leave me yearning to work retail again any time soon. As I walked out that door for the last time I did not feel one tinge of regret; just relief.

I woke up on Friday morning with a new jewelry idea in my head, the first time that's happened in nearly a year. I hope this is the beginning of being able to recapture that part of myself.

And here's the song that's been reverberating in my head all week.

And I hope you remember when it comes around/The gentle release of letting me down/And the way that it felt/

To be high on yourself/Blindly running into the new

Oh my, how things have changed since I last wrote.

After a less than satisfactory conversation with my boss-to-be in Illinois wherein she made it quite clear that she was unwillingly shoehorning me into her staff, and upon further reflection, the idea of moving to that store seemed pretty much like a nightmare. A really good alternate plan to keep Michael, Marta and I together was derailed almost as quickly as it was conceived. It was more stressful, I think, than never having had the plan at all. And so the week came to an end with me feeling anxious and panicked about the future.

Friday night I pushed down all those feelings and did actually enjoy myself at the Royale, DJing out on the patio. Saturday dawned (literally; I couldn't sleep) as the same old same old. I woke with a tight knot in my stomach and a tension I couldn't ignore any longer. Springing it on him out of nowhere, I blurted out to Steve that I needed to quit my job and that I would do what I needed to do to make sure we could pay for our insurance, etc. He was dubious at first (and may still be) but he agreed and I felt the first inklings of relief. Next I had to ask for some safety net money from a third party and that wasn't quite as easy as I'd hoped, but it wasn't terrible.

Knowing I was working with the boss the next morning, I had to deliver the news. As it was, I'd only be giving one week's notice which bothered me, but it couldn't be helped. (And did I mention that at this point I was swallowing the L-Theanines like candy?) I'm not used to quitting jobs -- I've only quit two, really, and only one as a bonafide adult. Surprisingly, he took it quite well, quite impassively, almost as if he was expecting it.

It took about half of the workday Sunday before I felt the weight start to lift off my shoulders, but lift it did and the giddiness ensued. I can't tell you how I'm looking forward to not being exhausted and achy and full of mysterious cuts and bruises (there are lots of sharp edges in that store) at the end of every day. I can't wait to cook something elaborate. I can't wait to sleep past 4am. I can't wait for my artist side to come back to me.

And otherwise in my life, the theme of transition seems to be pervasive. Relationships are shifting and changing, new alliances are forming and, mostly, all seems well. The radio show is going well; I'm very energized by it and loving music again.

But one more 4am wake up call awaits me tomorrow and Friday holds an eight hour workday. After that? I'm one free motherfrakker.

You got a heart so big/It could crush this town/And I can't hold out forever/Even walls fall down

Things have happened, tears have been shed, worries have only begun, entrances have been approached, even some fun has been had.

We found out our new store assignments this week. I will be in Illinois (my third choice) at a mall store. The best thing is that this store apparently has a reputation as "the gayest ********* ever". How bad could that be, right? Of course, there will be giant, giant hole in my daily work life as Michael and I will not be together. And hence the tears. I really don't want to think about it. It's been threatened so many times in the last several months and now it is irrevocably going to happen and I'm not sure how I'm going to deal.

Tuesday night was an event for the radio station and I went along blithely, drinking myself into oblivion so I didn't have to think about the facts of the new store, separation and whatever else. I appeared to have a great time (and I did, really) listening to Roy and John one-up each other at the DJ booth and laughing uproariously at rather juvenile jokes ("Baffled by Tits" anyone?). Unfortunately, I woke up at 3:00 a.m. with a tight ball of anxiety living in my chest and stomach and spent the next few hours tossing and turning and imagining the worst scenarios about, oh, everything. Adding to that day's stress was the informal coffee meeting about the potential job. Of course, I WANT it. I will be devastated if I don't get it. And we don't even know if it exists yet. Sigh.

Anyway, the anxiety continued at work and clearly looking distraught I kept getting asked if I was okay, which always triggers the waterworks. I did my best to hold it in until I got home, finally, and collapsed in a numb heap, cheered by a little chatting that was entirely too short-lived to lift me out of the funk. When Steve arrived home he was rather surprised to see me in the dark, TV off, staring into space. A little Googling later and he was out to fetch me some 'natural Xanax' in the form of L-Theanine. Oh, and some spaghetti and meatballs from Mangia. Whether it was the carbs or the amino acids, I felt immensely better after and slept well. Today was like a completely new start and I felt 100 times better. I'm sure that's owed as much to the Theanine as the much better night's sleep. And perhaps also because I wasn't hungover. That helped a lot too.

Aack, that's enough navel gazing.

The words of love in whispers/And the axe of love in screams/I wish that I could push a button/And talk in the past and not the present tense

Yes, I am a big fat liar. I've spent my computer time of the last couple weeks doing anything but writing down my every useless thought for consumption by the masses (ha!).

Excuse #1: I've worked a lot and at hours I'm not particularly fond of, which means I've been working closing and evening shifts too much. I had a honeymoon week with the new guy, which quickly devolved into anxiety and panic when things took a nasty turn. Because we're short staffed, I've hardly worked with Michael at all, which absolutely doesn't help the state of my working mind. Thank goodness he can bear to come to the store when he's not working and visit me or we'd barely see each other. We can't even hang outside of work because when he's not working, I am, or vice versa. It sucks. We also found out the store is closing on September 26 and we've had to scramble and pick locations we want to transfer to. I don't even want to talk about that. Too. Much. Anxiety.

Excuse #2: Because I feel it's time I get back to my previous career path, such as it is, I've spent a good deal of time online, searching, sending, begging. You know the routine. Since my lack of (and, to be honest, disdain for) networking skills always comes back to bite me in the ass, I'm really trying to reach out this time and ask for help from my friends in the working world. After sending out a gazillion blind inquiries to no avail, it becomes clear that personal recommendations and the like are the real ways to get employed.

Update: It's working! I'm to make an appointment for a coffee date to discuss a possible position! Oh to be a grown up.

Excuse #3: Having a bit of a social life beyond my own head. A novel idea, I know! I joined Dana and Roy at Mangia last Friday evening for drinks and conversation (joined by Steve eventually). Feeling rather giddy after an afternoon of conversation with friends, I ended up drinking perhaps too much and demanding, over and over, that we walk down the street and smoke the hookah at the hookah bar. I think Roy was ready to clap his hand over my mouth, but he was polite and let me ramble on annoyingly and endlessly. For what it's worth, I did offer my sober apologies the next day when I blushed, remembering my nattering on.

On Tuesday night Steve and I headed to the Aimee Mann/Squeeze show at the Pageant. Unbelievably, I've never seen either and I was really looking forward to the show. I would not say I'm an Aimee Mann fanatic, but I am a Magnolia Soundtrack/Bachelor No. 2 fanatic. I couldn't love those two records more and, in general, I find her sour, dour hyper-intelligence very appealing. She did not disappoint, though I must say there was very little sourness. She was nearly chipper. She smiled, even laughed once or twice. And she sounded incredible, as did her band. Her solo performance of "Cigarettes and Red Vines" was a goosebump moment -- who knew that song was about director Paul Thomas Anderson? She relied heavily on her new album, though she pulled some of my favorite stuff from the Magnolia era. At one point she even brought Glenn Tilbrook out to play and sing on a song they had collaborated on. It was clear the affection they have for one another -- he seemed truly delighted to be there and she to have him.

Like nearly every music fixated person of my generation, I had a Squeeze phase, listening to Singles 45 and Under obsessively. Over the years, those songs have stayed with me as favorites, have a place in my iPod, and remain fresh sounding. I did fear a bit of the dreaded "reunion" pallor over the show but that notion was quickly dispelled. Difford and Tilbrook burst onto the stage, along with a smashing band and proceeded to charm, thrill and entertain an eager audience. Chris Difford just seemed fit to bursting to be on stage. Glenn had an expression of joy that didn't disappear once. Despite the trio of idiotic women who bumped, spilled and broke glass next to us, it was a joyous, sing along at the top of your lungs show. Oh, and Aimee Mann wears white cotton hipsters and I think Glenn Tilbrook goes commando.

Excuse #4: My radio show! I'm spending much more time listening to music than I had been in the past several months. I'm so excited about my show (and don't want to think about what a real job might mean to it) and I'm constantly thinking of things I want to play, ways to connect songs and artists and, really, just hearing more. I'm feeling more myself, like I've recovered a really important piece of my identity: Cat the radio DJ.

Excuse #5: I've acquired a Scottish correspondent (albeit via Yorkshire), a fellow with whom I share much music, movie, television and more in common. As a fellow Battlestar Galactica fanatic, he's a keeper. It's been fun throwing each other musical suggestions and learning that Top Gear, indeed, can be amusing even if I care nothing for ridiculously expensive sports cars. He's adorably British and as anyone who knows me well knows, I have a weakness for Brits.

So there you go. I haven't been slacking.

I didn't feel pain, 'cause no-one can touch me/Now that I'm held in your spell

It's been way too many days since I've posted and today (actually already tomorrow) isn't really an exception. I haven't had a day off work since last Thursday and while I spent over six hours in a coffee house online that day, I spent more time chatting and emailing with friends than thinking about the blog.

I promise more tomorrow when I will be suitably self-obsessed. In the meantime, who wants to hire me? I'm an ace exec assistant with a zillion years experience, I'm a DJ, I can craft a cunning piece of jewelry and sew a damn cute purse. And, last but not least, I can boss around baristas while making a delicious latte with one hand tied behind my back. Come on, I need a job, people!

Till tomorrow.

Well, I built me a raft and she's ready for floatin'/ol Mississippi she's callin' my name/catfish are jumpin'

Wanting to do something out of the ordinary on Thursday, because Steve and I had two consecutive days off together, I thought of day trips we could take. My first inclination was to drive up to Springfield, IL for the state fair, but Steve wasn't terribly excited about that. He doesn't have the enthusiasm for peering endlessly at goats and sheep that I do. Plus, all the poultry showings were over and I do love the chickens.

Next on the list was a trip along the Great River Road past Alton, IL and Grafton, IL to a place that Roy Kasten has opined has the most delicious fresh peach drinks ever. Now this appealed to Steve.

We got a somewhat late start on Thursday morning, not leaving until around 11:00am. The weather was gorgeous, overcast and just barely 80 degrees. Seriously, this is August in St. Louis? We got on the road and headed northeast. It seemed that neither of us felt particularly chatty and we settled into a comfortable quiet, just listening to the radio. The drive, through Baden in north St. Louis, Alton, and Grafton was easy -- little traffic, and only a few idiot drivers.

Starving by the time we got to Grafton, we decided to forego the antique and junk stores and head right for the Brussels Ferry to get to our restaurant destination, Kinder's, at the Golden Eagle Ferry landing in Calhoun County. I've never been on a ferry, ever, so I was excited about crossing a particularly wide part of the Mississippi on the ferry in my car. And since this one is owned by the Illinois DOT, it was free. I don't have a particular problem with motion sickness, though I do have some vertigo issues, but the movement of the ferry while sitting inside my still car made me feel drunk and disoriented. Not in a terribly bad way, but it was a weird feeling, like my head was swiveling loosely on my neck. As soon as I hit land again, I was fine, though the narrow, curvy and hilly roads of Calhoun County were rather challenging. Even after looking at the map, I'm still not quite sure where we were. It's odd that, according to the maps, the part of the river we crossed to get to Calhoun was not exactly the Mississippi, but a tributary. The county, though, was gorgeous. Lots of rolling hills covered with corn and soybeans; little shacky houses, next to trailer homes, next to McMansions, next to working farms and orchards. I could live there, happily.

We drove and drove and drove and finally made it to the Golden Eagle Ferry crossing and Kinder's. The place was kind of deserted but we were starving and thirsty and headed out to the deck to sit and ponder the river flowing past. We immediately ordered those frozen peach daquiris and were not disappointed. Sweet, icy, thick and beautifully orange with fresh peaches. Yum.


Fried green beans (how wonderful to take something healthy, coat it in batter, deep fry it and serve with ranch dressing!) and gigantic catfish filet sandwiches later and we were peaceful and relaxed. See?


We ate and ate and drank and drank and watched the ferry take and retrieve countless vehicles to and from the Missouri side of the river. At one point we noticed that when the ferry docked, sometimes big fish leapt out of the water, showing us their shining white bellies. Startling and funny. We were practically alone on the deck (our only compatriots left less than halfway through our visit) and we again settled into a peaceful, comfortable silence. Even my brain was still and contented. No racing thoughts, no worries, nothing. I suggest watching a ferry for relaxation anytime.


After probably a couple hours we decided to hit the road for home, with a stop or two planned to get some fresh vegetables at one of the many stands and orchards in the area. Three or four pounds of tomatoes, one odd zucchini, some sweet corn and a bag of peaches later, we were homeward bound. Even though it was was rush hour, we were heading in the opposite direction of most other cars so it was easy and fast. Since we were on "vacation" we stopped at the Wonder Bread outlet store to relive our childhood and buy our favorite treats -- Hostess Cupcakes for me and HoHos for Steve.

For dinner I tried to recreate the peach daquiris and I was somewhat less than successful, though they tasted okay. I overdid the lemonade aspect and the peachiness was way too far in the background. The main dish was going to have to contain some of those fresh vegetables, so I sauteed onion, garlic, that zucchini and a big, fresh tomato in olive oil and tossed the result with rigatoni and parmesan cheese. Delicious.


Wish I had more of it right now.

Later on I turned around and saw Lydia sprawled on the back of the couch, sound asleep. She looked so sweet and happy I had to take a picture.

The executives are busy bees/They watch the gears turn in the employees/They just turn smile shift repeat

Last week was rather wearying, work-wise. Lots of long days into nights. By the time Friday rolled around, I was ready to do a whole lot of nothing, which is basically what I did with the first of my two days off. By the time evening rolled around (plus Steve working till 9:30p) I was feeling like being sociable. Dana had said she and Roy were going to see Jon Hardy and the Public at The Chapel that evening so I decided to meet up with them there. The Chapel is a rather lovely space, though the sound leaves something to be desired because of the high, peaked ceiling. The Marc Chagall stained glass window triptych makes up for any other deficits. Aside from the fact that there is two drink limit (though they are basically free), it's a very cool space. I look forward to going there again.

Steve met up with us near the end of the show (which was very entertaining -- they covered, very well, Springsteen's "Rosalita"!) and we headed to Pi for deep dish pizza. Yum. And though they intended to have an early night, I'm glad we got Roy and Dana to stay out with us, drinking and eating. Little did I know we were heading to the most dangerous area in the city due to some recent Metro-related attacks (see, my horrible week kept me away from the news too). Delmar was crawling with cops, though, and Joe Edwards, king of the Loop, was keeping watch as well. The smartass hostess at Pi who gave Dana the cold shoulder and attitude in order to kowtow to Joe had to feel pretty freaked out when Mr. Edwards headed to our table to say hello and apologize for tying her up. Hee hee!

Saturday dawned (well, sort of) with a giant glut of work to do to prepare for my first radio show since the beginning of October and the debut of my new Monday morning, three hour time slot. I spent a few hours downloading music, then ran around a bit with Michael to shop for focal beads for a necklace he wanted me to make. We drove out to Glasshopper in far west county (Olive and Fee Fee) and found some good stuff. I even bought some beads for making earrings, actually feeling almost energized to make more jewelry. After beads we had ice cream and wraps and did some grocery shopping at a weird, jenky Schnucks on Olive. West County is all about the Dierbergs, apparently. At any rate, I like how the necklaces turned out.


The morning glories have taken over my front yard in tandem with some other viney weed. Our mailbox and porch bench are almost completely obscured by the morning glories.




The prolific rose of sharon is nearly obscured by the other weedy vine. I know I should pull it up and cut it down, but its white flowers give off a most wonderful, heady fragrance that wafts directly into the living room and I can't bear to get rid of it.


Anyone know what that stuff is called, anyway? It's all over the backyard too. Allison?

I worry/I wonder all the time /Why worry?/It's killing me/Forget about it

I'm sure it's no surprise to learn I'm a worrier. It's contrary to my no-planning nature and it's not chronic, but when it takes me, it's a chokehold. I woke up at 4am today, positively freaking out about work and the radio. Useless and a waste, I know.

As far as the radio thing goes, I have gotten my show back, and then some. Starting on Monday, August 11 at 7am, Emotional Rescue is back on the airwaves of KDHX 88.1 (listen online or stream later at www.kdhx.org) with a new three hour format. Holy shit, I hope I'm ready.

Regarding work, I made a sort of rash decision to tell my manager that I would go to the new store with her, after making sure Michael would be wiling to go too. Isn't the devil you know better than the devil you don't know? That's what I'm banking on. In the meantime, we're going to be working under the untested eye of a brand new and quite green manager in training. I hope I can survive it. We have no idea how long we'll remain at the old store and I'm not sure if I should relish my time left there (a ten minute drive!) or be in a hurry to get out (the new guy may be awful!)

Sigh. All this is happening at a time of the month when my mind is kind of crazy anyway. Next week things will probably seem less tragic. Keep your fingers crossed for me.