The First Wives Club...

The subject line isn't entirely fair as the movie made famous by Bette Midtler, Meryl Streep and Goldie Hawn definitely focuses on the fact these women were wronged by their husbands...and therefore were justified in their responses for revenge.  I can't say that...I was married to a very nice man who one, it turned out was a much better friend than a husband, but two, whose reality was jaded by a sense of self importance that far outweighed his actual persona as a local elected official...not exactly the White House.  Yet there are times, I feel as if he lives up to the former husband title well; regardless of who actually said the words to dissolve the marriage.

As I've mentioned, the former husband has a long term girlfriend...well long term could be misleading as their break-ups outnumber the bench on most basketball teams but still she has been around for quite some time.  And, for the most part, I really don't have a problem with her.  I don't think she and I would have ever been drinking or pedicure pals together but I can usually carry on a conversation with her and can say I've rarely rolled my eyes in frustration (in amazement over some outfits or behavior, yes!) I even kept quiet over the time (early in their relationship) where she came dressed as a "slutty sheriff" in full leather chaps and 3 button leather bustier (nothing else) to take our kids trick or treating with him downtown...again, small town, local elected official.  But, hey, when you purchased those babies, I'm guessing you want to get your money's worth.  Okay, enough on the catty side of town....

However, when the drama of their up and down relationship starts to affect my children, I have decided the "no drama mama" can completely relate to the antics of divorced women/protective mothers all over the place.  If you were to ask my former husband, he would say he is truly "Father of the Year" material...and, actually nominated himself for such an award in town just last year...hey, what can I say...resume builder, maybe?  Anyhow, he usually is a pretty good dad but during the initial back together glow of their reunification periods, he checks out.  The whole mental image of them is too much for me (not painful, just yuck!) but it must be very good because he truly does just disappear.  This weekend, after 2 days of phone calls by the children (they are used to talking to each of us every day...usually twice a day) with no response from him, they were both starting to worry.  I knew, without a doubt, they had decided to take a last minute trip out of town...and, wouldn't you know it, I was right.  9:00 tonight the phone rings with a "Hi...we went to the lake...We'll be back tomorrow". 

Like I said, happy for them...and really, don't even care (in my sabbatical from physical activity of my own) if they didn't leave their room the whole weekend.  Just, for the sole reason I really don't want to have to hit you, check in with your children.  What is it about men that make them forget common sense and reason when the area below the belt buckle is involved?  No, it isn't a generalization, it has been proven over centuries of stupid decisions made by the hormones, not the head....I usually don't bash the father of my children, or men for that matter (am actually a very big fan of the opposite sex) but there are days I completely get the rants, the raves and the Alanis Morissette songs...and today just happens to be one of those days.

If I'm 50+ and...

As you may have realized, I am sometimes a little behind the times and not up to date on all pop culture...note, just started blogging this year, referenced Miley Cyrus & Justin Bieber in a post, and finally, just this week, watched It's Complicated with Meryl Streep, Steve Martin & Alec Baldwin.  I found the movie to be incredibly funny and had several actual laugh out loud moments.  Although I did think more than once there was absolutely no way my former husband and I would ever have an affair...really, just yuck! But, then again, I wasn't all that into the Steve Martin character either...hence reason #98 while I will be home making cookies and cleaning house on a Friday night. :-)

Really, the scene I loved the most was the entire "Poked Smot" activity...as someone who has never smoked marijuana, eaten pot brownies or even really gotten a contact high I found this scene to be incredibly comical...and something I have decided I want to try...at some point in my life.  I'm not trying to give the impression I was some total goody two shoes my whole life but this just wasn't an area that interested me.  Without pulling the whole Bill Clinton "I never inhaled", I really just never have.  I was too scared in high school to even think of trying this, and the few times in college I was around it, could never quite figure out how to use the whole bong device.  To me, if you aren't smarter than the apparatus, then that is probably a sign you shouldn't use it. 

But, as I watched this scene, and was laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes, I thought to myself, I must be missing out on something.  Obviously there is a reason people enjoy it so much...and, if this is the case, don't I owe it to myself to put it on some sort of bucket list?  So, I have decided that in 10+ years, regardless of my life situation, I will find a trusted friend (or hot male companion, if that is the case) and we are going to put on some great music, set up a table of much needed munchies (hey, I've seen the movies) and light up, or toke, or whatever it is one does to get that feeling.  I guess the only obstacle I will have to overcome at that point, is where to find my stash...

Hello...you are on with Dr. Carrie...

...how can I help you?  No, I'm not really a doctor, but I play one in real life.  For whatever reason, people just tell me stuff.  And, by people, I mean all people...not just friends or relatives.  And, usually, I really don't mind.  If I have a look that says "Please tell me your deepest, darkest secrets...I can help" then I guess it is actually a duty of mine to do what I can. 

Like I said, for the most part, it is a random conversation, let's say, at Target (the Disneyland for moms) as I am going through the checkout line...
Cashier: "Oh, what a cute baby outfit"
Me: "Thanks...it is for a friend's baby shower" (very innocent so far)
Cashier: "My daughter can't have children naturally so we're looking into adoption for her.  But, her husband is a jerk...I think he may even be abusive. I would know because I had to leave my husband in the middle of the night when my daughter was a baby...." Now this went on for several more minutes...yes, I had purchased quite a bit at Target the other day.  And, while I felt for this woman and her story, I couldn't help but think, what possesses people to just spill their most inner thoughts with complete strangers.  But, maybe for some, they don't have a "go to" person...the one who has to listen to you...no matter what.

I was that person for Alex for years and I guess it was a hard habit for him to break because several times during the period of confusion (okay, there are soooo many other things I could call it but I'm trying to be positive here) where he'd come to me with issues about the 8th dwarf.  Not kidding!!!  We were driving one day when he said "You know, she really can't cook.  Now, I know it isn't fair to compare her to you because you are a great cook (of course I am!!!) but I can't even eat her food.  Also, she really does complain a lot." Okay, now before you all start wondering how to commit me for staying as long as I did, please remember I did finally leave...but for those 6 months, I really did think I was supposed to stay and help him through his mid life crisis...bad food and all.  These conversations went on quite often...."She really doesn't like our friendship.  What should I do?' "Oh, um, tell her life is rough and get over it." or "I really don't want to be with her, but now I've made such a mess." Who talks to their live in girlfriend about their mistress like this?  But again, I have that kind of face...the "tell it all to me" face.

From friends who have no trouble saying "Oh, I had the best sex ever last night...let me tell you what he did." (Thanks, but no) to the acquaintances who want to talk to me about their child's drug problem, I have heard it all.  Maybe it is more than the open face...maybe they know I have experienced quite a bit in my life and still have a smile on my face.  I guess I should tell them I have a lot of wine!  But, seriously, if my crazy stories can help people share their worries, then I guess it is all for the best.  And, I also know, for every weird thing I have lived with, someone else has lived with 10x worse.  My stories are comical, not tragic. 

So, if you see me at Target or downtown, or anywhere and feel the need to do a brain dump, feel free, I am even cheaper than Peanut's Lucy with her $.05 advice jar.  I just require a smile and the permission to at least shake my head as I walk away.

America's got talent...

My sister and I have decided I need to be on this show...no, I don't sing, or dance, or even throw knives (which by the way, is a very scary talent...!)...but I have a talent, or an uncanny knack, I guess, to pick an electrician out of a crowd.  Alright, I am sure you are wondering first, how I can call that a skill or a knack or, well, anything; and two, why would this be important at all??  Very good questions I might add (well, considering I asked them myself, they should be!).

Anyhow, let me explain...I have a dear friend who, like many of us, has probably watched one too many episodes of Dr. Phil or Oprah and was sharing with me recently the trouble women get themselves into by thinking they have a "type".  She learned there really is no such thing as a type of man you are attracted to but by believing it is so, set ourselves up to repeat mistakes, not find love in unusual places and/or be destined to be alone...all very uplifting thoughts mind you.  No wonder the commercials during these shows are for anti-depressant medication and Hostess cupcakes.  Well, while I appreciate the sentiment, and probably can find validity in its claim, I do have a type...and he almost always is wearing jeans, a t-shirt, work boots and a tool belt.

It has actually become comical...but there really is a pattern.  Alex is an electrician (big shocker!) and he and I used to joke about my attraction to that occupation...especially since I did have a very brief interest in another electrician right before Alex and I started dating.  He knew that the "work outfit" was much more of a turn on for me than anything else he wore...I'm sure this has something to do with me growing up in the South but hey, like my love of Jack Daniels, it just is what it is.

So, since my escape from Casa de Crazy last year, I have truly begun to notice this weird obsession...I caught up with a "boyfriend" (c'mon we were 13, boyfriend seems a little strong) from middle school who became an electrical contractor, the brother of the friend (who I really do think is aDORable, btw...he just needs to think the same thing about me) owns an electrical company in town, and just the other day I noticed this incredibly attractive man leaving Sports Clips while I was waiting for my son...of course I watched him walk out...straight into a truck sporting the logo of another local electrical contracting outfit.  Seriously!! 

While I will admit not all of the cuties I have found attractive carry the all important electrician tools, there have been quite a few.  Once again I would probably make a great case study for some psychologist out there trying to prove a point but for now, will just be happy to tell Oprah, Dr. Phil or anyone that yes, I have a type and hey, if I play my cards right, won't ever have to change a light bulb again.

Laughter is the best medicine

First, I apologize to the throngs of you who follow my every word and phrase (insert chuckle) as I've been off the grid for the past week putting on a community event.  While that may seem like an incredibly lame reason for not being able to throw a few hundred words onto a computer screen, I truly was too tired each night to even pour a glass of wine...let alone try to be witty and somewhat philosophical.  I was happy I actually was able to differentiate between toothpaste and moisturizer before I hit the bed each night.  But, now I am back...and ready to entertain ...or amuse...or at least give you something to read while your nails dry.

While the event I was working on was hard, and tiring, and well, incredibly dirty, it is also my very favorite time of year.  It even comes in a little ahead of college football season...which is a tough feat.  C'mon, cute sweaters, jeans, Fall air, guys in tight pants...really who doesn't anticipate that like the arrival of Santa?  Anyhow, this week is the culmination of months of planning, working with thousands of community members, entertaining over 100,000 people and really, getting an ego boost which makes my day...every day.

We started the week with our annual ladies' night...20 women and margaritas definitely equals cheeks sore from laughing.  I love the energy we supply, the knowledge that they loved me almost 15 years ago with fewer wrinkles and definitely fewer pounds and still love me...and have stood by each other through more than one set of ups and downs provides me with a sense of balance I know I can rely on every day.  Even if we lose contact for periods throughout the year, come July we are all back together like a sorority reunion.

Energized by the YaYa Sisterhood, I was ready to take on the week...I hadn't lost the 15 pounds I was hoping for so was still fighting with shorts that fit my shelf booty but were at least a size and a half too big in the waist but hey, that is why Gucci makes belts.  Haha...like I'd wear Gucci to a dust covered park!  But, while I wasn't going to be turning too many heads with my ensemble for the weekend, I know my personality does shine this week.  I love to welcome the guests, smile and laugh with the other volunteers, and, okay, walk by the incredibly hot firefighters more than once or twice...an hour...and be reminded that this is where I am supposed to be at this point in my life.  Alex is the one who missed out on quite the catch...not me!  (And, as a quick side note...saw a recent picture of the two of them at a wedding...yikes...she really is the 8th dwarf and, well, he doesn't look nearly as hot as I thought before...I think I'm moving on!!)

While the end of the weekend is always like the last night at summer camp with a bunch of tears and sad smiles, I am still full of an internal warmth and happiness knowing I have found my way back to me...the real me...and hey, there are 51 weeks until next year for those 15 pounds.

Table for one...

I am sure you have started to think I am nothing but a bowl of epiphanies...I'm high maintenance, I like sex, I'm a bit neurotic...and maybe I do use that phrase quite often. But, the light bulbs do seem to be going off more and more...and I'm not always sure that is a good thing.  Mood lighting is hot for a reason...because sometimes you don't really want to see reality under the harsh lights at full wattage...

Anyhow, my latest dawning...I don't have enough closet space to ever marry again.  Or, maybe that is I have too many clothes, or something.  Now granted, this is probably one of those situations where I could be accused of borrowing trouble as I haven't had a real date since Miley Cyrus was still a Disney star and no one had ever even heard of Justin Bieber...wow, can you tell whose music I've been listening to?! 

But tonight, as I put away load after load of laundry (which is my absolute least favorite household chore by far...I mean, living out of laundry baskets could be a good thing, right?) and maneuvered the clothes this way and that to fit the last sundress, (another side note...if I actually got rid of those size 6's I KNOW I'm never fitting into again, this wouldn't be as much of an issue) I looked around my room and realized, this is truly my room.  Wow!

I had my own room growing up, in college and then for a brief time frame after graduation but really, in 16 years, that hasn't been the case.  When I first moved out I had an incredibly hard time with the concept....my bathroom even had his/her sinks but now, as my clothes have taken over the closet, my exercise equipment dominating the corner and my shows on the bedroom DVR, I guess I have grown into my space.  There is a part of me who thinks this is a very positive thing...I'm not waiting for my prince in shining armor to come rescue me and take me to his castle (with lots of closet space) but there is another part of me who thinks this complete domination of space is kind of sad.

Does this mean I will eventually grow to be a woman who is now too set in her ways to allow a man into her life?  Will I think his socks will just bug me when they don't quite make it into the hamper?  Is this what my life will be like after the kids move out...where my personal space is truly the entire house?  For as much as I talk about being content with my life...and I am, for now, I don't like to think I will block the chance of happiness with a man later on because I've grown accustomed to my life.  That would actually make me feel much more of a sense of loss and discontent than I care to admit.  So, for now, I will go back to enjoying my overstuffed closet and rely on the knowledge that if the right man really did come along, I am sure I could find a contractor to build me a bigger closet.

A Gay Old Time...

All women need certain accessories...killer shoes, stylish purse, classy sunglasses...and then an incredible gay friend to comment on or compliment those accessories.  Last night I attended the annual summer extravaganza to celebrate this fabulous friend, confidante and Martha Stewart extraordinaire.  The food was amazing, the decor gorgeous and the dishing...to die for.

Step one, of course, though, was what to wear...A little different this time as I had a one year old's birthday party barbecue to attend first.  So...had to pick something that was fun, yet not too much, but still with a little dramatic effect.  Oh, did I forget to mention, it was 100 flippin degrees outside so as little clothing as one could get away with was also in order. I settled for sundress with bling...that works. I did, however, forgo the high heels which I just couldn't justify at a party with a jump house.

After managing to avoid too many sticky fingers or cake covered kisses, I left my children at party 1 and headed a few blocks down to party 2.  While only a literal mile separated the houses, figuratively we were talking worlds away as I entered the patio paradise of the oolala celebration...complete with tiki torches, flowing champagne and both women and men dressed to kill (or impress is more like it). I felt an immediate sense of peace overtake me, with the help of a glass of amazing sangria, and began to catch up with old friends under the stars (both real and man made). 

As I listened to stories of new love, new heartbreak and old problems, I was reminded an entire world of issues lived outside my home of peace and contentment. The well timed reminder helped me realize once again how, even though, I am still contemplating buying the voodoo doll set that looks like Alex and the 8th dwarf, I am really much happier without all the high school-esque drama.... my former husband and the gf who have broken up and gotten back together more times than the Eagles (yes, they were at the party too...in coordinated leopard/jungle print attire - not kidding!!) or the friend whose boyfriend decided he needed to go back to his wife and kids are really more than I want or need to handle at this point...or ever.

However, I also looked around and saw evidence of true happiness...so I know it isn't just a figment of my imagination or content for Jennifer Aniston movies...the adorable friend who fell in love after being married for years to a man who just couldn't quite ever get his life in order, another friend who thought love had passed her by when she hit 35 until she met the most amazing man and now they have 2 beautiful children together, or even my incredible friend who we were celebrating that night...he is in love, they have a gorgeous home, and a houseful of friends who not only come by to eat their food and drink their wine...but also would be there for them at a moment's notice. 

I am happy with my slow steps toward the future...and know that while the chapter I thought was the entire book recently ended, I really do have pages of pages of fun, adventures and love ahead of me.

Yes, this is a rant...

...and no, not even a new one.  I am a big fan of Facebook...we have established that.  I love to post pictures, I chat with family and friends...I even admit to scoping out former boyfriends and thinking to myself, "Wow, he used to have hair..." But there are times even this die-hard fan has to say "Are you serious???" and wonder if maybe we have too much of a front row view of the lives of our neighbors. 

I live out in the country because I often joke I don't really want to know what the people next door are having for breakfast.  However, with the ability of social networking, I not only know waaaayyy too often what people are eating (why is that news by the way?? Unless it is a review of a fabulous new restaurant, do any of us really need to know you had noodles for lunch?) but I now have friends pretty much providing real time play by play of their mating rituals.  Now before you just say this is jealousy talking (see post on booty calls), I really am happy for them that they have recently found true love...or great sex, according to them, but is it really necessary for us to be unwilling participants? 

Logging on last night to see who was being funny or what pictures were recent additions, I almost spit out my wine when the first thing I saw was the post of a friend saying to her boyfriend, who was probably on the couch next to her, "Meet you in the bedroom...and, by the way, going commando."  Wow!  Really?  First, of all, I get the need to keep things new and spicy but when your parents, your children, heck, your childrens' friends are on your page, do you really think this is the best way to share your underwear preferences (or lack thereof)?  I like to think I'm as sexually hip as the next gal, but to me, knowing my child just learned I wanted to get horizontal would be nothing but a turn off!

So, in addition to not announcing to the world via a status update that you are getting a divorce, you think your husband is stupid or that your new boob job just isn't as big as you thought it would be, can we please add 'come hither posts' to the list of don'ts?  I promise it won't interfere with your sex life (hey, text him if you must) but it really will keep me from "throwing up in my mouth" (my 8 year old daughter's favorite phrase).  Thanks!

Is Cougar really a bad word?

How bad can a group be if it includes Cameron Diaz, Demi Moore and Susan Sarandon? And, the animal, cougar, is sleek, strong, almost regal...Okay, who am I kidding? I'm just trying to justify having a very fun flirtation with an adorable someone who can not call himself a child of the 80's.  But, don't worry, he passed the legal drinking age a long time ago so not exactly complete cradle robbing.  And, considering we're just talking about a handful of texts and cute conversations, I'm not even sure I can even be labeled a kitten, let alone a full grown cougar.

I met this cutie patotootie (okay, new name as this just makes him sound young), umm, let's go with just Cutie, whatever...a few months ago as I was putting on an event at a location he runs.  At first, he was just my staff contact and a name on the other end of an endless string of emails full of regulations and things I needed to do.  When I arrived on site, I was immediately told Mr. Manager was looking for me...really?  I just got here, how could I have screwed anything up...but off I went to find this tough guy who was giving my staff a hard time.  I knew who he was immediately...I can just sense these things...or the name tag he was wearing could have been a little clue. 

Anyhow, if I have a type...and by if, I mean I do, he has broad shoulders, on the tall side (but we knew that already), not skinny and with a little facial hair...wow, I really am picky.  Again, well this guy fit the bill...except 10 years ago (for me...before I reached mandatory mammogram age).  But, I turned on the charm anyhow...Hello??? He was the staff I needed to charm, I mean convince, into my way of thinking regarding my event.  So, for 2 days he was my go to guy, and I definitely didn't mind.  And, as a chick, you know when a guy is interested...the smiles are sweet, he was definitely around more than the job necessitated and well, I was touched.

As the only single lady on my staff, the others were living vicariously through me (why I don't know...did they  forget I talked to my dog at night?) and they thought he was definitely on the "do check out" list.  However, I'd at least find out his age to make sure I wasn't breaking the law or anything first!  Okay, 9 years difference...hmm...but he didn't even bat an eye.  Well, we'll see...

We sent a few texts and emails over the next few weeks but could never coordinate our calendars...hey, the life of a mom who spends 95% of her time at sporting events, is very busy!  And, so the flirtation fizzled...until recently.  I had promised him tickets to another event I was putting on and, hey, I'm all about keeping my end of the bargain.  So, after a day of really cute, fun and very flirty texts, I'm back on the cougar bandwagon. 

Again, who knows if anything will come of this most recent flirtation.  And, I have to admit, I really can't imagine anything more than dinner or drinks (maybe even a kiss).  But, considering my body is much closer to receiving AARP discounts than any of the chicks he has ever gone out with, I am pretty sure this cougar is keeping her fur on at all times...

What is your theme song?

Every morning, never fail, I wake up with a song in my head.  Rarely is it the same song twice nor is there really a consistency in even type of music.  But, there it is, the alarm clock goes off and once my feet hit the floor, this tune starts.  It is almost like a little good morning to myself...well, I guess that depends on the song.  Some mornings it is Eminem, others it is Darius Rucker with a little Tim McGraw, Lady Gaga, Uncle Kracker, Usher and Rascal Flatts thrown in for good measure. 

I used to love the show Ally McBeal and some of my favorite episodes involved the various theme songs the different characters would have.  In most cases it would put a little extra oomph in their day...a little Aretha Franklin if one of them needed sass or a round of "Another One Bites the Dust" as they entered the courtroom.  My morning melodies had not started yet at this point in my life and I remember thinking how each of us needed a theme song.  Something that could help us find strength we didn't know we had.  A tune to add a little swagger to our step.  But, usually the characters would choose their theme songs to fit whatever situation they were facing...not me.  My morning songs choose me.

I wonder if the songs actually have some meaning on my day and I don't know it.  If it is an Alanis Morissette morning does that mean I'm going to be full of attitude and the full "don't mess" persona going on?  How about a Van Morrison wake up call?  Is that a cue I should kick back with a cup of coffee and just call it a lazy Sunday kind of day?  I think I'll start paying a little more attention to the songs and the days that follow them now.  Maybe a little notebook by my bed that I can refer to when planning my day. If waking up with Carrie Underwood in my head meant people took me seriously then the next time maybe I'll ask for a raise.  Or, if a Led Zeppelin (yes, it has happened) tune is followed by bad traffic or no coffee, then any tune from LZ (whether I like it or not) means I don't get out of bed that day.  I'll just call in with a bad theme song excuse.  I'm sure that would go over well with Human Resources. 

Well, maybe it isn't as simple as that but I really do think there must be some rhyme or reason to my tunes. And, if not, then can I just request the songs I want from now on?  As much as my taste in music is diverse, I'd much rather have the voice of Tim McGraw waking me up softly, then that of Ludicrous.  Just saying...