Don’t Grandma’s bake cookies anymore?

One of my strongest (and favorite) memories of my paternal grandmother is her cookie drawer. There were always cookies (Mother’s frosted oatmeal raisin) in the 3rd drawer next to the refrigerator. It was low enough that I could get to it whenever I wanted…and if you see pictures of me as a baby, I definitely knew my way around that drawer.


Genetic predisposition to cookies and big thighs aside, those are the types of memories one should have of their grandmother. Those plus days at the mall which started with getting our hair done and ended with lunch at a cute café (with our purchases taking over the table next to us). Yes, my shopping gene is definitely strong…up there with a love of fine jewelry, which I also got from this grandmother. But, I have to say, she was everything one thinks of when they think of Grandma.

Well, my mother, bless her heart, does not exactly evoke the same images. First, the cookie drawer is a jar on the cabinet (well out the reach of really small hands) and usually holds some version of healthy snack she found from one of her new age friends. Second, shop is a four letter word in her mind so while she does still get a few small gifts for each grandchild, her big purchase is to buy shares of animals that then go to solve poverty in some under privileged area. Granted, this is truly an incredible gesture and one I greatly appreciate. However, listening to her quiz my kids on whether or not they want to buy a ½ of a goat or 1/8th of a llama really is just a bit much. (yes, my recycling bin was full of wine bottles this Christmas).

But, the gift she bought my 18 year old medicinal marijuana card holding nephew definitely took the cake this year. For reasons too long to list, he lives with my mom and step dad in their extra bedroom and to make money, grows marijuana plants to sell to the various legal dispensaries…I’ve been told numerous times how legitimate this whole business is…and what an entrepreneur he is. But, I guess the climate in my mom’s closet wasn’t as conducive to profitability as one would hope, so for his present (in addition to the ¼ of cow she purchased in his name) was a grow lamp for his “herbs”. Not kidding!

I almost fell over laughing when my sister told me of this purchase…first, because the mother who raised me definitely would not have been purchasing me drug paraphernalia (regardless of how profitable it was) and second, just the image of her walking into a store to inquire on the wattage of the various lamps was just too much. The mom who spent 45 minutes trying to download one classical music song onto her “iPod/paddy thing” really had a conversation on grow rates for the pot in her closet?!

I guess on the bright side, maybe now her cookie jar will be filled with pot brownies…or at least one can only hope.

What a difference a day makes...

If you know me, or have being reading this blog for any amount of time, you know I don't feel sorry for myself or stay down for very long.  The way I look at it, why complain as no one really wants to listen anyway and two, what in the world do I have to complain about anyhow?!  Sure, I get a little money stressed sometimes as I juggle to pay bills but my kids have never gone hungry nor have we ever worried about being homeless.  But, really in the whole perspective of life, I have it pretty good...as do the two dogs snuggled up under me as I write this.

However, the Christmas season was starting to get to me and I was once again surprised that life had not sent me Mr. Wonderful, all wrapped up with a big red bow.  Now that I am ready to move on (FINALLY!) shouldn't there be someone available to dying to move on with me?  So, with every "Kiss begins with Kay" commercial and Hallmark movie, I was getting a little more worried that I may never find that type of love again.  (Yes, I know I can fast forward through commercials and don't actually have to watch every flippin Christmas movie...don't judge!!). 

To add insult to injury I delivered baked goods to my neighbor across the street...one I really like and owe her as she found our house for us...but one who at 60+ has never been married and until her 100 year old mother passed away last year, hasn't lived alone in decades.  She is the epitome of all I am scared of being as I age...bitter, depressed and waiting for the universe to give her the life she truly thought she deserved.  Was this my future? Was I going to be "that woman"...cats or no cats?  It was too early in the day to start drinking so I opted for a Christmas cookie instead to quench my sorrows.  Of course, then, that just made me worry that not only was I going to be alone, but now I was going to be fat and alone because I just ate a stinking sugar snow man!  I was on a roll!

But then, as though someone (yes, I am a person of faith) knew I needed a pick me up, the night with friends I had actually thought of cancelling intervened.  With my house full of people of all ages who I adore and who I know kind of think I'm fabulous too, laughter replaced doubts, warm hearts took over the chill I had been feeling, and I once again remembered this is where I'm supposed to be right now....you may not get what you want, but you get what you need (thanks God...and the Rolling Stones!).

I stayed with Alex long after I should have because I truly believed I was sent to him because I would always love him unconditionally and stand by him no matter what...and I did...and in essence still do.  I will always love him (I don't think it is possible for me not to) but I am using this Christmas season to truly move on.  That doesn't mean with a man...it means with my life.

Must have coffee this morning...

Unfortunately I have gotten very used to having 6 inches of space to sleep on in my very large queen size bed.  No, I didn't meet a very large man and forget to tell you...I just share my bed with two very sweet but space hog dogs.  Yes, I know they have their own dog beds but I have to tell you, I like feeling them snuggle up against me...it is warm and comforting.  Once again, I know this is a step toward crazy town.  But, the lack of space is not why I am moving on half speed today.  No, that honor is given to two cats I don't even know...because, as we all know, I don't have cats!

We have been experiencing what I can only call the 2nd great 40 days of rain (well, it has been 3 but it feels like 40) so the sound of the trees whipping into my window wasn't anything new last night.  However, one must have hit it pretty hard because I bolted straight up....hair sticking out all over the place, dogs jumping up, wondering why their dreams of chasing rabbits had been so rudely interrupted by my inability to lay perfectly still for them.  After calming my heart down to a normal rate I also realized I was hearing much more than rain.  It sounded as if someone had dropped off 2 very sad children right under my window, crying, moaning...so I then jumped out of bed ready to rescue these poor abandoned souls. 

Let's pause to set the visual though as that definitely sets the stage...it is December, and as I was brought up with the thought the thermostat should be set just right above freezing, I had gone to bed in almost 20 year old comfy sweats...sweatpants that are seriously held together by sheer will, a big long sleeved t-shirt and Christmas socks....definitely Victoria's Secret material.  I take off down the hallway (in the dark mind you as to not wake up my children) to grab shoes I can wear outside in the monsoon.  Thinking my red Mickey Mouse Crocs from Disneyland will do the trick, I throw them on and grab a flashlight.  Of course it doesn't work so do the quick battery exchange and I'm ready to save the day.

Fortunately, I have now woken up from my fog and have realized, of course, there aren't defenseless children melting in the rain, but instead two cats deciding that pre-dawn in the pelting storm is the perfect time to mate.  And where else would one do that except for in the bushes right outside my window?  Once I realized the two phantom orphans were actually cats getting more action than me, I just opened the bathroom window to scare them away.  I mean, seriously, it is bad enough I know I am experiencing a very long dry spell, I don't need four legged felines to remind me. 

Well, they obviously didn't care about my comfort so for the remainder of the dawn hours, there were the sounds of the X rated cat show coming through my windows.  So now, my coffee cup is full, the dogs are now at my feet and I am contemplating what to feed my kids for breakfast.  I do hope those cats are having a much more romantic morning.

Comedic visual for your Tuesday

We’ve established that there are plenty of things I’m good at…okay, maybe we’ve spent more time focusing on my areas of weakness but I promise you the positives really do outweigh the negatives. I make a mean Bloody Mary, know how to order the most expensive item on the menu without even looking, can drive like Mario Andretti, and can cook you the best prime rib you’ve ever tasted…see, aren’t I just amazing?! Well, remember those things because today is another one of those things I can’t do.


I live in an incredibly charming, sprawling California ranch style home which I completely love. However, it has been around long enough to almost qualify for historical register status so it has a few quirks and special needs. Renting a house is not where I thought I would be at this point in my life but after being outbid on several homes I decided this was the best move for the time. And, the couple I rent from is absolutely fabulous so I try not to bug them with the little things and try to fix what I can on my own. Okay, I call in favors from friends…I don’t fix things.

Anyhow, the one and only shower in the house falls under the special needs category so I try to baby it and keep the pipes as clean as possible. Well, pretty sure I didn’t read the directions properly on the pipe maintenance cleaning solution as the drain completely stopped working. Granted some people find baths relaxing so being forced to just soak instead of taking a quick shower probably sounds like paradise. Yeah, I’m not one of those people. I can’t get past the idea I’m just laying there in still water that now has soap, dirt (even though I’m not a dirty person) and any left other bath scum I just couldn’t scrub enough. I’m not a total freak as I can enjoy a Jacuzzi tub…the water is moving…I know it doesn’t make sense but it works for me.

So, because I can be a bit independent, and really didn’t want to have to tell the owners I broke the shower, I decided this was nothing a little Dran-O couldn’t fix. After 2 full bottles and a screaming headache from poisoning myself with toxic fumes I broke down and Googled backed up drains. I could handle the plunger…I’ve done that before so went into the bathroom in my pajamas and armed with a glass of wine and the trusty plunger. I mean, seriously, how hard could this be?! Well, after 20 minutes of plunging dirty water, inhaling enough chemicals to fail a drug test, and creating little bleached spots all over my throw rugs, I knew this clog had me beat. After a few more half hearted plunges, I threw in the figurative and literal towel and did what any self respecting woman would do…called my contractor friends for a plumbing referral.

As it was m]y dear gay real estate friend who got back to me first, maybe there’s hope the plumber who shows up today might also be hot!

Christmas movie intervention

I love Christmas time....I think we've established that...with the exception, of course, of putting up Christmas lights!   I don't think there is a Christmas movie I haven't watched or a Folgers' commercial I haven't cried over.  I totally fall for each sappy love story and laugh hysterically at the goofy humor associated with sitcom office holiday parties.  However, I am then, faced with the very obvious, but always surprising fact these are fiction, not reality!  While I am by no means complaining about my reality, there is definitely not a playwright waiting in the wings to put this up on the big screen.

We've all seen the television office Christmas parties where, inevitably someone ends up on the copier, making prints of their perfectly shaped butt to share with co-workers, while another not so secret office romance blossoms in the storage room.  Well, picture the exact opposite of that, and you have the annual holiday lunch in my organization.  I work for a state wide company so, in order for us all to share in the Christmas spirit together, my colleagues and I all drive 2 hours each way to have lunch in the trendy restaurant of the day.

For the most part, I really do like the people I work with but I can promise you there isn't one I'd want to give me a photocopied version of their butt (to be honest, who I would want that of is a VERY short list so maybe that isn't a fair description).  Anyhow, picture 6 people of various ages and sizes in a cross between a mini-van and an SUV driving 120 miles for rubber chicken and you have my day.  Adding to the excitement, of course, would be a quick description of our two most colorful characters.  One of the women, who truly will be sainted in the after world for size of heart alone, definitely makes up for her lack of world knowledge by her sugary personality.  After a 5 minute conversation with the waiter regarding whether or not the brandy sauce on her long awaited bread pudding would get her drunk ("I don't drink a drop, dearie") we then had to explain to her why the rest of us at the table almost spit out our wine when another colleague said she was vacationing on the island Wannagetlaid..."Oh, I don't think I know that island. Is it the best one?" Again, not exactly the starring character in an Alec Baldwin office skit.  Add her partner in crime, who is the person everyone wonders if exists...the one who buys the light up Christmas sweater (not for the bad Christmas sweater party) but because she thinks it's cheery...and you understand why the normal ones in the car were ready to slit our wrists when we got home.

I, of course, didn't help my Christmas channel meets reality dilemma tonight by cozying up on the couch with my daughter, two sweater clad dogs and a cup of eggnog tea to watch every bad but you can't turn off Christmas movie we could find.  My contentment with(or acceptance of) life on my own is definitely tested when I find myself falling under the spell of the mistletoe magic.  The pull of a small town Christmas where the widowed sheriff is just waiting for a single mom with two beautiful children becomes so very strong...Oh wait, that was the plot of the movie I watched last...

Since I can't see myself giving up this incredibly insane addiction to the Hallmark channel any time during the next 20 days, I will just ask Santa to bring me either the man of my dreams, or a really good bottle of wine.  I think I'll be fine either way.

Safety in distance

I’ve almost always been very good about protecting my heart (I say almost because as we all know, it definitely took a bit of a beating last year). Not becoming too emotionally attached to a guy has been my M.O. most of my life (hence the years of therapy…in addition to the fact my parents are both a bit off). But, for the most part this pattern of behavior has worked for me. I would meet great guys, have fun and then when it was time to move on, I would do so without the need to bury myself in a carton of Ben & Jerry’s. Not saying this was the picture of mental health but then again, I’ve never even claimed to be the poster child for sanity. Anyhow, there is a point to all of this. I have, unfortunately, found a very safe, albeit fun, way to get myself out there, without actually having to get out there!


Years and years ago (when my waist size was actually a size 6 and gray hair wasn’t even a distant relative, let alone close personal friend) I fell hard for this absolutely gorgeous Tim McGraw look alike who had moved to VA from Oklahoma to start a new life with his grandparents. Lucky for me, his grandparents ran the dinner theater where I worked for 2 years…right up until I went off to college. Mr. Oklahoma did set construction during the day and then bartended in the evening. Yes, even at the ripe old age of 17 I had a thing for the construction worker.

We had a very fleeting on/off again flirtation/romance which completely ended when I went off to school. He eventually married someone from my high school and I, obviously, moved on. But, he was definitely the first (and one of two guys) to come close to making me hit the chick stash of comfort food.

Well now, fast forward 20 years, two failed marriages and, oh yeah, an entire country of states between us and you can now find me with my new distraction. While his divorce is much more recent and therefore painful than my break up with Alex, we have started to connect… a few emails, texts and a couple of flirty comments. He, of course, meets almost all of my requirements…(again, ignore the fact there is a 3 hour time difference between our lives) so for now I am going to have fun with this.

Yes, I know this sounds like me trying to create the plot for a bad movie about reconnections after decades and long lost loves reunited but can you cut me some slack, please. I haven’t had a lot of action lately (again, I know this is because I’ve been waiting for UPS to deliver my perfect man on his next route but still). For now, I’m going to enjoy the cute little quips about whether or not he missed out all those years ago (well, of course he did…hello, this is me!) and consider this another step toward moving on.

And, finally, for all of you out there who have been perversely enjoying my never ending light saga, this is for you…I did a revamp yesterday and was so incredibly proud of myself…until every single strand of lights just stopped working! 1 hour of plugging and unplugging, 2 strands in the garbage later and I once again have lights…just not nearly as non pathetic as I had hoped!

Crazy Town alert....

I’m afraid there is a very fine line between being the owner of a couple of dogs and being the crazy single cat lady. And, I guess even more afraid that I may edge closer and closer to that oh so important line.


I have several very good friends who are unmarried and own more than one (or two) cats so don’t want to stereotype all single women over 40 with a love of felines as that woman. However, I also don’t want to picture myself growing older, talking to and dressing up my little dogs like Barbies and then wondering why the clerks at the grocery store shake their heads when I walk in the door.

Okay, maybe I’m bordering on the extreme now but I have to admit the thought did cross my mind this weekend when we added a new addition to the family. This was not a complete spur of the moment decision as I had been looking for months for a rescue dog to befriend my poor neurotic cocker spaniel but had always focused on the big, confident, take to the dog park lab type variety. Yeah, that is not at all what we brought home as evidenced by the corduroy jacket my daughter put on him the minute we got home. I am now the proud owner of a “chiweenie”…or in non Legally Blonde vocabulary…part Dachshund, part Chihuahua… pretty sure this puts me one step closer to Kookville.

I did like the feeling that the kids and I were able to pick him out, (or he picked us), buy him, bring him home and let him jump on the couch without worrying for a minute that I needed someone’s approval for the purchase. But, I also did wonder if I just keep putting up barriers to adding another person to my life at some point. In addition to having the Love List longer than many Shakespeare plays, I now will need any man to love my two kids, my Xanax needing cocker spaniel and my sweater wearing oversized sausage. At what point does my baggage no longer come in a cute matching set?

On the bright side, I did add more lights to the house this weekend and am just a few steps away from leaving the pathetic side of the street. More pictures to come soon.

Phase 2

Who cares if I am just barely 5'2"?  Armed with a step ladder and a whole lot of spunk, I took on the giant tree (it looks much smaller in pictures) and at least came out less of a loser than my first attempt.  Now of course, I am also ignoring the fact 1/2 the lights on one of my old strands decided to stop working about an hour after I plugged them in tonight.  The way I look at it, I live in the country, where maybe 5 people drive by my house each night...so really, are they going to care?!  Who am I kidding, I'll be redoing this again this weekend I am sure.

Quick recap: Target - loving my complete inability to get this right,  the gardener across the street actually applauded my efforts (kind of the way you do a small child who fits the right sized block into the appropriate hole) I came inside wearing most of the leaves that were left on the tree...but, I put up lights.  One of my favorite parts of the Christmas season has now visited my front porch (well, at least a distant cousin of Christmas lights) but I am calling that a win.

Before pictures...

So, as you can tell....not exactly the makings of a Christmas masterpiece.  I will post pics tonight of the after Target shopping spree...but not promising better...just different.

Let there be light...

I love Christmas…the smells, decorating my house, the lights on all the trees in our cute downtown…but…and this is a pretty big but…I hate hanging up the lights outside. It is truly one more item I am adding to the perfect guy list…likes country music, drives a truck, thinks I’m fabulous and will hang Christmas lights!


However, since I really like the look of the lights, I want them hung! So, because I can be a bit stubborn at times (and yes, just a bit!), I got out my box of lights and started making my house look festive…not Griswold festive but good ole’ Southern charm, icicle white light festive…the kind of lights you see in all of the Hallmark movies. Yes, once again, I know those are fiction but seriously they sell the lights at Target, so how hard can it be?! I also forgot to remind myself that these made for TV movies also have electricians who hang their lights for them (once again, the electrician plays a starring role)!

Anyhow, after what seemed like several hours and more than one growl I had hung lights…okay, maybe flung, dropped, let land where they may, would better describe what I had done but they were up and I went inside relatively pleased with myself. I remained smug until dark when I actually turned the lights on. Oh my gosh, it looked like the light fairy had thrown up in my yard…and not in a good way! My house screams “lame, single woman lives here and sucks at Christmas lights!”

But, since I am nothing if not resilient, I went back to Target today and am now armed with $100 worth of easy button lights, extension cords and a whole new attitude. I’m going to show these lights who’s boss! And, if that fails, I’m calling 1-800-lightguy!

Ramblings from a Monday....

I’ve written before about having the “Tell Me” sign attached to my forehead and I apologize for revisiting this topic but after a few incidents this weekend, I believe the occasional verbal vomit story can be revisited.


As I mentioned I was hit with a pretty nasty case of the stomach flu...well, I am not sure I mentioned I had accidentally shared this incredible gift with my father who was visiting from Washington, DC. He came over on Saturday for a day of family, football and food…what I do best and left with a gift that just kept giving. He couldn’t leave his hotel room for 2 days…one of which was the day my stepmother was arriving from DC for our big mountain family Thanksgiving. Uh oh…

I had just picked the kids up from school and we were headed to our favorite little service corner where we could get lunch, my son could get a hair cut and my daughter and I much needed mani/pedis when my phone rang. The caller ID showed it was my SM, and I knew she was worried about my dad and traveling across the country during one of the busiest travel weeks so I answered.

“I’m stuck in DC, trying to get to Minnesota but I’m going to miss my connecting flight and then I am going to end up sitting in a middle seat in coach, surrounded by amateur fliers and their screaming kids, I think I’ll just get off the plane now. Your dad needs to go to the emergency room and I can’t get there. I am going to just fly to Minnesota and then turn around and come home….” For a good two minutes this went on before I could even say a word. The kids were both trying to figure out who I was talking (or not talking to) while I was trying to figure out the appropriate course of action…while trying to talk her off the proverbial ledge…to the delight of her flight crew and fellow passengers I am sure.

After assurances that I had, indeed, made sure crackers and soda had been delivered to my dad’s hotel room and reminders that planes were flying to CA all day so she’d get here, her flight was boarded and she made her connecting flight okay. She called the next day and asked me to delete the earlier day as she was not herself. I told her no problem but next time, double the Xanax dosage.

Crisis averted, we got settled in our comfy pedicure chairs ready to forget our troubles. However it seemed the relaxation gods were not smiling on us that day as there was obviously some sort of salon drama playing out in front of us. The manager of the salon who was working with me at the time, kept apologizing for needing a couple of minutes and then she’d walk away to have a very loud heated conversation with one of the girls and then would come back all flustered. After the last break she just let it flow “One of my girls want to quit. Sometimes people misunderstand one another and it turn into a big deal”…at which point one of the girls sighs loudly while unpacking the big white bag of personal belongings she had been throwing into the bag during the flow up. My manicurist then went on to tell me about her husband who she married 3 years ago and who has been out of work since…All I could think was I am paying for this pleasure.

So, I am now 6 pounds lighter with great toes and fingers but with an ulcer the size of Texas….Great!

Looking for a positive spin

I don’t get sick very often…thank goodness! I don’t know if my body just knows I don’t the time for it or if I was just blessed with good health (I get the weird stuff that means monthly visits to my Ob/Gyn but the common cold not so much). Either way, I am thankful for the lack of germs that visit my body…especially after being completely knocked on my butt by the stomach flu this weekend.

Here I was making a great game day feast for my family (which everyone enjoyed) when I realized I was not going to make it to the night game. 2 days and 6 pounds lighter and I may be back among the living. Yikes! That was just rough.

Anyhow, as I can’t imagine anything worse than reading about someone getting sick, I will just move right on to the 6 pounds. So, now they are gone, and I won’t let them come back. I had already started the new exercise regime so this is just the kick start I needed, right?!

So that was the positive I got from my lost weekend…plus the realization whatever man I meet next better be understanding, as well as drive a truck, like country music, be tall, etc…as I expect a little TLC every now and then…

New Game Plan

So, while I have made half hearted attempts the last few months to get back into my old routine and kick my exercise habits into overdrive, the time for denial is now over! At the risk of sounding like one of the contestants on the Biggest Loser, “America, next time you see me I’ll be strutting my stuff in my size 8’s!”.

Why the new found enthusiasm you might ask? Well, it is a combination of occasions which has made me realize the back this baby has needs to lose the wide load label. First, I made the way overdue decision to clean out my closet last week and as I looked at size 6 after size 6 after…pairs of pants that I haven’t worn in at least 2 years I realized this was no longer just a phase in my life but a new era. And, one I wasn’t overly excited about. Push number 1…

Then, as I went to the doctor a few days later for my annual mammogram the nurse actually had to move fat out of the way. Now, don’t tell me I imagined it because I didn’t! She actually had to reposition me and push skin in the other direction. Seriously!! I had reached new lows…Push number 2….

Finally, as I have very slowly reached the realization that Alex is never coming to his senses and, maybe, just maybe one day I may actually want to meet Tim McGraw’s single brother who knocks on my door one day, I need to feel good about myself. While a dear friend told me that the guy doesn’t notice the extra 10 (okay, 20!) pounds, I do. And, because I do, I’m just not as “out there” as I’ve been in my life.

So, world, here we go. I may not have Bob & Jillian in my house screaming at me to get my booty in gear but I do have motivation so watch out!

Not quite Joe Nichols worthy…

Anyone who knows me knows I’m not a big drinker. No, believe me, I’m not saying I don’t drink because well, I’d be lying. I’ve mentioned BevMo more often in my blogs than most family members so we all know I am not opposed to alcohol at all. To be more accurate, I don’t get drunk. I can probably count on both hands the number of times I’ve been out and out drunk in my life…thank goodness!

And, again, I have no problem with people who drink like that, I just can’t…as a complete and total control freak, the idea of not being in absolute control of my actions is beyond comprehension. And, it is very difficult to be smart sexy when you are slurring your words so I just don’t make it a habit. Now that I’ve laid the groundwork for my philosophy on drinking, forget that for this blog as I definitely drank more than I wanted to or should have a few weeks ago which is where my trip down Embarrassment Avenue comes into play.

One of my girlfriends and her husband threw a long awaited summer party, which turned into a Fall Fiesta right around Halloween. When the idea first emerged her incredibly cute electrician brother (yes, THAT electrician) and I joked she should have an ice luge at the party. She had no idea what we were talking about so I promised her I’d have one for her at the much anticipated event. And, I did…(thank you Amazon.com…and 24 hours in the freezer).

The shooting star ice sculpture was a hit…but of course, had to be tested…again, and I guess, again. People of all legal ages were drinking ice cold tequila like it was water. Unfortunately this included me. I don’t know what I was thinking but the fun cute happy smile was no longer in my control as my flirting with Mr. Hot Electrician was just not so cute any more (in my mind) so I went to bed…immediately.

I woke up the next morning, totally mortified. I know I didn’t do or say anything completely outrageous, just out of character for me. I couldn’t text Mr. Hot Electrician fast enough to apologize for gosh knows what I said. He was incredibly gracious and told me how much fun he had. Ay yay yay….really? Am I 16?!

But, as I really am just all that witty…I took this as an opportunity to make fun of myself a few more times via text with him…each time resulting in a quick exchange of fun flirty messages. And, while nothing has still come of the chemistry (which I believe to be there), I have to say the fact he spelled every word in all of his texts correctly…which as we know is a big one for me. Maybe that is a sign…

Anyhow, I’m now back on the no tequila for me band wagon…(at least it didn’t make my clothes fall off!)

I'm baaaaccckkkk

We now return to the previously scheduled programming of my life…as I took a brief hiatus to focus on my unsuccessful attempt to be the next Barbara Eden and Harper Valley PTA star. But as I am a true believer that everything happens for a reason, I believe I lost because really, how exciting would a blog be if it was all about school board politics? Yawn!


So, to catch you all up to speed on the non-earth shattering but somewhat amusing activities which happened during our commercial break….

While I did lose my run for the school board, I did take simple (albeit somewhat sick) pleasure in the fact that every single time Alex and the dwarf drove to work or outside of town they had to pass by huge signs with my name on them. Okay, yes, I am moving on, but have to admit I found that funny.
Halloween was once again an event for the ages as the former husband, and the GF plus the kids and me participated in the downtown trick or treat adventures. The two of them coming in matching surgical outfits because as my daughter informed me…”Daddy has a heart on his chest because “GF” has made him Dr. Love”…no, I didn’t actually vomit on the spot but laughed out loud quite a bit. Oh my gosh! But, my favorite part of the night was watching people’s faces as they saw the two of us with the kids (a very common occasion) but then saw the addition of the GF grasping his hand as if she may actually get lost if she didn’t hang on for dear life. I, of course, poured a nice glass of cabernet to go with the candy bar I snagged from my kids’ stash as soon as I got home.

There is still no knight in shining armor parking his horse outside my front door but I will catch you all up to date on my foray into embarrassment land tomorrow.

Thanks for being patient with me!

The Playtex Wars

There are certain moments a mother thinks about when she looks at her daughter's future...her first pedicure, learning to wear make up, her first kiss, buying her first bra, her wedding, her first child, etc...all moments I have and will cherish with my daughter...especially because none of them were big with my mom. Now, if I had been interested in peace marches or buying Birkenstocks, those would have been huge moments...Anyhow, as I was saying, having a daughter means being able to look forward to these bonding moments. 

So, imagine my surprise when my incredibly precocious and open 8 year old daughter announces to me the other day that she got a set of sports bras at Wal-Mart.  As I never want to completely freak out in front of the kids, and because it wasn't like she said she bought a thong at Victoria's Secret, I calmly (at least I think I was calm) asked "Oh, you did?  Did Daddy buy those for you?"  I was thinking maybe she had been begging for these and he just threw them in the cart, not really thinking about what they were.  I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, and not wanting to crucify him before I knew the whole story.

Again, because, my daughter truly has no filter, and really shouldn't at age 8, quickly points out that the 6 ft tall Qupie doll girlfriend bought them for her.  Really??  I tried to, again, without hyperventilating, ask how this came about.  I mean, it isn't like my daughter has hit puberty early, nor has this even been a topic of conversation, EVER!  So, how exactly is it, that a woman, who one, has never had children, and two, on any given day can be overwhelmed by mine (and his) now has all of this motherly instinct??  Of course, the 8 year old answers (as she does with many things), "I don't know."

I was incredibly proud of my restraint, as I didn't send off a "Are you flipping kidding me?  Did the Amazon with the enhanced C cup truly buy my very impressionable pre pubescent daughter a bra????"  text.  Probably because I knew it would be over the limit of 160 characters.  But, again, with the tension we have had lately decided this was a conversation best had in person, and not in a location with sharp objects.

I'm not crazy, right?  There are just certain lines you don't cross...especially when I have been nothing but nice to this woman since the day she entered my former husband's life.  And, just because she has drama non-mama moments does not mean she needs to include my children in her latest attempts to prove she can handle being a full time step mom. 

The next day at our regular Starbucks morning, in a very non high pitch voice, I said "So, I heard we made some interesting purchases at Wal-Mart yesterday..." with a very pointed look.  My 11 year old son, who is often too wise for his own good, said, "yeah, really weird purchases!"...which elicited a much needed laugh.  The former husband had the good sense to look chagrined and commented that yes, that was odd and he wondered if I knew why.  I, of course, assured him, the why didn't come from me at all and that an actual one (non sports version) was not to be purchased for a very long time.  The look tried to convey that I would be that person buying that version but don't worry, it will be clearly stated before that time.

Now that I have had my Tasmanian devil Mom moment, I will go back to being the sweet as pie, invite her over to dinner, Southern hospitality picture of graciousness I usually try to be.  But, be forewarned, don't mess with a Momma!

He's just not that into you...

There has been a battle waging lately, in the oh so interesting land of my brain, that rivals the Hatfields and McCoys any day of the week.  It is the struggle between patience and perseverance and the hard cold truth that maybe, just maybe, I'm really not all that irresistible and yes, he (substitute name of appropriate guy here) really isn't all that into me. 

I'm usually good at justification; of why someone does something, why I should get away with something, why I need that new pair of shoes (although I've been very aware of my bank account and have pretty much cured myself of the shoe justification).  However, even I have the draw the line at some point.  And, while my pride may take another hit, I need to realize that none of the cuties (or not so cuties) I have mentioned in this blog are pining away over me.  Therefore, I ought not be pining (or even pseudo pining) over them.

Really!  C'mon, Cutie doesn't initiate communication because he doesn't want to...not because his life is busy or as he tells me in our emails, how crazy work is and wow he wishes he had time for a get together.  He isn't a brain surgeon, small business owner or truck driver so yeah, thinking work may be an excuse.  And, seriously, Alex has not spent even half the time thinking about what a mistake he has made as I think he is.  He has moved on...even if it is with the 8th dwarf so not moving very fast.  But moving, nonetheless.  Finally, if the friend's brother had even an inclination of wanting to go out with me, he would have called.  So, I need to accept these facts and again, get over it and take the next steps forward in the right direction.

It isn't as if I don't think I have a lot to offer...not bad for a chick in her early 40's (not Cindy Crawford but don't need a bag over my head either), pretty darned smart, amusing and entertaining...wait, I'm starting to sound like an e-Harmony ad.  What I'm saying is, this isn't a session for me to feel down about myself...it is just a wake up call that the fantasy life and scenarios I can create in my head really aren't reality.  Yeah, what a news flash! 

Bottom line is, while Ben Affleck may have been that into Jennifer Aniston in the movie, in reality, these guys just "aren't that into me"...but the one who is, is out there.

Hot for teacher...

I guess that is a little misleading as I'm not in school, and we're actually talking about a basketball coach but the sentiment just seemed to fit...
Once again my weekends were filled with lazy hours at the beach, being waited on by hot cabana boys and serenaded by gorgeous country singers who just think I'm all that and ten bags of chips...wait, you aren't buying it.  Yeah well, neither am I!  But, I am really not complaining as I love having my kids involved in sports and activities and all the stuff that makes them happy.   However, I also don't mind when those activities have a little hidden bonus for me!

My daughter's basketball team is usually coached by my former husband, but for the last two weeks he has had conflicts so it has been a duty thrust upon the leader of the basketball program.  I tried to substitute at least one time last season and it was so pathetic the older girls who were out on the court came over to save their younger dribbling sisters from complete bball humiliation.  Hey, I was a great basketball cheerleader...I swear! 

Anyhow, I have seen the head of the program on numerous times over the past 2 years, and have always found him on the attractive side...tall, dark hair, and obviously likes sports (and kids!).  But, considering I was completely obsessed with Alex for the better part of those 24 months, never really gave Mr B-ball much more than a passing glance.  Also, it wasn't like he was accidentally throwing the ball my direction to get my attention either.  Although, you can't really blame him since I either come to practice each week with my hair in a pony/baseball hat or I think he assumes I'm still married to Mr. Wonderful.  Either way, we aren't talking instant chemistry.

But, this Saturday I made a point of at least chatting with him more than the obligatory "Hey, how's it going?" and even did the whole smile and make him laugh thing.  And, when I saw him pull up to the gym, he was driving an oversized pick up truck...oh yeah, closet Red Neck!!  C'mon, how can I not at least try to see if this could lead to a dinner or drinks...

So, next Saturday, I will shower, look cute, but not too cute and see if I can't get do my own rendition of "Put me in, Coach."... I'll let you know how it goes.

OCD with a side of neurosis

There is no doubt in my mind (or the minds of anyone around me) that I'm a little "special"...and by special I mean crazy.  Not "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" crazy, but a little more like Jack Nicholson's character in "As Good as it Gets"...wow...he's played crazy several times.  Anyhow, yes, I'm a little, hmm..., particular about certain things but really, I think that is just a sign that I like things how I like them, right?  Although, it could also be interfering with me finding someone new...just saying.

Perfect example of how whacked I actually am came earlier this evening as the kids and I were watching "The Middle" on television.  While I'm a much bigger fan of "Modern Family", Katie swears by this show so we watch it as a family and I will admit to laughing out loud at least a few times each episode.  However, those moments of enjoyment are completely overshadowed by the fact I often watch the show with my eyes half closed.  No, it's not scary in the horror film kind of way but more in the "oh my gosh, how can you live in such an unorganized, the carpets aren't straight, kids 1/2 dressed, pig-sty kind of life?".  Seriously, I freak out!  I understand it is a television show, designed to make you laugh but really, for someone with more than the average OCD tendencies, it is just pure torture.

This, of course, got me to thinking...what nut job is going to meet my long list of criteria and still want to go out with me?  I'm crazy!  I personally don't think there is anything majorly wrong with my need to have the money in my wallet be organized from 1's up, face forward, but maybe there are others who might not get it.  And, even my sister, who has been known to break out into cold sweats when the carpets aren't aligned properly, said I was a freak the other day. 

She and I were talking about my list of requirements for the next man in my life and I realized I hadn't added "must be able to spell...even in text messages".  She was floored...but I can't help it, I spend waaayyy too much time making sure my texts, my emails, my status updates are spelled correctly.  If I don't know how to spell it, I will change the word.  I'm not expecting Mr. Hot Stuff to be Einstein (that would bug me) but yes, proper spelling is up there. 

So, along with a dear friend, I've decided to start a new online dating service for smart rednecks only...I, of course, will be the judge of what constitutes the redneck and the smart part will probably be obvious.  Now I just have to come up with a name...Any suggestions?

Things that make you go hmmm...

We all probably remember that song from the late 80's or early 90's...hey, I just know it was right around the time Paula Abdul gave up her Laker girl kicks for some hip hop tunes...but anyhow, it was all about the things in the world that are just a tad questionable.  Well, this post is about those things, plus the things that make you go woohoo, and while I don't swear, the things that make you go WTF as well...and that can be what the french fries.  Although, really, that would be WTFF but you get the idea.

We'll start with those french fries...as y'all know, I'm a big hater of relationship drama...which is one of the reasons I'm not in one now (along with the facts no guy could meet my list of 100+ necessary traits and that my booty still has more junk in the trunk than Janet Jackson EVER had but again, whatever!).  So, why, I ask you, do I have to deal with the drama my former husband and his whacked out (sorry, yes, she's cuckoo for cocoa puffs) continually create in their lives.  Oh yeah, that's right, we share two children whom I love more than life so here I am.  I guess I shouldn't really complain as I was sad As the World Turns went off the air.  Although with Holden and Lily I could fast forward through the nonsense.  Here, not so much...

As we've discussed, Mr. Wonderful and trophy gf have consistency/longevity issues and I guess they were rearing their ugly heads again...and for whatever reason, the GF decided I needed to be a part of them.  I was sitting alone enjoying a very nice glass of wine when my phone made that tell tale "you have a text" tone.  I still jump a little at the tone, wondering/hoping if it is the man of my dreams trying to make contact.  Of course it should go on record that Josh Lucas doesn't have my phone number...but again, details.  Since it wasn't him or anyone else in the hot category, I was still a tad surprised when it was crazy chick apologizing for missing the big kick off event at my house on Sunday.  Of course, the apology came with a huge dig at my former husband for not telling her about it...which completely explains why he showed up 15 minutes before it ended.  While an observer may think she was just being nice, I can promise you after 3 months of not speaking to me and being labeled a drama queen by my mother in law, this had nothing to do with manners.  Really?? If I'm going to deal with relationship drama, shouldn't I at least get dinner out of the deal???

Again, this was a reminder that while I really do miss having "that person" in my life, at least I don't have to deal with this kind of nonsense.  And, it also provided a perfect opportunity for me to realize I don't even remember the last time I texted Alex.  That is definitely progress.  I, of course, still occasionally float by the 8th dwarf's page on FB but that too has ended since she closed her profile again. Which means, nothing incredible is happening in the fairy tale land she created...can't say I'm surprised. So now, no texting him, no FB stalking her...hmm...wow...I may be getting over him. That is something to woohoo about!

And the best woohoo of the week...Fall shows are back!  I can sing to Glee, work out to the Biggest Loser and drool over LL Cool J in NCIS LA...yes, life is good.

Yes, I should have my head examined...

While I have explained I have been out of the blogging sphere loop due to kids' sports, neurotic dogs, heck, the fog, whatever, I did leave out a very important little tid bit, I guess.  Now, as someone who grew up around politics, who works in politics, who married (and then divorced) a politician, one would think I would know better...but, obviously I'm not nearly as smart as I claim to be because I, too, have now entered the world of candidacy and hopefully elected office.

No, don't start picturing Sarah Palin as I'm much more Harper Valley, PTA, but yes, I am hoping to enter the ranks of female elected officials all over the place as a member of the local school board.  However, the whole process of getting elected has turned out to be quite the undertaking.  It isn't as if I didn't know what I was getting into, but really, anything that starts with having my mother, my stepfather, my father and my former (but still current) in-laws in my house for hours on a Sunday afternoon, should truly come with a warning label, a lobotomy and a flask. 

I knew it was going to be interesting when I started carting in platter after platter of catered dishes and my mother commented "Well, I told you I'd make something...why all the food?".  She doesn't understand overdoing it...which is a staple in my dad's side of the family...where our motto is "Go big or stay home".  She just pursed her lips, mumbling about what it was like as a single mom having to walk both ways up hill to the grocery store with bags on her head (or something like that).  Considering I had to make remarks about being a good advocate for children and what not, I was avoiding alcohol until it was over, so I just had to make do with counting to 10 when I saw my dad pull in.  Oh joy...let the games begin.

Considering my dad makes small talk for a living, I knew he'd be overly polite but avoid my mom as much as possible.  She, of course, can't handle that and made a beeline for him the moment he walked in.  Fortunately my mother-in-law has played this game with us before so she ran interference, practically tripping my mom with her cane to keep her away from him.  Well, maybe it wasn't that violent, but she did play her part well until more people arrived to provide buffers. And, for someone who isn't big on worlds colliding, I had them all going on...parents, in laws, former husbands...had you thrown in a few old boyfriends (who actually RSVP'd but couldn't make it) we could have had our own Jerry Springer show.

But, we all survived and I will be eating leftover food for the next 10 days...but that is okay because I went big!

Sad note of the day

First, I am so sorry I have not written lately and wish I could blame it on a spur of the moment trip to a tropical island with a single version of Taye Diggs, but alas, no...it is just the crazy life of a mom of two.  Wow...that sounds incredibly lame.  But, for all of you out there who know what that means, you totally get me and are feeling my pain.  Okay, maybe not...I know I hate the I'm soooo busy excuse.  So, I vow to at least write every other day; even if my posts are short and sweet...and about pretty much nothing.  At least we'll be doing "nothing" together.

So anyhow, my sad note of the day...and before you worry that I really have turned into the crazy cat lady who spends her life trying to get home to watch whatever brain trash shows she has DVR'd this week, just chill!  For years (and by years I mean since before buying my first bra) I've been a fan of As the World Turns...yes the soap opera.  I would take a hiatus every now and then when I would realize I was looking for Holden and Lily on the street or when conversations about them actually sounded as if I thought they were real people.  Now, I was never really that bad but I did have a few years where life just didn't cooperate with me watching my soaps so I took a break.  But, for the most part, for almost 30 years I have lived with, cared about, sympathized with and sometimes fantasized about the residents of Oakdale, Illinois.They provided an escape or a trip toward a reality where daily drama was the norm...and appreciated. Where star crossed lovers ALWAYS ended up together...and where, life never just consisted of home and work.  Actually, for that matter, you hardly ever saw any of the characters work...just wreak havoc. 

Unfortunately, too many people are now working during the day and the daytime talk shows are all the rage (ugh).  So, ATWT is saying its goodbyes and I have to admit, this has hit me pretty hard.  I liked being able to ride my bike to nowhere while catching up on the activities of my favorite heroes and heroines. But, if I'm being honest, this is probably not a truly bad thing for my life.  Maybe I have been living my life waiting for my version of Jack or Holden or Dusty to enter my world and take care of me.  This is probably a good reminder that they just live in my television...not in my neighborhood.

I'm finally getting to the place in my life where I am able to see that my life without Alex is actually not a horrible thing. I'm able to think about the bad times and stop myself from texting him (I'm going on 3 weeks right now so cha-ching!!).  And, I have made myself think the Alex I knew and loved, actually doesn't exist anymore...and while it happened in Oakdale ALL the time, he's not actually going to come back from the "dead" and live happily ever after with me.  All realizations that have taken me months and very non Lily Snyder moments to realize. 

But, while the rational side of me knows it is just a soap opera and has no effect on my life, the very nostalgic emotional side of me is going to set aside an hour, a box of tissues and my favorite comfy clothes to say goodbye to my friends of Oakdale....

Whirlwind Weekend

Well, after 3 days of family fun, another wedding, 4 runs of the dishwasher, 5 loads of laundry and lots of trips to the recycling cans with empty wine bottles, I can say it was not a bad weekend after all.  There were plenty of moments where I was reaching for anything that even remotely resembled alcohol but didn't need the prescription medication so I call that a win!  And, as I sat on my couch last night watching college football I was once again content with my life, which is definitely a good thing!

As the airport is actually quite near Cutie's office, we actually arranged for a quick hi on my way up. It was actually a lot of fun BUT also a very good reminder that he is young...and really, I'm past having to worry about dealing with a guy's immaturity level.  While I know older guys can have their Beevis and Butthead moments, I don't need one who is still finding his way through life and all of its emotional roller coasters.  With a son about to reach puberty, I will have plenty of that already.  However, good kisses are never a bad thing...And since drinking and driving is so frowned upon, it was a good coping mechanism as I braced myself for the East Coast arrivals.

While the appearance of her attention getting neck brace nearly had me turning the car around, she saw me right away and met me with a smile so wide, I was struck with a stab of guilt for ever dreading this visit.  But, I was completely exonerated when 5 minutes into the trip she was haranguing my step-father for forgetting some incredibly trivial fact he probably never knew in the first place.  As we drove south toward home and a very large glass of wine, I reminded myself reinforcements would arrive in 12 hours!  And then, buffers of all kinds could be employed.  And, no, I'm not above sacrificing my children for my sanity as she really is much better to them...or because children are more resilient...whatever works!

And really, the weekend went exceptionally well.  Having a houseful of people who, for the most part, have known you your entire life and love you anyhow, is pretty incredible.  We had 3 generations of several families together, laughing about old times, sharing secrets and remembering why we choose to spend our lives close to one another. That type of history can't be replaced...and it is why we forgive the craziness that accompanies family. 

So now, back to life full of kids' sports, work, daily activities...but once again, I really am okay with all of that because it just continues to show me I'm heading in the right direction...even if I do veer away from my GPS instructions every once in a while.

Hurricane preparedness - West Coast style

Half of my heart, and therefore close family and friends, live on the East Coast and know what it means to prepare for a Hurricane or severe storm.  Not the ones you need to evacuate to weather (no pun intended) but the power will probably go out, you'll be home for a few days, cause cabin fever kind of days.  For most people, the emergency survival kits contain the essentials: flashlight, batteries, canned and dry goods, etc...things that you would need if you had to rough it for a few days.  Well, for my family, it would contain all of that plus a few cases of Diet Coke, Jack Daniels, and the fixings for dirty martinis. Our philosophy is, one does not need to give up cocktail hour just because a storm blew into town.

Obviously, hurricanes are not too prevalent on the West Coast so why would I need to prepare for one?  Because, not all storms are tracked by Al Roker or the Weather Channel.  My storm will be arriving from Maine via Delta this evening, awaiting a curbside pick up at the airport. Yes, my mother is coming back to CA for the winter...And, don't worry, my survival kit is packed with all the essentials...tequila, margarita mix, wine, JD, and did I mention wine?

Part of me does feel bad because she is an incredible grandmother...and, at times, really does try to be a good mom.  But, after 4 months of Facebook comments about how life in CA sucks and we should all move to her little coastal town of 12 people, on top of all the other status updates, my quota of nice has been used up!  Fortunately, reinforcements arrive tomorrow when 20 other family members arrive for a backyard barbecue...with more alcohol, of course.    All of this in preparation for the wedding I mentioned earlier in the week. These festivities will keep me a little busy for the next few days but promise to update y'all on the family fun later in the weekend.

For now, hope Hurricane Earl has missed your neck of the woods...and that you don't have your own 2 legged storm blowing in either.

I'll have it my way

I decided tonight that online dating sites have it all wrong!  They should take a page out of Burger King's playbook.  Yes, Burger King!  No, I don't eat there, but that doesn't mean I can't acknowledge their success.  They are all about "we make it your way" and, really, isn't that what online dating sites should do?

Now I haven't re-evaluated my decision to not go the click here for true love route but, I did think of a way I might be tempted to join in the frenzy.  What if I could build the perfect partner...you know, like the Build a Bear stores my daughter loves so very much?  Yes, I realize the sites tell you to broaden your horizons so you aren't limiting yourself out of your future love.  But, if I know what type of guy would make me happy, shouldn't that be what I write down?  I'm 41 years old...if I haven't figured out my likes and dislikes by now I think we're in trouble.  I'm pretty specific on the type of soda I'll drink, so wouldn't one think I'd be even more fanatical about the characteristics of a man I'd like to spend more than 5 minutes with?

So, here are my qualifications...please be sure to send in any and all suitable applicants:
Between the ages of 36-46
5'11-6'4
Must have a waist size bigger than mine has ever been (okay, not counting my pregnancy)
Must love football, basketball, baseball...okay, ESPN must be in their favorite 5 channels
Must love the following movies (or at least have seen them and not hated them): The American President, Bull Durham, Jerry Maguire, The Blindside, Sweet Home Alabama...I know there are more, but that might just be getting a little extreme
Must have a truck...either for work or pleasure, I don't care
Must love the water...preferably lakes, places with boats that don't have sails
Must think I'm all that and ten bags of chips...but can not let me get away with nonsense because I know that...think the country song "Because she don't tell me to"
Will play catch with my son, then sit down to watch my daughter strut her stuff
Must love country music...but not the old twangy kind
Must have a good steady income...or own a sports franchise...that works too.
Must love dogs

There are, of course, a few options...like when buying a car, that I'd like to throw in as well: likes to grill, loves my food, understands the joy of a good glass of wine but can drink Jack & Coke without choking, knows I should never have to deal with a mechanic (that is a boy's job), and, I guess if I'm pulling out all the stops, should know how to buy a good piece of jewelry.

You notice, I didn't say anything about picking up their socks, or putting down the toilet seat...those things really don't bother me...but disgrace Saturday afternoon football and we might have words. 

So, there you go...that is the type of online site that would work for me.  Please feel free to let me know if and when you come across such a site.  Thanks for your support.

Another I do...please pass me a cocktail

Do you remember when you were younger and looked forward to certain events with such anticipation you could barely breathe...first date, prom, getting your license, etc...?  The sense of excitement and thrill each time you thought of what it was going to be like, what you were going to wear, who you were going to tell?  You thought you could never feel better.  Are you remembering that feeling?  Great!  Now picture the exact opposite and you have the pit in my stomach as we get closer to yet another wedding this weekend.Really, it has very little to do with the wedding and what that represents, as I really am happy for the soon to be married couple, and everything to do with the drama that has led up to the big event. 

Over 40 years ago, 2 couples, maybe still on a contact high from the 1960's, decided to take on the world to ensure prosperity for all...and a bunch of other feel good campaign brochure kind of stuff, and decided to drag their children with them.  Across the country we went...our own little version of Mr. Smith Goes to Washington...full of ideals and plans for social justice and all that jazz.  Well, of course, reality set in and 2 incredibly nasty divorces, custody battles, bitter feelings and thousands of dollars of therapy later find us now on the eve of the last child's wedding.

As families, we vacationed together, in RV's, in old lighthouses, in motels all across this country, vowing to always remain family, forget just being friends.  But, as in all divorces, sides had to be picked and battle lines were definitely drawn.  And, as children, living at the whim of whoever had whom that weekend, didn't grow up as close as we had expected. And, considering my mother hated everything to do with the life that brought her to the East Coast, we certainly didn't spend too many summers with them at the Outer Banks ever again.  But, because certain bonds can't be broken (or Miss Manners decrees it to be), we were all invited to each other's weddings.  Although, why we didn't figure out after wedding one to just elope proves that while we have all become relatively successful and productive members of society, we obviously aren't all that bright. 

For months now, my sister and I have been receiving emails from our mother regarding the big day...how important it is that we represent as a family unit. She even cut her summer on the East Coast short for the big occasion...and oh, how we've heard about that.  How she will suffer through 2 weeks of miserable California heat because it is so very important for her to be a part of this wedding for Alan and Nina and to see his brother, Jeff, and his lovely wife, Laura.  Granted, I found this funny...not just because people all over the world would love to live in California, but because Jeff's wife's name is Susan not Laura.  Minor details, people.

We all knew why my mother was flying back early for this wedding and it had absolutely nothing to do with wanting to be there for the happy couple.  Hello, they each have 8 attendants....who is even going to notice who is on the guest list?!  No, she was flying back and making a huge production about all of us going together because she thought for sure my father was going to be in attendance.  For the few weeks I thought the same thing, I lived in a constant state of martini induced fog because nothing sounded worse to me than a formal wedding with both of my parents.  My wedding was painful enough and then I had the free flowing champagne fountain to make me happy.

The idea of my mother participating in a one sided competition for the spotlight was enough to make me run for the hills, before even factoring in the fact this was yet another wedding I was going to endure.  I was beginning to understand why prescription medication was such a hot commodity.  However, God, or my father, actually, saved the day by announcing he wasn't going to be able to make it to CA for the weekend as he was going to be out several times later in September.  I thought I was going to faint from happiness.  While my mother in a social setting is no day at the beach, it is at least tolerable, without adding my father to the mix.  Although, you would have thought someone had shot my mother's dog when she found out.  "What? Your father isn't coming?! Isn't that a slap in the face to the couple?  Won't he be missed?" Again, Mom, missing the point on the whole wedding thing...stars of the show are the bride and groom...not some pseudo uncle who hasn't seen the happy couple in at least 5 years. 

So, as I sip on this glass of wine, and inspect my closet for appropriate wedding attire this weekend, I at least am thankful that I will just be keeping my stupid sad feelings at bay, and not trying to juggle the needs of a neurotic, somewhat bitter, not over her divorce woman while also keeping my champagne glass full.

Weekend Wind Down

There's nothing like a wedding to make you contemplate your current situation and reevaluate decisions you have made.  It was actually a wedding 6 years ago that made me realize my former husband and I were not going to make it to the Golden Years together.  As we sat in the pew, with enough room for two more people between us, it hit me that the counseling sessions, the tears, the promises to try harder couldn't make two people fall in love again.  Or, even for the first time, especially since they were more in love with the idea of each other than the person themselves to begin with.

This weekend I was among a fortunate few who witnessed a dear friend find love for the 2nd time in her life.  After a very painful divorce and a few stumbles, she met an incredible man who completely adored her, and her adorable daughter.  I truly couldn't be happier for her...but, of course, there was that small part of me who stood there and wondered (not without some jealousy), if I would ever meet someone else. And worse yet, was did I want to, more specifically, someone other than Alex. 

I hate that I miss him...especially after over a year and lots of tears, but I do. And, I hate that deep down I know he is going to marry the 8th dwarf.  Eventually, he will decide he isn't getting any younger and will submit to his fear of being alone.  And, I know, if I am still in the single category, it is going to require a lot more than a glass of wine and 2 pound bag of jelly beans to help me recover.  Not an experience I am looking forward to. Especially, since really, the vision of the 2 of them is just not pretty.  C'mon do they even make wedding gowns for trolls?  Sorry, an attack of the catty Tourret's.

Then, to top it off, as I drove from the wedding to my son's basketball game (mom's have to multi-task), I hit a freeway flirting low.  I was feeling all good about myself when two vehicles passed by and did the complete double take, even a little wave from one of them...And then I realized as I smiled at vehicle number 3 (who didn't smile back) that I must be losing my touch.  The first two smiles were from guys in beat up trucks who could have been body doubles in Deliverance...not exactly dating material.  Let's not spend too much time on the fact that NO ONE ever dates someone they smiled at as they drove past at 70 miles an hour.  This is me feeling sorry for myself here.  And, of course, the 3rd guy was in a brand new Range Rover... I also didn't even begin to think that maybe he was just a happily married guy on his way to his family...No, this was a complete slap in the face on a day I didn't need it.  And people wondered why I was in therapy for so many years.

Well, by Sunday night, I'm over the slight on the freeway, and my stomach didn't clench at the thought of Alex but I do feel as if I've been kidding myself thinking I was over him.  Although, right now, I'm going to look on the bright side and remember, that every time I have a tough weekend, I am soooo motivated to work out on Monday morning. And, at this moment, I'll take that as a plus.

Wow...just wow...

What do you get when you take fishnet stockings, silicone with a side of skimpy black dress and stilettos so high they make FMP's look PG13? And no, I didn't visit the Castro District tonight! (For my non CA readers, the Castro is an area in San Francisco where mini skirts and thigh high boots can be seen on most corners...and not just on women). Give up?  The actual answer is the visual of my evening at my Best of the West event. And now, picture me, after my hours of running around frenetically trying to organize tables, sponsors, name tags...and, oh yes, don't forget the cactus.

I should have known I was in for a show when the women on the committee were all giggling and comparing their outfits for the evening.  "What are you going to wear?"  "Oh, I can't tell you, it's a surprise...all I can see is it's red with a lot of leg." "Red, really?  So, is Susie...I hope you don't match." Really??? Last time I checked, there was no red carpet and I'm pretty sure the one photographer I hired to capture this for posterity can't really be classified as paparazzi. So, just who, exactly is going to comment on whether or not 2 women wear red dresses?  But, I reminded myself that just because I'm a sarcastic, jaded, so over the hotel banquet small talk, would rather be reading a book on the beach kinda gal doesn't mean there aren't women out there who look at nights like this as opportunities to flaunt their stuff.

Maybe that is part of the problem...not so sure about the stuff I'd be flaunting these days.  But no, pretty sure in this situation that isn't it.  One of the women actually said that since she didn't go to any of her proms, these events every year make up for that emptiness in her past.  Again, really??  I went to more than my share of proms, and I have to say, they really weren't all that exciting.  And, I definitely know there has not been one time, in my ENTIRE life, where I thought "wow, my life is so full because I went to my proms in high school".  Nor, have I ever gone to an event with the idea or expectation it was going to make up for something I was lacking in my life.  Heck, I don't even go to them with the idea I'll meet a date...let alone make up for past hurts.

And, on that note, as I've mentioned, this industry is ripe with women for men to ogle, flirt with or out and out fantasize about, the same can not be said about the men.  They are either old and settled, hot and gay or so quietly introverted you know you'd scare them with a smile.  Maybe I should offer to go plan events for the local electricians' union...hmm...there's a thought. 

Well, all in the all, the event was a success...no aqua-netted woman got too close to the candles; people actually took pictures with the John Wayne cut outs; and I only stabbed myself with one of those dumb cactus plants 5-6 times.  I think I'll call that a win for tonight.

The Hee Haw Hoedown

Most of the time I really like my job...it is fun, challenging, and combines my love of politics with my inner Martha Stewart.  A total win win.  However, that changed this year, when due to circumstances completely out of my control, I inherited an event from another chapter in our statewide organization.  Now, in my industry there are three very distinctive categories of women I get to deal with...2 versions of Prototypes I lovingly call them and then the normal people like me (but we are definitely in the minority).   First you have the newer Silicon Valley version, which comes with Coach bags, 3 inch heels and what must be a very generous signing bonus from a local plastic surgeon as there is no other way to have that much perk and cleavage on every single one of them.  And, then there is category number 2...the more seasoned, across the bridge, never met a can of Aqua Net she didn't like, still believes St. John Knits are made for any body style, make me crazy kind of women.  Now, guess which group dominates the event I have learned to hate. 

Outside of the fact this event takes place in a hotel an hour and a half from my house, on a Thursday night, from 6:30 until who knows when, its biggest flaw, by far, is the theme the committee chose. For starters, unless you are planning a prom, there really is no room for themes in professional events.  I had a hard enough time with a Night in Paris when I was a junior in high school so to now be responsible for a western themed, black tie optional event for 350 people has not been my idea of a good time. 

It is not a surprise to anyone who knows me that I'm a big fan of the South....but by South, I mean Virginia, the Carolinas, Georgia, with a few other states thrown in for good measure.  Texas does not rank in that same level of affection for me...and especially when we are talking about fake Texas.  For 4 months I've endured excruciatingly long meetings and conference calls to discuss how high the cactus should be on the table and where the Bat Masterson (yes, Bat Masterson) cardboard cut outs should go so couples can take pictures with him.  Really?? Did I forget to mention this is an awards program, to honor individuals who have shown exemplary service in their categories for the past year?  Don't sheriff badges and bolo ties just scream elegance and class to you?  But my favorite part of the entire process has been the complete lack of understanding from the committee in regards to having a theme.  "What? You mean people think they can wear jeans just because it is a Western event?" "Of course not!  We can't serve barbecue food. What would people think?"  Hmm...maybe they'd think it was a hoe down...since that is what we have portrayed.  And, what exactly did you think "Dress in Your Best West" meant? 

If I'm being honest though, I'm probably more frustrated with myself as my patience is not nearly as long as I like to say it is.  And, shouldn't every good Martha Stewart rise to the occasion and throw the best darned party ever seen, regardless of the obstacles or wooden horses you have to overcome?  And, really, aren't I more worried about what in the world I am going to wear than anything else?  And, don't worry, there's always next year...Arabian Nights...okay, shoot me now...with a 6 shooter, please.

Sunday night blahs...

When I was younger I used to hate Sunday afternoons...they were always accompanied by this sense of melancholy; even before I knew what that word meant.  And, it wasn't because I was dreading school...I actually loved school...not that I didn't find a time or two in high school to not make it to class.  But that was different; I was a teacher's aide for PE and really, weren't baseball team emergencies much more time sensitive than anything Shakespeare said hundreds of years before?? Well, in my mind they were but this is also why I can never get an English literature question right when we play Trivial Pursuit.  Wait, long tangent there...back to Sundays.

I honestly don't know what it is about a Sunday free of commitments that makes me want to curl up on the couch with a book, a cup of tea and watch movies that are so sickeningly sweet they make your teeth ache...i.e., Sweet Home Alabama, Sleepless in Seattle, Serendipity...you know the ones...the cinematic illustrations of love stories which set your expectations so high nothing short of living those fictitious lives is good enough.  The movies my dad used to rail on for making my sister and I such hopeless romantics...I didn't listen to him during these rants but to this day I have only picked up a National Enquirer once in my life...when I was 7 and waiting for him in a barber shop.  He saw me and flipped out saying no educated daughter of his was going to read that garbage.  Jeesh...no wonder I've spent more on therapy than I have on shoes in my lifetime.  And, really, shoes would have probably been a better investment.

Really, I think it is the image of Sunday family dinners I have, coupled with family back yard football games that brings on a sense of nostalgia for days gone by...or never even existed, maybe.  Or, it could be something as simple as my Sundays are usually full of basketball or football games, that I don't really know what to do when I actually have an afternoon to myself. Maybe that is what I need to work on correcting...and actually there is plenty I could have done...for work, around the house, for a local election I am participating in...but didn't.  I gave myself the afternoon to nap, read and now, feel pooky about it.  That ends now...on this Sunday!

My life is incredibly full...and I like it that way.  So, I am now decreeing Sundays as days full of purpose, initiative, accomplishments...days which involve exercise, laundry, chores...Well...not this Sunday...but maybe next.

First comes love, next comes status update...

Wanting to share with the world your relationship status is nothing new but how we go about doing is definitely not your mother's Oldsmobile...or however that commercial went.  I have very distinctive memories of my best friend and I sporting the baseball caps of the boys we were "going with" when we were in 8th grade.  At the time, it meant he was proud to have you as his girlfriend and wanted the world to know it.  Now, all I can think of is ewww....they wore those hats to every baseball practice and game, sweating, wiping their dirty hands on them and then handing them to us like they were the Hope Diamond, saying "Here, wear this because I love you.".  Because nothing says complete affection like covering your head in sweat and dirt.

Those symbols changed, of course, over time and being handed a lice magnet turned into being given his class ring...which I would then fill with hot wax and imprint with my finger...ignoring the 2nd degree burns I would get by covering my fingers with burning candles...all in the name of love.  But hey, the ring, plus the bandaged covered fingers all screamed "Look at me...I'm no longer single!".  Which, I guess, is something some women need to announce, regardless of their age.

Just recently my former husband's Facebook page popped up with the big announcement...Mr. Wonderful is now in a relationship.  Really?  Because at 41 years old, this is important for 450 of your closest Facebook friends to know why?  And, since this relationship is by no means new, why is this news?  But, he is not alone in these relationship changes.  So, I started to think about this.  If you are not in the under 18 crowd, whose love interests change as often as Lindsey Lohan is in and out of jail/rehab, is there a reason you need to announce your change in relationship status over Facebook? And, really, what is up with the choices you have anyhow...Single, Married, Engaged, In a Relationship or It's Complicated.  I, fortunately, decided long ago to not post my situation at all!  That part of my life is pretty private so, therefore, not to be fodder for my FB posts...ever!!  But, I have several friends who use the single, in a relationship and it's complicated buttons more than I actually frequent Starbucks...and we know how often that is.

When you are above 30, should your public relationship status ever be "it's complicated"?  Isn't that just asking for your mother to sign you up for therapy for life?  And, going from Married or In a Relationship to Single with the touch of a keystroke just doesn't seem right. Is that like flashing a neon sign that says "Open for Business" or is it a call for your girlfriends to converge upon your house with the requisite post break-up tubs of ice cream and cookie dough? 

While I was in college I was secretly intrigued by the sorority ceremonies when a girl's relationship status changed. All the women would stand in a circle and pass around a lit candle and test how many times it went around the circle without one of the sorority sisters blowing it out.  Once with a blow out meant the girl who blew it out had just received a fraternity boy's lavaliere; twice meant she was pinned; and if some lucky co-ed blew out the candle on the 3rd time around it meant she had just become engaged.  Now, as a fraternity little sister and not a sorority member, when I received my lavaliere I think the only comment was "Cool! Does this mean she'll do your laundry now?" My how times have changed....

Well, I guess after 4 years, maybe the girlfriend of the former husband needed this public declaration of their relationship to feel as if she were the girl standing in the circle getting ready to blow out the candle.  The problem is, what is the candle ceremony equivalent of "Facebook says I'm in a relationship"?  Not sure at all about that one...but I do know it meant I needed a drink...especially after my mother was the first one to comment on his new found relationship status....

Karma is proof God has a sense of humor

I was reminded again recently that karma really has a way of amusing those who get to see it in action.  Although I will admit, it is much funnier to watch someone "get what's coming to them" vs. someone being rewarded for their good deeds.  I'm a big believer in karma and think quite often about my actions...well, not just because I don't want to spend eternity having to listen to Rod Stewart & the Greg Kihn band as my penance but hey, let's just say karma plays into my thought process and every once in a while it really does make me laugh.

It was time for my incredibly cute but high maintenance and overly neurotic dog to be groomed.  I'm not exaggerating about the neurosis associated with my 4 legged heart throb as he really is a mess.  As the runt of the litter he was completely terrorized and to this day will shake if anyone new tries to pet him, hold him, or really even look at him.  He spends his time under my legs or on top of me as close as he can get.  While at times his behavior is a little embarrassing (hello, he whimpers at a wooden horse) I will admit I don't mind having a complete Mama's boy.  And, as my dad points out, he completely fits with our family...even my 11 year old son comments about how "special" I am.  Then again, I am the carbon copy of my father, and my son a mini-me so really, they have no room to speak.  Actually, my dad's dog is worse as he has been diagnosed (yes, diagnosed) with separation anxiety so is on medication.  Don't judge, people!

Anyhow, a few friends kept raving about this grooming shop in town where they completely know and love all kinds of animals.  After taking my little guy to PetSmart several times, I thought I'd give this Dog Whisperer a chance.  I made my appointment and was quizzed over the phone about whether or not he was aggressive, had his shots, etc... I explained to the very nice woman on the phone the personality of Dog Wonder but assured her, he is incredibly sweet.  We arrived and I went through the drill with the woman at the counter and immediately warned her not to pick him up right away as, well, he poops when he is scared...truly an example of "scared sh**less". She looked at me funny and asked if I socialize him enough.  "Does he have other dog friends? Have you taken him to experience new environments? Has he seen a counselor?"  Not kidding!!  I, again, went through his life story and reiterated he is just skittish and if you just walk him back on his leash, he'll be fine.  Well, obviously, as the owner of crazy dog, I was not to be trusted, nor did I know a thing. She reached down over the counter and picked up my very shaky, very nervous, very predictable pup and of course yelled "Oh my gosh, he's pooping!!!"  I could barely contain my laughter as I walked out the door, thinking to myself, socialize that, honey!

It truly was a hysterical illustration of karma and one that made me think of another example I'd witnessed not too long ago.  About 3 weeks after I moved out of the home Alex and I shared, he went on a long planned 10 day scuba diving trip to some island in the middle of nowhere with #8 (yes, again, I know, he would have gone on this trip with his mistress even if I hadn't moved out so why did it take me so long...details). I had a knot in my stomach every time I thought about it (which I admit, was quite often) and even went as far to check the weather forecasts for Tropical Island Whatever Paradise for the days they'd be there.  I was not so secretly tickled that it called for rain and wind most of the time (I'm not proud of my glee, but I admit to it) but then just made myself sicker by thinking they then couldn't leave the hotel room...again, remember, this was 3 weeks after I had left the love of my life...I'm allowed a few moments of self torture.  But I guess karma was actually on my side as I soon found out....

At drinks with mutual friends one of them asked if I had heard about Alex... Now, I didn't want anything to happen to him...ever...but this sounded interesting.  Well, it turned out he had gotten sick on the 20 hour plane ride and was actually in a hospital for at least 1/2 of their trip and pretty much out of commission for the remainder of it.  As I was still madly in love with him, at the time, I definitely didn't like the sounds of that until I heard he was okay but then I did get a little internal smile when I heard #8 definitely did not enjoy her first romantic vacation with the man she thought she had won.  My sister couldn't help but think this was truly karma at work...Alex was uncomfortable, thousands of dollars had been spent and #8 missed out on a tan of any kind. Yeah, again, not proud of my petty side but hey, I get a little leeway here, right?

So, next time you are contemplating a decision...really do ponder on whether or not you want to risk being pooped on...just a thought.

Monday morning recap

While I'm sure you were all able to make it through the weekend without knowing about my every move but I did find myself wondering several times what I was going to write about today. Was I going to enthrall you with my stories of back to school shopping with my two children?  Or the crazy fun antics that make up a night of charades (and cocktails) at the family end of summer barbecue?  Were you going to be as ready for a glass of wine as I was after having 5 children under 12 in the house for the night?  And, then I realized, it was all of that...those are the things that make up me...what makes me smile, what makes me happy, what gets me going every day.

I did have time to refelect on a few things while driving this weekend...two kids tend to sleep on car rides so I was left to entertain myself.  First, I have a tendency to put waaaayy too much thought into why someone does or doesn't do something. Cutie probably hasn't checked in because he is young, and really just isn't interested...regardless of how much fun I thought he had.  Alex won't respond to my text because he just can't deal with it any other way...and really, I know him better than anyone in the world, and know he absolutely can not be alone so this is his life...for now.  I haven't been inundated with texts or emails or FB messages from other potential dating material because I haven't put myself out there. 

As much as I know I am attractive, I do still feel I have weight to lose so am self conscious to the point of being less than willing to put myself on the market.  I like that I don't have to ask someone if it is okay that each child had friends over for the night...which meant a pretty full and loud house.  And, while I miss someone to share a glass of wine with over the ruckus, I know I will be very selective about who does get that role. As my 8 year old daughter pointed out to me this weekend..."Momma, you are very picky when it comes to men"...yeah, I guess I am...tall, former athlete looking, likes country music, drives a truck, thinks I'm fabulous...c'mon, that's not too tough.

So...here I am ready to start another week and after realizing this is who and where I am...life is actually pretty good.

She's a little bit Country...

I've said more than once I am a country girl at heart...love men in big trucks, Tim McGraw is the most beautiful face on Earth, ice tea should only come sweetened and I can shoot Jack Daniels with the best of them.However, as I have discovered this past week, there are plenty of things about living in the country that make me cling to my Bloomingdales and champagne side of my personality like a pig to mud.  And, I don't even think my house can entirely be considered out in the sticks considering I can be in a city of a million people in less than 30 minutes.

But considering I'm situated in the middle of 2 1/2 acres and I often have to wait for tractors and horses to pass before I leave in the morning, it is country enough. I've already shared with you my on-going and depressing battle with the gopher on steroids which I continue to lose and now I think he is calling in his Wild Kingdom posse.  No, I haven't been over-run by coyotes which my father was worried about so I guess that is a plus.  But the three ticks I've had to remove from my dog over the past 2 days and the abscess from some weed thing that got stuck in his foot certainly stressed me out as much as any four legged creature would.  I don't do bugs.  And, I never could even stand the site of creepy crawly things on dogs in the past, but here I was getting the nail polish (hey, it kills the little suckers) and tweezers and going to war! 

Following my adventures with the gross and buggy, I set off the water the plants, grass, and trees (which do actually provide fruit so they can stay), only to find the well had gone dry...or at least wasn't feeling the love for me and my green leafed friends.  Grumbling about outdated plumbing in the back 40, I set about trying to piece together all my hoses so they could reach from the house (yes, I do still get some amenities of big city living) and I could still water.   As I reached down to turn on the spigot, I guess I interrupted a nap because a size 7 lizard, came darting out from under the bush and right over my size 7 sandals...(maybe he wasn't exactly a size 7 and ran in front of my feet but the mental image is really just the same).  I screamed of course, and then was mad at myself for not including lizards in my little chant I say EVERY time I go near the fields..."Go away snakes...go away snakes...." and I swear it works because thank God and all that is holy, I haven't seen one of them...YET.

I was just getting ready to pack up my belongings in my Coach bag and retreat to the civilization of the city (or at least Starbucks) when I was reminded why living in the country isn't so bad after all...the very cute but very married nephew of my neighbor pulled up in his big white truck with a delivery of fresh corn and tomatoes from their field across the street...being friendly, caring and asking if there was anything else I needed.  Considering asking him to conjure up a single twin brother was out of the realm of possibility today, I just smiled, said no and walked back into my country home... But with a little bit more of a bounce in my step as I realized once again that "hey, here I am, making it on my own!"

So, then I poured champagne into my Mikasa crystal flute, and toasted the country side of life....

Oil of Olay meet Clearasil

Back when we were forced to watch commercials (in the not to be thought of without shuddering, pre-DVR days), I remember being completely amused by the "Don't mess with Mother Nature" spots...although, I can't for the life of me, remember which margarine company it was for... The idea of some supreme being wreaking havoc on the world over a butter substitute just made me laugh.  However, today, I'm not laughing and I'm not sure if it is Mother Nature, God or some other heavenly creature, who is wreaking havoc on my skin.  And, really, it just doesn't seem fair that my wrinkles have pimples!

As I went through my nightly ritual before going to bed, I had a complete conversation with myself (hey, it is better than talking to the dog) over the various products I put on my face...we have the facial mask to clear you skin of blemishes AND old aging cells, the anti-bacterial toner, the face tightening salve and then the all important moisturizer. I would have thought by the time I hit my 40's my body would have figured out its age...not be stuck in some sort of adolescent meet middle age kind of purgatory.  But really, doesn't that kind of match the feelings I have been having lately.

Aren't I conflicted between being able to make it on my own, and being very proud of myself, and the thought/desire to have someone in my life to share it with?  Didn't I just spend the better part of a week (holy cow!) wondering why I didn't hear from Cutie?  While at the same time, focusing on my job, my home, my vegetables in the back yard?  Welcome to 16 meets me!  And, that is probably my biggest complaint right now...the butterflies in the stomach are one thing...a very welcome reminder that I haven't lost the ability to be attracted to someone else...but the mood swings and emotional roller coaster is something I thought I left when I retired the pom poms and saddle shoes.

Considering these are issues that will need more than one cup of coffee to resolve, I am going to chalk up the ups and downs and the facial explosions to just another lovely side effect of hormones...well, I have to do that considering I also justified inhaling cheese, crackers and a piece of chocolate as the result of carb cravings.  For now, I'll continue to trick my face into thinking it isn't having a midlife crisis and just pour another cup of coffee.