When I was a little girl, I would tape (yes, tape) the top 50 song countdown each year…and, then like many young girls, would dance around the house to my favorites, daydream about what my young brain thought were the meanings behind the love songs and dream about who my prince would be. Fast forward a few (no counting!!) decades and my love of countdowns is still the same…but this time I DVR the CMT top 50 video countdown and sit with a glass of wine to enjoy them. The dancing around the house still happens sometimes (a little less this year as I really don’t want “my guts to fall out”) but, unfortunately, the wondering about the lyrics has been replaced by an understanding of why people write about heartache and sorrow, and, as we all know, I’ve realized there are a few more frogs than princes in the world.
But, last night a song actually struck me as one I need to listen to and pay attention to more often. Of course, it is a country song so I would be more drawn to it than I would be a Nine Inch Nails or Death Cab Cutie song (hey, pretty impressed I even have heard of those bands, aren’t you?!) but it spoke to me, really. I’m not always a huge Reba fan…which is pretty sacrilegious for a country music fun but this one is my new favorite. It was called “Somebody’s Chelsea” and it was about a woman sitting next to an older man on a plane ride who told her about the wife he’d recently lost who he’d loved for 60 years. A woman who really was his world…and how it felt to be the woman sitting next to him on the plane who’d settled more than once but wasn’t going to settle again. She was eventually going to be “Somebody’s Chelsea”. We know that I can’t be someone’s everything (that would give me waaaay too much control) but this song was the musical analogy of someone who’d cover me with a blanket if I fell asleep on the couch. I want, no deserve, to be why someone can’t wait to get home at night, to be who he thinks of periodically during the day and who he talks about when he is on a plane to wherever. And, I really do believe that person is out there…somewhere.
New Year’s Eve can be looked at two ways (and, as it is coming up soon, I’m thinking about this). You can either look at it and reflect on the things that didn’t happen in the past year or look at it as the door to a new tomorrow. I, personally, am going to be excited about the adventures that await me…and maybe this will be the year I do meet that prince charming from dreams long ago…but only if I will be “His Chelsea”.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Just add tissue
What happens when you take the ingredients for a complete emotional meltdown and then add a cute but sappy chick flick to the mix? You get me last night, having a full on crying jag in the parking lot of the movie theaters. Thank goodness it was after the movie though as I am just not one of those pretty crying types…I don’t have the lone tear drop softly falling down my cheek look. You don’t see me crying and think Renee Zellwegger from “Jerry Maguire”. And, fortunately, it was a short lived waterworks session that I think I just needed to release before heading home.
I guess I should start with why I was a walking time bomb of stress and pent up tears. First, after years of putting off the inevitable I am going to the hospital tomorrow to have a partial hysterectomy. Believe me, I know, in a few weeks I am going to be so happy to have this behind me. But, right now, I’m freaking out about the procedure, struggling with the finality of this decision, about my kids if something happens, about my mother coming to stay for gosh knows how long…maybe I should have started with that! I don’t handle people taking care of me well at all…as a matter of fact, I’m kind of mean about it. Add that predisposition to patient witchiness and add in the character who makes me crazier than usual and well, pretty sure I see a recipe for extra pain killers in my future. But, of course, the key to my independence is no narcotics so I can drive so I will be in quite the pickle.
Adding to the hormonal roller coaster was an out of the blue, completely unexpected text from Alex. Yes, Alex, my Mr. Big…the one I hadn’t texted in months and was so proud of myself that I was thinking a pair of Michael Kors boots should be on my Christmas list (c’mon, Santa, I’ve been that good). Anyhow, here I was sitting in a very important meeting, giving a presentation to a group of our board members and being what I would like to assume was incredibly impressive when I saw I had received two text messages. As this was the day of the recent Virginia Tech shooting I had been getting check ins from family and friends so casually glanced at the sender list and literally dropped my phone. There, in bold print was his nick name with a five word message saying he was sorry to hear about the shootings. My shaking hands picked up the phone, hit end and I sat back in my chair feeling like I’d just been punched in the stomach. Really? After months of not responding to my occasional hi text with no contact on birthdays, holidays, Tuesdays…this was when he chose to send a check in. And, of course, like alcoholic who can’t resist the allure of his favorite drink, I texted back. Nothing too personal but a text just the same. And, then, of course, silence…and numerous mental rereads of the message. Why now? Why that? And, why nothing else? Was this because I hadn’t checked in for months? Knowing him and knowing his control/hold over me, I knew part of it was for that exact reason…to make sure I hadn’t completely forgotten him. To make sure I knew I hadn’t really shaken him from my system. And, for that, I was so mad…at him and at me! But, like that same alcoholic who fell of the wagon for that brief time, I started over and am now at day 6. I can do this…and Michael Kors boots are in my future.
Now, we get to the finale, a great night with wonderful girlfriends seeing “New Year’s Eve”…a cute movie about love in all shapes and sizes and living life with no regrets…wow…do you see why I went through a box of tissues?! Here I am, 2 ½ years after leaving Alex and I’m still alone. Alone, by choice, really, but alone nonetheless. I realize I just sat through 90 minutes of fictional happiness but I still couldn’t shake the temporary fit of despair regarding my current position…wondering when I’ll be able to find someone to kiss under the mistletoe.
Depression is not a state I like to visit, let alone live in, so I wiped my tears, turned up the music and started to head home. But, first, checked my phone to find a very sweet smile inducing text from Tony Soprano and really, for now, I’m going to think that is all I need.
I guess I should start with why I was a walking time bomb of stress and pent up tears. First, after years of putting off the inevitable I am going to the hospital tomorrow to have a partial hysterectomy. Believe me, I know, in a few weeks I am going to be so happy to have this behind me. But, right now, I’m freaking out about the procedure, struggling with the finality of this decision, about my kids if something happens, about my mother coming to stay for gosh knows how long…maybe I should have started with that! I don’t handle people taking care of me well at all…as a matter of fact, I’m kind of mean about it. Add that predisposition to patient witchiness and add in the character who makes me crazier than usual and well, pretty sure I see a recipe for extra pain killers in my future. But, of course, the key to my independence is no narcotics so I can drive so I will be in quite the pickle.
Adding to the hormonal roller coaster was an out of the blue, completely unexpected text from Alex. Yes, Alex, my Mr. Big…the one I hadn’t texted in months and was so proud of myself that I was thinking a pair of Michael Kors boots should be on my Christmas list (c’mon, Santa, I’ve been that good). Anyhow, here I was sitting in a very important meeting, giving a presentation to a group of our board members and being what I would like to assume was incredibly impressive when I saw I had received two text messages. As this was the day of the recent Virginia Tech shooting I had been getting check ins from family and friends so casually glanced at the sender list and literally dropped my phone. There, in bold print was his nick name with a five word message saying he was sorry to hear about the shootings. My shaking hands picked up the phone, hit end and I sat back in my chair feeling like I’d just been punched in the stomach. Really? After months of not responding to my occasional hi text with no contact on birthdays, holidays, Tuesdays…this was when he chose to send a check in. And, of course, like alcoholic who can’t resist the allure of his favorite drink, I texted back. Nothing too personal but a text just the same. And, then, of course, silence…and numerous mental rereads of the message. Why now? Why that? And, why nothing else? Was this because I hadn’t checked in for months? Knowing him and knowing his control/hold over me, I knew part of it was for that exact reason…to make sure I hadn’t completely forgotten him. To make sure I knew I hadn’t really shaken him from my system. And, for that, I was so mad…at him and at me! But, like that same alcoholic who fell of the wagon for that brief time, I started over and am now at day 6. I can do this…and Michael Kors boots are in my future.
Now, we get to the finale, a great night with wonderful girlfriends seeing “New Year’s Eve”…a cute movie about love in all shapes and sizes and living life with no regrets…wow…do you see why I went through a box of tissues?! Here I am, 2 ½ years after leaving Alex and I’m still alone. Alone, by choice, really, but alone nonetheless. I realize I just sat through 90 minutes of fictional happiness but I still couldn’t shake the temporary fit of despair regarding my current position…wondering when I’ll be able to find someone to kiss under the mistletoe.
Depression is not a state I like to visit, let alone live in, so I wiped my tears, turned up the music and started to head home. But, first, checked my phone to find a very sweet smile inducing text from Tony Soprano and really, for now, I’m going to think that is all I need.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Nice Guy with an Edge
My self named crazy aunt did one of her quick over night visits on her way to Palm Springs last night and as we were talking she made a rather profound (well, at least profound to the Nyquil pumping chest cold shadow of my former self I was at the time) statement. I was telling her about the date I went on Sunday night…don’t worry, I’m going to tell all of you about it too…and commented that the man in question may have been too nice. She said, “at some point you realize there isn’t such a thing as too nice…I get wanting men with an edge but don’t forget edges can cause bruises”. Wow…is this kind of like “letting a nice guy be nice to you”? And, if so, maybe these are those signs I keep thinking I’ll see when the time is right. Or, are they just like billboards you pass on the freeways…the ones that you see so often you don’t even notice them anymore?
Anyway, as I mentioned in my last blog, I did close down (again…and for the final time) my profile on the online dating site. However, prior to shutting it down, I received an email from a guy who seemed to be relatively smart, not bad looking, held down a job and actually had all of his teeth. After a couple of weeks of fun texts, emails and phone calls, I agreed to a quick drink. Of course, schedules were a nightmare so we finally picked a night and I wasn’t actually nervous. Granted, life has a way of throwing curve balls so when the night in question came around and I was suffering through the beginning of the aforementioned chest cold, I was very tempted to bag the whole thing and curl up on my couch with a sappy Nicholas Sparks book and a Jack Daniels laced cup of tea. But, you’d all be very proud of me because I put on my hot jeans, boots and cute but not too sexy top and went for it! And, to be perfectly honest, I had a very nice time.
He’s cute, not make my heart skip a beat hot, but nice looking…very tall, former football player, Italian contractor so, of course, he will now be referred to as Tony Soprano. I’d love to say it was love at first sight, actually, no I wouldn’t love to say that because he has been separated less than 6 months so it wouldn’t be smart on my part. But, really, no worries, because I didn’t feel butterflies but a part of me really wanted to. He has his own contracting business, coaches his sons’ various football teams, sounds like he has a great house, complimented me on my looks, and you could tell he’d be the kind of guy who’d cover you with an afghan if you fell asleep on the couch. I just know he’d be too nice…yes, I need to have my head examined. As well, I may be borrowing trouble as it isn’t like he has asked me to marry him. He did send the appropriate follow up texts yesterday and today though so I do think he was somewhat impressed…I’m still surprised when guys think they are lucky to go out with me. Wow…pretty much 10 therapy sessions needed in just one paragraph.
Anyhow, back to the profound statement…I think at age 42, I do still need the edge…at least a little bit of one. I like playing the back and forth game a little…I don’t want to be in constant question of how a man feels about me, but I also don’t want to know I can be in charge. If Tony Soprano asks me out again, I think I’ll go but I will also keep occasionally texting Hot Electrician and thinking that Nice Guy with an Edge isn’t really asking too much.
Anyway, as I mentioned in my last blog, I did close down (again…and for the final time) my profile on the online dating site. However, prior to shutting it down, I received an email from a guy who seemed to be relatively smart, not bad looking, held down a job and actually had all of his teeth. After a couple of weeks of fun texts, emails and phone calls, I agreed to a quick drink. Of course, schedules were a nightmare so we finally picked a night and I wasn’t actually nervous. Granted, life has a way of throwing curve balls so when the night in question came around and I was suffering through the beginning of the aforementioned chest cold, I was very tempted to bag the whole thing and curl up on my couch with a sappy Nicholas Sparks book and a Jack Daniels laced cup of tea. But, you’d all be very proud of me because I put on my hot jeans, boots and cute but not too sexy top and went for it! And, to be perfectly honest, I had a very nice time.
He’s cute, not make my heart skip a beat hot, but nice looking…very tall, former football player, Italian contractor so, of course, he will now be referred to as Tony Soprano. I’d love to say it was love at first sight, actually, no I wouldn’t love to say that because he has been separated less than 6 months so it wouldn’t be smart on my part. But, really, no worries, because I didn’t feel butterflies but a part of me really wanted to. He has his own contracting business, coaches his sons’ various football teams, sounds like he has a great house, complimented me on my looks, and you could tell he’d be the kind of guy who’d cover you with an afghan if you fell asleep on the couch. I just know he’d be too nice…yes, I need to have my head examined. As well, I may be borrowing trouble as it isn’t like he has asked me to marry him. He did send the appropriate follow up texts yesterday and today though so I do think he was somewhat impressed…I’m still surprised when guys think they are lucky to go out with me. Wow…pretty much 10 therapy sessions needed in just one paragraph.
Anyhow, back to the profound statement…I think at age 42, I do still need the edge…at least a little bit of one. I like playing the back and forth game a little…I don’t want to be in constant question of how a man feels about me, but I also don’t want to know I can be in charge. If Tony Soprano asks me out again, I think I’ll go but I will also keep occasionally texting Hot Electrician and thinking that Nice Guy with an Edge isn’t really asking too much.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Because I said so...
Don’t you hate it when your own advice comes back to bite you in the butt? Well, I do! One might assume that would mean I’d quit giving advice but that is way too rational. No, I’d rather just state for the record, that I am definitely (not proudly) more about “Do as I say, not as I do”. This is never more obvious as now as I just hit hide on my recently re-activated online dating profile. I realized I just told a still single friend in her 30’s that online dating was a good option for her…and even recommended this particular site. But…and, yes…this is justification at its finest…she is in her early 30’s, never been married, and isn’t as set in her ways as me!
Really, if I’m being honest, part of the reason I want off the online dating merry-go-round, in addition to the inordinate amount of weirdos out there, it is because I’m too nice. Don’t roll your eyes…it is true. I started to feel guilty every time I didn’t respond to somebody…truly! Even if there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in Argentina I was going to go out with this person, I felt the need to respond. Why? Who knows! But, the more I responded the more I felt bad. And, who needs that?! So, while logically I know I will never see these people again, the idea that I took myself off the virtual menu at least makes me feel better about blowing off those who sent me messages.
Now, onto the other piece of advice I am not taking…or at least not right now…is “Let a nice guy be nice to you”. Yes, it sounds incredibly sensible and why wouldn’t anyone want someone to be nice to them? And, in my defense, it isn’t that I want someone to be mean to me…really, I don’t! I just know I can’t date someone who is too nice…I have a tendency to walk all over them. I really should come with a warning label…proceed with caution. Do you think they make those in rhinestone?
Really, if I’m being honest, part of the reason I want off the online dating merry-go-round, in addition to the inordinate amount of weirdos out there, it is because I’m too nice. Don’t roll your eyes…it is true. I started to feel guilty every time I didn’t respond to somebody…truly! Even if there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in Argentina I was going to go out with this person, I felt the need to respond. Why? Who knows! But, the more I responded the more I felt bad. And, who needs that?! So, while logically I know I will never see these people again, the idea that I took myself off the virtual menu at least makes me feel better about blowing off those who sent me messages.
Now, onto the other piece of advice I am not taking…or at least not right now…is “Let a nice guy be nice to you”. Yes, it sounds incredibly sensible and why wouldn’t anyone want someone to be nice to them? And, in my defense, it isn’t that I want someone to be mean to me…really, I don’t! I just know I can’t date someone who is too nice…I have a tendency to walk all over them. I really should come with a warning label…proceed with caution. Do you think they make those in rhinestone?
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Freud would have a field day
One of my favorite definitions to repeat to myself is that of insanity…doing the same thing over and over again expecting to get different results. We all do this at some point in time. We are creatures of habit like that…but yet, I still shake my head every time I do something that just proves there is a part of me that Freud definitely would have loved to have gotten hold of. Of course, I am sure you are all wondering what brain challenged activity I engaged in this time but don’t worry, no bones were broken, no alcohol consumed and there were no motorcycles involved. Just my computer and, obviously, a temporary bout of insanity.
Yes, I revisited the world of online dating. Now, before you start your virtual eye rolling and hand wringing, I have an excuse. Well, no not really, but I was prodded sort of. I got to thinking this past weekend (yes, that always gets me into trouble) that I probably ought to expand my dating horizons once again. Mr. Kawasaki is obviously not going to come sweep me off my feet, Hot Electrician is still on his own time frame and I really am not interested in anyone named Tank or Mr. O so really, I need to get out there. And, by out there I don’t mean my latest adventure which is to be in a play again…which is wonderful…but my male cast consists of 2 gay guys and 2 very married guys. Yeah, not meeting anyone there!
So, I did visit the forbidden land of online match making sites with the misguided notion all of the crazies who were there last time met women and had been replaced with the reality version of Steve McGarrett, Mitch Rapp or Matthew Donnally (Necessary Roughness). Hey, give me a break, sometimes I stray into fantasy land but I always come back to reality…or am shoved back. Either way, I learn.
Once again, the ego strokes were great as within 2 minutes of un-hiding my profile I was greeted with several notifications of messages in my in-box. And, really, while the first few were obviously men living in the basement of their mother’s house watching the various online sites 24/7, there were a couple with possibilities. Tall, looked relatively normal, didn’t misspell all of their words and, really, almost funny. I should have known, however, looks can be deceiving and really, these were just ploys to keep me around because after a few friendly emails the true colors come through. Ignoring the continued misspellings of their, there, your and you’re (which as you all know was VERY hard for me) I made it through about 4 emails with someone who used the word cowboy in his username (a good sign I thought) until calling me Special K (really?!?) that he became incredibly surprised that I’d never been to a rodeo…he was shocked even…why, because you know me so well?! I even got past that and explained to him that it interfered with a festival I’m very involved with (and even gave him the name of the event). Granted, I didn’t write in all caps I was past president of the event or that most of my friends came through that event but I highlighted it enough to make it obviously important to me. Well, his response to me started with “I will never go to the XXX Festival again as it was…blah, blah, blah….” Okay, you are automatically out of the running for this pageant based on sheer stupidity. I don’t care if you didn’t have fun at our event but seriously, to slam it, while trying to impress me. Yeah, delete!
I know there are people who swear by these sites…and I will give it another few days…for comic relief reasons alone. But then, I’m going to try to leave the crazy ward by at least not expecting different results!
Yes, I revisited the world of online dating. Now, before you start your virtual eye rolling and hand wringing, I have an excuse. Well, no not really, but I was prodded sort of. I got to thinking this past weekend (yes, that always gets me into trouble) that I probably ought to expand my dating horizons once again. Mr. Kawasaki is obviously not going to come sweep me off my feet, Hot Electrician is still on his own time frame and I really am not interested in anyone named Tank or Mr. O so really, I need to get out there. And, by out there I don’t mean my latest adventure which is to be in a play again…which is wonderful…but my male cast consists of 2 gay guys and 2 very married guys. Yeah, not meeting anyone there!
So, I did visit the forbidden land of online match making sites with the misguided notion all of the crazies who were there last time met women and had been replaced with the reality version of Steve McGarrett, Mitch Rapp or Matthew Donnally (Necessary Roughness). Hey, give me a break, sometimes I stray into fantasy land but I always come back to reality…or am shoved back. Either way, I learn.
Once again, the ego strokes were great as within 2 minutes of un-hiding my profile I was greeted with several notifications of messages in my in-box. And, really, while the first few were obviously men living in the basement of their mother’s house watching the various online sites 24/7, there were a couple with possibilities. Tall, looked relatively normal, didn’t misspell all of their words and, really, almost funny. I should have known, however, looks can be deceiving and really, these were just ploys to keep me around because after a few friendly emails the true colors come through. Ignoring the continued misspellings of their, there, your and you’re (which as you all know was VERY hard for me) I made it through about 4 emails with someone who used the word cowboy in his username (a good sign I thought) until calling me Special K (really?!?) that he became incredibly surprised that I’d never been to a rodeo…he was shocked even…why, because you know me so well?! I even got past that and explained to him that it interfered with a festival I’m very involved with (and even gave him the name of the event). Granted, I didn’t write in all caps I was past president of the event or that most of my friends came through that event but I highlighted it enough to make it obviously important to me. Well, his response to me started with “I will never go to the XXX Festival again as it was…blah, blah, blah….” Okay, you are automatically out of the running for this pageant based on sheer stupidity. I don’t care if you didn’t have fun at our event but seriously, to slam it, while trying to impress me. Yeah, delete!
I know there are people who swear by these sites…and I will give it another few days…for comic relief reasons alone. But then, I’m going to try to leave the crazy ward by at least not expecting different results!
Friday, October 21, 2011
The Search for the Great Pumpkin (oh, is that what we're calling it these days?)
A neighbor told me yesterday that October is considered a black month. I love my neighbor but often just nod my head when she shares these little tidbits with me because she is also the one who points out the exact time of night she has seen opossums on my roof. While I greatly appreciate the neighborhood watch program she is conducting, I am a tad concerned that she is sitting at her window watching the comings and goings of my house so closely that she knows what time the critters start their rooftop party. Of course, we all know my house doesn’t get that much two legged dance action so I’m not too concerned right now. We’ll revisit the need for an 8 foot fence if necessary in the future.
But I digress, I used to think it was just me who got a little misty eyed watching the annual pumpkin pyramid take shape, or had a touch of the melancholies over the shortening of the days and lengthening of the nights but with her comment, I realized this could be a phenomenon I’m experiencing and not just a sign I’m actually depressed. Granted, it could mean I’m just as crazy as my possum stalking old maid neighbor but…let’s not go there. I’d much rather just believe it is some external environmental factors at work making me crave sugar and chick flicks.
And, while I also know I could start sounding like a broken record (remember those…they were the round things that looked like Frisbees which we’d play over and over again…Shawn Cassidy, Alabama…oh yeah, I’m old!) but I am slightly bewildered by the fact that it has been over 2 years since I left Alex and during that time, he and the 8th dwarf have moved into happily ever after land and I am really no closer to meeting the man of my dreams. That, right there, could be the problem though as the man I’m looking for probably only exists in my dreams. But, I’m not ready to admit that yet. I’m going to just chalk it up to a mid season slump…like too many incomplete passes. Really, if I looked at my record I’m probably 0-3 which isn’t going to win me a Heisman any time soon.
But, just because Mr. Kawasaki didn’t want a follow up date and Hot Electrician still hasn’t figured out he really does want to go out with me…and I really believe he does, I’m not giving up. Somewhere there is someone who wants to wade through the current, climb the fence and find the key that unlocks the barriers I have put up to moving on. He’s out there…and once we get past the gloom, doom and drear of “The Black Month”, I probably won’t even remember being sad about his absence.
But I digress, I used to think it was just me who got a little misty eyed watching the annual pumpkin pyramid take shape, or had a touch of the melancholies over the shortening of the days and lengthening of the nights but with her comment, I realized this could be a phenomenon I’m experiencing and not just a sign I’m actually depressed. Granted, it could mean I’m just as crazy as my possum stalking old maid neighbor but…let’s not go there. I’d much rather just believe it is some external environmental factors at work making me crave sugar and chick flicks.
And, while I also know I could start sounding like a broken record (remember those…they were the round things that looked like Frisbees which we’d play over and over again…Shawn Cassidy, Alabama…oh yeah, I’m old!) but I am slightly bewildered by the fact that it has been over 2 years since I left Alex and during that time, he and the 8th dwarf have moved into happily ever after land and I am really no closer to meeting the man of my dreams. That, right there, could be the problem though as the man I’m looking for probably only exists in my dreams. But, I’m not ready to admit that yet. I’m going to just chalk it up to a mid season slump…like too many incomplete passes. Really, if I looked at my record I’m probably 0-3 which isn’t going to win me a Heisman any time soon.
But, just because Mr. Kawasaki didn’t want a follow up date and Hot Electrician still hasn’t figured out he really does want to go out with me…and I really believe he does, I’m not giving up. Somewhere there is someone who wants to wade through the current, climb the fence and find the key that unlocks the barriers I have put up to moving on. He’s out there…and once we get past the gloom, doom and drear of “The Black Month”, I probably won’t even remember being sad about his absence.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Harleys & hairspray
What do you get when you combine 5 almost middle aged women with varying degrees of marital status, 4 inch heels and the threat of a Hell’s Angels retaliation incident? Stumped? Well, you get my Saturday night, of course. Isn’t that what all Saturday nights are like?!
Of course, the weekend didn’t start out strange, it started out resembling more a Desperate Housewives episode vs. a night with the Orange County Choppers as I attended the auction for my kids’ school. The annual event this year had a denim & diamonds theme so my Friday night was spent with enough bling to rival the MTV Music Awards and enough hair spray to blow a new hole in the ozone. I don’t mind attending these things as a solo as then I don’t have to worry about entertaining anyone but I wouldn’t have minded bidding on a few items that I would need a Sugar Daddy for. However, overall my role went well and I liked the way my butt looked in my jeans so I’m putting it in the win column.
Because I seem to jam all my crazy activities for the year into one weekend, I left the auction to head to the coast to the 1st of two birthday evenings for girlfriends. I missed dinner but caught up with a group of ladies at a fun beach hang out that happened to be celebrating 80’s night…complete with costumes. Well, considering I was dressed more for the Cattlebaron’s Ball in Houston, I didn’t quite gel with the patrons. Of course, none of my friends did either, especially since one of them was actually born in the 80’s! Seriously! After much laughter and a few moments of wondering why anyone would think the fashion of the 80’s was smart to revisit, we called it a night and headed home.
Of course, the smart thing to do would have been to sleep in, catch up on DVR’d shows and do laundry all day but hey, since when did I do that?! So, after 4 hrs of sleep, I was up, walking with a group of ladies, headed to my daughter’s basketball game then showered, changed and ready for round two. Hey, even if I am still smarting a little over the lack of follow up from Mr, Kawasaki, I am all for having fun with the ladies! So, hair straightened, eye make-up done and heels on, I was ready to go!
After a great meal with a few margaritas and again, lots of laughter, we were ready for a little more so headed to the cowboy bar from a month back. However, where it was wall to wall tight Wranglers and boots that first night, the 2nd trip had more elastic banded polyester pants and loafers. The crowd definitely noticed when we walked in, mostly because we lowered the average age by a good 20 years…and we were celebrating birthdays in the 40’s! But, we are a group who bring the fun with us so settled in for a few more laughs. However, when the band was ½ way through a popular Eric Clapton song before we even recognized the tune, we decided to move on. But to where…
As we drove to the next possible location, we realized there was absolutely no one on the streets…no cars, no people, no one. It was like one of those scenes in a tornado/hurricane movie where the newbie from California walks outside to comment on how peaceful it is when really it was just the eye of the storm moving over. Well, as we drove by possibility #2, we started getting text messages from various friends in town warning us that there had been a shooting at a Hell’s Angels funeral earlier in the day and the troops were moving Southward, straight into our path. That is when we realized, the ghost town scene was actually much more reminiscent of an old Western when the women and children were locked behind boarded windows and doors waiting for the shoot out to be over. That is when we realized, thank goodness, that someone was sending us a sign…a neon sign that blazed “GO HOME”!!! A biker town, in the middle of a turf dispute was no place for 5 women in designer jeans and high heels…at least not unless they were looking to fulfill some sort of Harley Davidson fantasy.
Overall, the weekend was a lot of fun, a true reminder that I have amazing friends…old and new, I really am content and that, more than anything, I must have known somehow, as a child who had incredibly irrational fears about the Hell’s Angels that they were going to be a part of my life!
Of course, the weekend didn’t start out strange, it started out resembling more a Desperate Housewives episode vs. a night with the Orange County Choppers as I attended the auction for my kids’ school. The annual event this year had a denim & diamonds theme so my Friday night was spent with enough bling to rival the MTV Music Awards and enough hair spray to blow a new hole in the ozone. I don’t mind attending these things as a solo as then I don’t have to worry about entertaining anyone but I wouldn’t have minded bidding on a few items that I would need a Sugar Daddy for. However, overall my role went well and I liked the way my butt looked in my jeans so I’m putting it in the win column.
Because I seem to jam all my crazy activities for the year into one weekend, I left the auction to head to the coast to the 1st of two birthday evenings for girlfriends. I missed dinner but caught up with a group of ladies at a fun beach hang out that happened to be celebrating 80’s night…complete with costumes. Well, considering I was dressed more for the Cattlebaron’s Ball in Houston, I didn’t quite gel with the patrons. Of course, none of my friends did either, especially since one of them was actually born in the 80’s! Seriously! After much laughter and a few moments of wondering why anyone would think the fashion of the 80’s was smart to revisit, we called it a night and headed home.
Of course, the smart thing to do would have been to sleep in, catch up on DVR’d shows and do laundry all day but hey, since when did I do that?! So, after 4 hrs of sleep, I was up, walking with a group of ladies, headed to my daughter’s basketball game then showered, changed and ready for round two. Hey, even if I am still smarting a little over the lack of follow up from Mr, Kawasaki, I am all for having fun with the ladies! So, hair straightened, eye make-up done and heels on, I was ready to go!
After a great meal with a few margaritas and again, lots of laughter, we were ready for a little more so headed to the cowboy bar from a month back. However, where it was wall to wall tight Wranglers and boots that first night, the 2nd trip had more elastic banded polyester pants and loafers. The crowd definitely noticed when we walked in, mostly because we lowered the average age by a good 20 years…and we were celebrating birthdays in the 40’s! But, we are a group who bring the fun with us so settled in for a few more laughs. However, when the band was ½ way through a popular Eric Clapton song before we even recognized the tune, we decided to move on. But to where…
As we drove to the next possible location, we realized there was absolutely no one on the streets…no cars, no people, no one. It was like one of those scenes in a tornado/hurricane movie where the newbie from California walks outside to comment on how peaceful it is when really it was just the eye of the storm moving over. Well, as we drove by possibility #2, we started getting text messages from various friends in town warning us that there had been a shooting at a Hell’s Angels funeral earlier in the day and the troops were moving Southward, straight into our path. That is when we realized, the ghost town scene was actually much more reminiscent of an old Western when the women and children were locked behind boarded windows and doors waiting for the shoot out to be over. That is when we realized, thank goodness, that someone was sending us a sign…a neon sign that blazed “GO HOME”!!! A biker town, in the middle of a turf dispute was no place for 5 women in designer jeans and high heels…at least not unless they were looking to fulfill some sort of Harley Davidson fantasy.
Overall, the weekend was a lot of fun, a true reminder that I have amazing friends…old and new, I really am content and that, more than anything, I must have known somehow, as a child who had incredibly irrational fears about the Hell’s Angels that they were going to be a part of my life!
Monday, October 10, 2011
Same place, different time
I hate when I go so long between blogs because then I feel like I have to be extra entertaining for you to want to come back again, or I need to have a litany of exciting adventures I have experienced lately to explain my absence. Unfortunately I feel I may fail at both but at least I am back and apologize for being away.
The life of a single working mom of two active pre-teen kids is busy enough but you throw in volunteer work and then even the inkling of having a life of your own and really, you run out of day long before you run out of things to do. I have great intentions of being able to work off these extra 20 pounds, spend time with my girlfriends who are going through a time of transition and oh yeah, maybe having time to meet someone, let alone have a relationship with him. But, in all honesty, I wouldn’t trade this for being bored and depressed any day of the week so I’ll just up my Starbucks intake.
While my absence was not filled with crazy antics or hours of romance with Hottie McHottie from Hawaii Five-0, I did meet up with a starring actor in a few blog posts from the past. You used to know him as Cutie but I just can’t handle that name (nor could I then) so, in honor of his motorcycle, we’re calling him Mr. Kawasaki. I know, not very original, but it makes me feel less like I'm talking about either a toddler or one of those Clementine tangerines so it's all good!
Anyhow, one of my events for work had me in his facility a few weeks back, and since we'd been emailing again lately, we decided to meet for a quick hi. I was feeling somewhat cute (and not overly fat) so was game for a glass of wine at his place. And, if we all remember, he met several of the items on the list, he's hot, smart, spells all of his texts correctly, drives a truck, likes football, but was minus a few very important ones...he is 9 years younger than me which really covers a lot. But, it was just a glass of wine, right? Oh yeah...the wine led to a little more but that is when I realized I'm really way too self conscious about my body to ever enjoy being with someone again. So, if I'm not going to be comfortable, how am I ever going to believe someone really wants me?
I realize how that sounds, and know there are feminist self help gurus freaking out all over the globe about my lack of self esteem, ignorance about the true woman's body, the horrors of the Barbie generation on the pysche of women (or is that just what my mother would say?) but this is the way I feel. Logically I know Mr. Kawasaki is hot so, really, it isn't like he's desperate and is willing to be all over the first woman he sees. But, to the 42 year old woman who doesn't like her reflection in the mirror, guys just must like action. Why do we do this to ourselves? And, even though I had a great time with him, and smiled the whole way home that night, the way I always do after seeing him, why do I feel like he didn't wake up with a smile the next day like I did? I know men and women are wired differently so why be surprised?!
Mr. Kawasaki has never been what I'm looking for in the forever sense of the world so why should I care if he is pining over me or not? It is because it is what we do. We talk big (I know I do) but we want to be wanted, loved, missed, etc...and while we can understand the male psyche (some of us more than others) we are still from Venus. So, instead of beating myself up for wanting him to call for a next date, I'm going to try to remind myself this was a 18 month flirtation that really does show me you never know what can happen and people may enter your life at a time that isn't right, but just may visit again later. Hey, I know it is pushing it on the philosophy side of things but it is what is making me smile tonight...that and a glass of Sterling Chardonnay.
The life of a single working mom of two active pre-teen kids is busy enough but you throw in volunteer work and then even the inkling of having a life of your own and really, you run out of day long before you run out of things to do. I have great intentions of being able to work off these extra 20 pounds, spend time with my girlfriends who are going through a time of transition and oh yeah, maybe having time to meet someone, let alone have a relationship with him. But, in all honesty, I wouldn’t trade this for being bored and depressed any day of the week so I’ll just up my Starbucks intake.
While my absence was not filled with crazy antics or hours of romance with Hottie McHottie from Hawaii Five-0, I did meet up with a starring actor in a few blog posts from the past. You used to know him as Cutie but I just can’t handle that name (nor could I then) so, in honor of his motorcycle, we’re calling him Mr. Kawasaki. I know, not very original, but it makes me feel less like I'm talking about either a toddler or one of those Clementine tangerines so it's all good!
Anyhow, one of my events for work had me in his facility a few weeks back, and since we'd been emailing again lately, we decided to meet for a quick hi. I was feeling somewhat cute (and not overly fat) so was game for a glass of wine at his place. And, if we all remember, he met several of the items on the list, he's hot, smart, spells all of his texts correctly, drives a truck, likes football, but was minus a few very important ones...he is 9 years younger than me which really covers a lot. But, it was just a glass of wine, right? Oh yeah...the wine led to a little more but that is when I realized I'm really way too self conscious about my body to ever enjoy being with someone again. So, if I'm not going to be comfortable, how am I ever going to believe someone really wants me?
I realize how that sounds, and know there are feminist self help gurus freaking out all over the globe about my lack of self esteem, ignorance about the true woman's body, the horrors of the Barbie generation on the pysche of women (or is that just what my mother would say?) but this is the way I feel. Logically I know Mr. Kawasaki is hot so, really, it isn't like he's desperate and is willing to be all over the first woman he sees. But, to the 42 year old woman who doesn't like her reflection in the mirror, guys just must like action. Why do we do this to ourselves? And, even though I had a great time with him, and smiled the whole way home that night, the way I always do after seeing him, why do I feel like he didn't wake up with a smile the next day like I did? I know men and women are wired differently so why be surprised?!
Mr. Kawasaki has never been what I'm looking for in the forever sense of the world so why should I care if he is pining over me or not? It is because it is what we do. We talk big (I know I do) but we want to be wanted, loved, missed, etc...and while we can understand the male psyche (some of us more than others) we are still from Venus. So, instead of beating myself up for wanting him to call for a next date, I'm going to try to remind myself this was a 18 month flirtation that really does show me you never know what can happen and people may enter your life at a time that isn't right, but just may visit again later. Hey, I know it is pushing it on the philosophy side of things but it is what is making me smile tonight...that and a glass of Sterling Chardonnay.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Mother knows best...
Of course we all remember the iconic series, Father Knows Best and I don't want anyone to think I've hit my head and now believe my mother makes sense, but for this blog, we are going to consider her the exception and not the rule. For today's lesson, it is the moms who know what they are talking about and really, their sons need to listen! And, I'm also going to assume the premise of this blog to be true when it comes time for my son to date...which at age 12 will be years from now!!! Hey, it is again my fantasy world so let me live it.
I was hit with one my mind blowing epiphanies again this past weekend...okay, they blow no one's mind but I did find it at least blog worthy. As I was reviewing my FB friends list, and thinking about who and where I spend a lot of my time, I realized I am friends with the mothers of almost every guy I've ever seriously dated (or in one case want to date)...and wondered what exactly does that mean? Does it mean that I am the type of woman moms want to their sons to end up with? Or, does it mean I've spent way too many years trying to impress the wrong person? (Hey, their dads like me too...I mean the man himself!) Or, finally, does it mean I'm attracted to men who just can't figure out what they want and definitely don't want to date the woman their mom likes? Maybe if I can figure out the reason, I will be able to complete the dating trifecta and have the whole family actually like me.
A friend and reader theorized a few weeks ago that "nice guys don't finish last" as they actually just date the wrong women and end up feeling that way. And, maybe that is all related. Maybe the nice guys are dating the needy women...the ones who are like a train wreck just waiting to happen...the ones the mothers definitely don't like...because they want to feel needed...and because they certainly don't want to feel like they are pleasing their moms. Then, when they've helped pick these women up, get them settled and stop them from derailing, the women don't need them anymore and they are off to the next exciting adventure...leaving the nice guys feeling like they've just gone 4 quarters with the New Orleans Saints defensive line.
Add to that the fact most of us nice, normal, perfect women (ahem, I mean me) are too busy pining over, being attracted to, planning fantasy weddings (wait, did I actually type that) with the wrong guy...or the wrong guy for right now...even if their moms really do like us...and you have the formula for several hours of therapy on the couch.
My task, for when I decide I'm really ready to date, is to differentiate between the guys who want to find the woman who actually complements the family game night table vs. the ones who are looking to create shock value when they bring home their latest stiletto wearing, open mouth gum chewing, personality lacking flavor of the week...Hey, just generalizing here.
I was hit with one my mind blowing epiphanies again this past weekend...okay, they blow no one's mind but I did find it at least blog worthy. As I was reviewing my FB friends list, and thinking about who and where I spend a lot of my time, I realized I am friends with the mothers of almost every guy I've ever seriously dated (or in one case want to date)...and wondered what exactly does that mean? Does it mean that I am the type of woman moms want to their sons to end up with? Or, does it mean I've spent way too many years trying to impress the wrong person? (Hey, their dads like me too...I mean the man himself!) Or, finally, does it mean I'm attracted to men who just can't figure out what they want and definitely don't want to date the woman their mom likes? Maybe if I can figure out the reason, I will be able to complete the dating trifecta and have the whole family actually like me.
A friend and reader theorized a few weeks ago that "nice guys don't finish last" as they actually just date the wrong women and end up feeling that way. And, maybe that is all related. Maybe the nice guys are dating the needy women...the ones who are like a train wreck just waiting to happen...the ones the mothers definitely don't like...because they want to feel needed...and because they certainly don't want to feel like they are pleasing their moms. Then, when they've helped pick these women up, get them settled and stop them from derailing, the women don't need them anymore and they are off to the next exciting adventure...leaving the nice guys feeling like they've just gone 4 quarters with the New Orleans Saints defensive line.
Add to that the fact most of us nice, normal, perfect women (ahem, I mean me) are too busy pining over, being attracted to, planning fantasy weddings (wait, did I actually type that) with the wrong guy...or the wrong guy for right now...even if their moms really do like us...and you have the formula for several hours of therapy on the couch.
My task, for when I decide I'm really ready to date, is to differentiate between the guys who want to find the woman who actually complements the family game night table vs. the ones who are looking to create shock value when they bring home their latest stiletto wearing, open mouth gum chewing, personality lacking flavor of the week...Hey, just generalizing here.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Love through the ages...
My life has turned into one of those Ladies Home Journal Articles, the ones that say "How to find love, lose weight, be a good mom, etc...when you are in your 20's, 30's or 40's". But this edition is more like "How to manage your life when you are newly separated, a divorcee pro or a happily married woman who has spent more years with her husband than without" as that describes our version of the 3 Stooges. And, what is even more amazing to me is that while our individual circumstances are very different, the emotions we experience and the insecurities we harbor are very similar. Is this where we thought we'd be in our lives? My butt used to be hot, now it is just a hot mess. How am I going to find, want or keep a man when my dress size now is coming close to doubling my shoe size? Where exactly does all the money go each month? And, really, when do you just decide to be happy with who and what you are at any given time?
As I thought about our latest adventure out in the real world (the world that exists outside of my one friend's kitchen, where we drink wine, laugh and our problems don't seem quite so overwhelming) I was reminded once again that everyone has issues, and really, and this makes me seem incredibly selfish, my issues are truly the smallest of them all. Phew! I've gone from being the "oh, poor thing", cry at the drop of a hat, fragile walking wounded to just the one more dog away from crazy dog lady wandering the aisles of Safeway when she gets older...and, believe me, that is an improvement.
No, now, I can be the supportive friend: the one who talks the newly separated one off the proverbial ledge where she hovers between insane anger and utter despair. Reminding her that yes, there is life out there and by taking each day, one step at a time, you make it through 24 hours, and then 48 and then a week and amazingly, one day you will be on the other side, serving as the rock for her friend that will be going through the same thing.
I can also now be the friend who plays Wing Man to her married friend's subtle reminder to the not so subtle unhappily married housewife that her husband is off limits. This friend, who is truly, without a doubt, one of the most naturally beautiful women ever...but that doesn't protect her from wondering how susceptible might any husband be to the overt appreciation and flirting by someone other than his wife of 25+ years. Playing a role in the type of game play that makes 4 star generals jealous proved once again that the dumbest move a person ever makes is to cross a smart woman. Without saying a direct word or even using a threatening tone of voice, the message is relayed loud and clear "He is married. He is happy and he is VERY well taken care of". And then, serving as the friend that assures her life is the way it is supposed to be for her...that while the world around her seems to be collapsing with friends and family members filing through family law offices like the turnstile at Wal-Mart...she actually has what works...a husband who loves her, and the common sense to remind him of that from time to time.
Maybe life isn't supposed to be easy. If it were, we'd all become complacent and not appreciate the people and experiences that make us smile every day. While I hate that any of my friends have to experience grief, sadness, or even uncertainty, those challenges are what keep us getting up each morning, ready to take on the day. Granted, that day will always start at Starbucks and end with a glass of wine, but hey, whatever it takes to get you through...that, and a great group of girlfriends!
As I thought about our latest adventure out in the real world (the world that exists outside of my one friend's kitchen, where we drink wine, laugh and our problems don't seem quite so overwhelming) I was reminded once again that everyone has issues, and really, and this makes me seem incredibly selfish, my issues are truly the smallest of them all. Phew! I've gone from being the "oh, poor thing", cry at the drop of a hat, fragile walking wounded to just the one more dog away from crazy dog lady wandering the aisles of Safeway when she gets older...and, believe me, that is an improvement.
No, now, I can be the supportive friend: the one who talks the newly separated one off the proverbial ledge where she hovers between insane anger and utter despair. Reminding her that yes, there is life out there and by taking each day, one step at a time, you make it through 24 hours, and then 48 and then a week and amazingly, one day you will be on the other side, serving as the rock for her friend that will be going through the same thing.
I can also now be the friend who plays Wing Man to her married friend's subtle reminder to the not so subtle unhappily married housewife that her husband is off limits. This friend, who is truly, without a doubt, one of the most naturally beautiful women ever...but that doesn't protect her from wondering how susceptible might any husband be to the overt appreciation and flirting by someone other than his wife of 25+ years. Playing a role in the type of game play that makes 4 star generals jealous proved once again that the dumbest move a person ever makes is to cross a smart woman. Without saying a direct word or even using a threatening tone of voice, the message is relayed loud and clear "He is married. He is happy and he is VERY well taken care of". And then, serving as the friend that assures her life is the way it is supposed to be for her...that while the world around her seems to be collapsing with friends and family members filing through family law offices like the turnstile at Wal-Mart...she actually has what works...a husband who loves her, and the common sense to remind him of that from time to time.
Maybe life isn't supposed to be easy. If it were, we'd all become complacent and not appreciate the people and experiences that make us smile every day. While I hate that any of my friends have to experience grief, sadness, or even uncertainty, those challenges are what keep us getting up each morning, ready to take on the day. Granted, that day will always start at Starbucks and end with a glass of wine, but hey, whatever it takes to get you through...that, and a great group of girlfriends!
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Something borrowed, something blue, something in a flask...
There’s some famous quote from some even more famous movie (whose title is escaping me right now…must not have had my fill of brain food, yet…aka jelly beans) that goes something like “I try to get out but they keep pulling me back in”…Oh yeah, The Godfather. And, while I can’t even begin to compare my former husband’s family to the Italian mafia, the sentiment is actually very real right now.
While my FH and I are divorced, I didn’t divorce his family and am still very close to them (much to the ever growing chagrin of the FH GF). By the same token, however, my FH is also pretty tight with members of my family so the ball goes both ways. Of course, I am much more sane and level headed than the Amazon so while I may drink more when he is at a get together (heck, I drink at those anyhow so what’s new?!) I do know he is still the father of my children so I need to suck it up! And, whenever she’s around, there is a whole new level of comedy so really, bring her whenever he wants!
My brother-in-law (brother of FH) got married this past weekend so let’s just suffice it to say, every envelope of sanity was pushed to its extreme limits. The couple of the day has waited a very long time to find one another (he is 39, she is 35) so the level of special was incredibly high. There would be no spotlight stealing at this wedding! However, drama and the Amazon GF seem to go hand in hand so we were all a little cautious. Did I mention the wedding reception was going to be relatively dry (as was the rehearsal dinner!)?
While I wasn’t in the wedding, both of my kids were, and I was in charge of the favors, had the bride to be stay at my house the night before the wedding and was the locale for the family girls getting ready day of…let’s just say I was involved. I realize, to the average reader, that may seem a bit extreme, well…who am I kidding…that is nuts! But, it is the way it is. I totally get that the Amazon GF may not like my involvement but since it doesn’t seem to be changing and well, killing me wouldn’t really help her cause, she just needs to deal.
Her version of dealing, of course, means coming to the wedding in a thigh high bright red, one sleeved dress with 5 inch stiletto rhinestone encrusted pumps and an attitude to match. I should mention here that the wedding was at 1:00 in a church…with the reception…in a church. And, the colors of the wedding were blue…very sedate blue…Of course, the differences between my Barbie Blond hair and classy blue paisley dress and Amazon’s ready for an evening in Vegas ensemble were very evident as we sat in the front row (by assignment) just 3 people apart. For those who missed it, the fact we were at the reserved family table together at the front of the room, they got a second opportunity to ogle at the zoo characters known as the 1st wife and the wanna be wife.
My cheek hurt from biting it, my hands were sore from clenching and my brain was fried trying to make sense of my life…but the wedding was beautiful, my little groomsmen and ring attendant had an amazing time and my future former sister-in-law had the day dreams are made of. And, I once again, was able to show myself and the world (or the small portion we inhabit) that I really am a class act.
While my FH and I are divorced, I didn’t divorce his family and am still very close to them (much to the ever growing chagrin of the FH GF). By the same token, however, my FH is also pretty tight with members of my family so the ball goes both ways. Of course, I am much more sane and level headed than the Amazon so while I may drink more when he is at a get together (heck, I drink at those anyhow so what’s new?!) I do know he is still the father of my children so I need to suck it up! And, whenever she’s around, there is a whole new level of comedy so really, bring her whenever he wants!
My brother-in-law (brother of FH) got married this past weekend so let’s just suffice it to say, every envelope of sanity was pushed to its extreme limits. The couple of the day has waited a very long time to find one another (he is 39, she is 35) so the level of special was incredibly high. There would be no spotlight stealing at this wedding! However, drama and the Amazon GF seem to go hand in hand so we were all a little cautious. Did I mention the wedding reception was going to be relatively dry (as was the rehearsal dinner!)?
While I wasn’t in the wedding, both of my kids were, and I was in charge of the favors, had the bride to be stay at my house the night before the wedding and was the locale for the family girls getting ready day of…let’s just say I was involved. I realize, to the average reader, that may seem a bit extreme, well…who am I kidding…that is nuts! But, it is the way it is. I totally get that the Amazon GF may not like my involvement but since it doesn’t seem to be changing and well, killing me wouldn’t really help her cause, she just needs to deal.
Her version of dealing, of course, means coming to the wedding in a thigh high bright red, one sleeved dress with 5 inch stiletto rhinestone encrusted pumps and an attitude to match. I should mention here that the wedding was at 1:00 in a church…with the reception…in a church. And, the colors of the wedding were blue…very sedate blue…Of course, the differences between my Barbie Blond hair and classy blue paisley dress and Amazon’s ready for an evening in Vegas ensemble were very evident as we sat in the front row (by assignment) just 3 people apart. For those who missed it, the fact we were at the reserved family table together at the front of the room, they got a second opportunity to ogle at the zoo characters known as the 1st wife and the wanna be wife.
My cheek hurt from biting it, my hands were sore from clenching and my brain was fried trying to make sense of my life…but the wedding was beautiful, my little groomsmen and ring attendant had an amazing time and my future former sister-in-law had the day dreams are made of. And, I once again, was able to show myself and the world (or the small portion we inhabit) that I really am a class act.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Save a horse, ride a cowboy...
I have always loved that Big & Rich Song..it combines the fun of down home country music with sex appeal...well, that is if you happen to be into cowboys, which I am. Or at least I thought I was, until my latest life in the fast lane adventure. And, to be honest, it isn't cowboys I am not infatuated with anymore but aging wanna be cowboys who I believe happen to be friends with Tank (my 1st Sugar Daddy offer). Yes, there is a story here...of course there is!
Going through a separation is hard for anyone, believe me, I know, and going through one you didn't want nor ever expect is even harder. So, when a good friend recently found herself in this situation, we all rallied and immediately fell into good girlfriend mode...which is code for "whatever she wants, whenever she needs it, however crazy it sounds..." Okay, well, maybe there is a limit to the level of crazy but you know what I mean...she shouldn't sit home and obsess about why life has handed her this hand right now and who better to help her occupy her time than her fun friends?
Weekends are always tough, especially when your kids have plans and you are contemplating a Friday night in front of the TV, watching too gorgeous for words couples fawn all over each other while you, yourself, are alone, eating potato chips right out of the bag...and then hating yourself for the grease stain you now have on your t-shirt and the extra 30 minutes you'll have to work out tomorrow to make up for your affair with the Ruffles. It is one's responsibility as a girlfriend to stage the intervention before the next outing is to the mall to buy bigger sizes with elastic waist bands. And, really, a night of country music in our area's cowboy heaven sounded good to me...so we were off.
As we were greeted by a bar full of Jack Daniels and an arena housing a mechanical bull, I figured this night could be both very entertaining and exactly what the doctor ordered...for both of us! Since I was driving, I had my one Jack & Diet early in the evening and did think, that while the bull was my 1st step to the other side during my transition from Alex, this may not be the best idea for someone who has rods in her leg so bypassed the bull and found the group we were meeting up with. I knew none of these people but hey, they love country music and were enjoying the gorgeous CA night, so hey, they were good for me.
In my white halter top, capri jeans and high heeled wedged sandals I was feeling cute but not worthy of turning heads that night so figured it could be all about the GF time. We laughed, we talked and then we met some guy named Mr. O (not kidding!). Now considering my life has not included too many big O's in the recent past, I immediately thought of Big O tires...yeah, I need help. Well, Mr. O, complete with a 10 gallon hat and the Texas flag disguised as a button up long sleeve shirt was probably very nice...and would make some woman very happy...well, maybe not, considering he mentioned his wife and his girlfriend in the same sentence. But, he was definitely not what either of us were looking for that evening. He, however, didn't quite get that and, after bragging to me that he supplies the strippers for the Hells Angels on their week long excursions to Hawaii he wanted to know if I'd go with him next time. As a stripper? I'm thinking no...I don't even take my clothes off unless the mood lighting consists of absolute darkness...and, even then I tell whoever I happen to be with "you can touch here and here...avoid the stomach, the thighs, the back...heck...just don't touch!" I laugh and say, "I'm a mom with 2 kids, jetting off to Hawaii isn't in the cards right now". I don't want to be rude but really?! His response "I'll get a sitter for them...don't worry. How about Vegas? We can fly out tonight. I'll get a private jet". Again, seriously?!
What is it about me that screams "Hey crazy man! Offer to fly me, drive me, take me away with you, please?!". Is it my shampoo? I'll change it! It can't be my clothes because I have on more than many of the chicks here. I don't get it...and was starting to think maybe riding the bull again would be less hazardous to my health than staying with Mr. O when I was saved by the ringing of the bell...well, saved by the ring would be more appropriate, as his wife walked up because she needed a drink. I almost kissed the woman...both in appreciation for rescuing me and also in sympathy because really, her husband is nuts. We quickly took advantage of the assist and walked away...as far and as fast as we could.
I have decided this is, in same way, karma...but unfairly directed at me. My grandma used to joke that we needed to find a rich old man with one foot in the grave and a cough...it was a joke...not dating advice or fortune telling. However disturbing that experience was, the night did serve it's purpose...my friend laughed, enjoyed, and forgot her troubles for a few hours at least. And, hey, outside of Mr. Anti-O, there were some really hot cowboys there so for viewing purposes alone, I will be returning...so, stay tuned.
Going through a separation is hard for anyone, believe me, I know, and going through one you didn't want nor ever expect is even harder. So, when a good friend recently found herself in this situation, we all rallied and immediately fell into good girlfriend mode...which is code for "whatever she wants, whenever she needs it, however crazy it sounds..." Okay, well, maybe there is a limit to the level of crazy but you know what I mean...she shouldn't sit home and obsess about why life has handed her this hand right now and who better to help her occupy her time than her fun friends?
Weekends are always tough, especially when your kids have plans and you are contemplating a Friday night in front of the TV, watching too gorgeous for words couples fawn all over each other while you, yourself, are alone, eating potato chips right out of the bag...and then hating yourself for the grease stain you now have on your t-shirt and the extra 30 minutes you'll have to work out tomorrow to make up for your affair with the Ruffles. It is one's responsibility as a girlfriend to stage the intervention before the next outing is to the mall to buy bigger sizes with elastic waist bands. And, really, a night of country music in our area's cowboy heaven sounded good to me...so we were off.
As we were greeted by a bar full of Jack Daniels and an arena housing a mechanical bull, I figured this night could be both very entertaining and exactly what the doctor ordered...for both of us! Since I was driving, I had my one Jack & Diet early in the evening and did think, that while the bull was my 1st step to the other side during my transition from Alex, this may not be the best idea for someone who has rods in her leg so bypassed the bull and found the group we were meeting up with. I knew none of these people but hey, they love country music and were enjoying the gorgeous CA night, so hey, they were good for me.
In my white halter top, capri jeans and high heeled wedged sandals I was feeling cute but not worthy of turning heads that night so figured it could be all about the GF time. We laughed, we talked and then we met some guy named Mr. O (not kidding!). Now considering my life has not included too many big O's in the recent past, I immediately thought of Big O tires...yeah, I need help. Well, Mr. O, complete with a 10 gallon hat and the Texas flag disguised as a button up long sleeve shirt was probably very nice...and would make some woman very happy...well, maybe not, considering he mentioned his wife and his girlfriend in the same sentence. But, he was definitely not what either of us were looking for that evening. He, however, didn't quite get that and, after bragging to me that he supplies the strippers for the Hells Angels on their week long excursions to Hawaii he wanted to know if I'd go with him next time. As a stripper? I'm thinking no...I don't even take my clothes off unless the mood lighting consists of absolute darkness...and, even then I tell whoever I happen to be with "you can touch here and here...avoid the stomach, the thighs, the back...heck...just don't touch!" I laugh and say, "I'm a mom with 2 kids, jetting off to Hawaii isn't in the cards right now". I don't want to be rude but really?! His response "I'll get a sitter for them...don't worry. How about Vegas? We can fly out tonight. I'll get a private jet". Again, seriously?!
What is it about me that screams "Hey crazy man! Offer to fly me, drive me, take me away with you, please?!". Is it my shampoo? I'll change it! It can't be my clothes because I have on more than many of the chicks here. I don't get it...and was starting to think maybe riding the bull again would be less hazardous to my health than staying with Mr. O when I was saved by the ringing of the bell...well, saved by the ring would be more appropriate, as his wife walked up because she needed a drink. I almost kissed the woman...both in appreciation for rescuing me and also in sympathy because really, her husband is nuts. We quickly took advantage of the assist and walked away...as far and as fast as we could.
I have decided this is, in same way, karma...but unfairly directed at me. My grandma used to joke that we needed to find a rich old man with one foot in the grave and a cough...it was a joke...not dating advice or fortune telling. However disturbing that experience was, the night did serve it's purpose...my friend laughed, enjoyed, and forgot her troubles for a few hours at least. And, hey, outside of Mr. Anti-O, there were some really hot cowboys there so for viewing purposes alone, I will be returning...so, stay tuned.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Middle School Flash Back
How is it possible that I just attended my son's middle school back to school night? Wasn't it just yesterday that I was in middle school? I mean my best friend is still the same and I'm not much taller than I was then...but let's not talk about what I weighed. So really, imagine the feelings that went through my mind as I went from class to class tonight learning about the importance of the brain transformation of my 7th grader. 7th grader?! Hanging out at his locker...going to dances...playing on the sports teams...when did time speed up and I was no longer the cheerleader going to my locker, hearing my 1st boyfriend yell "Lady" as he left Biology class to meet me...(Kenny Rogers' Lady was "our song")? And, more importantly, how do I make time stand still?
I'm going to blame this incredible feeling of nostalgia for my step (or 2 or 12) backwards this week as I've actually had to sit on my hands to refrain from texting Alex. Yes, I did just put that in print...I've missed him... like not just a passing thought miss, but an actual punch to the stomach ugh kind of missing him. And, just a week after my walk on the Samantha side of the street, no strings, mind blowing time with Oh my, how good looking are you FWB. Doesn't really seem fair if you ask me. But then again, fair is for baseball and skin types...life is about taking what cards you have been dealt and seeing what kind of hand you can make out of it. And, I've never been known to fold. I should also add, I've also never won a poker tournament so maybe, just maybe, folding isn't always a bad thing.
And, while I haven't succumbed to the desire to reach out and get in touch, it has made me realize that I've been kind of full of myself in thinking that I was all Samantha (or even Carrie like) these days...when really, I still have a lot of Charlotte angst going on over Alex. I want to be ready to move on...and really do will myself to be so...being attracted to new people, going out, flirting, having fun...but when it comes to actually thinking about meeting someone who has even an inkling of a chance of being something more, I balk. If you look at my track record, you'll see that it is so....every guy I've talked about in this blog was going to be unavailable for one reason or another...easy to say "I just can't move on" if you are only hanging out with Mr. Right Now...not Mr. Right.
But, before you beat me up and tell me it is beyond time to get on with my life, remember this is the longest I've ever gone as a single adult...so really, I should be celebrated with champagne and roses (again, this is my blog so I can spin the story however I want). And, while I know it is going to take one very special guy with a strong backbone, sense of persistence, healthy ego (not to mention the other 100 things on my list) to either break down, climb over or blow up the walls I have built, when he does, boy will it be worth it.
I'm going to blame this incredible feeling of nostalgia for my step (or 2 or 12) backwards this week as I've actually had to sit on my hands to refrain from texting Alex. Yes, I did just put that in print...I've missed him... like not just a passing thought miss, but an actual punch to the stomach ugh kind of missing him. And, just a week after my walk on the Samantha side of the street, no strings, mind blowing time with Oh my, how good looking are you FWB. Doesn't really seem fair if you ask me. But then again, fair is for baseball and skin types...life is about taking what cards you have been dealt and seeing what kind of hand you can make out of it. And, I've never been known to fold. I should also add, I've also never won a poker tournament so maybe, just maybe, folding isn't always a bad thing.
And, while I haven't succumbed to the desire to reach out and get in touch, it has made me realize that I've been kind of full of myself in thinking that I was all Samantha (or even Carrie like) these days...when really, I still have a lot of Charlotte angst going on over Alex. I want to be ready to move on...and really do will myself to be so...being attracted to new people, going out, flirting, having fun...but when it comes to actually thinking about meeting someone who has even an inkling of a chance of being something more, I balk. If you look at my track record, you'll see that it is so....every guy I've talked about in this blog was going to be unavailable for one reason or another...easy to say "I just can't move on" if you are only hanging out with Mr. Right Now...not Mr. Right.
But, before you beat me up and tell me it is beyond time to get on with my life, remember this is the longest I've ever gone as a single adult...so really, I should be celebrated with champagne and roses (again, this is my blog so I can spin the story however I want). And, while I know it is going to take one very special guy with a strong backbone, sense of persistence, healthy ego (not to mention the other 100 things on my list) to either break down, climb over or blow up the walls I have built, when he does, boy will it be worth it.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
A walk on the Samantha side of life
Like many women, I fancy myself much more like Carrie than any of the other Sex in the City women (hence the moniker) but I think that most of us have a little Charlotte and Miranda in us as well...It is what made the show work...that we could see ourselves in each of the characters, and, if we are being completely honest, we all either have a teensy bit of Samantha hidden in there somewhere, or at least we wished we did. She is the one who, with careless abandon, really goes after what she wants and says pfft (well, the much more sophisticated version of pfft) to the consequences. She also looks at sex much more the way men do, as a form of release, entertainment, something to be enjoyed and not stress about, fretted over, regretted, dissected and all of the other "ed's" we as women do. Yes, society frowns on women who look at multiple partners as just their version of the Vegas Bellagio buffet line...so many choices, but worth every bite. And, really, I wouldn't want to live my life like that anyhow...although, I do make it a point to get to the Bellagio at least every other Vegas visit.
As we all know, I've been having a hard time the past few weeks trying to figure out why Jersey Shore all of a sudden stopped texting (even though he wasn't what I wanted), why Hot Electrician doesn't want me to help him rewire anything and why G.I. Joe hasn't hopped on a plane to fly 3000 miles to ask me to dinner...okay, I haven't really been losing sleep over any of the above but I have been a little preoccupied with the why of my current no plus one status. And, truly, I do believe a lot of the angst was hormonally induced. Maybe if I weren't feeling the need for physical interaction I'd be more able to see life clearly and not be waiting for The Situation's cousin to text me silliness that will lead to nowhere.
Fortunately, a longtime FWB had been hinting at, heck out and out asking for, some time for us to get together, and well, have sex. Over the past 2+years he has been an amazing friend and really, the last guy I did have sex with (over a year ago!). He is absolutely gorgeous but not at all what I'd ever want to date...a fact I realized very early in our friendship. But, he thinks I'm hot, is fun for a quick lunch date every now and then and really, is incredible in bed. I had blown off the past few invites because I really wasn't in the mood for sex with no brain activity involved. While I'm not expecting a guy to make my brain as hot as my body just to do the horizontal mambo with him, I do want to feel like there is a chance for something more. And, with Mr. 24 Hr Fitness, this was not the case.
However, as I contemplated my cloudy disposition over the lack of Mr. Right in my life, I decided maybe a little hormonal brain cleansing was not a bad idea. So, before I could lose my nerve, I texted him on the first day I felt like I looked hot enough to be fun with a "Well, wanna?" and well, he wanted. And, well, when you aren't trying to impress someone with your wit, your charm, your bedroom skills, while also trying to look 15 pounds lighter with no stretch marks, sex is really a lot easier! We laughed, we talked, we had great sex and, in the grand scheme of things, it worked. I felt sexy, independent and ready to take on the world...
But, of course, the world is a lot larger than his queen size bed and the reality of my life didn't really change. And, for a moment, I started to get depressed, but then I realized something even more important. The reason the glow of mind blowing sex faded was because I have finally moved on to where I do want more. And, by more, I don't mean with a fly in visit from Jersey Shore or anyone else who doesn't really want me. I am ready for the man who knows what he has in me and will be strong enough to see it and hold on.
We all look at Samantha with a touch of longing because we do know our minds and our hearts get involved when we have sex...and well, I for one, wouldn't have it any other way.
As we all know, I've been having a hard time the past few weeks trying to figure out why Jersey Shore all of a sudden stopped texting (even though he wasn't what I wanted), why Hot Electrician doesn't want me to help him rewire anything and why G.I. Joe hasn't hopped on a plane to fly 3000 miles to ask me to dinner...okay, I haven't really been losing sleep over any of the above but I have been a little preoccupied with the why of my current no plus one status. And, truly, I do believe a lot of the angst was hormonally induced. Maybe if I weren't feeling the need for physical interaction I'd be more able to see life clearly and not be waiting for The Situation's cousin to text me silliness that will lead to nowhere.
Fortunately, a longtime FWB had been hinting at, heck out and out asking for, some time for us to get together, and well, have sex. Over the past 2+years he has been an amazing friend and really, the last guy I did have sex with (over a year ago!). He is absolutely gorgeous but not at all what I'd ever want to date...a fact I realized very early in our friendship. But, he thinks I'm hot, is fun for a quick lunch date every now and then and really, is incredible in bed. I had blown off the past few invites because I really wasn't in the mood for sex with no brain activity involved. While I'm not expecting a guy to make my brain as hot as my body just to do the horizontal mambo with him, I do want to feel like there is a chance for something more. And, with Mr. 24 Hr Fitness, this was not the case.
However, as I contemplated my cloudy disposition over the lack of Mr. Right in my life, I decided maybe a little hormonal brain cleansing was not a bad idea. So, before I could lose my nerve, I texted him on the first day I felt like I looked hot enough to be fun with a "Well, wanna?" and well, he wanted. And, well, when you aren't trying to impress someone with your wit, your charm, your bedroom skills, while also trying to look 15 pounds lighter with no stretch marks, sex is really a lot easier! We laughed, we talked, we had great sex and, in the grand scheme of things, it worked. I felt sexy, independent and ready to take on the world...
But, of course, the world is a lot larger than his queen size bed and the reality of my life didn't really change. And, for a moment, I started to get depressed, but then I realized something even more important. The reason the glow of mind blowing sex faded was because I have finally moved on to where I do want more. And, by more, I don't mean with a fly in visit from Jersey Shore or anyone else who doesn't really want me. I am ready for the man who knows what he has in me and will be strong enough to see it and hold on.
We all look at Samantha with a touch of longing because we do know our minds and our hearts get involved when we have sex...and well, I for one, wouldn't have it any other way.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Obviously in need of wine...not whine
Warning! This blog contains material not suited for the annoyingly happy or newly in love (wait, aren’t those the same?) as I am feeling a little blue. Granted, I look really good in blue…totally brings out the eyes, which is why I chose blue shirts for the year I was president of that famous festival. Yes, yes, I digress which is really bugging me because it makes it hard for me to stay grumpy. And, for some reason, grumpy has been the mood of the day.
Well, if I’m being totally honest, and why not, it’s a blog, not dinner with my dad, I know why I’m grumpy…I’m just not proud of the reason. I’m feeling sorry for myself! There, I said it, I’m being a pathetic, hormone crazed, wah wah me, chick! And, what is worse, I am doing it over a man…or to be more accurate, the lack of a really good man! Now, doesn’t that make you just want to shoot me?
And, really, my visits to Pityland never last long, and since I know so many people are dealing with real life problems right now I promise this trip won’t even require an overnight bag. This will just be a short commuter flight trip to lament on the fact I definitely seem to be sending off the wrong vibe or that maybe, just maybe I’ve lost my touch. I realize Mr. Jersey Shore said I was sexy…but he also said he had been separated for 2 years and yeah, not so sure that is the case, so all comments from him are now questionable. And, maybe that is also the problem…sexy is good…but I also want to be cute, fun, date able!
Therein lies my dilemma…I have met men…you’ve read about it…but I’m either not meeting the right men or it isn’t at the right time in their lives for me! Hot Electrician is a good man, and yes, hot…just not in the dating single moms with a penchant for basketball tournaments phase. Mr. GI Joe is a very good man…just not in a phase to date, well, anyone! And, well, yes, pretty sure the heat in Jersey Shore’s kitchen isn’t what I’m looking for.
Yes, I’m content and live a very busy life…2 amazing kids, 2 neurotic adorable dogs, great friends, tons of community work, job I’m good at…wait, again, why am I grumpy?! Oh yeah, because there isn’t a guy to make me wonder if I look good, whose annoying habits I have to overlook, whose call I stress about not coming in…Again, I know, I know…it isn’t all it is cracked up to be…
Seriously, I just think we are wired to be part of a couple and right now that wiring is shorting out a bit…reminding me of my current situation. I will be fine, and I will be back to being the over the top aging cheerleader (with enough cynicism to make me palatable) that I normally am.
I do thank you for humoring my mood though. I see a full then empty then full wine glass in my future.
Well, if I’m being totally honest, and why not, it’s a blog, not dinner with my dad, I know why I’m grumpy…I’m just not proud of the reason. I’m feeling sorry for myself! There, I said it, I’m being a pathetic, hormone crazed, wah wah me, chick! And, what is worse, I am doing it over a man…or to be more accurate, the lack of a really good man! Now, doesn’t that make you just want to shoot me?
And, really, my visits to Pityland never last long, and since I know so many people are dealing with real life problems right now I promise this trip won’t even require an overnight bag. This will just be a short commuter flight trip to lament on the fact I definitely seem to be sending off the wrong vibe or that maybe, just maybe I’ve lost my touch. I realize Mr. Jersey Shore said I was sexy…but he also said he had been separated for 2 years and yeah, not so sure that is the case, so all comments from him are now questionable. And, maybe that is also the problem…sexy is good…but I also want to be cute, fun, date able!
Therein lies my dilemma…I have met men…you’ve read about it…but I’m either not meeting the right men or it isn’t at the right time in their lives for me! Hot Electrician is a good man, and yes, hot…just not in the dating single moms with a penchant for basketball tournaments phase. Mr. GI Joe is a very good man…just not in a phase to date, well, anyone! And, well, yes, pretty sure the heat in Jersey Shore’s kitchen isn’t what I’m looking for.
Yes, I’m content and live a very busy life…2 amazing kids, 2 neurotic adorable dogs, great friends, tons of community work, job I’m good at…wait, again, why am I grumpy?! Oh yeah, because there isn’t a guy to make me wonder if I look good, whose annoying habits I have to overlook, whose call I stress about not coming in…Again, I know, I know…it isn’t all it is cracked up to be…
Seriously, I just think we are wired to be part of a couple and right now that wiring is shorting out a bit…reminding me of my current situation. I will be fine, and I will be back to being the over the top aging cheerleader (with enough cynicism to make me palatable) that I normally am.
I do thank you for humoring my mood though. I see a full then empty then full wine glass in my future.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Who needs the Kardashians?
As someone who doesn't watch the show it is very easy for me to be baffled by the allure. I can not figure out what exactly is so enthralling about a family of wanna be celebrities whose lives often seem like narrowly avoided train crashes. However, I was reminded one night during our trip that you don't have to be the offspring of OJ's attorney to have drama that could be fodder for TMZ. So, maybe that is why I don't watch the shows...I just live them. (well, not nearly that exciting but hey, considering I found a dead mouse in my washing machine tonight, I consider anything that doesn't involve floating rodents a plus).
One of the incredible blessings in my life is the foundation of amazing friends who look out for and care about me...the ones who are with me for my crazy adventures, the ones who understand my eye rolls and catty texts about my former husband and Amazon GF and the ones who have known and loved me since I was 13 years old and just want me to be happy...especially if that means my happiness finds me living south of the Mason Dixon line. For months now my bff and I have been exchanging goofy messages that could have been written at the beginning of our friendship for the silliness they included. The poor unwitting subject of these messages being the newly separated father of one of her daughter's best friends. And, really, on paper (and in pictures) he is perfect...definitely fits more of "The List's" characteristics than Mr. Jersey Shore. However, small problem...he has no idea who I am nor is he anywhere near being ready to move on.
But, let's not let those minor details mar what otherwise is a flawless plan...yeah, this plan is so full of holes it could be Swiss Cheese but again, why sweat the small stuff. So, we forged on and told G.I. Joe that I was going to be in town and that he should swing by for a quick hi...incredibly low key, casual and no pressure. This seemed like a brilliant idea when it was just going to be a few of us (including his kids who would be there). Well, by the time the poor guy showed up, so had 10+ members of extended family and friends. I guess I should mention that the not quite yet ex wife of G.I.Joe is now secretly dating my bff's brother-in-law so when I saw the house was full of family, it was really full of the enemy in his mind. Of course, none of this was the fault of anyone in the room but it certainly didn't set the stage for the meeting of the eyes and chemistry click movies are made of.
Granted, no one expected a love match...or even a date but the thought he might like a friend who understands his plight definitely crossed our minds. A friend, who happened to be cute, around his age, who he might eventually decide was the woman of his dreams...wait, did I write that? I meant just someone he could talk to! But, as it turns out, I think the only thing on his mind that night was how to extricate himself from the situation as quickly as etiquette would allow. And, really, who could blame him? The unintentional mentions of the aforementioned brother-in-law were even making my bff and I look at each other with complete WTF expressions. Could this get any more awkward?!
Needless to say, no digits were exchanged that night...but don't worry, I did not despair. If the experiences of the past 2 years have taught me nothing else, I have learned to just live the life I have been given at that moment. That isn't saying I don't want more at some point but yearning for something isn't going to make it so. What I can do is continue to open myself up to new experiences and see where it leads. If I don't, I may miss out on the story of a lifetime.
One of the incredible blessings in my life is the foundation of amazing friends who look out for and care about me...the ones who are with me for my crazy adventures, the ones who understand my eye rolls and catty texts about my former husband and Amazon GF and the ones who have known and loved me since I was 13 years old and just want me to be happy...especially if that means my happiness finds me living south of the Mason Dixon line. For months now my bff and I have been exchanging goofy messages that could have been written at the beginning of our friendship for the silliness they included. The poor unwitting subject of these messages being the newly separated father of one of her daughter's best friends. And, really, on paper (and in pictures) he is perfect...definitely fits more of "The List's" characteristics than Mr. Jersey Shore. However, small problem...he has no idea who I am nor is he anywhere near being ready to move on.
But, let's not let those minor details mar what otherwise is a flawless plan...yeah, this plan is so full of holes it could be Swiss Cheese but again, why sweat the small stuff. So, we forged on and told G.I. Joe that I was going to be in town and that he should swing by for a quick hi...incredibly low key, casual and no pressure. This seemed like a brilliant idea when it was just going to be a few of us (including his kids who would be there). Well, by the time the poor guy showed up, so had 10+ members of extended family and friends. I guess I should mention that the not quite yet ex wife of G.I.Joe is now secretly dating my bff's brother-in-law so when I saw the house was full of family, it was really full of the enemy in his mind. Of course, none of this was the fault of anyone in the room but it certainly didn't set the stage for the meeting of the eyes and chemistry click movies are made of.
Granted, no one expected a love match...or even a date but the thought he might like a friend who understands his plight definitely crossed our minds. A friend, who happened to be cute, around his age, who he might eventually decide was the woman of his dreams...wait, did I write that? I meant just someone he could talk to! But, as it turns out, I think the only thing on his mind that night was how to extricate himself from the situation as quickly as etiquette would allow. And, really, who could blame him? The unintentional mentions of the aforementioned brother-in-law were even making my bff and I look at each other with complete WTF expressions. Could this get any more awkward?!
Needless to say, no digits were exchanged that night...but don't worry, I did not despair. If the experiences of the past 2 years have taught me nothing else, I have learned to just live the life I have been given at that moment. That isn't saying I don't want more at some point but yearning for something isn't going to make it so. What I can do is continue to open myself up to new experiences and see where it leads. If I don't, I may miss out on the story of a lifetime.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
3 tickets to Adventureland please...
As the kids and I boarded the plane last week for our end of summer East Coast adventure I was hit with a number of emotions…”Phew, we made it through security okay.”, “Crap, why didn’t I get a prescription for Xanax before we left, I hate to fly!” “Please God don’t let that woman with the 2 screaming kids and overflowing backpack of junk sit near us” and “By cocktail hour today I will be on EST with a Kir Royale in hand…aahhh”. Fortunately, by now, you all know I think and emote as fast as I talk so all of those fragments of thought zipped through my brain in the time it took me to pour my small (too small) bottle of Bailey’s into my pseudo Starbucks coffee cup. First sip down and we were off…to a land where I relax more, talk slower (and with a little more sass in my twang) and believe one day I will end up living again.
As this was a trip the kids had been talking about for months, we definitely had agendas filled with must see items in our nation’s capital city. The kids have been a few times so we continue to check things off our list while also ensuring we have time to visit family and friends. Granted, the time is never long enough and the visits never frequent enough but I have found this year that combining sweet tea fixes with new adventures at home has made me miss Alex much less…to the point of being almost ready to handle the impending marriage announcement I know that must be in their future. To assure you I'm not completely naive, that announcement will also require a trip to BevMo but really, so does a conversation with my mother so in the grand scheme of things, not so bad. However, my point is, while my bank account could probably handle less trips, my psyche has definitely benefited.
Of course, my life wouldn’t be my life if there weren’t a little unreal thrown in so the adventure of getting a phone call at 11pm on our first night from my brother and his family who had gotten a flat tire leaving DC after dinner with us started it off right. My dad and I left the kids with my stepmother and took off in his upscale SUV to rescue the stranded crew. By rescue I mean he had his AAA card out and was prepared to use it. As I had already climbed into bed by the time the call came in, I threw on a pair of sweats, my “Basketball Mom” t-shirt and blinged out flip flops and we were off. When we arrived at the Secret Service check point in front of the White House (yes, this is where they were stuck) my nieces were in great need of a bathroom. We sent my sister-in-law and the girls off to the 4 star hotel across the street and we waited with my 18 month old nephew sleeping in the stroller. To add to the excitement, my youngest niece had broken her flip flops and I decided walking into the Willard hotel barefoot at midnight looking for a bathroom could send the wrong message so I now was sans shoes. At dawn on the day in question I was dressed to kill in a white halter dress, jeweled and Farah-haired out and now I was barefoot, in sweats and pushing a stroller along Independence Avenue…my, how the mighty have fallen. I have to admit though I was a little distressed that I obviously was not pulling off the destitute mom act as not one person walking by threw me any change. It could be that I was pushing the stroller right next to a new model Infiniti but still, a token contribution would have just added to the evening.
As anyone in my family can attest, we don’t know how to fix things, we know how to get things fixed so with a hit of the hammer and a quick tire change by Pongo (yes!) from AAA, crisis was averted and I was ready for the next adventure…with my blinged out flip flops, of course!
Again, I’d have nothing to write about if my life weren’t, well,…my life!
As this was a trip the kids had been talking about for months, we definitely had agendas filled with must see items in our nation’s capital city. The kids have been a few times so we continue to check things off our list while also ensuring we have time to visit family and friends. Granted, the time is never long enough and the visits never frequent enough but I have found this year that combining sweet tea fixes with new adventures at home has made me miss Alex much less…to the point of being almost ready to handle the impending marriage announcement I know that must be in their future. To assure you I'm not completely naive, that announcement will also require a trip to BevMo but really, so does a conversation with my mother so in the grand scheme of things, not so bad. However, my point is, while my bank account could probably handle less trips, my psyche has definitely benefited.
Of course, my life wouldn’t be my life if there weren’t a little unreal thrown in so the adventure of getting a phone call at 11pm on our first night from my brother and his family who had gotten a flat tire leaving DC after dinner with us started it off right. My dad and I left the kids with my stepmother and took off in his upscale SUV to rescue the stranded crew. By rescue I mean he had his AAA card out and was prepared to use it. As I had already climbed into bed by the time the call came in, I threw on a pair of sweats, my “Basketball Mom” t-shirt and blinged out flip flops and we were off. When we arrived at the Secret Service check point in front of the White House (yes, this is where they were stuck) my nieces were in great need of a bathroom. We sent my sister-in-law and the girls off to the 4 star hotel across the street and we waited with my 18 month old nephew sleeping in the stroller. To add to the excitement, my youngest niece had broken her flip flops and I decided walking into the Willard hotel barefoot at midnight looking for a bathroom could send the wrong message so I now was sans shoes. At dawn on the day in question I was dressed to kill in a white halter dress, jeweled and Farah-haired out and now I was barefoot, in sweats and pushing a stroller along Independence Avenue…my, how the mighty have fallen. I have to admit though I was a little distressed that I obviously was not pulling off the destitute mom act as not one person walking by threw me any change. It could be that I was pushing the stroller right next to a new model Infiniti but still, a token contribution would have just added to the evening.
As anyone in my family can attest, we don’t know how to fix things, we know how to get things fixed so with a hit of the hammer and a quick tire change by Pongo (yes!) from AAA, crisis was averted and I was ready for the next adventure…with my blinged out flip flops, of course!
Again, I’d have nothing to write about if my life weren’t, well,…my life!
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Gone are the days of party line telephone calls
What ever happened to a group of girlfriends sitting around giving advice to one another about love, dating, outfits, etc...? Isn’t that how my blog moniker gained fame anyhow? From classy women who drank Cosmos and dished about their latest escapades while wearing the latest in New York fashion? When did technology replace the hair salon for all the advice and dirt we need? Granted, this question seems a little ironic coming from someone who writes a blog about her crazy daily escapades but that kind of illustrates my point. In this era of non stop technological advances, advice from all sides has taken on a whole new meaning.
Case in point, as we know, I indulged in a little Jersey Italian fun this past weekend…but that, of course, did not just happen organically. I guess it could have, but it also included tweets, Facebook posts, emails and even some cross continent multi-generational Skyping…not kidding!
As festival weekend is usually pretty insane in my world, I send out a blanket invitation to family that they can stay at my house but don’t expect to see me and a bag of Oreos is probably about the extent of the food they will find…a far stretch from the Southern hospitality they are used to when they visit. However, because my family loves me, they get it and this weekend my aunt, as well as my sister and family were crashed at Casa de Crazy. I guess at some point the discussion turned toward the lack of a male companion in my life so my sister jokingly tasked my 62 year old aunt with “finding me a man”. She took the job seriously and after watching the two of us interact on/off stage texted me with a “he’s hot” message…”let’s do something about that.” Okay, because before she pointed that out through the help of Verizon, I wasn’t so sure the looks, the touches, the “are you married” question was leading anywhere. But, no worries, I don’t care who takes credit as long as it ended with me getting a kiss.
As my aunt was my date for a party that evening that Jersey Shore would be attending, she and I did the mad rush getting ready together. Although, it wasn’t just the two of us as she had been busy Skyping with her boyfriend in Germany. He, too, wanted to get in on the advice action, so had been encouraging her to take her own car…just in case I did get lucky. Pause! Just because the two of you AARP members are busier than the Bud Girls at a Nascar race, it doesn’t mean the rest of us are itching to get busy between the sheets. Well, I was but that is beside the point!
Of course, as it turns out, the two cars could have come in handy but it worked out just fine. I brought my aunt home and ran in the house to do a little freshening up. Of course, that also involved the bi-continental Skype time. As I’m running around, fluffing up the hair, yes, surveying the underwear choice, grabbing a bottle of wine…I’m also getting “Tell her to make sure he’s nice. Is she going to stay at the hotel with him? Why the wine? What kind of guy is he?” Hmm….I don’t know! He seems nice, the wine is because well, I’m 20 pounds overweight, haven’t had a guy see me naked in well, forever, and I need to fortitude and he’s the kind of guy who is hot! Okay, maybe if I’d answered these questions a little more carefully I wouldn’t have written the post I did earlier about needing to have my wires checked. But, that isn’t what I was thinking about each time I passed her laptop, perched on the kitchen counter, with the two of them making googly eyes at one another. Please let me get out of here before they start turning up the heat themselves! We've all seen "It's Complicated"...sometimes video chats leave waaaay less to the imagination than one needs.
Really, the fact that my family (all of them) care so much about my life means every thing to me. I am content, and not a complete basket case, because of them. Their support has gotten me through quite a bit the last two years and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Just at that moment, when all of my insecurities were competing with the excitement of a new adventure, I just wasn’t sure I was ready for it to go viral. But again, this is me, writing about it, in my blog, so I guess I’ll just go with it…
Case in point, as we know, I indulged in a little Jersey Italian fun this past weekend…but that, of course, did not just happen organically. I guess it could have, but it also included tweets, Facebook posts, emails and even some cross continent multi-generational Skyping…not kidding!
As festival weekend is usually pretty insane in my world, I send out a blanket invitation to family that they can stay at my house but don’t expect to see me and a bag of Oreos is probably about the extent of the food they will find…a far stretch from the Southern hospitality they are used to when they visit. However, because my family loves me, they get it and this weekend my aunt, as well as my sister and family were crashed at Casa de Crazy. I guess at some point the discussion turned toward the lack of a male companion in my life so my sister jokingly tasked my 62 year old aunt with “finding me a man”. She took the job seriously and after watching the two of us interact on/off stage texted me with a “he’s hot” message…”let’s do something about that.” Okay, because before she pointed that out through the help of Verizon, I wasn’t so sure the looks, the touches, the “are you married” question was leading anywhere. But, no worries, I don’t care who takes credit as long as it ended with me getting a kiss.
As my aunt was my date for a party that evening that Jersey Shore would be attending, she and I did the mad rush getting ready together. Although, it wasn’t just the two of us as she had been busy Skyping with her boyfriend in Germany. He, too, wanted to get in on the advice action, so had been encouraging her to take her own car…just in case I did get lucky. Pause! Just because the two of you AARP members are busier than the Bud Girls at a Nascar race, it doesn’t mean the rest of us are itching to get busy between the sheets. Well, I was but that is beside the point!
Of course, as it turns out, the two cars could have come in handy but it worked out just fine. I brought my aunt home and ran in the house to do a little freshening up. Of course, that also involved the bi-continental Skype time. As I’m running around, fluffing up the hair, yes, surveying the underwear choice, grabbing a bottle of wine…I’m also getting “Tell her to make sure he’s nice. Is she going to stay at the hotel with him? Why the wine? What kind of guy is he?” Hmm….I don’t know! He seems nice, the wine is because well, I’m 20 pounds overweight, haven’t had a guy see me naked in well, forever, and I need to fortitude and he’s the kind of guy who is hot! Okay, maybe if I’d answered these questions a little more carefully I wouldn’t have written the post I did earlier about needing to have my wires checked. But, that isn’t what I was thinking about each time I passed her laptop, perched on the kitchen counter, with the two of them making googly eyes at one another. Please let me get out of here before they start turning up the heat themselves! We've all seen "It's Complicated"...sometimes video chats leave waaaay less to the imagination than one needs.
Really, the fact that my family (all of them) care so much about my life means every thing to me. I am content, and not a complete basket case, because of them. Their support has gotten me through quite a bit the last two years and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Just at that moment, when all of my insecurities were competing with the excitement of a new adventure, I just wasn’t sure I was ready for it to go viral. But again, this is me, writing about it, in my blog, so I guess I’ll just go with it…
Friday, August 5, 2011
Faulty wiring
I realize this isn’t news, nor is it even a surprise, but it is one of those things I think bears repeating…men and women are different. I know, hold onto your wine glasses, that was groundbreaking material. But, truly, with each and every new experience with the hairier (you hope) sex, I am reminded of how we are just wired differently. And, while, I wouldn’t trade our sense of style, taste or amazing shoes to switch teams, I wouldn’t mind having their ability to compartmentalize emotion vs. pure lust just every once in a while. We women talk a good game about being in it for the fun of it, or being able to handle the whole friends with benefits concept but really, who are we kidding?! We know, two kisses in with a hottie and we are picking china patterns. (or at least picturing long weekend getaways and stolen whispers about tomorrow while men are thinking “what time is the game tomorrow? Do I need more beer?”
I have been struck with this desire to have a circuitry overload because, even though the other ½ of the double trouble duo, warned me I knew what I was getting into, I am having a hard time not wanting more. Okay, more of what is probably a fair question at this point as I haven’t written about this yet. Just remember, I’m 42, single and have been on a dry spell lately!
We know this past weekend was the annual adrenaline rush for me at the festival I’m involved in and this year the rush came from more than just the random flirting and fun innuendos with other volunteers as I became acquainted with one of our celebrity talents we bring in for the weekend. Remember my list of 20+ characteristics of the perfect guy? Well, forget those as he didn’t fit into any of them but boy was he hot! As I said to a friend at one point (when I was just in the admiring phase) “he is my kind of yummy”. And, I guess the CA/VA blond with a slight twang did it for this Jersey Shore boy as he went out of his way to flirt his way into me spending several hours after the event with him…(yes, in his hotel room). Now, before you label me as Samantha, instead of Carrie, I still didn’t have sex with him. Why? I don’t know! I somehow think going back to his hotel room and messing around is okay, after knowing him 10 hours but actual sex, no, that is off limits. Yes, I’m a freak!
Now, of course is when the dilemma sets in. During two different visits at his hotel, 2 days with him at the festival and lots of fun smiles in between, I was cool as a cucumber…content with my life, not looking to be swept off my feet, okay with the completely different lives we lead…and really, all of that is true. But, now that he has flown back to the other coast, and I’m coming off the adrenaline rush of the weekend, my coolness has warmed just a tad and I’m stuck with wondering if he’ll get bored of me (if he isn’t already) before I do him. Yes, a very healthy way to start the day, I know!
Why do women (or is it just me) wake up wondering if he thought about them during the night? Why do we assume he is “a player” without any real proof? And, why, do we make our stomachs hurt wondering if we’ll hear from him? I’ve always been the one to do the leaving (as you’ve read about in here) but for some reason my confidence/ego isn’t as healthy as it has been in the past. Does that start to go along with the perky boobs, hot butt and eyesight? If so, I’m now pissed! I like my sassy side!
Well, since I’m pretty sure the local plastic surgeon specializes in implants and liposuction, not chemical lobotomies, I guess I’m stuck with being a chick in this instance. Note to self: avoid sappy movies, romance novels and ice cream for the next few weeks.
I have been struck with this desire to have a circuitry overload because, even though the other ½ of the double trouble duo, warned me I knew what I was getting into, I am having a hard time not wanting more. Okay, more of what is probably a fair question at this point as I haven’t written about this yet. Just remember, I’m 42, single and have been on a dry spell lately!
We know this past weekend was the annual adrenaline rush for me at the festival I’m involved in and this year the rush came from more than just the random flirting and fun innuendos with other volunteers as I became acquainted with one of our celebrity talents we bring in for the weekend. Remember my list of 20+ characteristics of the perfect guy? Well, forget those as he didn’t fit into any of them but boy was he hot! As I said to a friend at one point (when I was just in the admiring phase) “he is my kind of yummy”. And, I guess the CA/VA blond with a slight twang did it for this Jersey Shore boy as he went out of his way to flirt his way into me spending several hours after the event with him…(yes, in his hotel room). Now, before you label me as Samantha, instead of Carrie, I still didn’t have sex with him. Why? I don’t know! I somehow think going back to his hotel room and messing around is okay, after knowing him 10 hours but actual sex, no, that is off limits. Yes, I’m a freak!
Now, of course is when the dilemma sets in. During two different visits at his hotel, 2 days with him at the festival and lots of fun smiles in between, I was cool as a cucumber…content with my life, not looking to be swept off my feet, okay with the completely different lives we lead…and really, all of that is true. But, now that he has flown back to the other coast, and I’m coming off the adrenaline rush of the weekend, my coolness has warmed just a tad and I’m stuck with wondering if he’ll get bored of me (if he isn’t already) before I do him. Yes, a very healthy way to start the day, I know!
Why do women (or is it just me) wake up wondering if he thought about them during the night? Why do we assume he is “a player” without any real proof? And, why, do we make our stomachs hurt wondering if we’ll hear from him? I’ve always been the one to do the leaving (as you’ve read about in here) but for some reason my confidence/ego isn’t as healthy as it has been in the past. Does that start to go along with the perky boobs, hot butt and eyesight? If so, I’m now pissed! I like my sassy side!
Well, since I’m pretty sure the local plastic surgeon specializes in implants and liposuction, not chemical lobotomies, I guess I’m stuck with being a chick in this instance. Note to self: avoid sappy movies, romance novels and ice cream for the next few weeks.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
It's all about the Bad Boys...
What is it about just the image of a "Bad Boy" that has normally sane, level headed, put together women tossing their Coach purses (okay, putting them away nicely in their special bag covers) to the side and throwing on the jeans, tank tops, hot heels ready to take a walk on the wild side? Now don't shake your head and act like you don't know what I'm talking about. You know there is at least one man on "your list" that either rides a motorcycle in his leather jacket or has long hair and more than his fair share of tattoos. He is the guy your mother warned you about (well, not my mother...she warned me about rich Republicans out to destroy the world as we know it...but again, she's different) but the one you still thought was hot. I know, unfortunately, I have had several of these type of men on my "ooh baby" list. And, at 42, wouldn't one think I'd have learned my lesson by now? But, why! Sometimes bad really can be good. See, it is that type of justification that gets me into trouble every time.
In the midst of our festival craziness, the same group of friends who seem to be included in most of my more memorable evenings, decided we should go see Kid Rock in concert. He could be the poster child for today's Bad Boy. Obviously he is not at all in the classically handsome category by any stretch but for some reason the combination of his hard core lyrics, his kiss my a** attitude and the abs from, oh my gosh, heaven and really you have the stuff suburban housewives (and their divorced friends) dream about. Granted, I was not as ready to rush the stage as my lemon drop friend (remember her from Whiskey Creek) but my increased heart rate did get me to thinking about why women do this. Why do we fall for the very ones we shouldn't? I know Barnes & Noble has an entire section devoted to the stupid choices women make but I don't think we need that much space.
I think it is a physical thing...really! I look at one of these men with the tough guy attitude and think "yeah, he's going to give me what I need" without ever thinking long term. You see no holds barred great sex in your future but know there will not be a bouquet of flowers this next day to thank you for the fun. You'll be sore but satisfied. And, I guess every once in a while that is not a bad thing. But unfortunately, we, as women, don't think on such practical terms. We usually think like the lyrics from my favorite cowboy "I may be a real bad boy but baby I'm a real good man". It is a song, ladies! Probably written by a woman!
I am reminding myself of these facts and trying to apply logic to any choice I make in the near future. I know I need a man with quite the tough side...but it needs to be balanced as well. And, until then, I know how to daydream.
In the midst of our festival craziness, the same group of friends who seem to be included in most of my more memorable evenings, decided we should go see Kid Rock in concert. He could be the poster child for today's Bad Boy. Obviously he is not at all in the classically handsome category by any stretch but for some reason the combination of his hard core lyrics, his kiss my a** attitude and the abs from, oh my gosh, heaven and really you have the stuff suburban housewives (and their divorced friends) dream about. Granted, I was not as ready to rush the stage as my lemon drop friend (remember her from Whiskey Creek) but my increased heart rate did get me to thinking about why women do this. Why do we fall for the very ones we shouldn't? I know Barnes & Noble has an entire section devoted to the stupid choices women make but I don't think we need that much space.
I think it is a physical thing...really! I look at one of these men with the tough guy attitude and think "yeah, he's going to give me what I need" without ever thinking long term. You see no holds barred great sex in your future but know there will not be a bouquet of flowers this next day to thank you for the fun. You'll be sore but satisfied. And, I guess every once in a while that is not a bad thing. But unfortunately, we, as women, don't think on such practical terms. We usually think like the lyrics from my favorite cowboy "I may be a real bad boy but baby I'm a real good man". It is a song, ladies! Probably written by a woman!
I am reminding myself of these facts and trying to apply logic to any choice I make in the near future. I know I need a man with quite the tough side...but it needs to be balanced as well. And, until then, I know how to daydream.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Not the sugar daddy I had in mind
Be careful what you wish for! We've all heard that saying and almost always rolled our eyes and thought "what in the world could be wrong with what I'm wishing"...well, darn it, it's true! To be honest, I've never actually wished for a Sugar Daddy. I've joked about it. I've wondered what it would be like to have an older man think I should just be showered with bling. But, wish is a stretch. However, I think this past week, I almost received a proposition to have someone be just that...or at least very close to it. And, people wonder why I started a blog!
2 years ago, during the foggy time in my life, I was also experiencing one of the best times of my life, as president of the festival I so greatly love. Well, through that role I had a few different TV/radio spots I had to participate in. Oh yeah, me and microphone...go figure! One of these gigs (biz lingo, you know) was in San Francisco so a few of us rode up with a car/driver supplied by our media guy. The driver was the owner of the company and private security consultant and very nice. I thought he must have been a big fan of The American President because he complimented my feet as being "absolutely perfect". While President Andrew Sheppard learned to compliment a woman's shoes, I figured Mr. BodyGuard just got the concept a little wrong. Well, guess not! But, I thought nothing of it and moved on.
Fast forward 2 years and I am again asked to do a spot for a regional talk show and Mr. Body Guard will be driving us to the city (I brought my daughter, not knowing how fortuitous this was at the time). As we are getting into the car, I jokingly say "Good thing I just got a pedicure because I know how particular you are about feet"...and I laugh. The man is 15 years older than me so I don't think this is dangerous territory at all. Until he responds with...I like looking at your feet, as well as the rest of you too and then closes the car door for me. Okay...it is going to be an interesting ride.
He immediately gets my daughter all set up with a movie on his iPhone with headphones and begins to ask if I'm still single. He understands that when Alex and I first broke up I wasn't ready for anything (hmmm??? this is relevant to our drive into SF how?) but that is when he was separated from his wife so too bad our timing was off. He went on to tell me that, if nothing else, he would have shown me a good time. Again, "what?!?" First, you are talking about protecting Paris Hilton at some trendy LA club and now I should be sorry because you are now back with your wife...although if I was interested in being your travel partner ("she's not really into travel") you need a companion for you 100 day long motorcycle ride to Sturgis. Oh yes, please pick me! Nothing would make me happier than being the side dish on the back of a motorcycle trip that involves camping, I think. And, again, at least 15 years older than me (although he thought I was 5 years younger than I actually am so again, ewww!) and while I imagine he could take good care of me, not what I had in mind.
Of course, traffic was horrendous that day so what could have been just a long 2 hours in the car turned into an oh my gosh, I'm seriously considering jumping out of the window kind of experience. Fortunately, my daughter's movie ended and I immediately said "NO!" when asked whether or not she wanted to watch another one. I know I should be flattered that some aging Kevin Costner/Whitney Houston movie character thinks I'm the bees knees and could make me happy, but I just can't do it. I think I'll continue to take my chances on the unmarried, non foot fetish, closer to my age pool of applicants. Wow!
2 years ago, during the foggy time in my life, I was also experiencing one of the best times of my life, as president of the festival I so greatly love. Well, through that role I had a few different TV/radio spots I had to participate in. Oh yeah, me and microphone...go figure! One of these gigs (biz lingo, you know) was in San Francisco so a few of us rode up with a car/driver supplied by our media guy. The driver was the owner of the company and private security consultant and very nice. I thought he must have been a big fan of The American President because he complimented my feet as being "absolutely perfect". While President Andrew Sheppard learned to compliment a woman's shoes, I figured Mr. BodyGuard just got the concept a little wrong. Well, guess not! But, I thought nothing of it and moved on.
Fast forward 2 years and I am again asked to do a spot for a regional talk show and Mr. Body Guard will be driving us to the city (I brought my daughter, not knowing how fortuitous this was at the time). As we are getting into the car, I jokingly say "Good thing I just got a pedicure because I know how particular you are about feet"...and I laugh. The man is 15 years older than me so I don't think this is dangerous territory at all. Until he responds with...I like looking at your feet, as well as the rest of you too and then closes the car door for me. Okay...it is going to be an interesting ride.
He immediately gets my daughter all set up with a movie on his iPhone with headphones and begins to ask if I'm still single. He understands that when Alex and I first broke up I wasn't ready for anything (hmmm??? this is relevant to our drive into SF how?) but that is when he was separated from his wife so too bad our timing was off. He went on to tell me that, if nothing else, he would have shown me a good time. Again, "what?!?" First, you are talking about protecting Paris Hilton at some trendy LA club and now I should be sorry because you are now back with your wife...although if I was interested in being your travel partner ("she's not really into travel") you need a companion for you 100 day long motorcycle ride to Sturgis. Oh yes, please pick me! Nothing would make me happier than being the side dish on the back of a motorcycle trip that involves camping, I think. And, again, at least 15 years older than me (although he thought I was 5 years younger than I actually am so again, ewww!) and while I imagine he could take good care of me, not what I had in mind.
Of course, traffic was horrendous that day so what could have been just a long 2 hours in the car turned into an oh my gosh, I'm seriously considering jumping out of the window kind of experience. Fortunately, my daughter's movie ended and I immediately said "NO!" when asked whether or not she wanted to watch another one. I know I should be flattered that some aging Kevin Costner/Whitney Houston movie character thinks I'm the bees knees and could make me happy, but I just can't do it. I think I'll continue to take my chances on the unmarried, non foot fetish, closer to my age pool of applicants. Wow!
Sunday, July 24, 2011
A walk on the wild side...
No, don't get excited, I didn't visit the biker bar again! I am talking about the actual wilderness, far from civilization...or at least 20 minutes away from the closest Starbucks so that counts as off the beaten path for me. The kids and I went camping! Yes, actual camping...not just a Motel 6. And, guess what, we had fun.
Obviously, we did not go alone; I'm adventurous, not crazy! My sister, brother-in-law and family were camping for the weekend on the lake where they go boating and asked us to join them. We'd already planned on spending the weekend on the water with them so really, why not?
Yes, normally, I'd have plenty of reasons why not: it's dirty, you are sleeping in the same area as moles, gophers, lizards, snakes, did I mention dirt, you eat, sleep and relax in the same 30 feet of space, you cook outside and oh yes, there's dirt. But, the minute I asked my kids if they wanted to go, their faces lit up and their sleeping bags were instantly in the car. And, again, in this new world of independent living, I am already up for a new adventure.
My sister and I share the same feelings when it comes to living in the dirt...the way we look at it, if God had wanted people to stay so primitive, He'd have never allowed for places like the Four Seasons to be built, or for indoor plumbing to be common place or for homes to have plush carpeting and hard wood floors. However, spending hours each day on the boat reminded me of how happy I am on the water, and how I know, one day I will be living with a view of a lake and a boat parked at the dock.
We had an amazing weekend of sun, fun and, of course, plenty of Corona and I realized once again that, while I do think I'm ready to meet someone to share in this type of fun (love of camping is not a prerequisite), I am also very content and capable of enjoying life on my own with my amazing kids and wonderful family. I also confirmed that camping is something I can do but don't need to prove my prowess on a regular basis.
Obviously, we did not go alone; I'm adventurous, not crazy! My sister, brother-in-law and family were camping for the weekend on the lake where they go boating and asked us to join them. We'd already planned on spending the weekend on the water with them so really, why not?
Yes, normally, I'd have plenty of reasons why not: it's dirty, you are sleeping in the same area as moles, gophers, lizards, snakes, did I mention dirt, you eat, sleep and relax in the same 30 feet of space, you cook outside and oh yes, there's dirt. But, the minute I asked my kids if they wanted to go, their faces lit up and their sleeping bags were instantly in the car. And, again, in this new world of independent living, I am already up for a new adventure.
My sister and I share the same feelings when it comes to living in the dirt...the way we look at it, if God had wanted people to stay so primitive, He'd have never allowed for places like the Four Seasons to be built, or for indoor plumbing to be common place or for homes to have plush carpeting and hard wood floors. However, spending hours each day on the boat reminded me of how happy I am on the water, and how I know, one day I will be living with a view of a lake and a boat parked at the dock.
We had an amazing weekend of sun, fun and, of course, plenty of Corona and I realized once again that, while I do think I'm ready to meet someone to share in this type of fun (love of camping is not a prerequisite), I am also very content and capable of enjoying life on my own with my amazing kids and wonderful family. I also confirmed that camping is something I can do but don't need to prove my prowess on a regular basis.
Monday, July 18, 2011
You've Got Mail ...2011 style
As we all know, I decided long ago to expand my dating horizons to other time zones (yes, I realize that means not waiting for the multimillionaire UPS guy to knock on my door but hey, baby steps please!). I have even gone so far as to concoct fun little fantasy stories with my best friend about the nice VA guy I'm going to meet and have the most amazing long distance romance with. Like I said, it is my fantasy, just let me have it, please.
And, to add to the plus column of this new plan, over the past few months I have actually encountered a couple instances where this multi-time zone difference love affair is actually flourishing. And, with the perks associated with an email/text/Skype dating schedule, this could truly be the ticket! Think about it: don't feel like changing out of your sweats? Don't! Just put on a cute top because only the top 1/2 of your body is in the picture anyhow. Really don't want to go out once you get home from work? Again, bonus...your date occurs over a glass of your favorite wine as he is miles away at his computer. Trying to juggle basketball schedules, church plays, work and the dishes? Text or email him at halftime. He'll be thrilled you were thinking of him in the middle of your crazy day. Now when you go to a party alone, you aren't the poor single girl, you are the one with the oh so romantic far away boyfriend. See? This whole long distance thing has my name written all over it. The benefits of having "that person" without the trouble of actually dating him.
Before you can admonish me for the lack of intimate contact, let's remember who you are talking to here, the last time I kissed someone obviously scared or scarred him for life so maybe the celibate lifestyle should be explored for a while. And, again, the long distance aspect means I would have months in between visits to work out and try to be bedroom worthy again. Also, he'd be so happy to be finally "getting some", he wouldn't care if I were soft in places I'm not supposed to be. With my witty personality, I'd be really hot via email!
So, I've decided Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan really did have something going with the whole email romance...now, just to find a smart cowboy with a laptop in his oversized truck. Hmm....
And, to add to the plus column of this new plan, over the past few months I have actually encountered a couple instances where this multi-time zone difference love affair is actually flourishing. And, with the perks associated with an email/text/Skype dating schedule, this could truly be the ticket! Think about it: don't feel like changing out of your sweats? Don't! Just put on a cute top because only the top 1/2 of your body is in the picture anyhow. Really don't want to go out once you get home from work? Again, bonus...your date occurs over a glass of your favorite wine as he is miles away at his computer. Trying to juggle basketball schedules, church plays, work and the dishes? Text or email him at halftime. He'll be thrilled you were thinking of him in the middle of your crazy day. Now when you go to a party alone, you aren't the poor single girl, you are the one with the oh so romantic far away boyfriend. See? This whole long distance thing has my name written all over it. The benefits of having "that person" without the trouble of actually dating him.
Before you can admonish me for the lack of intimate contact, let's remember who you are talking to here, the last time I kissed someone obviously scared or scarred him for life so maybe the celibate lifestyle should be explored for a while. And, again, the long distance aspect means I would have months in between visits to work out and try to be bedroom worthy again. Also, he'd be so happy to be finally "getting some", he wouldn't care if I were soft in places I'm not supposed to be. With my witty personality, I'd be really hot via email!
So, I've decided Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan really did have something going with the whole email romance...now, just to find a smart cowboy with a laptop in his oversized truck. Hmm....
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Didn't see this offered in my college catalog
"So, what did you do last night?" Usually that is a pretty innocuous question, asked by colleagues as you walk to get the daily Starbucks. And, more often than not my answer includes something about basketball, the dogs, maybe even a reality TV show. Truly, not stuff blogs are made of. However, today, if I were to receive that question, I’d probably blush and then start with “OH MY GOSH (yes, in all caps), you are not going to believe what I did last night!”
Since my transition from “in a relationship” to “single” (If I were to be a FB status updater) I have definitely found I really enjoy time with my friends quite a bit. I have an amazing group of girlfriends who could give the Sex in the City foursome a run for their money any day of the week so when one of them makes a request I try to accommodate whenever possible. And, more often than not, have quite the adventure.
I was chatting online with one such girlfriend the other day when she asked if I would go to this class with her. As she has been working very hard to lose weight I figured we might attend a nutrition seminar or training session – both of which I’d be all over at this point in my weight nightmare. She also is looking for a job so thought okay maybe it is a resume building seminar…I can be down with that. So, I checked my email as instructed and actually laughed out loud in my office when the class title came up Lola presents “Male Body Pleasures 101”. Really? Was this a joke? I haven’t been on an actual date in so long that to me male body pleasure meant standing too close to someone in line at Starbucks. But, after realizing she was serious, and after being married 23 years was looking for a little extra spark, I figured what the heck, Tuesday night TV is lame, I didn’t have the kids and really, why not?!
So, 3 women with good hair, nice pedicures and homes in the suburbs jumped into my friend's BMW and headed to Santa Cruz. If you are not from this area and are unfamiliar with Santa Cruz, it is a funky beach town where recycling old cans and bottles actually counts as an occupation and nice hair means you have more dreadlocks than your shopping cart toting cardboard box mate. But, it is also home to incredible restaurants, cute boutique shops and, of course, Camouflage, the upscale lingerie and "toy" store where the class was being held.
In we walk and down went my jaw. The room was packed! Granted, it wasn't an overly large room but nonetheless it was full...and, let's just go with very diverse. As we went around the room to introduce ourselves (really? Can't this be an anonymous visit...can't I just say I'm auditing the class like one does in college?) each person was to share their name and why they were in the class..."I want to be better in bed", "I want to spice up my marriage", "I have been coming to these classes for years and now I finally have a man to practice on" (who was she practicing on before? Wait, don't answer that as I seriously just saw a life size blow up Viking doll!), "I really want to get better at bj's". Oh my gosh!!! I'm guessing my answer of "Wait, I thought I was in a cooking class" didn't really go over well. But again, some of these women (and men!) were really trying to make their marriage exciting so I'm not judging.
Until....the 60 year old woman with the jean mini skirt and boy toy boyfriend asked how she could keep her teeth out of the way when she was giving blow jobs. How about "just take them out honey...they're dentures!" My bottom lip had teeth marks in it from my unsuccessful attempts to keep from laughing but I couldn't keep the giggles from escaping when the instructor (who made Granola Hippie seem like an understatement) reminded everyone this was an interactive class and she welcomed any and all questions and feel free to use the tactical examples spread throughout the room. Hold on! There are samples?! I don't want to picture most of these people in the room even thinking about sex; let alone actually seeing them handle the whole basket of love she had going on up there. And, really, please don't let them talk or ask questions...Aw man, someone just asked her how to put on a condom with her mouth. Okay, I'm now going to start cataloging my closet in my head...brown sweaters on one side...Really, I didn't go to that extreme but it definitely took all of my self control to not sigh out loud. Partly because I didn't want to be rude but also because I didn't want anyone to mistake my exhale as expression of interest over the masturbation sleeve she was passing around!
Of course, a 90 minute class really does end and no one even tried to force me to buy a toy or even the cute sundress I saw in the window. And, it really was amusing...with stories to tell, obviously. I am just chalking it up to new experiences I continue to have in my 40's of fun! And, who knows, maybe I even learned something.
Since my transition from “in a relationship” to “single” (If I were to be a FB status updater) I have definitely found I really enjoy time with my friends quite a bit. I have an amazing group of girlfriends who could give the Sex in the City foursome a run for their money any day of the week so when one of them makes a request I try to accommodate whenever possible. And, more often than not, have quite the adventure.
I was chatting online with one such girlfriend the other day when she asked if I would go to this class with her. As she has been working very hard to lose weight I figured we might attend a nutrition seminar or training session – both of which I’d be all over at this point in my weight nightmare. She also is looking for a job so thought okay maybe it is a resume building seminar…I can be down with that. So, I checked my email as instructed and actually laughed out loud in my office when the class title came up Lola presents “Male Body Pleasures 101”. Really? Was this a joke? I haven’t been on an actual date in so long that to me male body pleasure meant standing too close to someone in line at Starbucks. But, after realizing she was serious, and after being married 23 years was looking for a little extra spark, I figured what the heck, Tuesday night TV is lame, I didn’t have the kids and really, why not?!
So, 3 women with good hair, nice pedicures and homes in the suburbs jumped into my friend's BMW and headed to Santa Cruz. If you are not from this area and are unfamiliar with Santa Cruz, it is a funky beach town where recycling old cans and bottles actually counts as an occupation and nice hair means you have more dreadlocks than your shopping cart toting cardboard box mate. But, it is also home to incredible restaurants, cute boutique shops and, of course, Camouflage, the upscale lingerie and "toy" store where the class was being held.
In we walk and down went my jaw. The room was packed! Granted, it wasn't an overly large room but nonetheless it was full...and, let's just go with very diverse. As we went around the room to introduce ourselves (really? Can't this be an anonymous visit...can't I just say I'm auditing the class like one does in college?) each person was to share their name and why they were in the class..."I want to be better in bed", "I want to spice up my marriage", "I have been coming to these classes for years and now I finally have a man to practice on" (who was she practicing on before? Wait, don't answer that as I seriously just saw a life size blow up Viking doll!), "I really want to get better at bj's". Oh my gosh!!! I'm guessing my answer of "Wait, I thought I was in a cooking class" didn't really go over well. But again, some of these women (and men!) were really trying to make their marriage exciting so I'm not judging.
Until....the 60 year old woman with the jean mini skirt and boy toy boyfriend asked how she could keep her teeth out of the way when she was giving blow jobs. How about "just take them out honey...they're dentures!" My bottom lip had teeth marks in it from my unsuccessful attempts to keep from laughing but I couldn't keep the giggles from escaping when the instructor (who made Granola Hippie seem like an understatement) reminded everyone this was an interactive class and she welcomed any and all questions and feel free to use the tactical examples spread throughout the room. Hold on! There are samples?! I don't want to picture most of these people in the room even thinking about sex; let alone actually seeing them handle the whole basket of love she had going on up there. And, really, please don't let them talk or ask questions...Aw man, someone just asked her how to put on a condom with her mouth. Okay, I'm now going to start cataloging my closet in my head...brown sweaters on one side...Really, I didn't go to that extreme but it definitely took all of my self control to not sigh out loud. Partly because I didn't want to be rude but also because I didn't want anyone to mistake my exhale as expression of interest over the masturbation sleeve she was passing around!
Of course, a 90 minute class really does end and no one even tried to force me to buy a toy or even the cute sundress I saw in the window. And, it really was amusing...with stories to tell, obviously. I am just chalking it up to new experiences I continue to have in my 40's of fun! And, who knows, maybe I even learned something.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
My version of a bad trip...
If you have read this blog for any amount of time, you know alcohol is the only recreational drug I know from 1st hand experience (no, prescription medication like Xanax so doesn't count) but have often thought I may be missing out on something by going organic. Well, I thought that until tonight....
I make it a habit, almost a rule, that I do not go out on the weekends I have the kids as I've always felt like I don't get to spend enough time with them as it is so why cut into that time any more. However, I was feeling the need to get the cute on (I'll explain later) so changed my no RSVP to a yes to go to a restaurant/bar in town to hear a local band with a group of great friends. After arranging for a favorite friend to come hang out for a couple of hours I broke out the Vegas purchased white halter style tank top, black pants and high heels thinking that 1/2 the work of feeling good is looking good and off I went.
The band was great, the friends always a blast but my concern over the ability to meet someone who met my novel of requirements increased exponentially...heck, this evening the chances of meeting someone with all his teeth, didn't smoke weed with no mullet was going to be pushing it. Granted, we were listening to a band who played several 80's cover tunes so really the fact many of the patrons (using that term loosely) looked like they still lived in the 80's shouldn't have been surprising. The only thing missing was a contingent of fanny pack wearing, super cool looking Magnum, PI wannabees. Yes, it was that bad. Even the fan behind our table made the hair of my friend and I fly around like we were auditioning for a White Snake video (again, a band covered tonight). I definitely was not meeting any potential dinner partners...unless dinner consisted of magic brownies and a plate of potato skins. Ego boost it wasn't.
My ego isn't broken anyhow, just bruised. I try to avoid being a total chick by saying that I really can do casual with no expectations and I truly can. But that doesn't protect me from the 8th grade girl habit of saying your names together and picturing how much fun you'd have going to the prom (or in the case of a 40+ year old woman, boating)....even before there is even a hint of a first date. Yes, this is the roundabout way of saying I've heard nothing from Hot Electrician. I didn't even get a response to one of my famous breezy but quippy texts that I sent on Friday. Am I really not a catch? And, why is it that I seem to always be attracted to the guys who don't get what I catch I obviously think I am?
I knew this was a possibility when I kissed him...hello, I do remember the days of "Will he or won't he call?" and hated them then! But, really, at age 42 shouldn't I have at least outgrown them or is it like my occasional face break outs, that part of adolescence NEVER goes away? If so, I'm pissed. Clearasil works for the break-outs but what do I do about the school girl crush disappointment? I know...replay the "I Want to Rock and Roll All Night" KISS song that was covered and wonder if that is why my fellow bar goers tonight never left the 80's...everything was better with MTV and a Coke.
I make it a habit, almost a rule, that I do not go out on the weekends I have the kids as I've always felt like I don't get to spend enough time with them as it is so why cut into that time any more. However, I was feeling the need to get the cute on (I'll explain later) so changed my no RSVP to a yes to go to a restaurant/bar in town to hear a local band with a group of great friends. After arranging for a favorite friend to come hang out for a couple of hours I broke out the Vegas purchased white halter style tank top, black pants and high heels thinking that 1/2 the work of feeling good is looking good and off I went.
The band was great, the friends always a blast but my concern over the ability to meet someone who met my novel of requirements increased exponentially...heck, this evening the chances of meeting someone with all his teeth, didn't smoke weed with no mullet was going to be pushing it. Granted, we were listening to a band who played several 80's cover tunes so really the fact many of the patrons (using that term loosely) looked like they still lived in the 80's shouldn't have been surprising. The only thing missing was a contingent of fanny pack wearing, super cool looking Magnum, PI wannabees. Yes, it was that bad. Even the fan behind our table made the hair of my friend and I fly around like we were auditioning for a White Snake video (again, a band covered tonight). I definitely was not meeting any potential dinner partners...unless dinner consisted of magic brownies and a plate of potato skins. Ego boost it wasn't.
My ego isn't broken anyhow, just bruised. I try to avoid being a total chick by saying that I really can do casual with no expectations and I truly can. But that doesn't protect me from the 8th grade girl habit of saying your names together and picturing how much fun you'd have going to the prom (or in the case of a 40+ year old woman, boating)....even before there is even a hint of a first date. Yes, this is the roundabout way of saying I've heard nothing from Hot Electrician. I didn't even get a response to one of my famous breezy but quippy texts that I sent on Friday. Am I really not a catch? And, why is it that I seem to always be attracted to the guys who don't get what I catch I obviously think I am?
I knew this was a possibility when I kissed him...hello, I do remember the days of "Will he or won't he call?" and hated them then! But, really, at age 42 shouldn't I have at least outgrown them or is it like my occasional face break outs, that part of adolescence NEVER goes away? If so, I'm pissed. Clearasil works for the break-outs but what do I do about the school girl crush disappointment? I know...replay the "I Want to Rock and Roll All Night" KISS song that was covered and wonder if that is why my fellow bar goers tonight never left the 80's...everything was better with MTV and a Coke.
Monday, July 4, 2011
A little fireworks of my own...
What is about pool parties that make you feel like a 15 year old again? First, you are nervous about what you look like in a bathing suit (think 40+ year old mom who doesn't look like Courtney Cox) and you have me. But then the water feels good, the games of chicken start and you are laughing as you do relay races with the other moms who look just like you! It couldn't have been a more fun day.
Of course, I will be honest and say, some of the excitement didn't come from the fact it was a celebration of our nation's independence but more from the fact that 365 days to the date later from the first few texts telling me I really ought to meet and hang out with Mr. Hot Electrician, we both were feeling the same flirty feelings at the same time.
What started out as an innocent game of chicken (as I mentioned above) eventually led to a kiss (yes, I realize I'm 42 and a kiss shouldn't mean that much). A kiss that, as lame as this sounds, was actually worth the year long, multiple misses, wait. But, then again, if we all remember back to our teenage years, kisses in a pool also seem more exciting somehow.
Now, I'm not expecting anything to come of this...hello, it took us a major league baseball season, an NFL season, an NBA season and several holidays to even get us to this point. And really, the dilemma is getting Mr. Hot Electrician to understand that I'm not looking for Mr. Forever right now...if it happened, great...but I am just more interested in someone fun to hang out with when I don't have the kids, a few more of those kisses (and heck, more wouldn't be bad either) but not expecting us to create the Brady Bunch any time soon.
Guys have it easy where that is concerned. Most women think that is their motive from the beginning so already expect nothing but if a woman comes across saying she just wants casual, guys are immediately suspect. They think we are either trying to trick them with our feigned indifference or we must be a slut then. And, really, it is neither where I am concerned. I just know I've made one too many mistakes in the male choice department so I am taking my time.
So, while I am not sure I will be seeing any other sparks caused by Mr. Hot E (and, yes he is hot!), at least I can be happy with the knowledge I do still have "it" a little and that my instincts (and those of our friends) weren't wrong...we were kind of good together.
Of course, I will be honest and say, some of the excitement didn't come from the fact it was a celebration of our nation's independence but more from the fact that 365 days to the date later from the first few texts telling me I really ought to meet and hang out with Mr. Hot Electrician, we both were feeling the same flirty feelings at the same time.
What started out as an innocent game of chicken (as I mentioned above) eventually led to a kiss (yes, I realize I'm 42 and a kiss shouldn't mean that much). A kiss that, as lame as this sounds, was actually worth the year long, multiple misses, wait. But, then again, if we all remember back to our teenage years, kisses in a pool also seem more exciting somehow.
Now, I'm not expecting anything to come of this...hello, it took us a major league baseball season, an NFL season, an NBA season and several holidays to even get us to this point. And really, the dilemma is getting Mr. Hot Electrician to understand that I'm not looking for Mr. Forever right now...if it happened, great...but I am just more interested in someone fun to hang out with when I don't have the kids, a few more of those kisses (and heck, more wouldn't be bad either) but not expecting us to create the Brady Bunch any time soon.
Guys have it easy where that is concerned. Most women think that is their motive from the beginning so already expect nothing but if a woman comes across saying she just wants casual, guys are immediately suspect. They think we are either trying to trick them with our feigned indifference or we must be a slut then. And, really, it is neither where I am concerned. I just know I've made one too many mistakes in the male choice department so I am taking my time.
So, while I am not sure I will be seeing any other sparks caused by Mr. Hot E (and, yes he is hot!), at least I can be happy with the knowledge I do still have "it" a little and that my instincts (and those of our friends) weren't wrong...we were kind of good together.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
If it is good enough for the AARP it is good enough for me...
On my 35th birthday (just a few years ago), I received a letter announcing in big bold letters that in 15 years I'd be eligible for all kinds of discounts as an AARP member. I was floored...AARP? Wasn't that for old people? I mean, I celebrated my 35th by getting my belly button pierced (granted, my 35th year was all kinds of transition period) so there was no way I was even thinking about being 50! But fast forward a few years, one divorce and one major emotional breakup and 50 isn't looking too bad anymore. Not me turning 50! No, that still is a LONG way off, but I have been rethinking the 50 year old man as a possibility.
Think about it, a 50 year old man should be done with his mid life breakdown and either has the Porsche as his weekend car or sold it all together for the much more comfortable Escalade or Mercedes sedan (yes, my 50 year old is financially comfortable). He has been through his divorce and has been able to make it on his own. He either has teen agers or started early and has young adult children but is still youthful enough to appreciate my little angels. And, probably most importantly, I'm still looking like a young (well, younger) hottie (okay, cutie) to him. According to my new favorite colleague at work (she's always been amazing but with this comment, to the top of the list...haha), I'm a good looking 42...so really, shouldn't that mean to a 50 year old man, I am a total catch?!
I'm constantly concerned that my legs aren't firm enough, my arms aren't toned enough, my stomach and booty certainly not small enough to compete with the 35 year olds out there so maybe I need to increase my bottom and top age limits on my list. The 35 year old guys are looking at the 29 year old girls, the 40 year old men checking out the young 30 yr old women so really, I do think the sliding scale may need to slide just a bit.
Granted, I did come to this realization in a somewhat biased situation. I was checking out (hey, I'm honest) the men after our annual golf tournament yesterday as they enjoyed a 19th hole beverage or two and really, guys just look good in golf wear. The shorts, polo and baseball hat, topped off with sun kissed skin and the smile that comes with a day on the golf course just combines to make a nice package. So, in a room full of well off, financially secure, tanned golfing guys, I probably was going to find one or two pretty attractive older men. Of course, those men also had the gold ring on their left hand so no go there. But, it did get me to thinking, maybe 50 is a golden year for a reason.
So, next time I get my reminder for the upcoming AARP specials, I may just check out their singles options. Hey...it couldn't hurt.
Think about it, a 50 year old man should be done with his mid life breakdown and either has the Porsche as his weekend car or sold it all together for the much more comfortable Escalade or Mercedes sedan (yes, my 50 year old is financially comfortable). He has been through his divorce and has been able to make it on his own. He either has teen agers or started early and has young adult children but is still youthful enough to appreciate my little angels. And, probably most importantly, I'm still looking like a young (well, younger) hottie (okay, cutie) to him. According to my new favorite colleague at work (she's always been amazing but with this comment, to the top of the list...haha), I'm a good looking 42...so really, shouldn't that mean to a 50 year old man, I am a total catch?!
I'm constantly concerned that my legs aren't firm enough, my arms aren't toned enough, my stomach and booty certainly not small enough to compete with the 35 year olds out there so maybe I need to increase my bottom and top age limits on my list. The 35 year old guys are looking at the 29 year old girls, the 40 year old men checking out the young 30 yr old women so really, I do think the sliding scale may need to slide just a bit.
Granted, I did come to this realization in a somewhat biased situation. I was checking out (hey, I'm honest) the men after our annual golf tournament yesterday as they enjoyed a 19th hole beverage or two and really, guys just look good in golf wear. The shorts, polo and baseball hat, topped off with sun kissed skin and the smile that comes with a day on the golf course just combines to make a nice package. So, in a room full of well off, financially secure, tanned golfing guys, I probably was going to find one or two pretty attractive older men. Of course, those men also had the gold ring on their left hand so no go there. But, it did get me to thinking, maybe 50 is a golden year for a reason.
So, next time I get my reminder for the upcoming AARP specials, I may just check out their singles options. Hey...it couldn't hurt.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Pause for a Commercial Break
Yes, we've established my life isn't all that bad...I have a good job, my kids are pretty darned amazing, my hairdresser works hard to cover the gray that is sneaking (okay, jumping through) my roots, and I live in CA (not Huntington Beach, CA but the Golden State, nonetheless), so really, why am I pausing that incredible life for a complaint commercial? The answer is simple...I went to Santana Row for lunch!
Okay, for those of you not familiar with the Silicon Valley Bay Area, Santana Row is the shopping center/restaurant Mecca of the Beautiful People. It is Northern CA's answer to Rodeo Drive...just without the Hollywood stars. Granted, at lunchtime on a Tuesday there are plenty of "normal" people as well, but more often than not, there is a large contingent of the lounging pretty people. I'm not exactly sure what they do for a living that allows them to spend hours just sitting by the fountain waiting for the world to notice them. They aren't reading or working frantically on their iPad...no they are just enjoying the sunshine and a no fat, no sugar, no nothing iced something from Starbucks...while the rest of us pretend to live a life of leisure between meetings and work at the office.
Yes, believe me, I know I would be bored if I didn't have a full life...but, at this point in time, I'm pretty sure I could find a way to occupy my hours that didn't involve sitting in an office. I could write more for you guys...obviously that is a very lucrative profession. I'm not pining for a millionaire to sweep me off my feet (while of course I wouldn't turn that down...) as I know the chances of that are slim, but really, how do these people exist? Obviously I wasn't smart enough to marry a rich guy the first time around so I could be a wealthy divorcee, and we know the exodus from Alex's life cost me money so that certainly didn't help matters. So, I don't see me joining the ranks of the Relaxing (non-eating...hello, they weigh like 50 pounds!) Row-ers any time soon.
Again, this is just a small break from my normal disgustingly cheerful self to wonder what class I missed in school that would have led to that lifestyle. Now, of course I know I could fix these moments of envy by just not going to Santana Row but then, what is the fun in that?!
Okay, for those of you not familiar with the Silicon Valley Bay Area, Santana Row is the shopping center/restaurant Mecca of the Beautiful People. It is Northern CA's answer to Rodeo Drive...just without the Hollywood stars. Granted, at lunchtime on a Tuesday there are plenty of "normal" people as well, but more often than not, there is a large contingent of the lounging pretty people. I'm not exactly sure what they do for a living that allows them to spend hours just sitting by the fountain waiting for the world to notice them. They aren't reading or working frantically on their iPad...no they are just enjoying the sunshine and a no fat, no sugar, no nothing iced something from Starbucks...while the rest of us pretend to live a life of leisure between meetings and work at the office.
Yes, believe me, I know I would be bored if I didn't have a full life...but, at this point in time, I'm pretty sure I could find a way to occupy my hours that didn't involve sitting in an office. I could write more for you guys...obviously that is a very lucrative profession. I'm not pining for a millionaire to sweep me off my feet (while of course I wouldn't turn that down...) as I know the chances of that are slim, but really, how do these people exist? Obviously I wasn't smart enough to marry a rich guy the first time around so I could be a wealthy divorcee, and we know the exodus from Alex's life cost me money so that certainly didn't help matters. So, I don't see me joining the ranks of the Relaxing (non-eating...hello, they weigh like 50 pounds!) Row-ers any time soon.
Again, this is just a small break from my normal disgustingly cheerful self to wonder what class I missed in school that would have led to that lifestyle. Now, of course I know I could fix these moments of envy by just not going to Santana Row but then, what is the fun in that?!
Sunday, June 19, 2011
It is all about perspective...
I was commenting to a very wise woman the other day that this is not where I expected to be at this point in my life...42 years old, single mother of 2, with a relatively non-existent savings account and she pointed out that really, many people look at my day to day activities and wish they were me. I stopped to think and realized of course she was right. Her pearls of wisdom didn't magically make my bank account grow or for my version of Jake Perry from "Sweet Home Alabama" show up on my doorstep but it did make me, again, grateful for the life I am leading.
Of course, I do have to throw in the caveat that the wise woman referenced above happened to be Alex's mom who I spent a very enjoyable evening/day with at a local county fair. I mean, who doesn't spend the day rocking out to soul music with the mom of their ex. Hello, this is the 21st century and it is what we do! Actually, it is very special to me that I did not lose that family when my relationship with Alex took a major detour. If you have read this blog at all over the past year, you know I don't like to lose people and need to be liked...it is double when it comes to those involved in my relationships. Yes, I realize I'm a great case for therapy...and have sat on many a couch.
Anyhow, she and I, along with a high school friend of hers, danced, sang and kicked off a non stop weekend for me. After that adventure I volunteered at the snack shack for a high school dance for our local basketball program. Oh my gosh....thank goodness I am one, not in high school anymore and, two, that neither of my kids are yet. That place was crazy...since when did Victoria's Secret type bras become appropriate dance wear for the under 18 set? Did their mothers see them leave the house like that?! Yikes! I came home feeling very old but happy that dating for me didn't involve ear blasting pump music and string bikinis.
I then made myself get cuted up for a Saturday afternoon BBQ with friends and a solo appearance at a local theater company owned by my dear friends. Going stag to events is not my favorite activity as I'd much rather have a +one but I also refuse to stop living my life because I am not sharing my queen size bed with males that don't have 4 legs and fur. I also know that whoever I do meet is going to need to fit into the life I have made for myself because I really kind of like it.
So, again, chalk one up for steps toward improvement. I would have loved to have been spending this Father's Day weekend with my dad or celebrating the fatherhood traits of someone I am with, but I also didn't sit home, mope and eat a bag of jelly beans. Yes, I guess my life is one that other's wouldn't mind having.
Of course, I do have to throw in the caveat that the wise woman referenced above happened to be Alex's mom who I spent a very enjoyable evening/day with at a local county fair. I mean, who doesn't spend the day rocking out to soul music with the mom of their ex. Hello, this is the 21st century and it is what we do! Actually, it is very special to me that I did not lose that family when my relationship with Alex took a major detour. If you have read this blog at all over the past year, you know I don't like to lose people and need to be liked...it is double when it comes to those involved in my relationships. Yes, I realize I'm a great case for therapy...and have sat on many a couch.
Anyhow, she and I, along with a high school friend of hers, danced, sang and kicked off a non stop weekend for me. After that adventure I volunteered at the snack shack for a high school dance for our local basketball program. Oh my gosh....thank goodness I am one, not in high school anymore and, two, that neither of my kids are yet. That place was crazy...since when did Victoria's Secret type bras become appropriate dance wear for the under 18 set? Did their mothers see them leave the house like that?! Yikes! I came home feeling very old but happy that dating for me didn't involve ear blasting pump music and string bikinis.
I then made myself get cuted up for a Saturday afternoon BBQ with friends and a solo appearance at a local theater company owned by my dear friends. Going stag to events is not my favorite activity as I'd much rather have a +one but I also refuse to stop living my life because I am not sharing my queen size bed with males that don't have 4 legs and fur. I also know that whoever I do meet is going to need to fit into the life I have made for myself because I really kind of like it.
So, again, chalk one up for steps toward improvement. I would have loved to have been spending this Father's Day weekend with my dad or celebrating the fatherhood traits of someone I am with, but I also didn't sit home, mope and eat a bag of jelly beans. Yes, I guess my life is one that other's wouldn't mind having.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Hot in....?
I have discovered a new favorite show. The acting is less than stellar, there are no hot men on it and it is on a channel I've never heard of. However, none of that matters as it is the first show I've found that captures what I picture every time I think of leaving California and starting over. Hot in Cleveland stars Valerie Bertinelli, Betty White, the English actress from Frasier and the woman I always confuse with Christine Baranksi. You can see from that sentence why I've never been asked to be a TV critic. But, again, I love it!
Valerie Bertinelli is an adorable 40+ recent divorcee who plans a trip to Paris with her 2 best friends...all LA women with CA lifestyles. After their plane makes an emergency landing in, of all places, Cleveland, they find themselves in typical Midwestern bar looking for a much needed drink and a side of Valium, I'm sure. However, when they walk in they realize they have entered the Twilight Zone where women over 25 and larger than a size 2 are considered hot and where men actually are looking for women, not over aged Barbie dolls. It is my idea of paradise.
Silicon Valley reality is not normal for the rest of the country...60 year old ranch style homes should never go for $750,000...cities should not host Cougar Conventions that are featured on the evening news and I shouldn't fall into the below moderate income level when I'm closer to the $100,000 mark than to the $50,000 mark (not much closer but still). Now I'm not sure I really want to be in Cleveland...I've been to Ohio and was plenty ready to leave Ohio...but the sentiment is what I wrote about a couple of days ago...I think I'm hot elsewhere. Again, okay, hot maybe an overstatement, but I'd definitely be on the B+ list at any bar in middle America.
I'm not sure this argument is going to fly with the former husband when I tell him why he really needs to get a job on the opposite coast. "Well, you see, I'm hotter on the East Coast than I am on the West Coast"...but at least it gives me hope. And, in the meantime, I just need to plan more visits outside of Silicone based Silicon Valley and hang out in the real world.
So, if you haven't tuned into TV Land and discovered the cheesiest show on TV these days, check it out...It is my new inspiration.
Valerie Bertinelli is an adorable 40+ recent divorcee who plans a trip to Paris with her 2 best friends...all LA women with CA lifestyles. After their plane makes an emergency landing in, of all places, Cleveland, they find themselves in typical Midwestern bar looking for a much needed drink and a side of Valium, I'm sure. However, when they walk in they realize they have entered the Twilight Zone where women over 25 and larger than a size 2 are considered hot and where men actually are looking for women, not over aged Barbie dolls. It is my idea of paradise.
Silicon Valley reality is not normal for the rest of the country...60 year old ranch style homes should never go for $750,000...cities should not host Cougar Conventions that are featured on the evening news and I shouldn't fall into the below moderate income level when I'm closer to the $100,000 mark than to the $50,000 mark (not much closer but still). Now I'm not sure I really want to be in Cleveland...I've been to Ohio and was plenty ready to leave Ohio...but the sentiment is what I wrote about a couple of days ago...I think I'm hot elsewhere. Again, okay, hot maybe an overstatement, but I'd definitely be on the B+ list at any bar in middle America.
I'm not sure this argument is going to fly with the former husband when I tell him why he really needs to get a job on the opposite coast. "Well, you see, I'm hotter on the East Coast than I am on the West Coast"...but at least it gives me hope. And, in the meantime, I just need to plan more visits outside of Silicone based Silicon Valley and hang out in the real world.
So, if you haven't tuned into TV Land and discovered the cheesiest show on TV these days, check it out...It is my new inspiration.
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