Pickin Cotton

I work in a fabric store.

Up until a few months ago I enjoyed my job. I adore my coworkers and my work was challenging, creative and fun. I built up our Facebook page from 200 to over 6000, wrote some blogs, sent out email sales and newsletters.     I designed a look, and generally was the Social Media go to girl. Until the young forman arrived. Suddenly the majority of my job resonsibilites were taken from me without a word. Well, there were a few words that came in the form of commands. I was to help the young bucks with ideas, direction and design ideas as well.

Nah, I don't think so.

Turns out I know the pulse of our readers and what they want. The Foreman tells me not to change anything I do on Facebook, because it works so well. I do anyway....when I think I can improve it. The sad part is I still like that part of my job. I hate not being acknowledged or appreciated for a job well done. Of course this kid makes twice what I do as a part-time consultant and he farms out the design (if you can call it that) to Pakistan.

Am I surprised? No, I've rarely been appreciated for my talents. In reality it may be partially my fault, I don't demand much. But between the glass ceiling and now the gray ceiling. It's hard to know the real reason.

I'm sure there's another plantation that can use some cheap help.

Shock Treatment

If someone has cancer and you know they are dying is it less painful when they pass?

When you see the company you work for sending more work overseas, does it hurt any less when you get your notice of termination?

If you suspect a friend is lying is it any less of a betrayal to find out the truth?

When you think the person you share your life with loves another, do you still shed a tear when they close the door behind them?

Alone Again, Naturally

I can't wait to live alone again. I'm not including my brother or my daughter. He's keeps to himself and is always there if I want to talk. He also likes to buy donuts. My daughter will soon be a teenager which means she'll be home less.

I am talking about being sans man. If I desire male companion ship or a man to fix something, say like "my pipes" I feel that will never be an issue.

Sure on occasion I will dream of meeting someone who will once again cherish me and dream of growing old with me. A man who will cuddle up to me in the middle of the night or kiss my forehead gently. But I will no longer be waiting or expecting that.

Sometimes I will feel sad and want nothing more than to lay around watching old movies under the covers drifting in and out of a drug induced sleep.

Other times I will bask in the freedom.

I don't know what lies down my road.

I do know I am ready.