The last few days before this deployment ends, and I’m praying that things calm down and hell doesn’t break loose. Yesterday, I feel funny, just kind of worn out and really tired. My stomach is a little upset, but not too bad. Today, I still kinda feel funny. I went running, and I feel a little woozy, my stomach is still a little upset, and I’m achy. Fast forward to right now. I’m shaking, I am running to the bathroom, I am achy all over, I have the chills, but when I take my temperature– it’s normal. Illness sucks. Hopefully it passes soon, as I have a spa day tomorrow– hopefully, my kids don’t get it, as I have a spa day tomorrow.
I’m going to a squadron commander’s/DO’s coffee tonight. I remember being a young Lieutenant thinking the same thing about squadron commanders and squadron DOs back in the day. They were old. I remember them being old, and far removed from the reality of life. I remember going to meetings where they would muse about why young airmen did stupid things like drink underage, then attempt to drive on base, and methods to squash this rebellious dangerous behavior. What they failed to realize is that young airmen are the same as they were in college. I recall getting drunk in college, I recall even (gasp) trying the occasional weed and even a cigar in college. I remember a party were in the -40 degree weather in Duluth, MN, we stripped down to our bikinis and flashed the few men that went to my school for beads in celebration of Mardi Grais. I vowed never to forget that I was young and care free a long time ago, and I made plenty of mistakes. Including thinking that life was over at 40, just as young Miss Cyress so vehemently told Matt Lauer on the today show. Sex stops at 40. It doesn’t though, just look at Madonna. She’s getting close to 60, and still kicking it old school. That lady from Sex and the City– she was celebrating 60 a few years ago, and still managed to have the sexual prowess of a 20-year-old. I don’t think sex is gone at 40, I think it’s more meaningful, though, because times a tickin’. I’m of the opinion that sex actually stops at 50…
I have a date. I don’t have a time, that’s always up in the air, it depends on airplanes working and layover and factors that are completely out of my control. I hate being out of control. It’s kind of sad that I’m an control freak in that I have to know every little detail. I’m starting to prepare for homecoming. Little things, like wrapping up projects I left until the last minute, cleaning the house so that it’s fresh and new for homecoming. I’m decorating the house a little more, adding little touches. I want to put the yellow ribbons up outside, and announce the world that he’s home, and this is over. I plan on decorating his truck, and putting signs up, painting pumpkins. Right now, I’m just worried about keeping the house somewhat clean and everyone healthy for homecoming (there is a flu bug going through the schools right now). I just want it to come and our lives to get back to whatever normal is for a military family.
Once upon a time, I worked. It was not for Mary Kay, Pampered Chef, or any other direct sales companies I dabbled in the last ten years. I worked for the United States of America. I was a communications-information systems officer. I wasn’t a damn good one, I was bordering on mediocre. When my husband sometimes bitches about some of his mediocre troops, I step in and say, “hey, you married a mediocre troop.” I was not the best of the best of the best of the best. If I had stayed in, I probably wouldn’t have been a major. This is not something I am overly proud of, but after the realization of my social communication deficits, and “my autism,” I have come to accept the reasons me and the United States Air Force didn’t part on the best of terms. That being said, I’m now at a point in my life, where I have 6 hours a day that I could work. I see my friends and other women I know, doing something. I know a TON of people who are making a good living selling artwork, or selling their pictures, or writing books, or advocating for their children in DC. I have started about 5 books, but my attention span is like a 7-year-old. I want to do something. I grow tired of on the surveys and forms filling in “Homemaker” or “Stay At Home Mom.”
In order to be successful at direct sales, you have to be pushy, and I’m just not pushy. I cannot be pushy. I don’t believe in going up to people and saying, “hi, I’m prostituting myself for <insert company here>, and I want to come to your house and show you how great the product is…” I want to melt into nothingness. I would rather quietly leave a brochure in a doctor’s office, and hope someone picks it up, and says– I could really use some more of <fill in the blank.>
I have tried to write. I have submitted article after article, but I don’t see breaking into the profession anytime soon. I just would love to make $200-300 a week. That’s all. Just a 10-20 hours a week, and be able to have some money I don’t have to account to anyone for… Too much to ask.
First, there was Pampered Chef. I really did enjoy you Pampered Chef. I loved all the free stones and the great easy cooking advice. Then, my kids grew up, and my stones sat in my closet collecting dust. Then, there was Avon. It was cheap, it was like Mary Kay lite. I only needed to invest $10, and buy a few catalogs a month, but no one ever called their Avon Lady. I’m just not willing to knock on the door stating, “Avon Lady.” Then, I tried Norwex. I love the product. I really, truly do. I thought I would, but then again, how much Microfiber towels do I need, and I really don’t clean that much. Now, it’s Mary Kay. I do use the product exclusively. I like the products a lot, but again will my shyness and social anxiety prevent me from being a Mary Kay lady? Anyway, I love the product so much that I will enjoy the next 6 months of a discount. I hope people will visit my site, make a few purchases, maybe ask me some beauty advice– I was a certified beauty consultant according to Avon, so I do know a thing, or three about make-up application and matching color. I bought into the Mary Kay empire to do my sister-in-law a favor. I so want her to succeed and make director, and maybe get a new car (or the income)… So if you are so inclined, just think of it as an investment into my writing career, or perhaps a donation to autism awareness…