ramblings

I've applied for a job. I don't know if I'll actually take the job, but I've been through a battery of tests and so far passed them all. Tonight I will know if it's something that will work for me. I know they want me to work for them. It's a great feeling to know that. Especially after lots of years of being treated like I'm not worth much because I'm a housewife.

I've had people ignore me when I'm talking directly to their face, I've been put on hold more times than I can count which is ok once in a while I understand, but my time is as valuable as theirs. Honestly, some times I wonder if they think I'm sitting around eating bon bons and picking my nose with all the time in the world because I am home. One time a woman at a business social came up to me, shook my hand, acted excited to have a great conversation with me, and when she found out I was a housewife, she dropped my hand and walked away. Just like that. I laughed. Her loss.

I connected with the heroine in "These Is My Words" when she walked into the bank to open an account and the clerk sniffed in her face and told her to let her husband handle her money because it was too confusing for her. Her response was, "Oh, how confusing is it? If it makes you confused, I surely don't want this bank holding my five hundred dollars.
Well, he perked right up and said, Five hundred dollars? Mrs. Elliot, I believe we can be of service to you after all.
I doubt it, I told him. I made this money with the sweat of my brow and the labor of my hands and I've got the rawhide to prove it. I don't intend to leave it with any man that thinks money is confusing."

I hope I never assume I'm busier, or better than anyone else--job or no job. I've met sophisticates with degrees up the yingyang who are dumber than a stump when it comes to common sense and wisdom. I've met some financially successful people who have no more depth than the clothes they wear.

I know housewives with little education who have the wisdom of a sage and the humility of a true saint. Women I can spend hours talking to and still not know the depth of their understanding. But I know plenty of working women who are saints and sages and housewives who are shallow and judgemental.

It comes back to that great speech by Martin Luther King when he said something like, "lets not judge each other by the color of our skin, but rather by the content of our heart".

The "color of our skin" could be a symbol of the choices that we make in life. It shows on the surface, but is not necessarily a true indicator of the content and depth of our heart and soul.

Gotta go, now. Somewhere near by there is a bon bon, I mean a brownie, calling my name.