Glutton for punishment

That would be me.

Against my better judgement, I agreed to be the Illustrator Coordinator for the Indiana chapter of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators last spring. I had volunteered for 18 years for homeschool organizations at the city and state level and vowed I would never, ever take on volunteer roles that lasted more than one or two days again.

But wait! It gets worse.

Through a series of unfortunate events (but not nearly as droll/funny or fictional), the Regional Advisor, the person who recruited me to be IC, took a sudden leave of absence (and eventually resigned). This left me and the Assistant RA scrambling to run this gin joint, sans gin–though I would have had lots of gin if my body could handle alcohol.

Then it got even worser…is that a word?

Because the role of RA was now vacant, HQ issued an open call for applications, and invited me and the ARA to apply (since we had been performing RA duties for a few months anyway). We reluctantly applied and only on the condition that we could continue to be co-RAs….because I despise dealing with finances and Diane would rather not have to deal with the website so we are a perfect match. We only agreed to apply out of a sense of duty to our region but secretly hoped that someone else more qualified would apply and get chosen. What can I say? I’m an eternal optimist at heart even though I’m a grumpy-a$$ in person.

The optimism was unfounded as we ended up being appointed co-RA.

Diane and I barely even knew each other prior to our assuming the roles of ARA and IC last June, but the dire circumstances forged a great friendship and together we work like well-oiled machinery. Sadly, we are now stuck in the cogs of said machinery for 3-5 years. Let’s hope we can survive these years without being covered in grease or ground to death by gears.

(No idea where the whole machine metaphor came from; I’m about as mechanically apt as a three-toed sloth.)

So if you see me in person, like the joke goes, and I’m blinking rapidly, it’s not because I have something in my eyes; it’s because I’m blinking “HELP ME!” in Morse code.