Recession Diary: Ya want fries with that?

(Editor's note: Unlike past recessions, the current downturn has taken a significant toll on sectors of the economy virtually unscathed by earlier economic crises. This is the latest in a series on one family's struggle.)

SKOKIE, Ill., Oct. 26 (UPI) -- For all my writing experience, journalism's a new genre for me, as I barely recall my stint first as a feature writer and then a news editor on my high school newspaper.

Thus, my latest incarnation as a free lance news writer requires I follow my own advice to learn something new every day -- and how.

I write lots of news briefs. I'm assigned long source stories to condense into terse little bites based, apparently, on the assumption that the average reader has attention deficit disorder -- or has time only for the facts, ma'am.

Opening each source story is a fun surprise: When I begin an assignment, I don't know where on the planet I'm going to be. I get to travel in my mind … far out … from San Antonio to Kabul, Afghanistan, to Seoul, to Liverpool, England, in less than two hours. This may be the closest experience to travel I'll ever have again, so I make a point of enjoying it.

Flipping newsburgers may be training me for a staff position as an editor, should a vacancy become available. The thought of benefits and a week of paid stay-cation gives me palpitations.

The work is fast and furious -- after all, it's news. It's mentally challenging, requiring constant, intense focus. It speeds up my typing and keeps me abreast of current issues. I particularly like breaking stories -- they sure jumpstart the old adrenaline. I get to learn about what's going on in the world even before Fred!

Intense monitor-screen staring has meant progressively severe slouching. I'll troll Craigslist for one of those ergonomic chairs -- the kind where one kneels and there's no chair back -- supposed to be great for the human back.

I like working alone -- I've always enjoyed the pleasure of my own scintillating company.

Solitude means I can work in my jammies, if I want to -- don't worry; I shower and get dressed … usually. I can take my breaks whenever I want to, and my lovely park is right outside if there's time for a walk. Working alone at home means I save money I would otherwise spend on car, gas, wear-and-tear, wardrobe, and yielding to the pressure of occasionally joining colleagues going out to lunch).

My kids urge me to get a laptop so I can leave the house and work at the library or bookstore just to be near other human beings, or at least to stay warm (we keep the heat on -- very low -- in the winter to make sure plumbing pipes won't burst). When there's time, I'll check in with Fred, my son-in-law and my geekiest friends for the best type of computer for my needs. Maybe I can get a decent used one.

Working alone, though, means my teacher's soul isn't being nourished. I sometimes feel sad there are no students or other adults with a passion for teaching nearby. More on this next week.

No room for the remainder of what I promised last week, so I'll make good next time: an update on Fred's work and revelations on cobbling together work, as well as thoughts on the aforementioned solitude and loneliness -- no, they're not the same thing.