Even Snuggliness Has Its Limits

During a recent visit to Seattle, a friend introduced me to a phenomenon with which I was previously unfamiliar:  The Seattle Freeze.  Most of you probably know what that is, but I'd never heard of it.  Basically it means that it's hard to make friends in Seattle.  The people are friendly enough; they just have enough fucking friends already and don't have time in their lives for any additions.

In Asheville, North Carolina, I've experienced a very different phenomenon.  I'm going to go ahead and call it The Asheville Snuggle.

 
The people of Asheville have been unbelievably welcoming and lovely since my husband and I arrived a few weeks ago.  New friends have offered us food, drinks, personal tours of the town, and invitations to countless outings.  People on hiking trails stop to tell us about other wilderness areas we should explore.  A young man bagging our groceries sprinted across the store to fetch us samples of food he thought we'd like.  After showing us a potential rental, the landlady invited us over to her house for a beer.  When a worker at the PODS warehouse saw our car was packed full, he offered to loan us his truck to get more stuff home.  This afternoon, a neighbor knocked on our door and asked if we'd be okay with him filling in a hole in our driveway.  Seriously.  The list goes on and on. 

This whole experience has been somewhat baffling to a Massachusite and a New Mexican, but definitely in a good way.

It feels kinda like this...except not scary or culty

The one area where I have not experienced Asheville's snuggliness has been in my search for employment.  While part of me wishes I could just ignore that whole thing and spend all my time wandering around being treated with unbelievable kindness, the more practical part of me realizes that employment is the key to some important things such as housing, health insurance, and eating.  Unfortunately, my job search thus far has felt very much like this:

Thankfully, Craigslist offers many opportunities to escape from the feelings of depression and futility that accompany job searching.  Here are some examples of the comic relief postings I've seen:

"I'm looking for three people."  
I'm thinking you should try a little harder.  Maybe step outside and look around.  Craigslist seems like the wrong avenue to fill this need.

"Women to walk on a person."  
Um...what?  I mean, I could walk on you, but what the fuck?

"DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO MAKE A LOT OF MONEY???"  
If history tells me anything, the answer to this one is a resounding NO.

"Seeking heroes!"
That one was for a sales position.  Come on, now.  I believe one needs to get killed in combat (even via friendly fire, mind you) to earn that coveted title.

"THIS IS NOT A SCAM!"
= surefire way to know something is a scam. 

Riiiiiight.

But I've got to say, this one was by far the best of all the Craigslist postings I've seen:

Immediate need - this evening. Banjo player 4 front porch entertainment.

One banjo player desired for live music during front porch sitting of 3 lovely ladies.
$25-30 plus potential for tips.
- Chips included, canned Cheerwine, scenic lakefront view to be enjoyed.
- Not obligated, but possible make-out potential with 1-3 ladies for a cute enough, suave enough, debonaire enough, intriguing enough banjo player.  Purely PG.

(This was a real posting - I swear.)

I'm thinkin' this is NOT what those ladies had in mind.

Through Craigslist, I have also learned several abbreviations for jobs for which I have neither a single qualification nor interest, such as FOH, BOH, MIT, CNC, SMH & WTF.

As a long-time social service worker, it comes as no surprise that the kinds of jobs with which I'm most familiar have descriptions of about 20,000 words (detailing super-human responsibilities and expectations), require Master's Degrees and several years of experience, offer 2 weeks of vacation per year, and pay just above poverty wages.  Because, really, doing that kind of work is reward enough in itself, right?

Um, yes.  That's exactly right.

And since Asheville has been so snuggly with me so far, as I plow forward with my job search, I'm going to offer up this little prayer:

Dear Asheville:

Please save me from the kind of work

for which I am most qualified.

Amen.

Best of the Least

The other day, I was introduced to an adorable creature with a rather pathetic name.  It's called the Least Weasel.  I'm not sure if it's so named because it's the smallest carnivorous mammal, or (because there are so many of them) it's classified as "Least Concern" by the International Union for Conservation of Nature.  (This begs the question - how does the IUCN classify humans?  Seems like we should be in the "Least Concern" category numbers-wise but the "Most Concern," or "HOLY FUCKING SHIT - LOOK OUT!!" category impact-wise.)

Anyway, Least Weasels are both cute and ferocious.  Despite their teeny size, they eat things ten times bigger than they are, and when there's plenty of food available, they choose only to eat their prey's brains.  How badass is that?

Just in case you were wondering what comes up if you search for "badass weasel"

(Interestingly, that search also brought forth several pictures of President Obama.  I had no idea he was a badass weasel.)

After discovering the existence of the Least Weasel, I thought it would be fun to write a children's book about this marvelous creature.  I considered titling it Best of the Least and having it feature a young Least Weasel on a quest to discover how to be the best Least Weasel she can be.  But I soon realized I would never write such a book and decided just to do a quick blog post instead.  Much easier, and no literary agents or publishers required.

So don't forget, folks - even if you're teeny tiny, you can still totally kick butt and eat brains.  Don't ever let anyone tell you different.

"Yeah, I know I look cute, but I will fuck you up."