My work has been in upheaval. My main client, USIS, had bought out HireRight last fall, and finalized changing their name and merging this spring. In doing so, they changed their systems and so I do not have any work from them anymore. I went into panic mode and started sending out resumes and planning to go back to work full time. But fortunately my other client who I had been doing less for, and in fact had stopped working for completely the last six months due to my being very busy with USIS, was still very much in need of help. She was to the point of having decided to put in ad in the paper for help that very weekend that I called. So I gave her a discount on a large bulk project to get her computers cleaned up, tweak her data sharing, and tie up many other miscellaneous loose ends they have just been letting go for so long.
It's working out very nicely. And now I feel I'm getting into a regular routine again, maybe now I will get back to my daily blogging. Whew.
I did finally do what I thought I had no need for - I joined Twitter. See, I have been subscribed to the NASA ISS news email feed for many years now. They send out news about 3-5 times a week, especially about the space station but also about shuttle launches and other related news. And today they mentioned a Twitter feed, and I went and looked, so I got drawn in. Not sure if it's going to be interesting or annoying.
I'm getting annoyed with Facebook. Although it's been a great way to get in touch with many long-lost friends, all the applications are starting to get really ... spammy. I'm sick of notifications. I need to change my settings.
Oh, and as for the cooking thing, I don't know that I will continue that. Maybe via Twitter. Maybe I'll do my weekly planning on Sunday like I have on my flylady control "journal" (I don't do the paper journal - I use Outlook). Anyway, just kinda got burnt out on that quick.
My son was reading Fahrenheit 451 recently, and old favorite of mine, and I picked it up out of nostalgia and perused the forward by the author, Ray Bradbury. He spoke of a young acquaintance of his, a dancer, who said that he would stay up late and just dance, dance, dance, all the time, and when asked why, he replied that he danced to not be dead. And when the young man asked about his work in turn, Ray Bradbury found a commonality and answered that he stayed up late and wrote, wrote, wrote. He writes to not be dead.
Hear, hear, Mr. Bradbury. I concur.