After about a zillion fights last week, J and I managed to have a fantastic weekend. I don’t want to dwell on the past, mentioning all the details of last week’s fights, so instead I’ll focus on the good. Oh, and I have a hunch that there will be more good than bad from now on.

On Friday night, J surprised me with dinner at this fancy Italian restaurant down the street. Keeping with our New Year’s walking resolution, we peacefully strolled down the street to the restaurant, hand in hand. When we got there, J immediately ordered a bottle of my favorite French cabernet, and we munched on dinner rolls. We, at once, apologized to one another for all the fights and impatience of the past week, vowing to change some of our unwanted behaviors (God, I’m sounding like the Dog Whisperer!). When we got back to the apartment, full from all the delicious foods that we had just consumed, we watched The Soup, and went to bed in peace. Ahh, the first night in a while not going to bed angry.

Saturday morning was a lazy one. It was reminiscent of the kinds of Saturday mornings we had experienced in our first months of dating.  We vegged out on the couch, there was no “nagging” on my part, and J listened to me easily, wanting to hear about all the jobs I had applied for during the week. Later in the day, we played racquetball. By the time the game was over, we were both on the floor, consumed by laughter. Leave it to us to finally being able to laugh again only after a competitive game where we’re both yelling at each other the whole time & wacking each other with the ball. Ha!

Sadly, we got a call from J’s dad around 3pm. J’s childhood pet, a kind-hearted German Shepherd, Duke, had died overnight. J was all chocked up. Although J had known that Duke’s time was running out, (he was eleven) it was still difficult. J and I both agreed that it was good that we had taken him for a walk the last time we saw him. We knew that it wouldn’t be the same anymore when we visited his parents again. Duke wouldn’t be the first one to greet us when we pulled into the driveway. You could tell that Duke always had a smile on his face once he saw J round the corner.

Once Sunday rolled around, we decided to check out the Farmer’s Market in Studio City, right smack dab down the street. Again, we walked. On the way to the market, I tricked J into coming into an antique shop with me, knowing perfectly well that there was a kitten adoption happening at that very moment inside the store.  J threw me one of his annoyed looks once he saw what was going on. In a matter of seconds, I was holding a fifteen week old white kitten. He had eyes like blueberries. He squirmed quite a bit in my lap. I glanced up at J. His eyes said it all, “No more cats!” A volunteer lady kept asking me how serious I was about adopting a kitten, but I tried to stay vague, for my sake and J’s. If J hadn’t been with me, I would have whisked that kitten away, back to the apartment to meet Bette and Sammy. J, however, was not having it. He informed the volunteer that he was allergic to cats, and that we already had two as it was. The lady stopped pressing, and I reluctantly handed her back the kitten. Even though he couldn’t come home with us, I was grateful to have held him and smelled his irresistable kitten scent.

At the Farmer’s Market, J purchased the most yummy trail mix, and I bought the most succulent blood oranges. I also bought some exotic lemons for cooking & to flavor my teas and water. J also decided to stop in at the nearby sports store. He decided that we should start playing tennis, even though we both hadn’t played for years. After all, he contended, we had tennis courts just down the street from our apartment, why not take advantage? J bought me a pink racquet, and I decided that this was the perfect Sunday.

The moral of this story is that sometimes all it takes is a weekend to make amends with the one you love, with or without a kitten.

Hope everyone had a nice holiday. Here’s a pic of an anonymous Korlina in Boston before I go off in a long post.

I haven’t been able to write in a while. This is probably because of  what has transpired during the last few months. In a nut shell, I was fired again. Yes, I saw it coming before it happened and, yes, I did not feel as bad about it the second time around. My shitty boss gave me a similar speech as the previous big boss with the irritating, “Well, I was fired before too!” The man went on to say that I was a good person,  it wasn’t personal, and that he needed someone who could do the very specific job. In other words, he wanted me to be a babysitter. I realize that that is what being an assistant is all about. I shouldn’t have taken the job in the first place. My patience with people in the workplace who don’t know how to wipe their own asses vanished long ago. I knew this boss was a bad apple when he had me plan his own son’s party the first week I was there. I could go on forever about this work experience, but I’ll stop before I discuss too many details.

I go devoting about an hour a day to the “job hunt,” but it’s so frustrating. Even the jobs I apply for that I know I am completely qualified do not lead to any phone calls. Instead of moping though, I’m enjoying being a stay at home mom to my kitties (don’t laugh). When I’m not dangling a new mouse toy in front of the cats I’m either watching QVC, watching the Dog Whisperer, reading mobster books, reading other peoples’ blogs, begging J to let me get a dog, cleaning the apartment, eating, or walking down the street to get an apricot iced tea at The Coffee Bean. Two things I haven’t been doing much of are drinking alcohol (I’m giving myself a gold star on this one) and sleeping. I blame the mobster books and late night documentaries on the latter.

As much as J wants me to get a job, he keeps commenting on how amazingly happy I am lately. I tell him I’m happy to not be working for such a-holes. Last night for what feels like the hundredth time, I couldn’t sleep. I finally confessed to J and, to myself, that I am afraid to work again. I am afraid every job from now on will go like the last two. J says I need to move forward. He says I can’t apply to jobs where I’ll be an assistant again. I know that this much is true, but I’m also scared that I won’t get any other types of jobs.

Most days, I want to move back to Boston to be closer to my family. I miss them terribly, and it breaks my heart  every time my mom cries when I leave after a visit. J doesn’t want to move out of L.A., away from his parents, at least not now. He also uses the annoying excuse that he can’t find good IT jobs outside of L.A. Conveniently, for me, my sis recruits for IT jobs in Boston, and that is clearly not the case. Even though J agreed to email my sis his resume, he’s insistent that right now is not the right time for him to be looking f0r other jobs. Even though this is true to a degree, it breaks my heart when my instints tell me that he may never leave L.A. for me.

J and the cats are all I’ve got in L.A. Friends have disappeared off the face of the earth, I have no job, and not even the constant sunshine can lift my spirits in terms of what Los Angeles has to offer the world. Leaving L.A. may be like running away, but I don’t care. I have had enough of this place. I have had enough of all the cut-throat jobs, how every day seems the same, (I want to experience four distinct seasons again) and phony friends.

I promised J that I wouldn’t move anywhere without him. We’re going to begin going on at least one day trip a month to get out of the hell hole that is L.A. I don’t have to live in New England again, but I want to be at least closer to my fam. Until J and I are on the same page, I suppose I’ll have to keep plugging away on my job search, try to seek out new friends, volunteer somewhere, (one of my New Year’s resolutions) and stop buying crap on QVC. Hell yeah, the flannel sheets are nice, comfy, and live up to the Quality, Value, Convenience motto, but that doesn’t mean I have to keep buying. Sigh. All right, gotta go get some apricot iced tea down the street. That time of day, y’all.