So I’ve got this new gig as a freelance columnist with OC Moms for the Orange County Register.
I’m not sure, but I might have mentioned it. Once or twice.
I’m also doing some behind-the-scenes stuff for them, such as editing blog posts, scheduling content, and marveling at the fact that I have access to news stories before you do.
But mainly I spend most of my day convincing myself that rearranging the content so that my articles are in the Breaking News category and displayed on the front page, all day, every day, might not be such a great idea and could create some discourse.
I’ve been successful so far, but I can’t make any promises.
This new gig has definitely lifted my spirits though, since I’ve been down in the dumps about leaving my teaching job, which I loved, when we found out about Andrew’s CF diagnosis last fall. Writing the column has been a dream come true, and I’m thrilled to be part of such an awesome network of writers and contributors.
Last week I had to go into the office for some additional training, and spent the better part of Wednesday morning at the Orange County Register headquarters, a large, looming, pink(!?) building that I’ve driven by countless times as a perplexed Orange County resident.
I was promised a tour of the newsroom, and was fascinated by what I saw:
Hot beverages and sharp scissors in precarious places.
And by what I didn’t see:
Glitter. (Not one little speck)
I learned (rather unpleasantly, I might add) that not everyone appreciates a good solid nose wipe (not to brag, but I can spot a rogue boogie from a mile away and can nab that sucker in 2 seconds flat, left-handed, using a one-ply tissue), and that certain people really take offense when you remind them to tuck in their shirts and tie their shoes.
I also had a difficult time finding the potty, and no wonder, since the door isn’t painted lollipop purple and instead of a picture of a cartoon toilet, has the word Restroom written across the top. How confusing is that?
The other thing that struck me as odd was that when it was time for snack and lunch, everyone ate at their desks. In front of their computers. And kept working. No recess. No monkey bars. No freeze tag.
No wonder grown-ups are so grumpy.
I got the distinct impression that, even though every bone in my body knew it was the right thing to do, a game of twister and a finger painting session would be out of the question.
But I’m definitely going to suggest pajama day the next time I go back. And maybe some glitter.
Because even grumpy grown-ups need a sparkly Pajama Day once in a little while.