Anybody have the GPS coordinates?

Times that try men's souls: on to Valley Forge!

When your specialty is hooking up nouns and phrases and clauses, jobs are scarce outside of Conjunction Junction. That's what you get for not doing a real job. So, today's foray into the world of boundless optimism takes me to a Randstat opportunity at the site of George Washington's darkest hour.

Opportunities like these, directly seeking a person who does exactly what you had been doing for a decade, tend to be the most exciting - and frustrating - job listings one runs into. Logic and pride dictate that, naturally, you are the only person who could possibly fill this position. Experience and reality, on the other hand, tend to prove that not only aren't you the only one, but there is still a very good chance you won't be given so much as the courtesy of a nice "Get Lost" letter.

There is a certain amount of irony in the fact that, with time ticking away to personal disaster, my current last, best hope of redemption may lie in at the scene of Washington's greatest hardship.

Reviewing his options while wintering  at Valley Forge, Washington wrote, "If all else fails, I will retreat up the valley of Virginia,  plant my flag on the Blue Ridge, rally around the Scotch-Irish of that region and make my last stand for liberty amongst a people who will never submit to British tyranny whilst there is a man left to draw a trigger."

At least George had a back up plan. I don't think the Blue Ridge Scotch-Irish are my demographic...