Don't call us. We won't call you, either.

Remember my post about the place that wanted to do an online interview with me?  Well, they sent me a form letter stating that they have filled the position.  Well, if they won't be honest with me, I don't want to work with them anyway.

On the brighter side, I did a phone interview with a yard-care company in Colorado Springs (city motto:  We don't get as much snow as you think), and the H.R. guy for the job that would let me move back into my condo replied to my e-mail inquiry that they haven't even started reviewing applications (a month and a half after the posting deadline) but emphasized that I'm still being considered.  Plus, I applied for two grounds jobs (in the Baltimore/Washington area, or in Tulsa) with my former employer.  There's always hope.  I'm ready to paper a wall with all the e-mails from companies confirming they received my application and then I never hear from them again, but there's always hope...

It Came from Across the Street!

The other day, a neighbor sent her teenage daughter over with a poinsettia (a red one, if you're curious) as a Christmas gift for my mother.  Nothing says "I love you" like a cheap, disposable gift that might last through the holiday, if you're lucky.

Yes, that is your own Cap'n Chlorophyll disparaging a plant.  The thing is, poinsettias are kind of finicky.  They like bright light but cool temperatures.  They like moist soil but don't want to be watered often.  They are perennial shrubs in their natural habitat (I once saw a nice one in a garden on Santa Catalina Island) but are difficult to keep alive for a full year indoors.  I dread seeing these things every year because my mother thinks I can keep it alive for her.  I've managed to do it once.  I'm not holding my breath for this one.

My Christmas shopping is done for the year.  Considering my unemployed status, I got an ideal gift for my mom, at a great price.  My friend Gimpy has purchased an ice cream scoop for her, and I'm giving her toothpaste.

Okay, now that you've stopped gasping with laughter, I'll point out a couple of things.  1) By the time I got my first job and had enough money to buy my parents nice things (rather than making another ashtray for my dad, for example), they had reached the point that they wanted nothing but useful gifts each year.  (Thankfully, useful gifts are perfectly priced for an unemployed son.)  2) One of my mom's caregivers either moved/hid my mom's ice cream scoop so well that neither of us can find it in the kitchen* or else she threw it away in a fit of "cleaning", so she now needs another one.  3) My mom is almost out of toothpaste, so that's another useful gift.

* The ice cream scoop might not necessarily be in the kitchen.  After all, I found the stapler from the study in one of the kitchen drawers, so the ice cream scoop could be anywhere.