One of my strongest (and favorite) memories of my paternal grandmother is her cookie drawer. There were always cookies (Mother’s frosted oatmeal raisin) in the 3rd drawer next to the refrigerator. It was low enough that I could get to it whenever I wanted…and if you see pictures of me as a baby, I definitely knew my way around that drawer.
Genetic predisposition to cookies and big thighs aside, those are the types of memories one should have of their grandmother. Those plus days at the mall which started with getting our hair done and ended with lunch at a cute café (with our purchases taking over the table next to us). Yes, my shopping gene is definitely strong…up there with a love of fine jewelry, which I also got from this grandmother. But, I have to say, she was everything one thinks of when they think of Grandma.
Well, my mother, bless her heart, does not exactly evoke the same images. First, the cookie drawer is a jar on the cabinet (well out the reach of really small hands) and usually holds some version of healthy snack she found from one of her new age friends. Second, shop is a four letter word in her mind so while she does still get a few small gifts for each grandchild, her big purchase is to buy shares of animals that then go to solve poverty in some under privileged area. Granted, this is truly an incredible gesture and one I greatly appreciate. However, listening to her quiz my kids on whether or not they want to buy a ½ of a goat or 1/8th of a llama really is just a bit much. (yes, my recycling bin was full of wine bottles this Christmas).
But, the gift she bought my 18 year old medicinal marijuana card holding nephew definitely took the cake this year. For reasons too long to list, he lives with my mom and step dad in their extra bedroom and to make money, grows marijuana plants to sell to the various legal dispensaries…I’ve been told numerous times how legitimate this whole business is…and what an entrepreneur he is. But, I guess the climate in my mom’s closet wasn’t as conducive to profitability as one would hope, so for his present (in addition to the ¼ of cow she purchased in his name) was a grow lamp for his “herbs”. Not kidding!
I almost fell over laughing when my sister told me of this purchase…first, because the mother who raised me definitely would not have been purchasing me drug paraphernalia (regardless of how profitable it was) and second, just the image of her walking into a store to inquire on the wattage of the various lamps was just too much. The mom who spent 45 minutes trying to download one classical music song onto her “iPod/paddy thing” really had a conversation on grow rates for the pot in her closet?!
I guess on the bright side, maybe now her cookie jar will be filled with pot brownies…or at least one can only hope.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
What a difference a day makes...
If you know me, or have being reading this blog for any amount of time, you know I don't feel sorry for myself or stay down for very long. The way I look at it, why complain as no one really wants to listen anyway and two, what in the world do I have to complain about anyhow?! Sure, I get a little money stressed sometimes as I juggle to pay bills but my kids have never gone hungry nor have we ever worried about being homeless. But, really in the whole perspective of life, I have it pretty good...as do the two dogs snuggled up under me as I write this.
However, the Christmas season was starting to get to me and I was once again surprised that life had not sent me Mr. Wonderful, all wrapped up with a big red bow. Now that I am ready to move on (FINALLY!) shouldn't there be someone available to dying to move on with me? So, with every "Kiss begins with Kay" commercial and Hallmark movie, I was getting a little more worried that I may never find that type of love again. (Yes, I know I can fast forward through commercials and don't actually have to watch every flippin Christmas movie...don't judge!!).
To add insult to injury I delivered baked goods to my neighbor across the street...one I really like and owe her as she found our house for us...but one who at 60+ has never been married and until her 100 year old mother passed away last year, hasn't lived alone in decades. She is the epitome of all I am scared of being as I age...bitter, depressed and waiting for the universe to give her the life she truly thought she deserved. Was this my future? Was I going to be "that woman"...cats or no cats? It was too early in the day to start drinking so I opted for a Christmas cookie instead to quench my sorrows. Of course, then, that just made me worry that not only was I going to be alone, but now I was going to be fat and alone because I just ate a stinking sugar snow man! I was on a roll!
But then, as though someone (yes, I am a person of faith) knew I needed a pick me up, the night with friends I had actually thought of cancelling intervened. With my house full of people of all ages who I adore and who I know kind of think I'm fabulous too, laughter replaced doubts, warm hearts took over the chill I had been feeling, and I once again remembered this is where I'm supposed to be right now....you may not get what you want, but you get what you need (thanks God...and the Rolling Stones!).
I stayed with Alex long after I should have because I truly believed I was sent to him because I would always love him unconditionally and stand by him no matter what...and I did...and in essence still do. I will always love him (I don't think it is possible for me not to) but I am using this Christmas season to truly move on. That doesn't mean with a man...it means with my life.
However, the Christmas season was starting to get to me and I was once again surprised that life had not sent me Mr. Wonderful, all wrapped up with a big red bow. Now that I am ready to move on (FINALLY!) shouldn't there be someone available to dying to move on with me? So, with every "Kiss begins with Kay" commercial and Hallmark movie, I was getting a little more worried that I may never find that type of love again. (Yes, I know I can fast forward through commercials and don't actually have to watch every flippin Christmas movie...don't judge!!).
To add insult to injury I delivered baked goods to my neighbor across the street...one I really like and owe her as she found our house for us...but one who at 60+ has never been married and until her 100 year old mother passed away last year, hasn't lived alone in decades. She is the epitome of all I am scared of being as I age...bitter, depressed and waiting for the universe to give her the life she truly thought she deserved. Was this my future? Was I going to be "that woman"...cats or no cats? It was too early in the day to start drinking so I opted for a Christmas cookie instead to quench my sorrows. Of course, then, that just made me worry that not only was I going to be alone, but now I was going to be fat and alone because I just ate a stinking sugar snow man! I was on a roll!
But then, as though someone (yes, I am a person of faith) knew I needed a pick me up, the night with friends I had actually thought of cancelling intervened. With my house full of people of all ages who I adore and who I know kind of think I'm fabulous too, laughter replaced doubts, warm hearts took over the chill I had been feeling, and I once again remembered this is where I'm supposed to be right now....you may not get what you want, but you get what you need (thanks God...and the Rolling Stones!).
I stayed with Alex long after I should have because I truly believed I was sent to him because I would always love him unconditionally and stand by him no matter what...and I did...and in essence still do. I will always love him (I don't think it is possible for me not to) but I am using this Christmas season to truly move on. That doesn't mean with a man...it means with my life.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Must have coffee this morning...
Unfortunately I have gotten very used to having 6 inches of space to sleep on in my very large queen size bed. No, I didn't meet a very large man and forget to tell you...I just share my bed with two very sweet but space hog dogs. Yes, I know they have their own dog beds but I have to tell you, I like feeling them snuggle up against me...it is warm and comforting. Once again, I know this is a step toward crazy town. But, the lack of space is not why I am moving on half speed today. No, that honor is given to two cats I don't even know...because, as we all know, I don't have cats!
We have been experiencing what I can only call the 2nd great 40 days of rain (well, it has been 3 but it feels like 40) so the sound of the trees whipping into my window wasn't anything new last night. However, one must have hit it pretty hard because I bolted straight up....hair sticking out all over the place, dogs jumping up, wondering why their dreams of chasing rabbits had been so rudely interrupted by my inability to lay perfectly still for them. After calming my heart down to a normal rate I also realized I was hearing much more than rain. It sounded as if someone had dropped off 2 very sad children right under my window, crying, moaning...so I then jumped out of bed ready to rescue these poor abandoned souls.
Let's pause to set the visual though as that definitely sets the stage...it is December, and as I was brought up with the thought the thermostat should be set just right above freezing, I had gone to bed in almost 20 year old comfy sweats...sweatpants that are seriously held together by sheer will, a big long sleeved t-shirt and Christmas socks....definitely Victoria's Secret material. I take off down the hallway (in the dark mind you as to not wake up my children) to grab shoes I can wear outside in the monsoon. Thinking my red Mickey Mouse Crocs from Disneyland will do the trick, I throw them on and grab a flashlight. Of course it doesn't work so do the quick battery exchange and I'm ready to save the day.
Fortunately, I have now woken up from my fog and have realized, of course, there aren't defenseless children melting in the rain, but instead two cats deciding that pre-dawn in the pelting storm is the perfect time to mate. And where else would one do that except for in the bushes right outside my window? Once I realized the two phantom orphans were actually cats getting more action than me, I just opened the bathroom window to scare them away. I mean, seriously, it is bad enough I know I am experiencing a very long dry spell, I don't need four legged felines to remind me.
Well, they obviously didn't care about my comfort so for the remainder of the dawn hours, there were the sounds of the X rated cat show coming through my windows. So now, my coffee cup is full, the dogs are now at my feet and I am contemplating what to feed my kids for breakfast. I do hope those cats are having a much more romantic morning.
We have been experiencing what I can only call the 2nd great 40 days of rain (well, it has been 3 but it feels like 40) so the sound of the trees whipping into my window wasn't anything new last night. However, one must have hit it pretty hard because I bolted straight up....hair sticking out all over the place, dogs jumping up, wondering why their dreams of chasing rabbits had been so rudely interrupted by my inability to lay perfectly still for them. After calming my heart down to a normal rate I also realized I was hearing much more than rain. It sounded as if someone had dropped off 2 very sad children right under my window, crying, moaning...so I then jumped out of bed ready to rescue these poor abandoned souls.
Let's pause to set the visual though as that definitely sets the stage...it is December, and as I was brought up with the thought the thermostat should be set just right above freezing, I had gone to bed in almost 20 year old comfy sweats...sweatpants that are seriously held together by sheer will, a big long sleeved t-shirt and Christmas socks....definitely Victoria's Secret material. I take off down the hallway (in the dark mind you as to not wake up my children) to grab shoes I can wear outside in the monsoon. Thinking my red Mickey Mouse Crocs from Disneyland will do the trick, I throw them on and grab a flashlight. Of course it doesn't work so do the quick battery exchange and I'm ready to save the day.
Fortunately, I have now woken up from my fog and have realized, of course, there aren't defenseless children melting in the rain, but instead two cats deciding that pre-dawn in the pelting storm is the perfect time to mate. And where else would one do that except for in the bushes right outside my window? Once I realized the two phantom orphans were actually cats getting more action than me, I just opened the bathroom window to scare them away. I mean, seriously, it is bad enough I know I am experiencing a very long dry spell, I don't need four legged felines to remind me.
Well, they obviously didn't care about my comfort so for the remainder of the dawn hours, there were the sounds of the X rated cat show coming through my windows. So now, my coffee cup is full, the dogs are now at my feet and I am contemplating what to feed my kids for breakfast. I do hope those cats are having a much more romantic morning.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Comedic visual for your Tuesday
We’ve established that there are plenty of things I’m good at…okay, maybe we’ve spent more time focusing on my areas of weakness but I promise you the positives really do outweigh the negatives. I make a mean Bloody Mary, know how to order the most expensive item on the menu without even looking, can drive like Mario Andretti, and can cook you the best prime rib you’ve ever tasted…see, aren’t I just amazing?! Well, remember those things because today is another one of those things I can’t do.
I live in an incredibly charming, sprawling California ranch style home which I completely love. However, it has been around long enough to almost qualify for historical register status so it has a few quirks and special needs. Renting a house is not where I thought I would be at this point in my life but after being outbid on several homes I decided this was the best move for the time. And, the couple I rent from is absolutely fabulous so I try not to bug them with the little things and try to fix what I can on my own. Okay, I call in favors from friends…I don’t fix things.
Anyhow, the one and only shower in the house falls under the special needs category so I try to baby it and keep the pipes as clean as possible. Well, pretty sure I didn’t read the directions properly on the pipe maintenance cleaning solution as the drain completely stopped working. Granted some people find baths relaxing so being forced to just soak instead of taking a quick shower probably sounds like paradise. Yeah, I’m not one of those people. I can’t get past the idea I’m just laying there in still water that now has soap, dirt (even though I’m not a dirty person) and any left other bath scum I just couldn’t scrub enough. I’m not a total freak as I can enjoy a Jacuzzi tub…the water is moving…I know it doesn’t make sense but it works for me.
So, because I can be a bit independent, and really didn’t want to have to tell the owners I broke the shower, I decided this was nothing a little Dran-O couldn’t fix. After 2 full bottles and a screaming headache from poisoning myself with toxic fumes I broke down and Googled backed up drains. I could handle the plunger…I’ve done that before so went into the bathroom in my pajamas and armed with a glass of wine and the trusty plunger. I mean, seriously, how hard could this be?! Well, after 20 minutes of plunging dirty water, inhaling enough chemicals to fail a drug test, and creating little bleached spots all over my throw rugs, I knew this clog had me beat. After a few more half hearted plunges, I threw in the figurative and literal towel and did what any self respecting woman would do…called my contractor friends for a plumbing referral.
As it was m]y dear gay real estate friend who got back to me first, maybe there’s hope the plumber who shows up today might also be hot!
I live in an incredibly charming, sprawling California ranch style home which I completely love. However, it has been around long enough to almost qualify for historical register status so it has a few quirks and special needs. Renting a house is not where I thought I would be at this point in my life but after being outbid on several homes I decided this was the best move for the time. And, the couple I rent from is absolutely fabulous so I try not to bug them with the little things and try to fix what I can on my own. Okay, I call in favors from friends…I don’t fix things.
Anyhow, the one and only shower in the house falls under the special needs category so I try to baby it and keep the pipes as clean as possible. Well, pretty sure I didn’t read the directions properly on the pipe maintenance cleaning solution as the drain completely stopped working. Granted some people find baths relaxing so being forced to just soak instead of taking a quick shower probably sounds like paradise. Yeah, I’m not one of those people. I can’t get past the idea I’m just laying there in still water that now has soap, dirt (even though I’m not a dirty person) and any left other bath scum I just couldn’t scrub enough. I’m not a total freak as I can enjoy a Jacuzzi tub…the water is moving…I know it doesn’t make sense but it works for me.
So, because I can be a bit independent, and really didn’t want to have to tell the owners I broke the shower, I decided this was nothing a little Dran-O couldn’t fix. After 2 full bottles and a screaming headache from poisoning myself with toxic fumes I broke down and Googled backed up drains. I could handle the plunger…I’ve done that before so went into the bathroom in my pajamas and armed with a glass of wine and the trusty plunger. I mean, seriously, how hard could this be?! Well, after 20 minutes of plunging dirty water, inhaling enough chemicals to fail a drug test, and creating little bleached spots all over my throw rugs, I knew this clog had me beat. After a few more half hearted plunges, I threw in the figurative and literal towel and did what any self respecting woman would do…called my contractor friends for a plumbing referral.
As it was m]y dear gay real estate friend who got back to me first, maybe there’s hope the plumber who shows up today might also be hot!
Friday, December 10, 2010
Christmas movie intervention
I love Christmas time....I think we've established that...with the exception, of course, of putting up Christmas lights! I don't think there is a Christmas movie I haven't watched or a Folgers' commercial I haven't cried over. I totally fall for each sappy love story and laugh hysterically at the goofy humor associated with sitcom office holiday parties. However, I am then, faced with the very obvious, but always surprising fact these are fiction, not reality! While I am by no means complaining about my reality, there is definitely not a playwright waiting in the wings to put this up on the big screen.
We've all seen the television office Christmas parties where, inevitably someone ends up on the copier, making prints of their perfectly shaped butt to share with co-workers, while another not so secret office romance blossoms in the storage room. Well, picture the exact opposite of that, and you have the annual holiday lunch in my organization. I work for a state wide company so, in order for us all to share in the Christmas spirit together, my colleagues and I all drive 2 hours each way to have lunch in the trendy restaurant of the day.
For the most part, I really do like the people I work with but I can promise you there isn't one I'd want to give me a photocopied version of their butt (to be honest, who I would want that of is a VERY short list so maybe that isn't a fair description). Anyhow, picture 6 people of various ages and sizes in a cross between a mini-van and an SUV driving 120 miles for rubber chicken and you have my day. Adding to the excitement, of course, would be a quick description of our two most colorful characters. One of the women, who truly will be sainted in the after world for size of heart alone, definitely makes up for her lack of world knowledge by her sugary personality. After a 5 minute conversation with the waiter regarding whether or not the brandy sauce on her long awaited bread pudding would get her drunk ("I don't drink a drop, dearie") we then had to explain to her why the rest of us at the table almost spit out our wine when another colleague said she was vacationing on the island Wannagetlaid..."Oh, I don't think I know that island. Is it the best one?" Again, not exactly the starring character in an Alec Baldwin office skit. Add her partner in crime, who is the person everyone wonders if exists...the one who buys the light up Christmas sweater (not for the bad Christmas sweater party) but because she thinks it's cheery...and you understand why the normal ones in the car were ready to slit our wrists when we got home.
I, of course, didn't help my Christmas channel meets reality dilemma tonight by cozying up on the couch with my daughter, two sweater clad dogs and a cup of eggnog tea to watch every bad but you can't turn off Christmas movie we could find. My contentment with(or acceptance of) life on my own is definitely tested when I find myself falling under the spell of the mistletoe magic. The pull of a small town Christmas where the widowed sheriff is just waiting for a single mom with two beautiful children becomes so very strong...Oh wait, that was the plot of the movie I watched last...
Since I can't see myself giving up this incredibly insane addiction to the Hallmark channel any time during the next 20 days, I will just ask Santa to bring me either the man of my dreams, or a really good bottle of wine. I think I'll be fine either way.
We've all seen the television office Christmas parties where, inevitably someone ends up on the copier, making prints of their perfectly shaped butt to share with co-workers, while another not so secret office romance blossoms in the storage room. Well, picture the exact opposite of that, and you have the annual holiday lunch in my organization. I work for a state wide company so, in order for us all to share in the Christmas spirit together, my colleagues and I all drive 2 hours each way to have lunch in the trendy restaurant of the day.
For the most part, I really do like the people I work with but I can promise you there isn't one I'd want to give me a photocopied version of their butt (to be honest, who I would want that of is a VERY short list so maybe that isn't a fair description). Anyhow, picture 6 people of various ages and sizes in a cross between a mini-van and an SUV driving 120 miles for rubber chicken and you have my day. Adding to the excitement, of course, would be a quick description of our two most colorful characters. One of the women, who truly will be sainted in the after world for size of heart alone, definitely makes up for her lack of world knowledge by her sugary personality. After a 5 minute conversation with the waiter regarding whether or not the brandy sauce on her long awaited bread pudding would get her drunk ("I don't drink a drop, dearie") we then had to explain to her why the rest of us at the table almost spit out our wine when another colleague said she was vacationing on the island Wannagetlaid..."Oh, I don't think I know that island. Is it the best one?" Again, not exactly the starring character in an Alec Baldwin office skit. Add her partner in crime, who is the person everyone wonders if exists...the one who buys the light up Christmas sweater (not for the bad Christmas sweater party) but because she thinks it's cheery...and you understand why the normal ones in the car were ready to slit our wrists when we got home.
I, of course, didn't help my Christmas channel meets reality dilemma tonight by cozying up on the couch with my daughter, two sweater clad dogs and a cup of eggnog tea to watch every bad but you can't turn off Christmas movie we could find. My contentment with(or acceptance of) life on my own is definitely tested when I find myself falling under the spell of the mistletoe magic. The pull of a small town Christmas where the widowed sheriff is just waiting for a single mom with two beautiful children becomes so very strong...Oh wait, that was the plot of the movie I watched last...
Since I can't see myself giving up this incredibly insane addiction to the Hallmark channel any time during the next 20 days, I will just ask Santa to bring me either the man of my dreams, or a really good bottle of wine. I think I'll be fine either way.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Safety in distance
I’ve almost always been very good about protecting my heart (I say almost because as we all know, it definitely took a bit of a beating last year). Not becoming too emotionally attached to a guy has been my M.O. most of my life (hence the years of therapy…in addition to the fact my parents are both a bit off). But, for the most part this pattern of behavior has worked for me. I would meet great guys, have fun and then when it was time to move on, I would do so without the need to bury myself in a carton of Ben & Jerry’s. Not saying this was the picture of mental health but then again, I’ve never even claimed to be the poster child for sanity. Anyhow, there is a point to all of this. I have, unfortunately, found a very safe, albeit fun, way to get myself out there, without actually having to get out there!
Years and years ago (when my waist size was actually a size 6 and gray hair wasn’t even a distant relative, let alone close personal friend) I fell hard for this absolutely gorgeous Tim McGraw look alike who had moved to VA from Oklahoma to start a new life with his grandparents. Lucky for me, his grandparents ran the dinner theater where I worked for 2 years…right up until I went off to college. Mr. Oklahoma did set construction during the day and then bartended in the evening. Yes, even at the ripe old age of 17 I had a thing for the construction worker.
We had a very fleeting on/off again flirtation/romance which completely ended when I went off to school. He eventually married someone from my high school and I, obviously, moved on. But, he was definitely the first (and one of two guys) to come close to making me hit the chick stash of comfort food.
Well now, fast forward 20 years, two failed marriages and, oh yeah, an entire country of states between us and you can now find me with my new distraction. While his divorce is much more recent and therefore painful than my break up with Alex, we have started to connect… a few emails, texts and a couple of flirty comments. He, of course, meets almost all of my requirements…(again, ignore the fact there is a 3 hour time difference between our lives) so for now I am going to have fun with this.
Yes, I know this sounds like me trying to create the plot for a bad movie about reconnections after decades and long lost loves reunited but can you cut me some slack, please. I haven’t had a lot of action lately (again, I know this is because I’ve been waiting for UPS to deliver my perfect man on his next route but still). For now, I’m going to enjoy the cute little quips about whether or not he missed out all those years ago (well, of course he did…hello, this is me!) and consider this another step toward moving on.
And, finally, for all of you out there who have been perversely enjoying my never ending light saga, this is for you…I did a revamp yesterday and was so incredibly proud of myself…until every single strand of lights just stopped working! 1 hour of plugging and unplugging, 2 strands in the garbage later and I once again have lights…just not nearly as non pathetic as I had hoped!
Years and years ago (when my waist size was actually a size 6 and gray hair wasn’t even a distant relative, let alone close personal friend) I fell hard for this absolutely gorgeous Tim McGraw look alike who had moved to VA from Oklahoma to start a new life with his grandparents. Lucky for me, his grandparents ran the dinner theater where I worked for 2 years…right up until I went off to college. Mr. Oklahoma did set construction during the day and then bartended in the evening. Yes, even at the ripe old age of 17 I had a thing for the construction worker.
We had a very fleeting on/off again flirtation/romance which completely ended when I went off to school. He eventually married someone from my high school and I, obviously, moved on. But, he was definitely the first (and one of two guys) to come close to making me hit the chick stash of comfort food.
Well now, fast forward 20 years, two failed marriages and, oh yeah, an entire country of states between us and you can now find me with my new distraction. While his divorce is much more recent and therefore painful than my break up with Alex, we have started to connect… a few emails, texts and a couple of flirty comments. He, of course, meets almost all of my requirements…(again, ignore the fact there is a 3 hour time difference between our lives) so for now I am going to have fun with this.
Yes, I know this sounds like me trying to create the plot for a bad movie about reconnections after decades and long lost loves reunited but can you cut me some slack, please. I haven’t had a lot of action lately (again, I know this is because I’ve been waiting for UPS to deliver my perfect man on his next route but still). For now, I’m going to enjoy the cute little quips about whether or not he missed out all those years ago (well, of course he did…hello, this is me!) and consider this another step toward moving on.
And, finally, for all of you out there who have been perversely enjoying my never ending light saga, this is for you…I did a revamp yesterday and was so incredibly proud of myself…until every single strand of lights just stopped working! 1 hour of plugging and unplugging, 2 strands in the garbage later and I once again have lights…just not nearly as non pathetic as I had hoped!
Monday, December 6, 2010
Crazy Town alert....
I’m afraid there is a very fine line between being the owner of a couple of dogs and being the crazy single cat lady. And, I guess even more afraid that I may edge closer and closer to that oh so important line.
I have several very good friends who are unmarried and own more than one (or two) cats so don’t want to stereotype all single women over 40 with a love of felines as that woman. However, I also don’t want to picture myself growing older, talking to and dressing up my little dogs like Barbies and then wondering why the clerks at the grocery store shake their heads when I walk in the door.
Okay, maybe I’m bordering on the extreme now but I have to admit the thought did cross my mind this weekend when we added a new addition to the family. This was not a complete spur of the moment decision as I had been looking for months for a rescue dog to befriend my poor neurotic cocker spaniel but had always focused on the big, confident, take to the dog park lab type variety. Yeah, that is not at all what we brought home as evidenced by the corduroy jacket my daughter put on him the minute we got home. I am now the proud owner of a “chiweenie”…or in non Legally Blonde vocabulary…part Dachshund, part Chihuahua… pretty sure this puts me one step closer to Kookville.
I did like the feeling that the kids and I were able to pick him out, (or he picked us), buy him, bring him home and let him jump on the couch without worrying for a minute that I needed someone’s approval for the purchase. But, I also did wonder if I just keep putting up barriers to adding another person to my life at some point. In addition to having the Love List longer than many Shakespeare plays, I now will need any man to love my two kids, my Xanax needing cocker spaniel and my sweater wearing oversized sausage. At what point does my baggage no longer come in a cute matching set?
On the bright side, I did add more lights to the house this weekend and am just a few steps away from leaving the pathetic side of the street. More pictures to come soon.
I have several very good friends who are unmarried and own more than one (or two) cats so don’t want to stereotype all single women over 40 with a love of felines as that woman. However, I also don’t want to picture myself growing older, talking to and dressing up my little dogs like Barbies and then wondering why the clerks at the grocery store shake their heads when I walk in the door.
Okay, maybe I’m bordering on the extreme now but I have to admit the thought did cross my mind this weekend when we added a new addition to the family. This was not a complete spur of the moment decision as I had been looking for months for a rescue dog to befriend my poor neurotic cocker spaniel but had always focused on the big, confident, take to the dog park lab type variety. Yeah, that is not at all what we brought home as evidenced by the corduroy jacket my daughter put on him the minute we got home. I am now the proud owner of a “chiweenie”…or in non Legally Blonde vocabulary…part Dachshund, part Chihuahua… pretty sure this puts me one step closer to Kookville.
I did like the feeling that the kids and I were able to pick him out, (or he picked us), buy him, bring him home and let him jump on the couch without worrying for a minute that I needed someone’s approval for the purchase. But, I also did wonder if I just keep putting up barriers to adding another person to my life at some point. In addition to having the Love List longer than many Shakespeare plays, I now will need any man to love my two kids, my Xanax needing cocker spaniel and my sweater wearing oversized sausage. At what point does my baggage no longer come in a cute matching set?
On the bright side, I did add more lights to the house this weekend and am just a few steps away from leaving the pathetic side of the street. More pictures to come soon.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Phase 2
Quick recap: Target - loving my complete inability to get this right, the gardener across the street actually applauded my efforts (kind of the way you do a small child who fits the right sized block into the appropriate hole) I came inside wearing most of the leaves that were left on the tree...but, I put up lights. One of my favorite parts of the Christmas season has now visited my front porch (well, at least a distant cousin of Christmas lights) but I am calling that a win.
Before pictures...
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