Lost in Space

A few days ago, I had lunch with a friend. A bright, accomplished, fifty-something year old woman who has juggled work with raising three children and now finds herself on the verge of divorce and trailer-park-bound. Hmm. How the heck did that happen?

We talked about what we might do with ourselves now, how we never could have imagined ourselves being in this position at this time in our lives. We wondered who in their right mind would hire us -- no matter how bright we are -- when they can just as easily hire someone young, someone with promise. Our years of promise appear to be behind us; broken promise, as it happens.

Recently, someone suggested I determine what my dream job would be, and just go for it. I tried, but sitting on my ass watching NCIS reruns doesn't pay very well. After two Jewish holiday dinners in a row I briefly considered becoming a kosher brisket taster, but that's just too darn seasonal. And not a particularly good stepping stone; who's going to hire an old broad with gravy stains on her shirt and clogged arteries?

I toyed with the idea of sending out a bunch of resumes, but that can be so demoralizing, and then I remembered good things come to those who wait, so I decided to wait. I didn't have to wait very long; a dream job opportunity literally jumped out at me when I logged on to play a little spider solitaire the other day: astronaut.

NASA is looking for some new trainees, and if anyone has the right stuff, it's good old Jill Ocean. Jeez, even the name conjures up images of brave space travelers falling back to earth. I certainly have the credentials. They're looking for engineers, scientists, or other professionals. Finally, something I can do with my law degree. And you don't need to be a cocky, young fighter pilot type. They're just looking for folks who can work in an operational environment. I don't really know what that is, but I've had plenty of experience working in dysfunctional environments, so I'd imagine an operational environment would be a cake walk.

I'm going to call my friend and see if she wants to go to astronaut school with me. I've seen the pictures, and as far as I can tell, they spend a lot of time laughing and doing somersaults in the air. Kind of like Mary Poppins. Beats the crap out of a desk job.