Last year, it was a terrific party. The fireflies came out after we’d done picking berries, and we ate and talked and sat around until we filled the country farm house and sun porch and spilled out into the yard where we sat on creaking lawn chairs. Kids shot off fireworks while the adults sampled jars of genuine Southern moonshine, the origins of which our host couldn’t actually reveal, for legal reasons…
We missed it last night.
It’s complicated. The Husband got stuck at a long meeting – yes, on Sunday. The Son needed to have some staples taken out of his head, also on a Sunday, and subsequently discovered that the Minute Clinic model is, perhaps, misnamed. The Daughter was very mad to miss the blackberry-picking part, even though last year she got two ticks in the process.
The Mother just pulled out some pork chops, warmed up the grill, and sighed.
Even though her mother is very maddening, I’m very glad that my daughter is willing to load the dishwasher anyway.
I have received three job rejection letters in two weeks. However, I met an author at the Iowa Summer Writing Festival who has already received thirty-six rejection letters for one of his manuscripts, and he cheerfully plans to go for an even one hundred.
I have some catching up to do.
My amazing brother faithfully reads this blog, and has been very helpful with some of the technical problems I run into from time to time.
He also periodically sends this English major a quick note when I’ve misspelled something. Thank you, *dearest* brother. ;0)
Since I also now have completed my most recent set of interviews, and was not offered that particular job, I can now go ahead and post a response to this post about handling rejection by friend Peggy of the Career Encouragement Blog.