Calling Cinderella

Well, it is official...I have reached the bottom of the cynicism barrel & my chick card is definitely going to be revoked.  I did not, even for a second, think of waking up at 3:00 am (or whatever insane middle of the night time it was) to watch The Royal Wedding.  I am not, by any means, ragging on my family and friends who did, just commenting that I am just putting this little tidbit in a long line of reasons why I truly am a female enigma.  I watched the NFL draft, but not the storybook ceremony of what every little girl dreams of being...a princess.

I'm sure I could come up with numerous reasons why I am this anomaly of the female species...like I wasn't allowed to play with Barbie dolls as a child which, I am sure explains so many things about me today.  Or, I could say it is because I did get up as a teenager and watch every minute of Charles & Diana's big day and look where that got them.  Maybe it is because I had the fairy tale wedding, complete with the groom who thought he was our small town's answer to royalty.  And, again, look where that turned out.  Finally, it could be because I really did meet the love of my life but that fairy tale got mixed up with Snow White and the 8 dwarfs, and again, we all know the end to that story.  But, really, I think it has a lot more to do with the fact that I may really be, just a tad too far right of George Carlin on the cynic scale. 

And, maybe, that is the flaw I need to focus on more than the fact my booty is one (or two) sizes too big.  Maybe in order for me to actually meet my Prince (or at this point in time, Uncle of a Prince), I need to believe it can happen.  My heart was truly broken by Alex and there have been numerous reminders over the past 2 years that it hasn't quite healed.  Maybe instead of scoffing at movies like Eat, Pray, Love and the moral of such stories, I should embrace the idea of happy endings. 

As we know, I am truly content in my life but I know, at some point, it won't be enough.  My two children will grow up and move on to lives of their own and, at then, I will really be the crazy dog lady.  I need to allow myself to believe there is someone out there who will meet my list of qualifications (granted, very long list) who will also think I am all that, extra pounds and all.

So, while don't expect me to start sounding like Elizabeth Hasselback and quote all gushy American Greeting cards but maybe with a little help from Cinderella's Fairy Godmother, I may actually get back to believing in the fairy tale.

Worth the price of admission...

I should sell tickets to my life...that is how I am going to finance my house on the water.  I will just charge people to walk around with me and laugh at my normal day to day activities.  Granted, the ticket price can not be too high and my demographic will definitely not be the same clientele who join book clubs and watch foreign films but I bet there'd be a small following.  C'mon, people line up for days to watch the Jackass sequels so we know there are those with less than a sophisticated movie palate.

While my life is normally on the busy side, there are a few times each year where it goes into complete overdrive...where I'm living on Diet Coke, Starbucks and jelly beans because I need the caffeine/sugar and can't stop to eat a real meal.  Well, I probably could (I'm not actually a brain surgeon or anything like that) but really my days are kind of busy.  Now happens to be one of those times...and, unfortunately for me, adrenalin is a total aphrodisiac for me.  Yes, I know, I'm crazy but we've established that already.  When I'm busy I like to flirt. 

Why is this trouble, you might ask...well, because right now my suitable flirting buddies bench isn't that deep.  There are a few who I could bring up from the minors but really, for the few weeks I would need them it isn't worth the trouble.  Cutie, who we all remember from the trade show last year is always good for a fun text or two but that just isn't cutting it right now.  Now, I want Alex...the busiest times in my life almost always involved him,  so that is my definite go to flirt place.  But, we know that is not a smart place to visit...even though I did text him something completely platonic (no response). So, I needed a distraction....

No, don't worry, I didn't decide to hit the bottom of the barrel on line dating world...never again!  No, it was a gorgeous CA night so I took my dogs for a walk.  You might be thinking that sounds like a pretty tame distraction considering I was thinking about walking into the danger zone again.  But, you've never seen my dogs. You try taking a neurotic cocker spaniel and a Ritalin needing Chi-weenie dog for a stroll and then you can judge.  But, I was feeling adventurous and, again, in need of a stress reliever so off we went.  Now, I'm sure a few of you are picturing a CA blonde running down the beach throwing a toy for the dogs as they scamper in the waves.  Well, don't!  Picture a somewhat puffy 5'2" suburban mom tangled up in the leashes of two jumping, spastic 4 legged Tasmanian Devils.  Through the path along the levee we went, one darting to one side, one jumping over the other to smell God knows what 3 feet away, with me, constantly jumping over one's leash just to trip over the tail of another.  I had just about decided I had hit dog walker bottom when I went to cross the street, only to do a full drunken stumble right in front of some hot lawyer looking dude in a Hummer.  Lovely!!!  Yes, sure he'll be chasing me down to get my number.  Jennifer Lopez, the dog walker I'm not!

We, of course, made it to the safety of my house...and full glass of wine...and I have lost the urge to text...well..anyone.  So, I guess we'll call it a success.  But, even as you read this, I'm betting you would have paid to have ring side seats, with a margarita of course, for the running of the dogs.

Perils of self improvement

Well, Real Housewives of Silicon Valley won't be calling me anytime soon! Partly, yes, because I realize the obvious...not a housewife...but really half of the characters on that series aren't either. However, the main reason there won't be a 5'2" little on the fluffy side CA blonde with a southern accent is because I suck at the whole self preservation thing.  I mean, I really do! 

As we know I refused to take out a loan just to buy a whole new wardrobe of the next size (or 2) up so I reentered the world of work out mania.  Small problem...it is a whole new world out there...a world with smart machines and interactive screens and computers that keep track of your every calorie spent.  I'm sure that sounds good to some people but I have a firm belief if I can't be smarter than the machine then I probably shouldn't be on it.  That means trouble in this new high tech age we live in.

I've been going to the gym for about 6 weeks but didn't get my formal machine training until 2 weeks ago so I just avoided anything that looked too technical.  I know how to ride a bike, do the old school elliptical and cruise along with the trusty treadmill so I stuck to what I knew.  Well, armed with my new found training on the super machines I figured how bad could it be.  I should have known better!  I logged in to the master computer just fine but was thankful it was 5:30 in the morning so people expected everyone to look a little dazed.  I jumped on the elliptical I knew...not because I was scared but because you can't just abandon the old when you find the new, right?  Don't judge, just agree! After getting my cardio on, it was time for weights.  I breezed (well sort of sauntered) through the first one, very pleased with myself for not being too intimidated by that mean old 6 inch screen when I stepped over to machine 2.  I had not been trained on this machine...it was a tad foreign to me.  After 3 minutes of staring at the contraption just trying to figure out how to move the seat I decided who cares if it is set up for someone not related to the oompa loompas and sat down.  When my feet couldn't reach the weights and the computer kept beeping at me I decided it was time to play the "huh, what is that sound?  This machine must be broken" game and walked away...quickly grabbed my sweatshirt and headed for Starbucks.  Never in my life have I had trouble ordering a latte.

You'd have thought I'd have called it a day and gone back to bed but no, I persevered and decided to end my day with my ritual spray tan.  New girl at the desk was very puzzled by my request for the Level 1 spray...so much so she argued, tried to convince me no one ever does level 1 (every week I do!!) and then had to look up the directions.  Really, it is a spray tan, how hard could it be?!  I knew I was in trouble when the trainee with the pink hair and double tongue piercing agreed with me and said "Yeah, you don't want to look orange, right man?  Totally get it."  I know life is tough when the only person who gets me has hair the color of cotton candy.

So now, with a nice glass of Cab, dinner and DVR'd episodes of Hawaii Five-O and NCIS LA, I am going to revel in the comfort of my sweats and tackle looking hot tomorrow.

Waxing philosophical...

One of the nice things about blogging is that I can make my blog however I want.  Usually I try to amuse with the random stories of my life but sometimes I can err on the snarky side (i.e. posts about the 8th dwarf) and today I am going to play the writer's choice card and walk on the more profound side of life.  Indulge me or skip a day ...it is totally up to you.

I lost a dear friend yesterday...completely sudden and totally unexpected.  This woman was an amazing testament to the joy of life and was constantly sharing stories of her son and grandchild whenever she could. She also was the amazing type of soul who reminded you to enjoy life to its fullest, to never take a moment for granted and to kiss your loved ones (especially your children) whenever you could.  Advice we should all heed.

She was a very active part of the festival I am involved in so I've known her for years...and she always was looking out for me.  After my husband and I split up she was determined to set me up with this good friend of hers...someone I know, think is incredibly hot but am pretty convinced he and I play for the same team...Anyhow, I had just started really dating Alex so told her why I wasn't interested.  She knew him as well and just said "as long as you love one another and are happy, nothing else matters".  That is how she lived...and was fortunate to have been married to a man who truly adored her...for 30+ years!

Losing her was a reminder to always tell people you love them, to never take one second for granted, and to remember life is short...live, laugh, love...every minute of every day.  I have been doing that and know I have no regrets.  The choices I've made have made me who I am and each step I take toward tomorrow means I'm living.  Thank you for continuing to live right along with me.

New complaint to lodge

I swear I am a very positive person but I also figure I have this blog to share my frustrations, my concerns, hey, anything that can make you laugh with me, at me, I don’t care…just laugh. And, if you’ve been reading my ramblings for any amount of time you know that my complaints aren’t usually about threats to the ozone layer or the price of gas (although that truly is insane!) but about things which really affect our day to day lives…like my mini rant today.

I’m a big fan of NBC’s The Biggest Loser…we’ve established that in the past…and established that, unlike most of its viewers, I am not inspired by the incredible weight loss experienced by the contestants. I think what they have done and, are doing, is amazing and I applaud them for their efforts. However, while I am not proud of this side of me, I also get a little miffed. I’m pretty sure I could lose the 15 pounds I need to lose if I had a personal chef, worked out all day and didn’t have to juggle my bike rides to nowhere with homework help, car pool, basketball practices, laundry, and oh yeah, work.

And, really, it isn’t even that about the show that is truly bugging my size 10 (or 12) booty today. It is the ridiculous claim that by popping in a piece of sugar free gum that supposedly tastes like mint chocolate chip ice cream, you will be able to avoid the craving that has you inhaling a bag of Jolly Rancher Tropical flavored jelly beans. I don’t even like ice cream and I can promise you no inch sized piece of flavored chemicals is going to make me think I’ve eaten a hot fudge sundae and feel satisfied. That is like telling me dreaming about an evening with Steve McGarrey from Hawaii Five-O is going to make me feel like my last booty call was actually in this decade. Yeah, not so much!

But, because I would actually like to attract someone who thinks I’m hot, and because I refuse to buy an entire wardrobe of “big girl” clothes, I am chewing away on a piece of sugar free Red Hot Trident waiting for the sigh of satisfaction…yeah, still waiting.

I vote no on aging...

I know it isn't actually a democracy where aging is concerned but, really, it should be.  Anything that has this deep of an impact on my life should really have warranted a little discussion, the ability to debate, heck, compromise just a tad.  But no, it continues to happen...bit by bit so that every time I look in the mirror now I have to do a double take to see who that incredibly mature woman is looking back at me.

This isn't a new dilemma, nor do I even pretend it is unique to me...but I was struck by the very tough reality that I was getting a manicure last night with my grandmother's hands.  Seriously, a few months ago I would look down and think, "hmm, there are a few more wrinkles than there used to be" but just shrug and move on.  Not so much anymore.  Now, these are the hands I remember from my childhood...fresh from the salon and smelling like lotion.  And, the saddest part was, my first thought was "how am I going to get a man with these hands?"  Seriously?! Now I have to add "likes my wrinkly, old lady hands" to my list!  Ugh!

Of course my hands aren't the only part of me that seems to be falling under the whole turning 42 spell.  I had my annual eye exam last week and, while I have the knack for always making my young, only kind of cute optometrist laugh, he did seem to giggle a little sheepishly when I joked about having to hold my menu out a little further than I used to.  I blamed it on my upper arm work outs...it is just better for your triceps to hold the menu at arm's length.  He didn't laugh as hard as I thought he would at my cute little joke...he answered "Yes, you are at that age".  That age?!?  The age of my parents?!  Again, this is not making me feel any sexier!

But my body did want to take a little pity on me and make me feel like I wasn't ready for social security just yet.  No, the checker didn't ask for my ID when I bought 6 bottles of wine.  And, no, the bagger didn't say "Hey cutie," instead of "Here you go, Ma'am".  No, this gift of youth was a complete acne break out.  Again, with the really?!  How is possible that my wrinkles have pimples?  Shouldn't that be against some sort of Mother Nature Law?  If you should be a candidate for massive amounts of botox, shouldn't you not have to buy Clearasil as well?

Don't worry, I haven't completely gone off the old lady rocker and started wearing housecoats with my slippers.  Actually, just the opposite and decided I'll give the old Oil of Olay tag line a new edge..I'll grow old gracefully just with a whole lot of sass! 

Life is full of reminders…

Country songs are written about unanswered prayers for a reason…it is true. Our lives take the paths they do because somewhere deep inside you know it is the right direction to head. It isn’t easy, and at times it hurts more than you think you can bear but you continue on, one step, one day, one week, one month…until you get to the point you can wake up in the morning and know you are where you are supposed to be. I know this to be the case because while waking up in a Chase Suites (with lots to be desired) hotel room in Southern CA may not seem like the place to be, it was where my heart belonged this past weekend.

We all know I loved Alex with all of my heart…and will admit to focusing more on that than on other aspects of my life. Leaving him was and will be the hardest choice I’ve ever had to make and I also will admit that I missed him this weekend. He would have been very proud of my little rock star son…he was amazing! But, what I realized was this is my life…I like being the fun, cute, very enthusiastic basketball mom who can focus on the wants and needs of my two amazing children without worrying that I’m neglecting him, neglecting them, not giving anyone the attention they deserve. And, when I do meet the man who I’m supposed to be with (either a new one or a much improved earlier model) he is going to not only appreciate that but want to be right there with me cheering on these incredible people.

And, believe me, cheer I did! In one gym, and then another, and oh yeah, two to three more. As we jetted from one Beverly Hills 90210 high school to another, I would either provide pep talks to the players or listen to the girls discuss where Selena Gomez was shopping that day…we did see a few limos that I tried to convince them contained very famous celebrities. Outside of the fact we were 1-3 for the weekend, it really was an unforgettable experience for all involved. And, one I wouldn’t have missed for the world.

I hate to disappoint those of you who were hoping for a Real Housewives of the OC post today but really it was a very easy (well, as easy as it can be to drive around Southern CA for two days) weekend. Yes, that means the Amazon girlfriend did not go…not sure why…didn’t ask…just noticed when we all met up for lunch on the road that she did not emerge from the car with my former husband, my daughter and her friend. Maybe the thought of 6 hours in the car with two incredibly chatty elementary school girls was just too much for her. That definitely takes the blame off of me…I mean I am sure it had nothing to do with not wanting to spend 48 solid hours with little ole me.

In the grand scale of my life I’m going to give this weekend a 9…no annoying girlfriend, superstar children, gorgeous weather, lots of good mom moments but I wouldn’t have minded the partner to turn to when I yell “oh my gosh, did you see that? He is aMAZing!!”

Is there an App for that?

My son is basketball rock star!  Really!  This isn't just a proud mama talking about her baby...the one who made her throw up for 9 months straight, the one whose entry into the world meant baby #2 is my adorable Bloomingdale's daughter...this is the truth.  Okay, maybe not NBA worthy...yet...he is only 11! But good enough to make it onto the regional all star team and then win their way to a trip to Southern California for more games.  All very exciting stuff...but not what I need an APP for.  I've got the basketball mom thing down to a science...and one I'm actually really good at.  No, I'm going to need technology, chemicals, wine, whatever...as the stellar performance of the superstar means everyone is spending the weekend together in SoCal. 

Of course, by everyone, I mean the kids, the former husband and the Amazon girlfriend.  No, don't think she has grown an incredible interest in the sports my kids play...I mean we do remember the 5 inch heels and skin tight jeans she wore to the daughter's game a few months ago.  No, her presence is based solely on the fact I will be there as well.  Believe me, I try to put myself in her shoes and understand her position in our strange little friendly divorce scenario but I just can't get past the fake boobs and insincere smile to reach the point of pure empathy. 

It is an extremely well established fact that I don't ever, let me repeat, not ever, do we understand ever, want to get back with the former husband.  She can have him.  But she still seems to be intimidated by my presence...hey, what can I say? The overweight 5'2" threat that I am!  It just makes for an uncomfortable prospect...and, of course, we are all staying at the same hotel. Yes, my bags will be packed with wine, wine and oh yeah, wine!  Any chance I can drop 20 pounds and grow 6 inches before Friday?  Yeah, probably not.

Julia Roberts w/ a side of Prozac

I had another one of my life changing and world altering epiphanies last night - the producers of chick flicks are also the makers of anti-depressants.  C'mon, it makes sense.  You watch a movie about soul wrenching love where the woman not only makes it through incredible heartache but comes out on the other side looking like a million bucks, meets the true man of her dreams and never has to worry about paying another bill again.  Really?  Because that is what every single mother living on a tight budget knows is just right around the corner.  They should actually put up a disclaimer like they do for the common sense impaired during stunt car commercials "Warning: do not try this at home.  This is not reality, moron!"

Okay,  I'm not that completely cynical nor do I really believe life is supposed to be the way it is portrayed on the big screen.  However, as I sat down to watch Eat, Pray, Love I do have to admit to having moments of exasperation thinking how unrealistic this "true" story actually was.  Yes, the divorce was painful and yes, her heartbreak was real.  But, you find me one "actual" woman who, when going through a divorce, was able to jet off around the world to truly find herself...and, in the meantime find one heck of a hottie soul mate. 

Believe me, there are moments...lots of them...where I just want to pack up my kids and move to parts (well not unknown) but far away, nonetheless, where I could just start over.  Where I don't have to worry about running into Alex and his 8th dwarf girlfriend...where I can go to my children's games without looking like an oompa loompa next to former husband's Amazon arm candy...where I believe I can be myself and fall in love again...hopefully forever this time.  Then, of course, I wake up, do the 4th load of laundry of the day, log onto my work computer to do a few last minute things since I had to leave early to pick the kids up from school...and, if it is one of my really lucky days, the dogs may have destroyed another stuffed animal for me to clean up.  No, it is definitely not Bali!

But, before you all start to stage a friend-a-vention, don't worry, I haven't taken to sitting in front of the Lifetime channel with a quart of Ben & Jerry's, only pausing to refill my Diet Coke (a girl's got to watch her weight, right?)...I've actually done the opposite and have been going to the gym, making myself make plans for the weekends I don't have the kids and have only "stopped by" Alex's FB and dive page once or twice.  I am getting better and stronger...just not quite like a Hollywood screenplay.