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.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, August 27, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, August 23, 2010
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.
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, August 22, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
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....
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....
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
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.
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, August 16, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, August 13, 2010
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....
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....
Thursday, August 12, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
No texting before coffee
The combination of insomnia, lack of coffee and a multitude of little things which had me in a foul mood led to a rash decision this morning. Okay, a few exaggerations in there as I don't ever really get into foul moods...a little pissy sometimes, a moment of ugh but never really foul...I can't stay mad. It is actually a problem as sometimes people really deserve for me to be mad at them but I can't. Now, it probably helps keep my blood pressure at its abnormally low level but still a little deep seeded anger never really hurt anyone, right? Also, the decision wasn't that rash or even have long term effects but it did make me feel a little better for a few minutes.
As I mentioned, I couldn't sleep last night...it probably had a lot to do with the 32 oz cup of Diet Coke I had a t 3:00 yesterday afternoon but I forgot about that until 12:30 this morning when I was still playing with the remote control and wondering how in the world I lived before DVR. But as I lay there I also ran through various thoughts in my head which were still lingering this morning. Thoughts which had me feeling that pissy tendency I commented on above.
Usually I keep these feelings inside and never let people know how really upset I am...another flaw I know...but it goes along with my whole "everyone has to like me" personality. And, when I say everyone, I mean everyone. I can not stand for people not to like me. I mean, c'mon, how could you not just adore me?! Okay, don't answer that...but it does explain why I don't usually say things if I think it will upset, anger or offend someone. However, this morning I was channeling a little of a few of my more vocal friends and knew I was going to tell someone that they pissed me off.
The question was who. First thought was my mother who insisted on commenting on every single picture, post, or status update on Facebook with something about living in paradise in her Northeast coastal home. Whatever!!! We all know she loves it there, we all know it isn't hot, we all know more than we ever wanted to know about that place. We also all know she can't drink as she comments every time we mention a cocktail...which is a lot! But, I know if I say anything to her, she'll cry and say I'm picking on her. So, what would have been a momentary feeling of release would haunt me for weeks. Okay, Mom is out.
Next on the list was Cutie...how in the world has he not contacted me?! I was fun. I was cute! I was charming! Heck, I was almost downright irresistible! So, how is that he has had no trouble resisting me. But, I quickly quash that insane thought as nothing says call me more than a snippy text from a woman you kissed. Oh yes, that would make him want to call again.
No, I could only think of one person who not only earned but actually deserved a quick piece of my mind...Alex! I knew part of my sour puss attitude was the result of the 8th dwarf now inhabiting the home that had been mine and Alex's failure to realize he had lost the absolute best thing that had ever happened to him. In all honesty, I have really decided I wouldn't want him back and know, deep down, I made the absolute best choice in leaving. But, my ego was at play this morning so off went a 158 character text that, for me, was pretty harsh. Granted, I said sorry in the verbiage of the text so it was no where near harsh by any other standards but for me, I felt a little better. Of course he didn't respond nor will he ever but I was able to tell him I hated that I lost the best friend I ever had and also let him know I was moving on.
So, after hitting send and then driving to Starbucks for my happiness in a green and white cup, I actually felt much better. And, am now back to my non hormonal, non pissy, cheerleader happy self! Phew....now I can go back to making sure everyone likes me.
As I mentioned, I couldn't sleep last night...it probably had a lot to do with the 32 oz cup of Diet Coke I had a t 3:00 yesterday afternoon but I forgot about that until 12:30 this morning when I was still playing with the remote control and wondering how in the world I lived before DVR. But as I lay there I also ran through various thoughts in my head which were still lingering this morning. Thoughts which had me feeling that pissy tendency I commented on above.
Usually I keep these feelings inside and never let people know how really upset I am...another flaw I know...but it goes along with my whole "everyone has to like me" personality. And, when I say everyone, I mean everyone. I can not stand for people not to like me. I mean, c'mon, how could you not just adore me?! Okay, don't answer that...but it does explain why I don't usually say things if I think it will upset, anger or offend someone. However, this morning I was channeling a little of a few of my more vocal friends and knew I was going to tell someone that they pissed me off.
The question was who. First thought was my mother who insisted on commenting on every single picture, post, or status update on Facebook with something about living in paradise in her Northeast coastal home. Whatever!!! We all know she loves it there, we all know it isn't hot, we all know more than we ever wanted to know about that place. We also all know she can't drink as she comments every time we mention a cocktail...which is a lot! But, I know if I say anything to her, she'll cry and say I'm picking on her. So, what would have been a momentary feeling of release would haunt me for weeks. Okay, Mom is out.
Next on the list was Cutie...how in the world has he not contacted me?! I was fun. I was cute! I was charming! Heck, I was almost downright irresistible! So, how is that he has had no trouble resisting me. But, I quickly quash that insane thought as nothing says call me more than a snippy text from a woman you kissed. Oh yes, that would make him want to call again.
No, I could only think of one person who not only earned but actually deserved a quick piece of my mind...Alex! I knew part of my sour puss attitude was the result of the 8th dwarf now inhabiting the home that had been mine and Alex's failure to realize he had lost the absolute best thing that had ever happened to him. In all honesty, I have really decided I wouldn't want him back and know, deep down, I made the absolute best choice in leaving. But, my ego was at play this morning so off went a 158 character text that, for me, was pretty harsh. Granted, I said sorry in the verbiage of the text so it was no where near harsh by any other standards but for me, I felt a little better. Of course he didn't respond nor will he ever but I was able to tell him I hated that I lost the best friend I ever had and also let him know I was moving on.
So, after hitting send and then driving to Starbucks for my happiness in a green and white cup, I actually felt much better. And, am now back to my non hormonal, non pissy, cheerleader happy self! Phew....now I can go back to making sure everyone likes me.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Dress Dilemma
I was reminded again this morning why I like work from home Thursdays...I can wear shorts, sweats, heck pajamas if I really want to and no one cares. Well, my kids might care if I actually picked them up from school in my pj's and fluffy robe but otherwise it is a day free of wardrobe stress.
Today, unfortunately, was not a Thursday so after my shower (with warm water today) I put on the dress I had laid out the night before (yes, I have always picked out the clothes at night...to ward off the morning rush and what do I wear drama). Well, today the dress fit all wrong...I think the miles of riding my bike to nowhere are finally paying off a little but in the wrong places. While my chest has never been known to stop traffic, today there were two big poofy spots where there used to at least be a little action. But, of course, my booty still had no trouble filling up its spot in the office version of the "little black dress" so to avoid feeling like I needed a "Caution - wide load" sign all day, I went for a pretty shapeless blue sundress. However, one look in the mirror and I was reminded of a housecoat worn by women in the movies with one cigarette hanging out of their mouth and old floppy slippers. Fine...back to the closet I go.
Now, you have all read that I have more clothes than one closet can hold so you would think dressing would not be such an issue. But, there are obstacles to overcome...first, I can't break into the Fall section of the closet yet as it is still Summer; 2nd, I am no where near fitting into the vast majority of my cute capris and tank tops as the butt isn't going into one and my arms flapping around in the other just isn't pretty; and three I work in an office with 5 people so going for the full business suit is beyond inappropriate.
The more important question here is probably Why do I care?! I just mentioned I work in a small office...with people I really like but don't actually need to impress with my cuteness factor...so why the dilemma. There are probably many reasons why...all of which would keep a therapist busy for months but the reason I'm going with today is I need to feel attractive...As much as I don't like to admit I have that need...I do. I need to know, that while I have a brain that may not be NASA worthy, it is pretty darn quick, and that my looks aren't bad either. Yes, I know my family and friends will all answer with the obligatory "of course, you're attractive"...right now, today, I needed the mirror to agree. Well, really, I want some rich attractive guy to agree but he wasn't living in my mirror.
Outfit #3, blue dress that actually accentuated the booty and highlighted the eyes and blond hair was the winner...and, gave me the swagger I needed today...and can get me through to Thursday when I am happy to be in sweats!
Today, unfortunately, was not a Thursday so after my shower (with warm water today) I put on the dress I had laid out the night before (yes, I have always picked out the clothes at night...to ward off the morning rush and what do I wear drama). Well, today the dress fit all wrong...I think the miles of riding my bike to nowhere are finally paying off a little but in the wrong places. While my chest has never been known to stop traffic, today there were two big poofy spots where there used to at least be a little action. But, of course, my booty still had no trouble filling up its spot in the office version of the "little black dress" so to avoid feeling like I needed a "Caution - wide load" sign all day, I went for a pretty shapeless blue sundress. However, one look in the mirror and I was reminded of a housecoat worn by women in the movies with one cigarette hanging out of their mouth and old floppy slippers. Fine...back to the closet I go.
Now, you have all read that I have more clothes than one closet can hold so you would think dressing would not be such an issue. But, there are obstacles to overcome...first, I can't break into the Fall section of the closet yet as it is still Summer; 2nd, I am no where near fitting into the vast majority of my cute capris and tank tops as the butt isn't going into one and my arms flapping around in the other just isn't pretty; and three I work in an office with 5 people so going for the full business suit is beyond inappropriate.
The more important question here is probably Why do I care?! I just mentioned I work in a small office...with people I really like but don't actually need to impress with my cuteness factor...so why the dilemma. There are probably many reasons why...all of which would keep a therapist busy for months but the reason I'm going with today is I need to feel attractive...As much as I don't like to admit I have that need...I do. I need to know, that while I have a brain that may not be NASA worthy, it is pretty darn quick, and that my looks aren't bad either. Yes, I know my family and friends will all answer with the obligatory "of course, you're attractive"...right now, today, I needed the mirror to agree. Well, really, I want some rich attractive guy to agree but he wasn't living in my mirror.
Outfit #3, blue dress that actually accentuated the booty and highlighted the eyes and blond hair was the winner...and, gave me the swagger I needed today...and can get me through to Thursday when I am happy to be in sweats!
Monday, August 9, 2010
Manic Monday
While the annoyingly catchy GoGo's 80's tune is what is going through my head as I write this, I have to admit the start of the week seemed less cutesy and more Ozzy Osbourne'ish. But, hey, it's Monday...what are you gonna do?
So, I get up this morning (after hitting the snooze button a modest 2 times) and actually don't mind getting on the exercise bike. After 20 minutes of pedaling to the antics of my favorite Sex and the City gals, I hop off and am ready to shower and start my week. Unfortunately the hot water heater had other plans as there was no hot water to be found. This has happened once before and my very friendly father-in-law fixed it and showed my 11 year old son how to restart the pilot light. Of course, neither were there this morning so it was me in a towel and my ever so helpful pup who ventured into the garage to show the water heater who was boss. 15 minutes of reading instructions, trying to follow the pictures and praying I didn't blow up the house and I went back inside to take a cold shower...obviously being shown that I was, by no means, the Boss!
Still shivering from my dip into the Arctic waters of my shower (yes, I'm exaggerating just a tad but it was 6:30 in the morning and the shower was cold!) I went outside to water the plants and count how many tomatoes have actually turned red this year (current count is about 6). The first thing I notice, however, are the mounds of dirt dotting the backyard like little bunkers for the toy soldiers my son used to play with. Knowing it is the fine work of the gopher who has been tormenting me for weeks just adds to the morning fun.
I've known I had a gopher (or a full gopher army) for a few months...ever since I saw one lumbering across my patio one night...sending both me and the dog into conniptions for a bit. Of course, since my dog is completely neurotic and is actually scared of a wooden horse at my in-laws, knew he was going to be no help. My landlord was kind enough to show me how to use this silver trap contraption but with the instructions the trap doesn't always kill the gopher so be ready to hit it over the head with a shovel. Excuse me?!? While I am, by no means, a fan of the gopher, and was always rooting for Bill Murray in Caddyshack, actually smashing one in the head was an entirely different story. But today, I was mad and figured it would be like that Whack-a-mole game that my kids like to play at the arcade.
So, off I went in search of that magic trap. After moving pots and dirt and all kinds of garden equipment I was sure I needed to live in the country, I found it...all the while mumbling about not being outsmarted by some over sized rodent with a weight problem. Once again, spoke too soon as I could not for the life of me, figure out how to set the stupid trap. Considering it had two sharp spikes on one end, and a spring mechanism on the other, I figured puncturing myself would not have added to my morning...especially considering I had no hot water to ward off infection... Throwing down the trap in disgust, because I absolutely hate not being smarter than a piece of metal, I vowed to clear out Orchard Supply of every bomb, trap, poison they had as that gopher was not getting the best of me!
While the morning definitely does not lead me to believe this week is going to be full of sunshine and roses, I am energized and ready to take on the world...just don't ask me to set a trap to make it happen.
So, I get up this morning (after hitting the snooze button a modest 2 times) and actually don't mind getting on the exercise bike. After 20 minutes of pedaling to the antics of my favorite Sex and the City gals, I hop off and am ready to shower and start my week. Unfortunately the hot water heater had other plans as there was no hot water to be found. This has happened once before and my very friendly father-in-law fixed it and showed my 11 year old son how to restart the pilot light. Of course, neither were there this morning so it was me in a towel and my ever so helpful pup who ventured into the garage to show the water heater who was boss. 15 minutes of reading instructions, trying to follow the pictures and praying I didn't blow up the house and I went back inside to take a cold shower...obviously being shown that I was, by no means, the Boss!
Still shivering from my dip into the Arctic waters of my shower (yes, I'm exaggerating just a tad but it was 6:30 in the morning and the shower was cold!) I went outside to water the plants and count how many tomatoes have actually turned red this year (current count is about 6). The first thing I notice, however, are the mounds of dirt dotting the backyard like little bunkers for the toy soldiers my son used to play with. Knowing it is the fine work of the gopher who has been tormenting me for weeks just adds to the morning fun.
I've known I had a gopher (or a full gopher army) for a few months...ever since I saw one lumbering across my patio one night...sending both me and the dog into conniptions for a bit. Of course, since my dog is completely neurotic and is actually scared of a wooden horse at my in-laws, knew he was going to be no help. My landlord was kind enough to show me how to use this silver trap contraption but with the instructions the trap doesn't always kill the gopher so be ready to hit it over the head with a shovel. Excuse me?!? While I am, by no means, a fan of the gopher, and was always rooting for Bill Murray in Caddyshack, actually smashing one in the head was an entirely different story. But today, I was mad and figured it would be like that Whack-a-mole game that my kids like to play at the arcade.
So, off I went in search of that magic trap. After moving pots and dirt and all kinds of garden equipment I was sure I needed to live in the country, I found it...all the while mumbling about not being outsmarted by some over sized rodent with a weight problem. Once again, spoke too soon as I could not for the life of me, figure out how to set the stupid trap. Considering it had two sharp spikes on one end, and a spring mechanism on the other, I figured puncturing myself would not have added to my morning...especially considering I had no hot water to ward off infection... Throwing down the trap in disgust, because I absolutely hate not being smarter than a piece of metal, I vowed to clear out Orchard Supply of every bomb, trap, poison they had as that gopher was not getting the best of me!
While the morning definitely does not lead me to believe this week is going to be full of sunshine and roses, I am energized and ready to take on the world...just don't ask me to set a trap to make it happen.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Patience is not my strongest virtue
So, it has been 36 hours and 50 minutes since I said good night to Cutie and, well, have heard nothing from him. I sent him the obligatory "Got home safely. Thanks again" text when I arrived at home Friday night but since then, no communication. Yes, I know, I'm being ridiculous! But please remember, I'm rusty at this...I used to go out for drinks with the same man I came home with and didn't worry about whether or not he'd call. Now, obviously I had plenty of other things to worry about with him...like who else he was calling...but that is not the point today.
There needs to be a manual for women over 35 who have decided to wade into the dating waters again. Maybe decide isn't the right word as I'm not sure too many women would actually choose to go through this nonsense but, for future company and possible booty call purposes, this is a decision made of necessity. But really, there should be guidelines to follow so you know when to start wondering:
24 hours with no contact - no worries...acceptable period with no interaction
48 hours - well, maybe he had a super busy weekend and forgot to charge his phone
4 days - you were not nearly as impressive as you thought...or he was abducted by aliens.
Anyhow, you get the point...but nothing like this exists!
And, to make matters worse, my subconscious is being mean to me as two nights in a row now, I've had a dream about Alex. It is like my brain isn't quite ready to let me forget about him. Fortunately, I don't really put a lot of stock into what dreams mean...outside of I obviously need to have a glass of wine before bed now. But, it has been enough to make me wake up each day and worry that this is how I will continue to feel for a while!
Well, I'm a completely annoying glass is always more than half full kinda gal, so I'm going to turn up the radio, go for a walk with a girlfriend this morning, and remind myself that while I can't believe he wouldn't have been totally enthralled by me, the important thing is I went out, I had fun and I proved I can do it. Okay, now kicking my iPod into full gear.
There needs to be a manual for women over 35 who have decided to wade into the dating waters again. Maybe decide isn't the right word as I'm not sure too many women would actually choose to go through this nonsense but, for future company and possible booty call purposes, this is a decision made of necessity. But really, there should be guidelines to follow so you know when to start wondering:
24 hours with no contact - no worries...acceptable period with no interaction
48 hours - well, maybe he had a super busy weekend and forgot to charge his phone
4 days - you were not nearly as impressive as you thought...or he was abducted by aliens.
Anyhow, you get the point...but nothing like this exists!
And, to make matters worse, my subconscious is being mean to me as two nights in a row now, I've had a dream about Alex. It is like my brain isn't quite ready to let me forget about him. Fortunately, I don't really put a lot of stock into what dreams mean...outside of I obviously need to have a glass of wine before bed now. But, it has been enough to make me wake up each day and worry that this is how I will continue to feel for a while!
Well, I'm a completely annoying glass is always more than half full kinda gal, so I'm going to turn up the radio, go for a walk with a girlfriend this morning, and remind myself that while I can't believe he wouldn't have been totally enthralled by me, the important thing is I went out, I had fun and I proved I can do it. Okay, now kicking my iPod into full gear.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Yea Team!!
1 hour later and I'm still smiling...that is a good sign, right? Oh yeah, in case you haven't kept up, tonight was drinks with Cutie! So, while I almost backed out on the short drive North, I was talked off the ledge by my younger but very wise sister who pretty much told me I was going and that was that. I arrived a few minutes early, big shocker as I'm never late to anything and proceeded to find a place at the bar. My stomach actually hurt I was so nervous. Who knows why! I am 41 years old, have no trouble speaking to crowds of hundreds/thousands of people, am pretty confident but the thought of having to be impressive and witty and wow him with my charm was almost too much.
He texted to say he was going to be a few minutes late so I ordered a drink and waited for it to kick in and calm my nerves. Within minutes of his arrival all of my fears went out the window and I just got to be myself...and that isn't a bad person to be. Two drinks and four hours of laughing and talking later and we finally decided to call it a night. He was cynical, smart, sarcastic, funny...and, of course, as adorable as I remembered so really, what was I so concerned about. Oh yeah, he's still almost 10 years younger but we'll just ignore that fact for now. We'll just focus on the fact he seemed genuinely happy to see me and we covered every topic under the sun...and again, were there for four hours! He didn't even notice the uneven tan lines on my face...bonus!!
Now, the tough part...making myself not be a chick! Do not wonder if he's going to call! Do not psychoanalyze every little comment. Just enjoy the night out. Just relish the knowledge that not once during that time did you wish you were sitting with Alex instead. And, really, only when I was driving home, did I think of him...and then it was in a witchy sort of way..."Wow, Cutie really is cute...and, well, the 8th dwarf isn't".
Again, who knows if I'll ever hear from him again...but, really, it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things...I had a great time...laughed, smiled....and....even got a good night kiss out of the deal. And right now, that is really enough to make me happy.
He texted to say he was going to be a few minutes late so I ordered a drink and waited for it to kick in and calm my nerves. Within minutes of his arrival all of my fears went out the window and I just got to be myself...and that isn't a bad person to be. Two drinks and four hours of laughing and talking later and we finally decided to call it a night. He was cynical, smart, sarcastic, funny...and, of course, as adorable as I remembered so really, what was I so concerned about. Oh yeah, he's still almost 10 years younger but we'll just ignore that fact for now. We'll just focus on the fact he seemed genuinely happy to see me and we covered every topic under the sun...and again, were there for four hours! He didn't even notice the uneven tan lines on my face...bonus!!
Now, the tough part...making myself not be a chick! Do not wonder if he's going to call! Do not psychoanalyze every little comment. Just enjoy the night out. Just relish the knowledge that not once during that time did you wish you were sitting with Alex instead. And, really, only when I was driving home, did I think of him...and then it was in a witchy sort of way..."Wow, Cutie really is cute...and, well, the 8th dwarf isn't".
Again, who knows if I'll ever hear from him again...but, really, it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things...I had a great time...laughed, smiled....and....even got a good night kiss out of the deal. And right now, that is really enough to make me happy.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Why attention to detail is so important
As you've figured out by now, I'm prone to confessions at times. Not that I have that much to confess to as I spend most of my time with my kids and my dog...unless you count polishing off a bag of jelly beans in 2 days as a confession-able act. It was a small bag however and they're fruit flavored so it really is almost like eating health food. Oh yeah, justification is something I should confess to as well.
Anyhow, my actual transgression...I like to be tan. I like the way I look in white and black clothes when I have a tan. I think my face looks younger. And, probably even more important than anything else, I swear being tan cuts off about 5 pounds. And, right now, I could use that assistance. But, how I tan has definitely changed over the years.
While I never was one to slather on the baby oil and lay on aluminum foil (mostly because I got waaayyy too bored), I used to love to put a raft in our pool and float the day away. But, having 2 kids with lives of their own meant my pretend lady of leisure time was pretty limited. So, I started tanning (yes in the horrible baker beds) and would often use that as mid day naps. I had it timed so I could start my music, fall asleep as soon as the blue light came on and wake up feeling refreshed and a few shades darker.
But, after seeing numerous pictures of women who looked like they had replaced their faces with worn out leathered saddles as they aged, I decided I was done with the fake and bake.I was cautious as I did not want to look like Ross (yes, another Friends' analogy) during his pumpkin phase, so was very leery about the entire spray tan concept. However, I reminded myself yet again, that was a fictional television show and really, how hard could the entire thing be? I mean don't you just stand and turn, stand and turn? So, after a friend raved about her experience I decided to give it a spin or, spray I guess.
I was impressed! In a matter of 10 minutes I actually looked like I had spent the week in the islands and I didn't look orange. My face was a little tanner than I would have liked but after a day it faded to a really nice glow. So one might think after a few times of knowing the drill, I wouldn't be able to screw it up. But yet, on my last visit (the one to make sure I was glowing, youthful and 5 pounds lighter for drinks Friday night) I must not have been paying attention to the pre game warm up...especially the part about where the hair net should meet your skin. The part that said, make sure it is right below your hair line. The very important instruction that avoids having a centimeter path of much lighter skin between my hair and the beautiful glow of Level #2 on the spray machine! I almost fell over when I got home!
Yet, don't freak out too much...after 2 days of washing my face, layering that tiny track with self tanning spray and well, a little make up and, fortunately I think I can get away with it. Also, bars have bad lighting for a reason...reasons that are usually a little more pronounced than my uneven tan lines. So, while I'm obviously going to revisit my check list before hitting the ever so important start button, I am hoping Cutie will be too enchanted (okay, a little strong), sort of interested with how hot I look in my cute white sundress to notice most of my face has been in Hawaii while that little oval didn't make the flight.
Anyhow, my actual transgression...I like to be tan. I like the way I look in white and black clothes when I have a tan. I think my face looks younger. And, probably even more important than anything else, I swear being tan cuts off about 5 pounds. And, right now, I could use that assistance. But, how I tan has definitely changed over the years.
While I never was one to slather on the baby oil and lay on aluminum foil (mostly because I got waaayyy too bored), I used to love to put a raft in our pool and float the day away. But, having 2 kids with lives of their own meant my pretend lady of leisure time was pretty limited. So, I started tanning (yes in the horrible baker beds) and would often use that as mid day naps. I had it timed so I could start my music, fall asleep as soon as the blue light came on and wake up feeling refreshed and a few shades darker.
But, after seeing numerous pictures of women who looked like they had replaced their faces with worn out leathered saddles as they aged, I decided I was done with the fake and bake.I was cautious as I did not want to look like Ross (yes, another Friends' analogy) during his pumpkin phase, so was very leery about the entire spray tan concept. However, I reminded myself yet again, that was a fictional television show and really, how hard could the entire thing be? I mean don't you just stand and turn, stand and turn? So, after a friend raved about her experience I decided to give it a spin or, spray I guess.
I was impressed! In a matter of 10 minutes I actually looked like I had spent the week in the islands and I didn't look orange. My face was a little tanner than I would have liked but after a day it faded to a really nice glow. So one might think after a few times of knowing the drill, I wouldn't be able to screw it up. But yet, on my last visit (the one to make sure I was glowing, youthful and 5 pounds lighter for drinks Friday night) I must not have been paying attention to the pre game warm up...especially the part about where the hair net should meet your skin. The part that said, make sure it is right below your hair line. The very important instruction that avoids having a centimeter path of much lighter skin between my hair and the beautiful glow of Level #2 on the spray machine! I almost fell over when I got home!
Yet, don't freak out too much...after 2 days of washing my face, layering that tiny track with self tanning spray and well, a little make up and, fortunately I think I can get away with it. Also, bars have bad lighting for a reason...reasons that are usually a little more pronounced than my uneven tan lines. So, while I'm obviously going to revisit my check list before hitting the ever so important start button, I am hoping Cutie will be too enchanted (okay, a little strong), sort of interested with how hot I look in my cute white sundress to notice most of my face has been in Hawaii while that little oval didn't make the flight.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
The Break Up Queen
There was a Friends' episode (yes, there are so many situations in life where a Friends' reference is appropriate) where Phoebe did Chandler's break up for him because she was good at breaking some one's heart and then having them walk away feeling okay. I, too, am break up royalty...not for the same reasons however, but because mine are usually very memorable.
A co-worker today was encouraging me to make another trip to Maui soon as I need to exorcise my last trip from my psyche. No one should think Maui=break-up...the tourism bureau would not be okay with that image at all. So he and I laughed about the trip for a minute and I said something to the effect of "Yeah, no Cheeseburgers in Paradise for me this time." and he was shocked. I guess I'd never given the full story of how over beers and burgers in a restaurant named after Jimmy Buffet's love of the islands, Alex said to me "Yeah, I've been sleeping with her. Now what?" I remember thinking wow, had I known this is how we were going to start our week in Hawaii, I probably would have ordered something stronger than a beer. Tequila, anyone? But, really, as I've mentioned, I wasn't surprised...I was just shocked by when and where. Should I have told the waiter that he probably shouldn't seat anyone in that table for a bit as there might have been a curse? Did the family next to us, discussing who had the worse sunburn, know they could have just witnessed the strangest confession ever? "Can I have a bite of that? And, by the way, I'm really not attracted to her but don't you understand my predicament?" They could have told their friends in whatever flyover state they were from all about it. However, as I relayed this story to my sister later in the day, I thought to myself, well, at least this time there was no natural disaster to add to the fun.
Right after college, I moved to California for what was to be a 6 month stay on this coast before moving to Charleston, South Carolina with a good Southern Boy who I had dated for the past 3 and a half years. He was a former football player, in medical school and thought I was pretty amazing. But I was 23, and must have known deep down that he would have let me get away with murder and well, that is never a good thing for me. However, I didn't know how to tell him so I let him fly to CA so we could drive back across the country together...for days...and through the vastness of the Mid West...to our new life together. In hindsight, a phone call giving him a heads up probably would have been better as I started to cry minutes after we left the airport...and those tears turned into full on hysterics as I imagined getting to the heart of Texas when I realized I couldn't go any further. I remember singing Red Hot Chili Peppers songs as loud as I could to distract me from the pit in my stomach. It wasn't that I didn't love Dr. South but I knew I wasn't ready for forever...and I really did know I'd hurt him eventually. So, about 8 hours into the drive, in the middle of the CA desert I told him we needed to stop for the night. In a cheap motel room, after a dinner of fried diner food, I spilled my soul. After lots of tears we finished off the poor supply of hotel tissues and we both decided to just call it a night. 4 hours later, with the lamp shaking and the bed moving underneath us, we awoke to a 6.5 earthquake...fortunately centered miles away from nothing but enough to jolt us out of bed. He turned to me with a look that said he understood and I got on the phone, bought him a plane ticket and he flew home the next day. He is not a Facebook friend, by the way...never really got over my decision or my timing.
Maybe I should come with a warning label...kind of like a disclosure so men know what they are getting into...Caution: break ups can be accompanied by ruined vacations or Richter scale rocking shaking.
A co-worker today was encouraging me to make another trip to Maui soon as I need to exorcise my last trip from my psyche. No one should think Maui=break-up...the tourism bureau would not be okay with that image at all. So he and I laughed about the trip for a minute and I said something to the effect of "Yeah, no Cheeseburgers in Paradise for me this time." and he was shocked. I guess I'd never given the full story of how over beers and burgers in a restaurant named after Jimmy Buffet's love of the islands, Alex said to me "Yeah, I've been sleeping with her. Now what?" I remember thinking wow, had I known this is how we were going to start our week in Hawaii, I probably would have ordered something stronger than a beer. Tequila, anyone? But, really, as I've mentioned, I wasn't surprised...I was just shocked by when and where. Should I have told the waiter that he probably shouldn't seat anyone in that table for a bit as there might have been a curse? Did the family next to us, discussing who had the worse sunburn, know they could have just witnessed the strangest confession ever? "Can I have a bite of that? And, by the way, I'm really not attracted to her but don't you understand my predicament?" They could have told their friends in whatever flyover state they were from all about it. However, as I relayed this story to my sister later in the day, I thought to myself, well, at least this time there was no natural disaster to add to the fun.
Right after college, I moved to California for what was to be a 6 month stay on this coast before moving to Charleston, South Carolina with a good Southern Boy who I had dated for the past 3 and a half years. He was a former football player, in medical school and thought I was pretty amazing. But I was 23, and must have known deep down that he would have let me get away with murder and well, that is never a good thing for me. However, I didn't know how to tell him so I let him fly to CA so we could drive back across the country together...for days...and through the vastness of the Mid West...to our new life together. In hindsight, a phone call giving him a heads up probably would have been better as I started to cry minutes after we left the airport...and those tears turned into full on hysterics as I imagined getting to the heart of Texas when I realized I couldn't go any further. I remember singing Red Hot Chili Peppers songs as loud as I could to distract me from the pit in my stomach. It wasn't that I didn't love Dr. South but I knew I wasn't ready for forever...and I really did know I'd hurt him eventually. So, about 8 hours into the drive, in the middle of the CA desert I told him we needed to stop for the night. In a cheap motel room, after a dinner of fried diner food, I spilled my soul. After lots of tears we finished off the poor supply of hotel tissues and we both decided to just call it a night. 4 hours later, with the lamp shaking and the bed moving underneath us, we awoke to a 6.5 earthquake...fortunately centered miles away from nothing but enough to jolt us out of bed. He turned to me with a look that said he understood and I got on the phone, bought him a plane ticket and he flew home the next day. He is not a Facebook friend, by the way...never really got over my decision or my timing.
Maybe I should come with a warning label...kind of like a disclosure so men know what they are getting into...Caution: break ups can be accompanied by ruined vacations or Richter scale rocking shaking.
Monday, August 2, 2010
The Randomness of my life...
So as I was thinking about what global issue I was going to address tonight...world peace, the oil rig spill, who's going to win the World Series...okay, who am I kidding? I write about fluff...the silly things which encounter a 40+ vertically challenged, little poofy (yes that is a cute way of saying 15 pounds overweight), single mom in CA...But today, it is even more random than that...here is just a spattering of what goes on in this scary brain of mine...really if I could sell tickets to visit my brain, money would never be an issue again.
Would someone please explain to me why after walking 2.5 miles of hills I just came home and inhaled 10 yogurt covered pretzels??? And then I wonder why my size 6's laugh at me when I go into the closet...Heck the 8's and some of the 10's join in the cackles quite often. If I really think I'm making it back into competition sizes I should probably pay a little more attention to these things. I have already decided wine counts as a fruit so there are only so many areas of wiggle room left.
Next, I guess Friday is the day for drinks with the cutie...which now means two problems. One, where to meet? Someplace fun yet not Chuck E. Cheese fun...Someplace casual but not Chili's. I would like a beach front bar with outdoor seating and great tropical drinks. Oh yeah, don't live at the beach so may have to settle for some place with outdoor dining and a heat lamp. Second problem...what to wear?!? He's only seen me in jeans so thinking cute sun dress but can't come off like I'm trying too hard. And, does that scream "Yes, I'm 41 but look at me trying to act 31?"
Finally, my daughter asked me today how old I was when I had my first kiss...dang that "My first kiss" song! I didn't want to lie but 13 seemed a little young...especially since we are always pushing 15 at least for her. So, I told her the truth...and then she asked who and wanted the history for the next few years. Fortunately, she got bored after #2 so I didn't have to do a whole lot of explaining but still...will she then turn on me in a few years when I am giving her the talk about going slow and protecting her heart? Actually, I really think she was more interested in the fact that she had met boyfriend #1's mother and she had given her a Popsicle. Really, what is more important than that?!
All this and it is only 9:00. No wonder I'm exhausted. Good thing I don't actually have real problems or I'd be a mess!
Would someone please explain to me why after walking 2.5 miles of hills I just came home and inhaled 10 yogurt covered pretzels??? And then I wonder why my size 6's laugh at me when I go into the closet...Heck the 8's and some of the 10's join in the cackles quite often. If I really think I'm making it back into competition sizes I should probably pay a little more attention to these things. I have already decided wine counts as a fruit so there are only so many areas of wiggle room left.
Next, I guess Friday is the day for drinks with the cutie...which now means two problems. One, where to meet? Someplace fun yet not Chuck E. Cheese fun...Someplace casual but not Chili's. I would like a beach front bar with outdoor seating and great tropical drinks. Oh yeah, don't live at the beach so may have to settle for some place with outdoor dining and a heat lamp. Second problem...what to wear?!? He's only seen me in jeans so thinking cute sun dress but can't come off like I'm trying too hard. And, does that scream "Yes, I'm 41 but look at me trying to act 31?"
Finally, my daughter asked me today how old I was when I had my first kiss...dang that "My first kiss" song! I didn't want to lie but 13 seemed a little young...especially since we are always pushing 15 at least for her. So, I told her the truth...and then she asked who and wanted the history for the next few years. Fortunately, she got bored after #2 so I didn't have to do a whole lot of explaining but still...will she then turn on me in a few years when I am giving her the talk about going slow and protecting her heart? Actually, I really think she was more interested in the fact that she had met boyfriend #1's mother and she had given her a Popsicle. Really, what is more important than that?!
All this and it is only 9:00. No wonder I'm exhausted. Good thing I don't actually have real problems or I'd be a mess!
Sunday, August 1, 2010
The Waiting Game
The kids and I watched Leap Year over the weekend and while the movie won't get an Academy Award anytime soon, I laughed and found it cute...I also found it a little intriguing. Even as someone who appreciates tradition, I do sometimes wonder if the paradigm has shifted and now it is more than just acceptable for a woman to ask out a man, it is often just how it's done. And, in this new era of the single me, I'm really not sure how I feel about that.
On one side, you don't have to sit home wondering "Is he going to call? Why doesn't he call? Oh, forget it; he's never going to call." and just make the first call yourself. But, then again, does that mean he isn't as interested because you had to make the move? If he really wanted to go out for coffee, drinks, dinner...wouldn't he have just asked? Can you tell how not into this re-entry into the dating world I am? This is harder than picking a bathing suit each dreaded beach season...and we all know how hard that is!
So, this isn't just a random rant but an actual thought process I have going on right now. First, my little cutie and I exchanged text messages last week (oh my gosh I feel 16...and not in a good way) with the tentative plan of going out for drinks Friday. But, the ball is now in his court as he was going to double check timing and let me know when and where. Which means now, I am in the unenviable position of waiting for his call or text...although I have to admit I've already had stomach aches trying to figure out what in the world I will wear that makes me look 10 pounds lighter, 5 years younger and adorable. Neither situation makes me jump and down mind you...
Now, please switch channels to the cute electrician (narrow it down to the brother of my friend) and without thinking I've decided to visit the slutty side of the street, let's remember I haven't gone on a date in well...hmm...I can't remember. Anyhow, I did see him again last week at a gathering of friends and this time got another smile and even a few laughs...but again no request for the all important phone number. So, for now I am left to hope for unintentional bump ins at the grocery store, Starbucks or maybe my friend's house...Again, this is why 40+ year old women should not be thrust back into the dating arena...we have no idea what we are doing!
As I finish the last of my Sunday night preparations (yes, I am a little anal about organizing), these are the things I think about. In the middle of work, taking kids to camps, practices, cooking, cleaning, etc... I will now also be wondering why he did or didn't call...lovely!
On one side, you don't have to sit home wondering "Is he going to call? Why doesn't he call? Oh, forget it; he's never going to call." and just make the first call yourself. But, then again, does that mean he isn't as interested because you had to make the move? If he really wanted to go out for coffee, drinks, dinner...wouldn't he have just asked? Can you tell how not into this re-entry into the dating world I am? This is harder than picking a bathing suit each dreaded beach season...and we all know how hard that is!
So, this isn't just a random rant but an actual thought process I have going on right now. First, my little cutie and I exchanged text messages last week (oh my gosh I feel 16...and not in a good way) with the tentative plan of going out for drinks Friday. But, the ball is now in his court as he was going to double check timing and let me know when and where. Which means now, I am in the unenviable position of waiting for his call or text...although I have to admit I've already had stomach aches trying to figure out what in the world I will wear that makes me look 10 pounds lighter, 5 years younger and adorable. Neither situation makes me jump and down mind you...
Now, please switch channels to the cute electrician (narrow it down to the brother of my friend) and without thinking I've decided to visit the slutty side of the street, let's remember I haven't gone on a date in well...hmm...I can't remember. Anyhow, I did see him again last week at a gathering of friends and this time got another smile and even a few laughs...but again no request for the all important phone number. So, for now I am left to hope for unintentional bump ins at the grocery store, Starbucks or maybe my friend's house...Again, this is why 40+ year old women should not be thrust back into the dating arena...we have no idea what we are doing!
As I finish the last of my Sunday night preparations (yes, I am a little anal about organizing), these are the things I think about. In the middle of work, taking kids to camps, practices, cooking, cleaning, etc... I will now also be wondering why he did or didn't call...lovely!
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