I'll have it my way

I decided tonight that online dating sites have it all wrong!  They should take a page out of Burger King's playbook.  Yes, Burger King!  No, I don't eat there, but that doesn't mean I can't acknowledge their success.  They are all about "we make it your way" and, really, isn't that what online dating sites should do?

Now I haven't re-evaluated my decision to not go the click here for true love route but, I did think of a way I might be tempted to join in the frenzy.  What if I could build the perfect partner...you know, like the Build a Bear stores my daughter loves so very much?  Yes, I realize the sites tell you to broaden your horizons so you aren't limiting yourself out of your future love.  But, if I know what type of guy would make me happy, shouldn't that be what I write down?  I'm 41 years old...if I haven't figured out my likes and dislikes by now I think we're in trouble.  I'm pretty specific on the type of soda I'll drink, so wouldn't one think I'd be even more fanatical about the characteristics of a man I'd like to spend more than 5 minutes with?

So, here are my qualifications...please be sure to send in any and all suitable applicants:
Between the ages of 36-46
5'11-6'4
Must have a waist size bigger than mine has ever been (okay, not counting my pregnancy)
Must love football, basketball, baseball...okay, ESPN must be in their favorite 5 channels
Must love the following movies (or at least have seen them and not hated them): The American President, Bull Durham, Jerry Maguire, The Blindside, Sweet Home Alabama...I know there are more, but that might just be getting a little extreme
Must have a truck...either for work or pleasure, I don't care
Must love the water...preferably lakes, places with boats that don't have sails
Must think I'm all that and ten bags of chips...but can not let me get away with nonsense because I know that...think the country song "Because she don't tell me to"
Will play catch with my son, then sit down to watch my daughter strut her stuff
Must love country music...but not the old twangy kind
Must have a good steady income...or own a sports franchise...that works too.
Must love dogs

There are, of course, a few options...like when buying a car, that I'd like to throw in as well: likes to grill, loves my food, understands the joy of a good glass of wine but can drink Jack & Coke without choking, knows I should never have to deal with a mechanic (that is a boy's job), and, I guess if I'm pulling out all the stops, should know how to buy a good piece of jewelry.

You notice, I didn't say anything about picking up their socks, or putting down the toilet seat...those things really don't bother me...but disgrace Saturday afternoon football and we might have words. 

So, there you go...that is the type of online site that would work for me.  Please feel free to let me know if and when you come across such a site.  Thanks for your support.

Another I do...please pass me a cocktail

Do you remember when you were younger and looked forward to certain events with such anticipation you could barely breathe...first date, prom, getting your license, etc...?  The sense of excitement and thrill each time you thought of what it was going to be like, what you were going to wear, who you were going to tell?  You thought you could never feel better.  Are you remembering that feeling?  Great!  Now picture the exact opposite and you have the pit in my stomach as we get closer to yet another wedding this weekend.Really, it has very little to do with the wedding and what that represents, as I really am happy for the soon to be married couple, and everything to do with the drama that has led up to the big event. 

Over 40 years ago, 2 couples, maybe still on a contact high from the 1960's, decided to take on the world to ensure prosperity for all...and a bunch of other feel good campaign brochure kind of stuff, and decided to drag their children with them.  Across the country we went...our own little version of Mr. Smith Goes to Washington...full of ideals and plans for social justice and all that jazz.  Well, of course, reality set in and 2 incredibly nasty divorces, custody battles, bitter feelings and thousands of dollars of therapy later find us now on the eve of the last child's wedding.

As families, we vacationed together, in RV's, in old lighthouses, in motels all across this country, vowing to always remain family, forget just being friends.  But, as in all divorces, sides had to be picked and battle lines were definitely drawn.  And, as children, living at the whim of whoever had whom that weekend, didn't grow up as close as we had expected. And, considering my mother hated everything to do with the life that brought her to the East Coast, we certainly didn't spend too many summers with them at the Outer Banks ever again.  But, because certain bonds can't be broken (or Miss Manners decrees it to be), we were all invited to each other's weddings.  Although, why we didn't figure out after wedding one to just elope proves that while we have all become relatively successful and productive members of society, we obviously aren't all that bright. 

For months now, my sister and I have been receiving emails from our mother regarding the big day...how important it is that we represent as a family unit. She even cut her summer on the East Coast short for the big occasion...and oh, how we've heard about that.  How she will suffer through 2 weeks of miserable California heat because it is so very important for her to be a part of this wedding for Alan and Nina and to see his brother, Jeff, and his lovely wife, Laura.  Granted, I found this funny...not just because people all over the world would love to live in California, but because Jeff's wife's name is Susan not Laura.  Minor details, people.

We all knew why my mother was flying back early for this wedding and it had absolutely nothing to do with wanting to be there for the happy couple.  Hello, they each have 8 attendants....who is even going to notice who is on the guest list?!  No, she was flying back and making a huge production about all of us going together because she thought for sure my father was going to be in attendance.  For the few weeks I thought the same thing, I lived in a constant state of martini induced fog because nothing sounded worse to me than a formal wedding with both of my parents.  My wedding was painful enough and then I had the free flowing champagne fountain to make me happy.

The idea of my mother participating in a one sided competition for the spotlight was enough to make me run for the hills, before even factoring in the fact this was yet another wedding I was going to endure.  I was beginning to understand why prescription medication was such a hot commodity.  However, God, or my father, actually, saved the day by announcing he wasn't going to be able to make it to CA for the weekend as he was going to be out several times later in September.  I thought I was going to faint from happiness.  While my mother in a social setting is no day at the beach, it is at least tolerable, without adding my father to the mix.  Although, you would have thought someone had shot my mother's dog when she found out.  "What? Your father isn't coming?! Isn't that a slap in the face to the couple?  Won't he be missed?" Again, Mom, missing the point on the whole wedding thing...stars of the show are the bride and groom...not some pseudo uncle who hasn't seen the happy couple in at least 5 years. 

So, as I sip on this glass of wine, and inspect my closet for appropriate wedding attire this weekend, I at least am thankful that I will just be keeping my stupid sad feelings at bay, and not trying to juggle the needs of a neurotic, somewhat bitter, not over her divorce woman while also keeping my champagne glass full.

Weekend Wind Down

There's nothing like a wedding to make you contemplate your current situation and reevaluate decisions you have made.  It was actually a wedding 6 years ago that made me realize my former husband and I were not going to make it to the Golden Years together.  As we sat in the pew, with enough room for two more people between us, it hit me that the counseling sessions, the tears, the promises to try harder couldn't make two people fall in love again.  Or, even for the first time, especially since they were more in love with the idea of each other than the person themselves to begin with.

This weekend I was among a fortunate few who witnessed a dear friend find love for the 2nd time in her life.  After a very painful divorce and a few stumbles, she met an incredible man who completely adored her, and her adorable daughter.  I truly couldn't be happier for her...but, of course, there was that small part of me who stood there and wondered (not without some jealousy), if I would ever meet someone else. And worse yet, was did I want to, more specifically, someone other than Alex. 

I hate that I miss him...especially after over a year and lots of tears, but I do. And, I hate that deep down I know he is going to marry the 8th dwarf.  Eventually, he will decide he isn't getting any younger and will submit to his fear of being alone.  And, I know, if I am still in the single category, it is going to require a lot more than a glass of wine and 2 pound bag of jelly beans to help me recover.  Not an experience I am looking forward to. Especially, since really, the vision of the 2 of them is just not pretty.  C'mon do they even make wedding gowns for trolls?  Sorry, an attack of the catty Tourret's.

Then, to top it off, as I drove from the wedding to my son's basketball game (mom's have to multi-task), I hit a freeway flirting low.  I was feeling all good about myself when two vehicles passed by and did the complete double take, even a little wave from one of them...And then I realized as I smiled at vehicle number 3 (who didn't smile back) that I must be losing my touch.  The first two smiles were from guys in beat up trucks who could have been body doubles in Deliverance...not exactly dating material.  Let's not spend too much time on the fact that NO ONE ever dates someone they smiled at as they drove past at 70 miles an hour.  This is me feeling sorry for myself here.  And, of course, the 3rd guy was in a brand new Range Rover... I also didn't even begin to think that maybe he was just a happily married guy on his way to his family...No, this was a complete slap in the face on a day I didn't need it.  And people wondered why I was in therapy for so many years.

Well, by Sunday night, I'm over the slight on the freeway, and my stomach didn't clench at the thought of Alex but I do feel as if I've been kidding myself thinking I was over him.  Although, right now, I'm going to look on the bright side and remember, that every time I have a tough weekend, I am soooo motivated to work out on Monday morning. And, at this moment, I'll take that as a plus.

Wow...just wow...

What do you get when you take fishnet stockings, silicone with a side of skimpy black dress and stilettos so high they make FMP's look PG13? And no, I didn't visit the Castro District tonight! (For my non CA readers, the Castro is an area in San Francisco where mini skirts and thigh high boots can be seen on most corners...and not just on women). Give up?  The actual answer is the visual of my evening at my Best of the West event. And now, picture me, after my hours of running around frenetically trying to organize tables, sponsors, name tags...and, oh yes, don't forget the cactus.

I should have known I was in for a show when the women on the committee were all giggling and comparing their outfits for the evening.  "What are you going to wear?"  "Oh, I can't tell you, it's a surprise...all I can see is it's red with a lot of leg." "Red, really?  So, is Susie...I hope you don't match." Really??? Last time I checked, there was no red carpet and I'm pretty sure the one photographer I hired to capture this for posterity can't really be classified as paparazzi. So, just who, exactly is going to comment on whether or not 2 women wear red dresses?  But, I reminded myself that just because I'm a sarcastic, jaded, so over the hotel banquet small talk, would rather be reading a book on the beach kinda gal doesn't mean there aren't women out there who look at nights like this as opportunities to flaunt their stuff.

Maybe that is part of the problem...not so sure about the stuff I'd be flaunting these days.  But no, pretty sure in this situation that isn't it.  One of the women actually said that since she didn't go to any of her proms, these events every year make up for that emptiness in her past.  Again, really??  I went to more than my share of proms, and I have to say, they really weren't all that exciting.  And, I definitely know there has not been one time, in my ENTIRE life, where I thought "wow, my life is so full because I went to my proms in high school".  Nor, have I ever gone to an event with the idea or expectation it was going to make up for something I was lacking in my life.  Heck, I don't even go to them with the idea I'll meet a date...let alone make up for past hurts.

And, on that note, as I've mentioned, this industry is ripe with women for men to ogle, flirt with or out and out fantasize about, the same can not be said about the men.  They are either old and settled, hot and gay or so quietly introverted you know you'd scare them with a smile.  Maybe I should offer to go plan events for the local electricians' union...hmm...there's a thought. 

Well, all in the all, the event was a success...no aqua-netted woman got too close to the candles; people actually took pictures with the John Wayne cut outs; and I only stabbed myself with one of those dumb cactus plants 5-6 times.  I think I'll call that a win for tonight.

The Hee Haw Hoedown

Most of the time I really like my job...it is fun, challenging, and combines my love of politics with my inner Martha Stewart.  A total win win.  However, that changed this year, when due to circumstances completely out of my control, I inherited an event from another chapter in our statewide organization.  Now, in my industry there are three very distinctive categories of women I get to deal with...2 versions of Prototypes I lovingly call them and then the normal people like me (but we are definitely in the minority).   First you have the newer Silicon Valley version, which comes with Coach bags, 3 inch heels and what must be a very generous signing bonus from a local plastic surgeon as there is no other way to have that much perk and cleavage on every single one of them.  And, then there is category number 2...the more seasoned, across the bridge, never met a can of Aqua Net she didn't like, still believes St. John Knits are made for any body style, make me crazy kind of women.  Now, guess which group dominates the event I have learned to hate. 

Outside of the fact this event takes place in a hotel an hour and a half from my house, on a Thursday night, from 6:30 until who knows when, its biggest flaw, by far, is the theme the committee chose. For starters, unless you are planning a prom, there really is no room for themes in professional events.  I had a hard enough time with a Night in Paris when I was a junior in high school so to now be responsible for a western themed, black tie optional event for 350 people has not been my idea of a good time. 

It is not a surprise to anyone who knows me that I'm a big fan of the South....but by South, I mean Virginia, the Carolinas, Georgia, with a few other states thrown in for good measure.  Texas does not rank in that same level of affection for me...and especially when we are talking about fake Texas.  For 4 months I've endured excruciatingly long meetings and conference calls to discuss how high the cactus should be on the table and where the Bat Masterson (yes, Bat Masterson) cardboard cut outs should go so couples can take pictures with him.  Really?? Did I forget to mention this is an awards program, to honor individuals who have shown exemplary service in their categories for the past year?  Don't sheriff badges and bolo ties just scream elegance and class to you?  But my favorite part of the entire process has been the complete lack of understanding from the committee in regards to having a theme.  "What? You mean people think they can wear jeans just because it is a Western event?" "Of course not!  We can't serve barbecue food. What would people think?"  Hmm...maybe they'd think it was a hoe down...since that is what we have portrayed.  And, what exactly did you think "Dress in Your Best West" meant? 

If I'm being honest though, I'm probably more frustrated with myself as my patience is not nearly as long as I like to say it is.  And, shouldn't every good Martha Stewart rise to the occasion and throw the best darned party ever seen, regardless of the obstacles or wooden horses you have to overcome?  And, really, aren't I more worried about what in the world I am going to wear than anything else?  And, don't worry, there's always next year...Arabian Nights...okay, shoot me now...with a 6 shooter, please.

Sunday night blahs...

When I was younger I used to hate Sunday afternoons...they were always accompanied by this sense of melancholy; even before I knew what that word meant.  And, it wasn't because I was dreading school...I actually loved school...not that I didn't find a time or two in high school to not make it to class.  But that was different; I was a teacher's aide for PE and really, weren't baseball team emergencies much more time sensitive than anything Shakespeare said hundreds of years before?? Well, in my mind they were but this is also why I can never get an English literature question right when we play Trivial Pursuit.  Wait, long tangent there...back to Sundays.

I honestly don't know what it is about a Sunday free of commitments that makes me want to curl up on the couch with a book, a cup of tea and watch movies that are so sickeningly sweet they make your teeth ache...i.e., Sweet Home Alabama, Sleepless in Seattle, Serendipity...you know the ones...the cinematic illustrations of love stories which set your expectations so high nothing short of living those fictitious lives is good enough.  The movies my dad used to rail on for making my sister and I such hopeless romantics...I didn't listen to him during these rants but to this day I have only picked up a National Enquirer once in my life...when I was 7 and waiting for him in a barber shop.  He saw me and flipped out saying no educated daughter of his was going to read that garbage.  Jeesh...no wonder I've spent more on therapy than I have on shoes in my lifetime.  And, really, shoes would have probably been a better investment.

Really, I think it is the image of Sunday family dinners I have, coupled with family back yard football games that brings on a sense of nostalgia for days gone by...or never even existed, maybe.  Or, it could be something as simple as my Sundays are usually full of basketball or football games, that I don't really know what to do when I actually have an afternoon to myself. Maybe that is what I need to work on correcting...and actually there is plenty I could have done...for work, around the house, for a local election I am participating in...but didn't.  I gave myself the afternoon to nap, read and now, feel pooky about it.  That ends now...on this Sunday!

My life is incredibly full...and I like it that way.  So, I am now decreeing Sundays as days full of purpose, initiative, accomplishments...days which involve exercise, laundry, chores...Well...not this Sunday...but maybe next.

First comes love, next comes status update...

Wanting to share with the world your relationship status is nothing new but how we go about doing is definitely not your mother's Oldsmobile...or however that commercial went.  I have very distinctive memories of my best friend and I sporting the baseball caps of the boys we were "going with" when we were in 8th grade.  At the time, it meant he was proud to have you as his girlfriend and wanted the world to know it.  Now, all I can think of is ewww....they wore those hats to every baseball practice and game, sweating, wiping their dirty hands on them and then handing them to us like they were the Hope Diamond, saying "Here, wear this because I love you.".  Because nothing says complete affection like covering your head in sweat and dirt.

Those symbols changed, of course, over time and being handed a lice magnet turned into being given his class ring...which I would then fill with hot wax and imprint with my finger...ignoring the 2nd degree burns I would get by covering my fingers with burning candles...all in the name of love.  But hey, the ring, plus the bandaged covered fingers all screamed "Look at me...I'm no longer single!".  Which, I guess, is something some women need to announce, regardless of their age.

Just recently my former husband's Facebook page popped up with the big announcement...Mr. Wonderful is now in a relationship.  Really?  Because at 41 years old, this is important for 450 of your closest Facebook friends to know why?  And, since this relationship is by no means new, why is this news?  But, he is not alone in these relationship changes.  So, I started to think about this.  If you are not in the under 18 crowd, whose love interests change as often as Lindsey Lohan is in and out of jail/rehab, is there a reason you need to announce your change in relationship status over Facebook? And, really, what is up with the choices you have anyhow...Single, Married, Engaged, In a Relationship or It's Complicated.  I, fortunately, decided long ago to not post my situation at all!  That part of my life is pretty private so, therefore, not to be fodder for my FB posts...ever!!  But, I have several friends who use the single, in a relationship and it's complicated buttons more than I actually frequent Starbucks...and we know how often that is.

When you are above 30, should your public relationship status ever be "it's complicated"?  Isn't that just asking for your mother to sign you up for therapy for life?  And, going from Married or In a Relationship to Single with the touch of a keystroke just doesn't seem right. Is that like flashing a neon sign that says "Open for Business" or is it a call for your girlfriends to converge upon your house with the requisite post break-up tubs of ice cream and cookie dough? 

While I was in college I was secretly intrigued by the sorority ceremonies when a girl's relationship status changed. All the women would stand in a circle and pass around a lit candle and test how many times it went around the circle without one of the sorority sisters blowing it out.  Once with a blow out meant the girl who blew it out had just received a fraternity boy's lavaliere; twice meant she was pinned; and if some lucky co-ed blew out the candle on the 3rd time around it meant she had just become engaged.  Now, as a fraternity little sister and not a sorority member, when I received my lavaliere I think the only comment was "Cool! Does this mean she'll do your laundry now?" My how times have changed....

Well, I guess after 4 years, maybe the girlfriend of the former husband needed this public declaration of their relationship to feel as if she were the girl standing in the circle getting ready to blow out the candle.  The problem is, what is the candle ceremony equivalent of "Facebook says I'm in a relationship"?  Not sure at all about that one...but I do know it meant I needed a drink...especially after my mother was the first one to comment on his new found relationship status....

Karma is proof God has a sense of humor

I was reminded again recently that karma really has a way of amusing those who get to see it in action.  Although I will admit, it is much funnier to watch someone "get what's coming to them" vs. someone being rewarded for their good deeds.  I'm a big believer in karma and think quite often about my actions...well, not just because I don't want to spend eternity having to listen to Rod Stewart & the Greg Kihn band as my penance but hey, let's just say karma plays into my thought process and every once in a while it really does make me laugh.

It was time for my incredibly cute but high maintenance and overly neurotic dog to be groomed.  I'm not exaggerating about the neurosis associated with my 4 legged heart throb as he really is a mess.  As the runt of the litter he was completely terrorized and to this day will shake if anyone new tries to pet him, hold him, or really even look at him.  He spends his time under my legs or on top of me as close as he can get.  While at times his behavior is a little embarrassing (hello, he whimpers at a wooden horse) I will admit I don't mind having a complete Mama's boy.  And, as my dad points out, he completely fits with our family...even my 11 year old son comments about how "special" I am.  Then again, I am the carbon copy of my father, and my son a mini-me so really, they have no room to speak.  Actually, my dad's dog is worse as he has been diagnosed (yes, diagnosed) with separation anxiety so is on medication.  Don't judge, people!

Anyhow, a few friends kept raving about this grooming shop in town where they completely know and love all kinds of animals.  After taking my little guy to PetSmart several times, I thought I'd give this Dog Whisperer a chance.  I made my appointment and was quizzed over the phone about whether or not he was aggressive, had his shots, etc... I explained to the very nice woman on the phone the personality of Dog Wonder but assured her, he is incredibly sweet.  We arrived and I went through the drill with the woman at the counter and immediately warned her not to pick him up right away as, well, he poops when he is scared...truly an example of "scared sh**less". She looked at me funny and asked if I socialize him enough.  "Does he have other dog friends? Have you taken him to experience new environments? Has he seen a counselor?"  Not kidding!!  I, again, went through his life story and reiterated he is just skittish and if you just walk him back on his leash, he'll be fine.  Well, obviously, as the owner of crazy dog, I was not to be trusted, nor did I know a thing. She reached down over the counter and picked up my very shaky, very nervous, very predictable pup and of course yelled "Oh my gosh, he's pooping!!!"  I could barely contain my laughter as I walked out the door, thinking to myself, socialize that, honey!

It truly was a hysterical illustration of karma and one that made me think of another example I'd witnessed not too long ago.  About 3 weeks after I moved out of the home Alex and I shared, he went on a long planned 10 day scuba diving trip to some island in the middle of nowhere with #8 (yes, again, I know, he would have gone on this trip with his mistress even if I hadn't moved out so why did it take me so long...details). I had a knot in my stomach every time I thought about it (which I admit, was quite often) and even went as far to check the weather forecasts for Tropical Island Whatever Paradise for the days they'd be there.  I was not so secretly tickled that it called for rain and wind most of the time (I'm not proud of my glee, but I admit to it) but then just made myself sicker by thinking they then couldn't leave the hotel room...again, remember, this was 3 weeks after I had left the love of my life...I'm allowed a few moments of self torture.  But I guess karma was actually on my side as I soon found out....

At drinks with mutual friends one of them asked if I had heard about Alex... Now, I didn't want anything to happen to him...ever...but this sounded interesting.  Well, it turned out he had gotten sick on the 20 hour plane ride and was actually in a hospital for at least 1/2 of their trip and pretty much out of commission for the remainder of it.  As I was still madly in love with him, at the time, I definitely didn't like the sounds of that until I heard he was okay but then I did get a little internal smile when I heard #8 definitely did not enjoy her first romantic vacation with the man she thought she had won.  My sister couldn't help but think this was truly karma at work...Alex was uncomfortable, thousands of dollars had been spent and #8 missed out on a tan of any kind. Yeah, again, not proud of my petty side but hey, I get a little leeway here, right?

So, next time you are contemplating a decision...really do ponder on whether or not you want to risk being pooped on...just a thought.

Monday morning recap

While I'm sure you were all able to make it through the weekend without knowing about my every move but I did find myself wondering several times what I was going to write about today. Was I going to enthrall you with my stories of back to school shopping with my two children?  Or the crazy fun antics that make up a night of charades (and cocktails) at the family end of summer barbecue?  Were you going to be as ready for a glass of wine as I was after having 5 children under 12 in the house for the night?  And, then I realized, it was all of that...those are the things that make up me...what makes me smile, what makes me happy, what gets me going every day.

I did have time to refelect on a few things while driving this weekend...two kids tend to sleep on car rides so I was left to entertain myself.  First, I have a tendency to put waaaayy too much thought into why someone does or doesn't do something. Cutie probably hasn't checked in because he is young, and really just isn't interested...regardless of how much fun I thought he had.  Alex won't respond to my text because he just can't deal with it any other way...and really, I know him better than anyone in the world, and know he absolutely can not be alone so this is his life...for now.  I haven't been inundated with texts or emails or FB messages from other potential dating material because I haven't put myself out there. 

As much as I know I am attractive, I do still feel I have weight to lose so am self conscious to the point of being less than willing to put myself on the market.  I like that I don't have to ask someone if it is okay that each child had friends over for the night...which meant a pretty full and loud house.  And, while I miss someone to share a glass of wine with over the ruckus, I know I will be very selective about who does get that role. As my 8 year old daughter pointed out to me this weekend..."Momma, you are very picky when it comes to men"...yeah, I guess I am...tall, former athlete looking, likes country music, drives a truck, thinks I'm fabulous...c'mon, that's not too tough.

So...here I am ready to start another week and after realizing this is who and where I am...life is actually pretty good.

She's a little bit Country...

I've said more than once I am a country girl at heart...love men in big trucks, Tim McGraw is the most beautiful face on Earth, ice tea should only come sweetened and I can shoot Jack Daniels with the best of them.However, as I have discovered this past week, there are plenty of things about living in the country that make me cling to my Bloomingdales and champagne side of my personality like a pig to mud.  And, I don't even think my house can entirely be considered out in the sticks considering I can be in a city of a million people in less than 30 minutes.

But considering I'm situated in the middle of 2 1/2 acres and I often have to wait for tractors and horses to pass before I leave in the morning, it is country enough. I've already shared with you my on-going and depressing battle with the gopher on steroids which I continue to lose and now I think he is calling in his Wild Kingdom posse.  No, I haven't been over-run by coyotes which my father was worried about so I guess that is a plus.  But the three ticks I've had to remove from my dog over the past 2 days and the abscess from some weed thing that got stuck in his foot certainly stressed me out as much as any four legged creature would.  I don't do bugs.  And, I never could even stand the site of creepy crawly things on dogs in the past, but here I was getting the nail polish (hey, it kills the little suckers) and tweezers and going to war! 

Following my adventures with the gross and buggy, I set off the water the plants, grass, and trees (which do actually provide fruit so they can stay), only to find the well had gone dry...or at least wasn't feeling the love for me and my green leafed friends.  Grumbling about outdated plumbing in the back 40, I set about trying to piece together all my hoses so they could reach from the house (yes, I do still get some amenities of big city living) and I could still water.   As I reached down to turn on the spigot, I guess I interrupted a nap because a size 7 lizard, came darting out from under the bush and right over my size 7 sandals...(maybe he wasn't exactly a size 7 and ran in front of my feet but the mental image is really just the same).  I screamed of course, and then was mad at myself for not including lizards in my little chant I say EVERY time I go near the fields..."Go away snakes...go away snakes...." and I swear it works because thank God and all that is holy, I haven't seen one of them...YET.

I was just getting ready to pack up my belongings in my Coach bag and retreat to the civilization of the city (or at least Starbucks) when I was reminded why living in the country isn't so bad after all...the very cute but very married nephew of my neighbor pulled up in his big white truck with a delivery of fresh corn and tomatoes from their field across the street...being friendly, caring and asking if there was anything else I needed.  Considering asking him to conjure up a single twin brother was out of the realm of possibility today, I just smiled, said no and walked back into my country home... But with a little bit more of a bounce in my step as I realized once again that "hey, here I am, making it on my own!"

So, then I poured champagne into my Mikasa crystal flute, and toasted the country side of life....