If you can't say anything nice...

... then don't say anything at all.

Today as I stood out in the rain, car alarm blaring, perplexed as to why the engine of the darling borrowed beauty refused to start for the third time, I could not help but feel a bit sorry for myself. To lighten the mood Clark and I ran errands. We got lost on the way to the library and walked in the door only to be told it was closing for the evening. Walked to the bank and realized that I had forgotten my bank card. 45 minutes later and empty handed we finally made it to the grocery store. At least Trader Joe's had that nice cilantro salad dressing I like. Being unemployed and unsettled and having everything you own in someone's garage 3000 miles away has the capacity to depress you. But like any rational creature, when you walk home from the grocery store and pass a man struggling to refasten his velcro shoes and six different homeless men asking for money, you realize life isn't so bad-- even if you don't have health insurance or look cute in a bikini top like that yoga instructor you saw through the window. Life is so weird these days. I feel disoriented. Wonderfully encouraged and supported by good friends and family, but I am 13 for 13, people. No dice.

Now that I have ranted I am sure I will feel much better. It is a pretty night in Seattle. The veil of rain has lifted and the sun is peaking through the windows. This blog post will come down in t-minus 3 days when I will apply for the next round of jobs and will re-post something cheerful and reflective and tasteful. As mama always used to say, "Things always look brighter in the morning." Here's to it, mama.