Whatever they are, I'm pretty sure frozen and vodka are violations. Which is not to say that does not sound good.

I realized yesterday that I spend an inordinate amount of emotional energy being worried about "getting in trouble," in a variety of contexts.

I hope you managed to have some fun while being "bad"???

Steph, glad to hear you father is doing well. And I nod and agree with all the stuff above with the job stuff. You are awesome. And I think, once you hear back from Strix, you should apply for that ESL place you were talking about. Write a cover letter, full of confidence, and showing off the 18 years of hard work, and see what happens. Either 1) You get an offer. Or 2) the same end result as if you hadn't applied. By applying, you change your odds. And, they will not pass around your resume and laugh at it. They will likely pass it around and say "golly, I hope we can get her!". And if the offer is right, take it. If it doesn't happen, it wasn't meant to be. And that doesn't matter. Because companies do not whisper to each other the pile of resumes they didn't follow up on. There is no big score board over your name of offers vs rejections. There is just your resume & cover letter in their hands. And with 18 years of awesome on your side, you will be their beacon of hope. Just go into the interview calm, cool, and collected, like you are.

Omnis, it's not that kind of thing. Sort of an imposter syndrome, but not quite. It's all rather Hermione Granger, actually.

Teppy, yay for productive steps on paths out of the woods.

I was going to suggest (a serious) try at a group attempt at Steph's resume, just the facts we know, and then she could roll her eyes and fix the facts and the Strix could put the shine on. But! She's all grown up now. She doesn't need us...

he can be treated with pneumatic compression boots (which are more commonly used for deep-vein thrombosis, which he does NOT have, but apparently also works in situations like Dad's)

I had weird compression socks in the hospital last time. They expected me to sleep with them on, pumping at my legs. I had to negotiate my way out of those as soon as possible. I had no idea they could be used to heal, not just prevent. WAY COOL.

I was going to suggest (a serious) try at a group attempt at Steph's resume, just the facts we know, and then she could roll her eyes and fix the facts and the Strix could put the shine on. But! She's all grown up now. She doesn't need us...

Oh, good god, no. I am a buffoon who needs a lot of help. Me can no word good.

Strix's resume writing skills are MAGIC.

It took a long time for me to realize that the rest of the world really isn't watching me for reasons to screw up. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm really not that significant to them--in a good way. (Except for maybe my evil supervisor, who appears to lie in wait for reasons.

Debet, I have a similar issue. I hate getting "yelled at," which includes any kind of mild reproof.

One of my awesome roomies just kind of shredded N on my fb page (on the e-card post) and it was kind of awesome.

I hate getting "yelled at," which includes any kind of mild reproof.

Yeah, this. I have a huge defensive streak. Being aware of it forever and fighting it doesn't help. Mostly it has served me well though.

So, it is late enough and I am tipsy enough to share my most personally memorable getting yelled at story. Back 40! years ago when I was 19 I was working for a drug store chain in Philadelphia as an accounts payable clerk. My boss was a yelling type and there were a number of illegal/improper/odd issues on a regular basis. Ah, Philly.

So once a week the head accountant lady came to the office to do whatever and she wore this super strong perfume that caused an allergic reaction with tears flowing and sneezing and so forth. After she left one week the boss called me into his office to ask (loudly) what the hell my problem was with AL. Um, I have no issue with her, but her perfume makes my allergies act up. So he looks at me and insists that "allergies are always psychosomatic and what the hell is your problem".

My defensive reaction kicks in and I tell him he is insane and walk to my desk, pick up my purse and walk out. I get to the subway station and call DH from a phone booth (70s yo) and sob about quitting my job and how we are surely going to starve and be homeless. He is all supportive and stuff. So the subway station and phone booth are right in front on the Philadelphia Inquirer building. My 19 yo self looks at the big tall building and thinks, gee I bet they hire a lot of people. Walk in the front revolving doors and see the HR office. I start work the next day.

I have forever been grateful to insane boss because he taught me at a very young age that there is always another option.

So tipsy, and rambling, and in love with spell check, gotta say.