The One

Since I last blogged, my diligent spouse, P, my five year old, Lanes, and I have been searching high and low for various people, places, and things.  Lanes roamed the kingdom (aka our living room) for a 'groom' and came up with the most unsuitable candidates.  P hoped to secure and succeeded in hiring a travel agent and now rues the day they met. As for me, I’m still wishing I could send resumes in the form of singing telegrams.

Last weekend, I cuddled up with Lanes while she watched ‘Cinderella’ for the first time.  Neither one of us is into the whole princess thing, but we thought we would give it a go in the name of bonding--plus I was hoping to not get caught dozing off and still get credit for spending time with her.

Afterwards, she trudged through the apartment with a long face.  Turns out, the message Lanes decoded from Cinderella was that it was important to find Prince Charming, and she did not like that idea one bit.

She was the face of unionized labor on strike.  I stifled my giggles and told her that she was in no way obliged to get married if she didn't want to, and besides there was plenty of time to worry about such things.  I quickly added in that there was more important stuff like going to school and getting a job to contemplate before all that. You know, just so the message goes in from a young age.

She plunked herself on sofa number two, and pouted and agreed to my logic.  A few seconds later, she made a royal proclamation that she will marry her grandfather (my paternal unit).  She found him to be a very suitable boy because a.) he always says 'yes' to her requests and b.) he won't mind 'living with mommy because he is her father. I want to live with you guys, but any other groom won’t!'. 

P exited stage right to collapse on the floor laughing. I was touched and horrified at the same time. The good news was that she wants to be with me, the bad news, she apparently thinks I’m a piece of work and that only those biologically obliged would want to live with me.

I told her she can stay with us as long as she likes and explained the other slight problem with her solution was that her grandfather was rather happily married to her grandmother.  To which she said 'oh, man' and then proceeded to spend the next twenty minutes in a funk until her father distracted her with a trip to the park.

Any old how, the next day, she came home after piano class with a big smile and announced she had an answer to 'Operation Find A Groom'. She would marry Daddy!  I asked her what possessed her to think P would make a good prince charming and she said ‘well, Mamma, he already lives with you. So if I marry him, I can live with you too!’. I just left it there then, because really, who am I to argue with such logic?

Speaking of all things rational, P has been up to his meticulous ways. He seems to have found some tickets for us to go to the Motherland this year.  Not a fan of being stuck in a glorified tin can hurtling at great speed over vast oceans, I was only mildly excited about the news.  I know he is a whiz at scouring the web, cashing in miles and producing airline tickets, so it baffled me as to why he decided to go with a travel agent.

However, for the past few days, P has been on the phone relentlessly trying to fix crazy mistakes that this agent has made. As usual, P hires someone only to wind up doing the job ten times better.  I don’t know if it is because he pays such great attention to detail or that he is a moron magnet. Probably a little from column A and column B. I did not envy him the time he spent on the phone with various airlines to rectify the issues.

 I’m hoping it all works out, or else we might wind up in Columbia instead of Colombo. Who knows? I have bigger fish to fry.  I’m still feeling like the debutant that went to the ball with spinach in her teeth and wondered why no one asked her to dance. The job hunt is still on full swing, but no one is calling. Maybe I should go and dismantle my phone to see if it is really working.

          The past week we did work on cover letters and resumes. We were told to put some non-related things such as skills and activities at the bottom of our CVs.  So far, all I’m coming up with are supreme lassoer of wayward family members, chief meddler in unrelated matters, and catcher of wrong end of the stick.  I’m assuming the person holding the workshop might not be amused. I personally think it sounds impressive.

          With that I must sign off and attempt to send more things off to cyberspace. Surely, there has to be an easier way to find employment! More musings from BC next week…