TGIF

I made it! I worked an entire five-day week, and I feel pretty good. One really gets spoiled with those Monday holidays, and I’ve had two over the past six weeks, plus a mental health day, which means that I’ve worked four days for most weeks of the new year. Yikes. Or Yay, depending on how one looks at these things.

The Job was feeling fairly relaxed and manageable this week. Eric left town on Thursday to fulfill obligations as the president of the LeTroy Hawkins Fan Club. He’s in FL where The Man has spring training with his new team, the Yankees. All of which is to say that suddenly the office is very quiet without Eric stomping on the hardwood floors, taking personal calls (or ignoring his cells, which treats the innocent bystander to the initial ring and the missed-call ring), announcing aloud who just called or e-mailed, passing off his work to other people, clapping the Twins rally, and more. Imagine bringing your five-year-old to work. Every. Day.

With Eric out of the office, it’s almost like being on vacation while at work. It’s crazy, I know. Then, at the all-company lunch, our general manager announced that we’re for sale. Just like that. He said, “Blah, blah, blah, Homeplans for sale, blah, blah, blah.” Each person at the meeting looked around desperately, trying to confirm with coworkers that we had heard correctly.

Our parent company no longer wants us. They’ve never been able to make us fit in their mix, even though the synergy is obvious. Move's fault, not ours. Since before calendar year 2007 ended, the Home Office has planned to sell us. A deal was nearly completed, too, and was meant to have been announced at our company lunch. Done deal. Here's your new owner. Instead we have a long lead time in which to fret about who might buy us, will we all have jobs, what if no one wants to buy us, and so on. The Home Office's goal is to have us spun off by the end of second quarter, which is a little over three month from now.

A new owner could be good. We could have a budget for a new database as we move toward database publishing. We could have a budget for freelancers so I could assign someone else to write articles. We could fire unproductive employees (no names necessary).

Even before this announcement, I had decided to put myself back on the market. I’d like to be better compensated for my work and have a little more authority. It’s time. I’ll be exploring this move further here in weeks to come as I’m thinking it may finally be time to work in a different industry. Yes, publishing is and will always be my first love but I do have other interests.

So, the weekend is close at hand. Here are a few things I have lined up. Yes, it’s an all-me (and the little boys) weekend. John will be away, participating in a twenty-four hour extravaganza building websites for nonprofits. It runs from 7 a.m. Saturday to 7 a.m. Sunday. Tonight, we’re hosting John’s coworker Jessica, who would otherwise need to leave her home in Northfield at a ridiculous hour for the 7 a.m. start. Tomorrow, Caryl and Charon are coming over to keep me company. My parents will arrive later in the day for a quick visit. And hopefully I will have a sitter lined up for Sunday night so John and I can both help Jeff H. celebrate his 40th.

In between, I hope to find time to read, write, knit, clean, nap, cuddle my boys.

Here's a parting gift. First, the background. Earlier today I listened to my favorite local band from the 90s, Walt Mink. I listened to them loud because they always make me feel good, transporting me back to the days right after I graduated college. I was running around with John and hanging out at Dunn Brothers, working at Odegard's, successfully avoiding law school. If John and I weren't perched at the Monte Carlo's bar like a modern-day Nick and Nora or (more accurately) F. Scott and Zelda, then you could find us at the 400 Bar or The Cabooze or First Ave or The Uptown Bar listening to whomever was playing. Often, it was John's Macalester classmates who made up Walt Mink, a band that broke out of the local scene only to be screwed over by the major record labels. Recently I found a few Walt Mink videos on You Tube and want to share "Miss Happiness" from a show with Joey—who left WM for Beck and played for REM after that—on drums. I would kill or die to hear WM's show-closing cover of "Free to Be You and Me."