Friday, December 24, 2010
Anyway...the point of my rambling is that I just got out of Mass and am wound up and decided to gift you with a blog! So...Merry Christmas! I am writing at my Busia's house right now, where I am all alone waiting for my other female relatives to get out of an actual midnight Mass. We have a relatively new tradition of Christmas breakfast at sometime around one in the morning because apparently being hyped up after late Mass is a genetic marker passed on down my mom's side. I am the first one here - which entitles me to first shot at the meatballs and rolls AND I got to pop the top of the bubbly to make the first mimosa. Life is sweet.
In all seriousness...life is super sweet right now. I am in love with the most amazing man and it just makes everything about this holiday seem effortless and fun and hopeful and a ton of other fantastic words. I am celebrating with all my family, my friends, and my 'kids' and their families. When I started this year out my big goal was to be patient, to let God put me where I needed to be in the time that He wanted. I prayed on the Bible passage from Jeremiah where it says that God has a plan for me - even though sometimes (many times) I was still impatient and eager to move things along. And I feel as if I have been rewarded; like God has seen me struggle with it and noticed my growth and given me this great present. Being patient this year, especially in this relationship with Jack, has made so many things more meaningful for me. Things carry a certain weight when you know they have been considered and thought over - I have more faith in these things because of that. So I am ending this year in the best possible place, with the best possible people. Best. Gift. Ever.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Anyway- I won round one of the weight loss challenge with my sisters. (Feel free to applaud here) I lost seven pounds and earned myself a free pedicure, courtesy of Lola and Leah...aka 'The Losers'. I am going to bask in my glory through Christmas and then it is back on....they should prepare for a January defeat as well~
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Olaf was a little over eight pounds, nineteen inches. He looks like his brother and very nicely opened his eyes last night and looked at us all. Olive was a trooper and handled herself like a pro. I am sure that should I one day be pregnant, I will never handle myself as well as she does. I will be the whiniest, neediest pregnant woman ever. So congrats to my super tough sis-in-law, my baby brother, and their cute little family!
Monday, December 13, 2010
This will in no way replace normal, full blogs...but maybe this will make me a more consistant blogger. Maybe. I still wouldn't expect too much out of me until after the holidays, but you never know!
Ok...time to press post and see if this actually goes where it is supposed to! If you are reading this then I am a techie genius. If not, then at least no one will see that I am a techie failure....
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Instead…three months later…I find myself fascinated – with him, and with us, and with how smooth this is going. It is something that is so completely unexpected that at odd moments it still catches me by surprise. Jack? Really? I am dating….Jack? The same Jack that I had a crazy school girl crush on through the majority of my teenage years is now cuddled up on the couch rubbing my back? Where did this come from? It is slightly surreal….but very nice.
The very coolest thing about dating Jack (besides the fact that he is hot) is that I feel like everything is easy when we are together. Life is simple….no drama, no crazy, no worry. We grew up in very similar ways and sometimes when I walk into his house I feel like I have re-entered my childhood – except of course that we get to be the adults. But I immediately recognize that this is a world I am familiar with – I am comfortable and know where I fit and I have nothing to worry or stress over. Because I know his background, I already know he is someone that I am safe with – and safe is a very sexy word to a jaded divorcee. It's like I get all the exciting, butterfly-inducing feelings of falling in love with someone new combined with all the additional solid, comfortable feelings of knowing someone forever. Nice.
So life with Jack is good, very good. And although I am sure he is still fascinated that I have breasts, I am no longer worried that fascination is going to fade anytime soon or that his fascination is solely focused there. There is depth here and hopefully I will have many more Jack stories to share down the road.
Coming Next…..the youngest member of my clan, Lucy, takes on a guest blog…tune in soon for words of wisdom from the teenage version of me!
Friday, November 26, 2010
“Life is relationships; the rest is just details.”
This weekend something happened that made me think of this quote. I won’t get into details because it is not my story to tell – but someone told me that I couldn’t understand them because I had an amazing family and a great relationship. This wasn’t exactly true (because of course I know and understand all) but the part about my family and relationship is true.
It is especially relevant this time of year as we all sit down and think about all the things we are grateful for. How many times during the course of a year do we worry about things? All day long, our to-do lists are full of things. We take care of things we have, we shop for new things, we wish we had better things, we hate the things that are in our way….and sometimes it is necessary. But when I look back and see how much time I spend worrying about things….all that crosses my mind is how silly it was to get so worked up over a thing. Tomorrow when I celebrate Thanksgiving, a thing won’t be on my mind. (ok, this is a slight lie – I will be very aware of turkey, bread, and wine – but those are necessary for life, I require sustenance.)
When it comes down to it, if I think about what I am truly thankful for….only people make my list. I am thankful for my amazing, chaotic, noisy, loyal, nosy, dependable family. I am thankful for my fantastic circle of friends that feel like extended family branches. I am thankful for Jack and all he brings to my life. I am thankful for my people-like animals that think I am the most spectacular human on earth simply because I give them kibble daily. And I am truly thankful to God for giving them all to me.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Lola has challenged me to a weight loss contest. I, in turn, extended the challenge to Leah. And now there is a three way sister battle for calorie counting dominance. Be afraid. Be very afraid.
It all began because Lola was whining about her stomach. Here is what you need to know about that - Lola is the thinnest sister by about thirty pounds. She whines like she is overweight when in reality she routinely rocks her bikini. (I am hoping that she is so happy that I said that about her bikini that she doesn't whine about me calling her a whiner.) When I said that I really wanted to lose some, too, she issued the challenge. Here are the rules - from now until Dec. 20 whoever loses the most pounds wins. Super easy rules, huh? And then we are doing a second round from Dec. 20th to Jan. 20th. So there are two chances to win! The first round prize is a pedicure and the second round prize is dinner. Both prizes will be awarded at the end of January when we go out for a spa day and dinner to celebrate our birthdays.
I am going to win - at least the first one. Not because I am super strong willed or a great exerciser....but because I have the most to lose. So it will be much easier for me to lose than it will be for the other two. I also have an elliptical machine right in my house staring at me, making me feel guilty if I don't use it. And I work out of my house. So it would seem that this contest is made for me. However, I have awful, terrible willpower when it comes to things like pizza, chocolate, and...mmmmm yummmy..... bread. So keep your fingers crossed for me and I will let you know periodically how much I am rocking it!
Saturday, November 13, 2010
I have been sick. In multiple, varied ways. Every time I thought I couldn’t possibly be sick another day – I was. Nausea, phlegm, sore throat, dizziness, headaches, and now….now I am left with this crazy cough that lingers like an unwelcome guest. None of it was so awful that I couldn’t function, but it was all just enough to make me consistently miserable. So for two weeks I have done the bare minimum. No extra cleaning, no extra socializing, no shopping or dinner dates or mosh pits. Every time I go to Jack’s house I fall asleep on the couch after whining that my head hurts. He probably is thinking in his head that he picked a defective girlfriend and is wondering if he should trade me in or if this is just a random one-time event. (For the record I am actually always whiny when I am sick – see? Aren’t you glad I didn’t blog through it? I saved you from myself.) However, I haven’t caught him rolling his eyes at my whining once yet – and he continues to feed me chocolate and pets my hair while I doze and he channel surfs, so I am thinking that I am going to have to keep him.
I bought a new phone even though there was absolutely nothing wrong with my old phone. However, Lucy needed a new phone so it did serve a purpose. (Lucy killed her phone when she jumped into the lake with it in her pocket – who knew you couldn’t do that?) So Lola, Lucy, and I did some switcheroo-ing and now everyone has a new phone….and I got my Droid X. I love everything about it – except texting on a touch screen keyboard which is taking a little bit of adjustment. I love it so much that I was staring at it happily as I rear-ended a mini SUV last week. Whoops.
Daylight savings time has motivated me to be healthier. This is simply because it gets dark so freaking early that I am likely to spend more evenings at home now than when there was pretty sunshine to run around in. So now my elliptical machine and I will become closer frenemies than we have been in a while. The goal is to let it abuse me six days a week. Stop laughing. You are supposed to be encouraging in the beginning. You can laugh at me later when I whine about my second stomach because I continue to ignore exercise and embrace all the Halloween candy I can find.
So that pretty much sums up the last two weeks: I have been sick, ate a lot of Halloween candy, hit some guy while mooning over my new phone, and continued to get cozy with Jack on his couch and watch a lot of TV. Consider yourself caught up and I will be back soon….right after I go find my hidden stash of Snicker bars.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Guest Blog #2 – Online Dating, be gone!
So, last you heard, I met a guy from Michigan, who was very fun. The problem with MI man, is that he is not at all attractive in the least bit. This was a sad realization for me, because I really enjoyed going out with him, and I was disappointed that he wasn’t hot. Needless to say, we have not been out since that initial date.
I did however, meet a very sweet guy from Durham. He seemed really fantastic on paper…and then we met. First of all, he was dressed better than I was, and when we had dinner, I had dinner. He barely ate because he was so busy talking about himself the whole entire time. I can appreciate a man who likes to talk, but only if he talks slightly less than I do – not more. We went on three dates, because I felt like I owed him a fair chance. The last date was over before it even started. Poor guy…we had dinner at my house and then went to a movie. As we were cooking dinner, he had to point out every darn tip he could think of…I guess to impress me? I was not impressed. Instead, I was thoroughly annoyed. So after dinner, we head to the movies, which he graciously paid for. Before the movie began, I asked his chatterbox self if he was a movie-talker. He replied ‘yes, does that bother you?’ to which I retorted ‘uh, yes, I hate it’. So here I am, thinking he is going to take my opinion into consideration during the movie, but no. He talked through the whole entire thing! And then, every time a funny part came on the screen, he annoyingly over laughed. I was like ‘geez, shut the hell up’! So the date ended. Game over, no goodnight kiss, not a hug, not a text, just end of story.
I was feeling kind of badly about it the following week, so I sent him a text that said ‘hey you are really sweet, but I just think we’d be better off as friends,’ and he says ‘sure we can be friends, but would you mind if I asked why?’ of course I’m thinking well, if you’d just shut the hell up and be a MAN…but I say ‘I just think we are both very social, and we would drown each other out’ his response ‘so you’d be worried that I’d flirt too much?’ ‘no, I just think that in a relationship one person needs to be the listener’ ‘ok, now I don’t think I understand, but its ok.’ Should I just have said “SHUT UP!?!” LOL. I mean really.
Last, this will be my last guest blog as an online-dater. Crazy Jeff from SC messaged me this week. The message in my e-mail inbox had a subject line of “?” and a message that said “Megan?” I did not respond, so in my dater inbox he sent the following:
“Are you seeing someone? is that why you didn't respond to my email. Or am I just completely lost. I want to talk to you. Face to face. I don't want to screw up something wonderful. I hope I haven't already.”
WOW. He deletes me from his whole entire life, acts like a douche bag, and then expects me to be nice?!? Some guys truly are idiots. And that, is the end of online dating for this woman.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
I woke up headache and hangover free after a fantastic night out with Jack and Leah and her future husband, Hercules.
I went to Mass at my church, where my family has gone all my life and where I know most people’s faces if not their names. I sat in the choir and waved out at my nephew in the congregation where he sat with several members of my family. He didn’t wave back, but the kid in front of him did.
I went to McDonalds for lunch with my family after – which we have been doing since I was about seven. I ate apples instead of fries to be healthy and they actually tasted better than the fry I snagged from my sister. I felt vindicated.
I went to my Moms, harassed my Dad, and refreshed my memory on my fantasy football players and their game times- all the while flirting with Jack via text.
I played with my dogs, pet my cat, and read while they played outside for a while.
I went to Jack’s, where he had a fire and the two wick candle burning and I curled up on his sofa in front of the fireplace watching football and catnapping.
I had a super great steak dinner that Jack made for me – while I was catnapping and watching football.
I went for a walk with Jack and his puppy and got to kick at crisp, bright colored leaves like a school girl.
I played a few games on the Wii that I was no good at, but for a short enough time that it was just funny and not frustrating.
I got teary eyed watching Extreme Makeover Home Edition – and enjoyed harmless lustful thoughts about Ty Pennington.
I finished roughly eighty percent of the Sunday crossword puzzle while Jack and I watched random tv and read the paper. The other twenty percent was incorrectly organized I am sure.
I scored a big fat win in fantasy football, hopefully boosting me up a rank or two.
I spent a satisfying amount of time making out with Jack by the door when it was time for me to go home – satisfying enough to make me smile as I sit here thinking about it on my couch listening to the tail end of the thunderstorm, which also happens to be one of my favorites.
I drove home singing to the radio and thinking about how lucky I am to have found Jack at this particular point in my life – how I needed to be here in this time with this amount of baggage and this amount of life experience so that I could see the wonder in a simple beautiful day with a man that makes me feel like all my past heartache was worth it to get to here and now.
And now, I end my perfect day blogging about it. So good.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Let me rein in my storytelling here for a moment. The point of the blog is not that I am a freak about eating things, but rather that I appreciate a man that can work within those constraints and feed me – not just because I like to eat but because it shows effort, and I appreciate effort in all things. Super bonus points if he feeds me well. Not only did Jack feed me well this weekend, but he only made fun of me twice for insisting that I wanted my chicken plain and boring and I was happy with it that way. And he made cookies for dessert – that sadly I was too full to really thoroughly enjoy. However, I appreciated the effort and love that he understands the importance of dessert. That is something you really can’t teach. It bodes well for the future that he already understands that desserts are a priority. Consider me impressed.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
These cookies fool my adult brain into thinking they are the equivalent of brussel sprouts. I could eat a dozen of them and still my mouth will be watering because I know, somewhere in my cupboard, there are more just waiting to come live in my tummy. I could eat an entire pizza (not really, but roll with me for a moment) and smell them...and still be hungry. They are literally the best way to bundle chocolate, sugar, and flour that man has ever invented. Thus why I am typing this with my jeans unzipped, slumped in the chair like I just swallowed a watermelon whole.
I don't know why the rest of the world seems to be unaware of their existence. My mom has made them since I was little from this recipe shoved into a huge cookbook that she probably got for her wedding shower. It barely holds itself together anymore. For the good of the planet - and for all my lady friends that believe chocolate really is better than sex - I am going to share the recipe here with you. Enjoy. And if you eat more than three....I told you so.
Chocolate Drop Cookies
1 c. shortening
2 c. brown sugar
2 well-beaten eggs
2 tsp vanilla
2 oz. cocoa
Mix all those ingredients into a big bowl and then mix the following ingredients into a smaller bowl and sift them.
2 1/3 c. flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
Alternate pouring the dry ingredients into the larger bowl with one cup of milk until all is mixed well. Bake for approx. 10-12 min at 350 degrees.
The frosting is a learned skill with no exact measurements. Do your best and if you have problems - call my mom. She makes it way better than me.
Grab a small bowl and add about 2 cups of powdered sugar. Add about 1 tsp of cocoa and then add milk and blend until it obtains the consistency of smooth frosting. It should still be a bit liquid-y. Use a spoon or so of butter to thicken it up. When you put it on the cookies it should pour on, but stay in place on the cookie without running all over. This is a difficult skill that I have yet to master completely. But I will soldier on...or beg my mom for help.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
The pretty three wick candle with the pretty little stand that Jack bought for his living room table? It is now a pretty two wick candle. The first night that I went over and saw the candle I told Jack that if he 'hugged' the candle at the end of the night when he blew it out then it would burn down better. Hugging means you literally hug the top, warm wax of the candle with your hands and kind of curl it back inside itself a bit. That makes it burn more evenly and use more of the wax instead of burning straight down the middle and eventually splitting. In case I haven't mentioned, Jack is a tough guy. He plays with bricks all day long for a living. When he hugged the candle he ended up putting his hand through part of it, spraying hot wax all over himself and things in the immediate vicinity, and burying one of the wicks in a mini avalanche of creamy vanilla wax. So now, we watch tv (make out like teenagers) by the light of two candle flames - not three. And for those of you that are thinking about how nice it must be to 'watch tv' with a man with all those hunky muscles.....why yes...yes, it is.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Jack doesn’t believe in pillows. I have no idea why. He has a fantastic, monster sized bed with one lonely little, flat pillow on it. My bed is probably half the size of his and at last count I had seven pillows on it. I love my pillows. When I get into bed at night I arrange them all so I am cocooned in pillows. (and dogs of course) When my allergies are awful I arrange them into a pretty little pillow chair to sleep against so I can breathe all night – at least somewhat. In the morning I wake up and they are everywhere – usually the dogs have commandeered one or two and a few get knocked to the floor or wind up over my head. And then I wake up and move to the living room where I have an entire new set of ‘living room’ pillows for tv watching and afternoon naps. I have my very own tiny pillow nation.
So it seems only natural that I expand my nation to Jack’s house. Kind of like Europe sent out explorers looking for the New World – I am preparing to send out my little goose down army to create a comfy spot for me at Jack’s. His poor, weary, flat little pillow has no idea what it is in for.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
This is not merely because I am trying to rationalize to myself that divorced does not mean broken. On the contrary, I do think divorce means somewhat broken and I want to date someone that understands that without my having to explain it. (Or make him read my blog from start to finish) I can tell amusing stories about my divorce and casually discuss the crazy parts of my marriage and a divorced man can read between the lines and see the reality. I will not need to spell out all the awful. I will not need to bare my soul like he is my own personal therapist – he gets it. If he has been cheated on...even better. Not only does he get that I am broken, but he knows exactly how. If my theory holds water, then we are automatically on the same page from the start.
I also like divorced men for practical reasons. By definition, divorced men have at one time been married – and lived with a woman. I am not going to say that this means they understand women – let’s not go overboard here – but they have realistic expectations of women. They know that our legs are not naturally smooth and silky and that we don’t wake up with perfectly applied makeup. (I usually wake up with raccoon eyes actually, from not washing off mascara at night. I know it is bad and I will regret it one day soon) They appreciate it when you spend the time to make sure your underwear match. They can usually cook and clean to some extent. They know that relationships are mostly work with a little romance instead of lots of romance and very little effort. They listen much more patiently than single men to stories about shopping, hair salons, and fashion. They do not expect you to watch the game and are not overly surprised or annoyed when you gossip through parts of it.
Of course, I am sure that there are exceptions to this rule – like any other rule. There are probably single men out there that are good at the above mentioned things as well. And I am sure there are divorced men out there that suck at the above mentioned things. I don’t blindly follow this rule to the exclusion of good sense. But if I were looking at identical twins that had uttered the exact same words and had the exact same background except one was divorced – and I had to pick one to play with, I would pick the one that was divorced. Should this situation ever occur….I will let you know how my theory holds up.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
After three and a half years of being single, and having the ability to view my ex’s recent wedding pictures on facebook, I have taken a giant step in the direction of romance, dating, and dare I say it…love. I have joined an online dating site. I have never done anything of the sort before, so I was a little apprehensive at first, but during the past few weeks, it has definitely proven to be – exciting, to say the least.
The first day I joined, I chatted online with a guy for over four hours. I am not usually one to spend very much time on the net, especially during the daylight hours, but this guy was really funny, witty and charming, so I said ‘What the heck, I don’t have anything better to do!’ (and, he was really good-looking). We had what I thought was a really nice, intellectual conversation…and I never heard from him again. Slightly bummed, I logged in the next day, to find about ten messages from various men residing within 50 miles of my small town in the South. One guy was 29, really good looking, sweet, and lives four hours away from me, in S.C. (Oh, and he has a temporarily gimp leg with a titanium rod in it from a wakeboarding accident the beginning of August). I liked him though, so I decided to message him back. He and I e-mailed and IMed for the next four days, and later exchanged phone numbers. He had taken to calling me every evening for the next week and a half. Enter two weeks later, and he has had what he called a ‘bad’ weekend, and was acting stand-offish and weird. I was a little perturbed by this, but thought ‘Oh well, just a bad couple of days.’ During the next week, we talked less and less, but since he lives about an hour away from Charlotte and I was heading there that weekend to get a girlfriend, he and I made plans to meet up. Saturday evening before I got comfy, I sent him a simple text asking what we would do the following morning, and he responds that he hasn’t any ideas. I tell him to get back with me when he has a plan, and that I am up for anything. So, I don’t hear from him all night, and I’m on my way to Charlotte the next morning and I get another text that says ‘Sorry, I went to bed early. We’ll just have to hang out another time.’ Now, I am a pretty understanding gal, but I was irritated at this, so several hours later (so to not text and drive), I message him back saying that this clearly isn’t the right timing for us and we should just be friends for now. He gets upset and responds ‘Ok, goodbye Julia.’ I laugh it off and pick up my girlfriend and drive three hours back home.
As I am settling in that night, I receive an e-mail from this guy saying that he is sorry he failed me and he thought we had a real future, but he felt really pressured to meet me, and it made him very uncomfortable since we’ve only known each other for three weeks. I was like WTF!?! I responded far more nicely than I believe he deserved, but the ending result is that I am “deleted” from his life.
And, all because I was honest. Let me say this, I refuse to date or become romantically involved with a BIG baby...and I will repeat it for you, I REFUSE to DATE or BECOME ROMANTICALLY INVOLVED with a BIG BABY! To Jeff, in S.C., grow up! On a happier note, I found a guy who is my own age, is living in Raleigh, and is originally from Grand Rapids. He and I met just last weekend and although I am not physically attracted to him (yet?), we had an awesome time, and we are going to hang out again. And we had only just met the weekend before via e-mail correspondence. I’ve also talked with a few other potentials, and plan to meet as many non-creepy, non-stalker, non-overbearing, established, sexy, grown-up men as I can.
I had decided shortly after my last birthday (in June) that I was going to take advantage of any and all opportunities that present themselves to me, and I think this is one of those times. So, I’m not sure if this online thing is going to work out for me, but it’s worth a shot, right? And thanks Steph, for letting me be a guest-blogger!
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Forgotten future greatness
And looked at the green things and the buildings
And reached out to those around me
And smelled the air
And ignored the forms and the self-styled obligations
And heard the rain on the roof
And put my arms around my wife
…and it’s not too late.”
I like thoughtful books; books of ideology and self help theories and different ways of looking at things. I rarely agree with everything that is written, but I frequently find quotes or different passages that make me think a bit differently or appreciate another view, even if it isn’t the same as mine. I found the above passage in a book that I bought at this little monastery outside of Aspen, CO. On a side note, the monastery was amazing. It was maybe one of the most peaceful places I have ever been…sitting in this valley, ringed by mountains. Gorgeous.
I love many things about this quote. I love that it is a prettier, clever way of basically saying to stop and smell the roses. I love that there is a line about reaching out to people around us. I love that it thumbs its nose at future legacies and social rules and all the other responsibilities that we, as humans, drape ourselves in every day. I love that it cuts through all of that and then ends with the phrase “…and it’s not too late.” It ends hopeful.
Two years ago I made fairly major changes in my life. More accurately, I started big major changes in my life and over the last two years I have fine tuned and grown them, building a kind of life that I think is more suited to me than the one I previously inhabited. I was fresh on the heels of serious mistakes, serious failures – in my personal life, my career, my faith life. I was doing an awful job of managing all of my priorities and being everything to everyone. Even though I had the best intentions, I was letting my life run me instead of the other way around. Now that I have most things, not everything but most, in the right place and my life simplified to the things that are truly important to me…I am a herald of the idea of starting fresh because I truly believe that it is never too late to make your life what you want it to be.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
I have snuck nothing into Jack's house. And I won't be, circumstances are very different. Also, Jack's house doesn't really require me to un-bachelor it. So there will be no gateway candle here. However...
We spend a decent amount of time when we are together in his living room which has the options of no light at all or a bright lamp that is likely the least romantic object ever. Ok, maybe not ever...but it is not sexy. Last time I was over at his house I told him that his coffee table was begging for a nice, big candle to hang out there. It was an off hand comment, that I gave zero thought to once it was said and done. I wasn't angling for a candle or preparing to bombard his house with candles...it was just a passing thought while we were cuddling and watching tv.
Last night we had movie night. (We watched Date Night, which exceeded my expectations by the way. Cute, funny movie) When I showed up at his house there was a pretty, new candle living on the coffee table. And not just any candle, but the grandaddy of all candles...a big, cozy three wick candle on a pretty stand. Such a clever man.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
What the hell, God? What am I supposed to do with this?
God, that was awesome! Do it again!
You have got to be kidding me…do I REALLY need to do that?
God and I are buddies. I say formal prayers on Sunday in church. Some nights before I go to sleep I say the prayers that my parents taught me when I was a child going to sleep. When I am really stressed or conflicted I pull out my rosary and take comfort in the parade of Hail Marys. But mostly….I just have this streaming real life conversation where I randomly say things to God in the heat of the moment in whatever language I happen to have floating around in my brain. Sometimes…..sometimes, I even swear. And I picture God rolling his eyes at me, hopefully somewhat amused at how feisty I am. Hopefully.
In return for my being an awesome friend, God always comes through for me. Always. Now, this does not always happen in the way that I would like. But it happens. Whenever I truly am in need, somewhere there is an answer for me. And this isn’t just in abstract ways. There have been times in the past where I was stressed about paying an important bill, and I got an unexpected bonus check. Times where I had been home by myself feeling lonely and had an unexpected visitor to bring me back around. There have been real and tangible instances where God has seen exactly what I needed and loved me enough to provide it. This week I was awash in self doubt about if I could financially afford to continue the path that I am on – and I immediately received communications asking for my help, reassuring me that I am doing exactly what I am meant to do. And that is why frequently I end my conversations with God like this:
Friday, September 3, 2010
Anyone who has read even a handful of my blog stories knows that I always go into everything heart first, head second. And usually that heart is straight out on my sleeve for the whole world to see. Taking time to rationalize my dating life is like the anti-me. This is not to say my heart isn’t involved of course, but my brain has kind of harnessed and muzzled it a little bit.
Jack was the first boy to break my heart. We grew up together and he is in almost all of my childhood memories. We spent countless hours running the neighborhood with a few other kids, thinking we ruled the world. Until I was about twelve, I had really never been disappointed in anything in life. I had great parents, lots of friends, and went to sleep every night worn out from playing hard all day. I was good at school, didn't get picked on, was involved in different things....anything that I really wanted or needed I pretty much had. I am sure in the back of mind I understood people could be mean or things could go the way you didn't want...but I had no real world experience with this.
Jack and I continued to grow up and at some point just ended up on opposite sides. He was a cool kid and I was an unabashed dork. This is probably still mostly true today, except today I love being a dork - I have no shame whatsoever in it. But as a tween girl...I was devastated that one of my oldest friends was suddenly too cool for me. And I didn't understand it. I had no frame of reference for typical teenage boy behavior. It made no sense to me how one day we were friends and the next day I was the object of ridicule. I will never forget crying to my mom and trying to get her to explain it to me. Looking back, it must have been hard for her as a parent to watch me learn a hard lesson about people not always being who you want them to be.
Of course, we were just kids. I don't hold any of this against him now. Everyone hits that age and tries all kinds of things to try and figure out who they are and what they want. I have done many, many things through the years that I am not proud of all in the name of self discovery. What matters is how we take the things we learn and grow from them to become the people that we are today. If Jack hadn't taught me that lesson, then someone else would have. It was just a matter of time. Nevertheless...I am going to be very careful about giving him the opportunity to break my heart again.
The problem with this is that I am fairly tall to begin with at five foot eight. When I add heels, I am taller than probably more than half of the men that I run into. If I am being very honest, this typically makes them less attractive at first glance although I am not so shallow that I would write them completely off – or tell them that. But in my brain, where I keeping a running commentary to myself, tall guys definitely get bonus points. And if they look hunky enough to be able to pick me up and throw me somewhere, then they could probably have extra toes and I would still be interested. Sadly, these guys are few and far between. And now I have irritated the rest of the male population and I am probably going to get hate mail from every shorter, skinnier guy out there. Don’t be offended. It really isn’t my fault. Biology is really to blame here. Somewhere in my genetic code, passed on from ancient generations of Norwegians, Polacks, and a smattering of French women – is a survival mechanism drawing me to the biggest, toughest hunter-gatherer. And I am just not strong enough to fight it.
Thus, high heels are kind of one of my secret weapons in the dating war…err…world. Not only do they provide tactical advantages of making me stand out a bit and be able to assess a room easily, they also quickly illustrate the men that don’t make my genetic code sit up and dance. I did have one failure with this test where I thought a man was appreciating my heels, but he was actually just eyeing up my legs. I gave him a few too many chances and he ended up whining every time I wore anything taller than flats. I would have avoided some drama if I would have listened to my inner Norwegian ancestor that was telling me to go find someone that was not intimidated by my sexy shoes.
In all seriousness, that is what is really important. I would put aside biology and date someone that couldn’t throw me over his shoulder – as long as he wasn’t insecure about not being that guy. If a man can’t handle a tall, strong woman standing next to him without feeling inadequate or whiny – then he just isn’t the man for me. No matter what his height. Thankfully, at the moment this is a non-issue. Jack is tall and hunky...and he appreciates my high heels.
Monday, August 30, 2010
During one of my shameful episodes of reading worthless dating articles online, an article gave the advice that you should never tell someone that you are average. That you never want to be the girl next door. The premise being that you are so different from anyone else they have ever dated that they need to keep seeing you or they will never find anyone like you ever again. In my life, I have found that this dating rule was valid when I was younger. Men inevitably went for the prettier, flirtier, skinnier, louder girl that stood out. The one that held center court at parties and made men puff out their chests when they walked by.
However, now that I am in my thirties....this rule is pretty much crap. I think the very fact that I am girl next door is now a man magnet. Like I have been doused in some kind of strange, primal man attractant as men get older and start feeling the urge to settle down. All of a sudden, the fact that I am worthy of parent introduction is in my favor. In fact, all of the things that made me once nice, but boring, are all points in my favor. Most men now want someone good with kids, someone that doesn't party like it is 1999 every night, someone that hasn't lost brain cells to wild drug experimentation in their misspent youth.
I like being average. However, this is not to say that I think I am ordinary. I have tons of things in my favor that make me amazing and I am not afraid to say it. Just because I am not outrageous does not mean that I am not extraordinary. In fact....I am so different from anyone that you have ever known and if you don't keep reading me....you will never find anyone like me again.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
~Ralph Waldo Emerson
Some nights, music knocks me on my ass. It is usually not a planned event, mostly it sneaks up on me. Sometimes it is in a good way, sometimes a not so good way. I haven't really talked about it in my blog so much, but my life is run on playlists. I love music. I am kind of a jack of all trades music lover - I know a little bit about a lot of stuff, but am an expert in none. All I really know is what moves me personally. I spend hours trolling through my music program online searching for new artists I haven't met yet or haunting acoustic versions hiding in some obscure playlist somewhere - waiting for something to grab me by the throat and make my heart break. I have playlists for working out, playlists for roadtrips, playlists for wine drinking and rainy nights and hot date preparation. I sing in the shower, in the car, and in lullabies to my kids every day. Music just hits a part of me that nothing else does, that is the best way to explain it.
Because of this, there are songs for every major life event I have had. Songs that I associate with different time periods or different relationships. And those songs can pull emotions out of me and throw me back ten years in time within the first few measures of intro music. Great eighties songs that they played at the pool in the summer when I was a kid or old Bangles ballads they played for couple skates at Metro Skate. Old country love songs that were sang at my wedding. "Don't Stop Believing" is always Lola and I dancing somewhere. Counting Crows songs from my days with John Black. Alicia Keys and Pink party songs whenever Lola and I would be getting ready to go out on the town. Singing "Groovy Kind of Love" in the car with Chet on the way home from the casino one night. These are all memories that are always going to stay stuck in my memory and instantly throw me down memory lane when they come on. With that said - if I had to make a playlist of twenty songs that illustrate my life so far....here is the result.
Papa Don't Preach - Madonna
Out of the Blue - Debbie Gibson
Toy Soldier - Markita
Once Bitten, Twice Shy - Great White
Cross My Heart - George Strait
Secret Garden - Bruce Springsteen
Come Away With Me - Norah Jones
Brown Eyed Girl - Jim Morrison
Don't Stop Believing - Journey
Suck My Kiss - RHCP
This Year's Love - David Gray
Open My Eyes - Buck Cherry
Hazy - Counting Crows
Like Red On A Rose - Alan Jackson
Trouble - Pink
Groovy Kind of Love - Phil Collins
Untitled - Domestic Problems
Can't Help Falling in Love - Elvis Presley
Sideways - Sheryl Crow
A Moment Changes Everything - David Gray
**Quick Disclaimer - these are not by any means my twenty favorite songs or even my favorite artists. I have no control over how stuck they are in my brain and am well aware that they form the most crazy, chaotic, non-cohesive playlist ever. Thus my life.
Technically, I suppose this wasn't really a 'hot date'. I had allergy symptoms all day so my voice sounded like sandpaper. We had zero plans to go out that night, so I had less than an hour to get ready and meet him - which meant no primping and no fussing - jeans and flipflops. We met at a local hole in the wall bar for a few drinks and then adjourned to his house to watch a movie. All very casual, very spur of the moment. But I had a great time. So great of a time that we are going to give this guy an alias. He is blogworthy. And I believe that he will be sticking around for a while at least. We are going to call him....Jack.
A little background....as blog readers, you first heard of Jack in the last blog from Lola's wedding. Jack would be the guy I met at the bar with Stella after all the wedding festivities were over. We all went back to his house that night after last call and stayed up until probably five in the morning, getting into mild mischief. However, I have known him pretty much my entire life. He was the boy across the street the whole time I was growing up. We ran the neighborhood together for the first ten years of our life. Then we turned into teenagers, he tormented me for a few years as teenage boys are wont to do, and we just fell out of touch until now.
And now....I don't really know. I have zero expectations other than enjoying myself at this point in time. I have fun with him, we have chemistry, things are easy and we have plans for next weekend. Good enough for the moment.
Monday, August 16, 2010
My family is all truly happy to welcome The Cowboy officially to our family - and it was wonderful to see him and Lola exchange vows while trying not to cry. I like to see tears at weddings. Call me strange, but it makes me happy to see someone so in love that they can't physically hold it all in. I can't possibly tell the story of them, but when she gets back from her honeymoon, I will cajole Lola into telling her side of how she met The Cowboy and their wedding day fun.
For now, I will tell you my stories. I spent the majority of the evening dancing and socializing, with a healthy dose of drinking and cake eating thrown in. I did not trip once on my dress or over my heels, even after the drinking. I have fantastic pictures of all my family and friends. I hid behind the wedding cake because I did not want to be one of like three single adult females amidst a gaggle of children. (Lola thankfully only screamed my name a few times before giving up.) I had a drink spilled on me by someone that I didn't know who was so drunk that she was caught in the bathroom later washing an article of clothing in the sink. I slow danced with babies, did the polka with my mom and my aunts, and line danced to "Boot Scoot Boogie" with the bride. All in all a lovely, lovely evening. So lovely that when it was over I was too geared up to go home....thus beginning the second half of my story.
After the band said goodnight and Leah and I took care of our bridesmaid duties, we went to the pub with our dates and Stella. We both had zero shame in wearing our floor length gowns into the bar and a very happy DJ actually dedicated the song "Crazy Bitch" to the crazy dancing bridesmaid - in a good way of course. Leah decided to take the guys home after a short while because they were pretty drunk. Stella and I decided to stay and party on for a while. In the bar was a man that I have known almost my entire life. We had seen him when we were out on the sidewalk earlier in the evening and at some point in the evening, Stella and I ended up at the bar drinking and chatting with him and his friend. Now I have known him forever, but we were friends when we were kids. And by kids, I mean little kids. I haven't had a serious conversation with him in over a decade. It is a little surreal to have a heart to heart with someone that knows all your background, but none of your recent history. And I think I told him that about fifty times that night. So Stella starts chatting up his friend and we eventually hit up another bar with them and then go back to his house for munchies and rum. We were up until five in the morning- which I am sure contributed to my next day hangover. I think it likely that I will see him again, but have learned over time to never have expectations in this department, so time will tell. However it works out, I had an amazing, amazing wedding weekend with everyone. I have the best friends and family in the world and it was fantastic to be able to cut loose with all of them and to see Lola so freaking happy. Congratulations Lola baby! I love you and am so happy you snagged your Cowboy.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
First things first. The ladies all need aliases. It is mandatory. Also, it is fun. Last night at dinner my blog was brought up and apparently aliases are crowd pleasers. We had some discussions about possible aliases, but no hard decisions were made. Probably because the alcohol was messing with our ability to stay on topic for very long. With that in mind, all my ladies have a few days to request an alias change from what I am about to give them if they so choose.
So this is our cast for the evening....myself, my sisters Lola (the bachelorette) and Leah, my sisters-in-law Fiona and Olive, my friends Sasha and Stella, and four new blog characters. Actually, I am lying. One of the 'new' characters is actually my friend Cindy, who has been mentioned in this blog many times - but always as 'my friend Cindy'. I repeatedly think of aliases for her and then forget what I picked. Starting today, she gets to be....Charlotte. Our three new blog inductees are Lola's best friend that lives out of state and is pretty much an honorary sister at this point, and two sisters that Lola and I know from high school. Lola's best friend gets to be...Hot Mama...and one of our sister friends really wanted to be known as MacGruber - so by default her sister gets to be MacKenzie. One brief note before moving on to our tale. We seriously have the best girl group ever. There is nothing that makes you feel better than a night out with a group of women that just get you. There is major power in a group of strong, fearless females - and ladies, I am proud to call you all members of my wolf pack.
So we kick off the night at a local restaurant that we all know and love. Partly because they have good food, but mostly because we like to go drink wine there. Hot Mama made us all adorable wine glasses - leaving us no choice but to fill them. We had a brand spanking new server who told us it was his first night on his own. And the poor kid gets a group of eleven shameless, noisy, wine drinking ladies looking for mischief. He held his own fairly well and we kept our harassment to a minimal level. We ate, we drank, we made Lola open lingerie in the dining room, and we had a man at the next table start unbuttoning his shirt for us. (We tried to talk him up onto a chair, but he demurred.) We took a gazillion pictures, laughed like idiots, had Lola pretend to be a waitress at a nearby table, and pretty much probably annoyed anyone that was looking for a quiet dinner out. Thankfully, the waitstaff is mostly familiar with us and fairly tolerant.
Having done our damage there, we migrated out into the neighborhood on foot, wine glasses in hand. We hit a handful of downtown bars for fill-ups and continue making Lola earn pretty thongs by doing things that would have been embarrassing when we were younger, but as mentioned before- we are all pretty much shameless now. Here are a few highlights from our walk:
- Olive and Fiona trapping a man in the bar on his way out so that we could get a picture of them holding onto his suspender straps. This was really funny in person and he was a good sport.
- Lola using the waitress to get a condom. This is only hysterical because she got it off the kid working the bar, but he made the waitress promise to keep it hush hush because his dad was in the bar and he didn't want him to know he gave her a condom. hahaha
- We went to an outdoor bar on the river and there was some Jamaican music being played....so naturally Lola and Olive went to the dance area and Lola played the bongo on Olive's pregnant belly for the bar. I laughed so hard I cried, but that may have been the whiskey leaking out my eyeballs.
And this was the tame part of the evening....
We all found our vehicles and the designated drivers herded us all together and we headed over the bridge into our city's little bar district. We started out at the martini bar, where Lola was supposed to find a guy that would give her his underwear. Instead she found a man that ripped off his underwear TAG for her. (He wears Tommy boxers if you were wondering) Then she had to sing a song to someone - so naturally we picked one of the band members that was on break for maximum embarrassment. She did good, although I still have no idea what song she was singing. We danced there for a bit to the decent cover band and then progressed to the pub up the street. I am going to admit that at this point my detail recollection is going to get fuzzy. By this time we have had wine, whiskey, martinis, and are back to whiskey. No one got messy drunk, but we were definitely all feeling good. I remember lots of dancing, lots of singing back at the band, searching for a bald head to kiss, (which never happened because the one guy we found was too sweaty - Lola refused) and at some point Lola opened up her last pair of panties - which Hot Mama thoughtfully made granny panties.
Right around then, we decide to go to the bar across the street where, let's be honest, we are considered the old people. It is the bar where you are most likely to be propositioned in disgusting ways or have drinks spilled on you. It is the bar with the biggest dance floor - which worked well for our party. It is also the bar that Lola and I used to frequent during the infamous summer of sinning. We lose Stella to a guy at the bar and head to the dance floor, periodically sending someone to check on her and make sure she didn't want to be saved. By the end of the evening the guy started saying profanity every time one of us came over, proving our theories about this bar, but Stella enjoyed him for the moment. We closed the bar down there, spending the last part of the night with a trio of wet behind the ears 21 year old kids who thought we were the coolest thing since sliced bread. One of them was so cute I wanted to stick him in my pocket and make him my pet - in a completely non-sexual way. He was adorable. He was completely agreeable to the plan, but I don't think I have the energy for caring for an overgrown boy laced up with hormones and beer. When we left him he was dancing around proudly wearing Lola's bright pink bachelorette sash. Stand up kid.
All in all, a fantastic evening. And most of us even stayed awake long enough to have last call. Although I wouldn't be lying if I said that we spent most of the last hour complaining about our heeled boots and trying to hold back yawns. Everyone had a great time, got home safe, and the story almost ends there. However, my phone rings off the hook at nine the next morning. Five minutes late my mom pulls in my driveway frantic that I need to go pick up my Jeep before they tow it. Apparently 911 dispatch called her to let her know my Jeep was parked in a parking lot that was scheduled to be re-paved that morning. What are the odds? Apparently, I should have answered my phone. So at 9:30 the morning after, I get dropped off in front of an group of construction workers in my pajama shorts and a tank top. Not the best way to heal a hangover. Just in case you were wondering.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
So Lola is getting married next week. (YEAH!!) We are very excited, happy, and honestly...somewhat strung out over this. The more and more weddings I am around, the more and more appealing the idea of eloping to the tropics becomes. Weddings turn otherwise normal brains spastic. Remember how I told you that Lola is my opposite half? The more practical, realistic, even-tempered half? The wedding planning has completely shifted that and turned my world on its axis. It is still mostly funny, rather than annoying, but I will happy when I get my pragmatic Lola back in two weeks.
However....the point of this blog post is that Lola and her hubby to be (from here on out to be known as The Cowboy) had to take marriage classes through the Catholic Church leading up to their ceremony. (For the sake of time and space, I will keep my opinions of marriage classes to myself.) They were given lessons on CD to listen to, and one of them was on Natural Family Planning (NFP) and the evils of birth control. For those of you unfamiliar with NFP - here is a brief explanation. The big picture is that if you are having sex, be prepared for God to zap you with a fertilized egg. However, if you wish to have some control over the timing of this, it is acceptable for a couple to plan out when they should have sex around the certain stages of a woman's menstrual cycle. (If you are unfamiliar with a woman's menstrual cycle and how this helps with birth control, I am not going to explain...go talk to your mom. Or google it.) The Church's big beef with birth control is that you are not giving yourself 100% to your partner, so you are withholding. And also that you are actively preventing life. For the record, I am seriously pro-life. If you tried to have a debate about it with me, you would find me one of those annoyingly, unbudging people that wouldn't care what kind of argument you threw at me - I would still hold fast to my view. Life is sacred, no matter what. That is not what this is about. This is about word play.
Look at the two main objections of the Catholic Church to birth control. One is you are withholding all of yourself from your partner, denying them true intimacy. If you are using NFP, then you are still denying and withholding from your partner - probably more often than if you were using a pill - because you deny them intimacy whenever it is a day in your cycle that is likely to result in pregnancy. So if you have a big fight and want to have make-up sex....sorry, no can do. Ovulating. Of course that is a simplified version, but as easily as we toss the phrase make-up sex around - there are days that intimacy really helps strengthen our relationships. It is important. And to deny yourself and your partner that based on the day of the month is not bringing you closer to God or to each other.
It is semantics as well when you look at trying to avoid creating life, which is big reason number two to avoid birth control. In NFP, you are actively NOT trying to get pregnant by only being intimate on certain days. That is the EXACT same motivation you have when you take a birth control pill. Purposely denying yourself intimacy with your partner on certain days is impeding conception just as much as swallowing a pill once a day. Both are conscious choices that you are making to avoid having a child. They both carry the same responsibility. Just because one is a pill and one is timing doesn't make you any closer to heaven. God obviously knows what you are up to. For those that say NFP is more natural because they aren't using alternative methods based on lab work....how do you think you know how to count days every month? No where in the Bible do I remember God handing down a tablet with a menstrual cycle diagram. You have this information through science, the exact same kind of science that figured out how to create a birth control pill.
Now, if you choose to use NFP for your own reasons....more power to you. I am not saying everyone should be on birth control. But for the Church to judge people and try and dictate what goes on behind their bedroom door? I am not buying it. Holding on to outdated dogma does us no favors. There should be no shame in admitting that you are responsible about sex and know what is right for you as a couple - no matter how you choose to go about it. God knows what is in your heart and what is motivating you - no matter what method you choose to use.
Now, a quick disclaimer. I have a fifteen year old sister....Lucy....and Lucy recently told my Mom that she is getting lots of good life lessons from reading my blog. (Which I was unaware she was doing...) So Lucy - here is the life lesson from this. Don't have sex. Ever. And then you will never need to worry about any of this at all.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
On the good side, my imaginary rocker boyfriend Pat has left me lots of wine suggestion messages on Facebook. How cool is that? Not only is he a bad ass stage pirate, but he drinks wine! Ours is a match made in imaginary heaven. I am still discovering (aka stalking) new things about him every day and I am more and more sure that I couldn't have created a better pretend relationship.
However....my BFF Jen may be playing mind games with me. Think back for a moment on the last conversation we had about Jen. She had just launched a new perfume, which I was half-heartedly interested in until I found out it had jasmine in it - which is one of my real favorite scents. So I accepted that I would probably be spending too much money on a bottle of new perfume that I didn't really need - and I began googling it. What I discovered is that it is exclusively available at Harrods. Which for any non-shopaholics out there, is NOT in the United States of America. Sadly. But I pushed onward and hit the online version, resigned myself to paying for international shipping and began to figure out pounds to dollars conversion. Then I get slapped by the fine print. "Select items not available for international shipping....PERFUME" Ok, so the word 'perfume' was not in all caps, but it would certainly have saved me fifteen minutes if it had been. So now, after all that, I am not going to be able to wear Jennifer Aniston. At least not at this point in time. If anyone is traveling abroad though....hook a girl up.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
I don't typically make fun of men that attempt to pick me up. For two reasons. One, I like to be picked up. Any woman that tells you she doesn't is almost certainly lying. It is good for our egos and our genetics from hundreds of years ago appreciate being selected. I don't like to chase, I don't like to make the first move...I like to start as I mean to go on. So I enjoy the pick up line - even if you aren't someone I would necessarily choose I still appreciate the pick up attempt. Two, I give points for taking your balls in hand and making the move. Especially when I am sitting with a girlfriend or three. If you have the cajones to come up to our table and run a line by me, even if it is awful, then you get bonus points that usually lead to at least some kind of interaction. However....
There are exceptions to every rule and tonight was one of them. I have to make fun of him, I simply cannot help myself. More so because he was attractive and really shouldn't have had to resort to such slimy, juvenile lines. The story begins at a local pub on a fairly busy bar street that all Bay Cityans know and love/hate/tolerate. My wing lady is walking the bar under the pretense of using the bathroom at the back and I am holding court at our table, trying to decide if it is worth staying out and feeling yucky or if I should simply go home and get a good night's sleep. I am approached by a fairly attractive man- not gorgeous, but someone my wing lady and I had appreciated when we walked in. He told me that I was beautiful (good start, I am listening) and asked me to dance. So we make our way to the dance floor (where we are the only people in the bar dancing - everyone else is just watching to see what we are going to do) and begin dancing somewhat like idiots, but it is still fun and since I hit thirty I find that I care less and less about behaving normal in public. Pick Up Guy is fairly adept at twirling me, which gives him points since I am a fan of twirling. He tells me several times how beautiful I am.....more points. And then he crashes and burns....wait for it....he pulls me close and whispers this question - "Is it raining in your pants? Can I check?" Are. You. Serious.
So of course I tell him there is zero chance of rain in the region of my pants and as he twirls me out I walk away and leave him on the dance floor. I sincerely hope that he was sober enough to remember that tomorrow - and the smirks of all the people watching. It will do his ego good. He is the reason that we single ladies roll our eyes at men in general. Yes, I know that there are good men out there. BUT...we see waaaaaaaay more of the Pick Up Guy than we do the good guys. I couldn't make this stuff up.
You aren't convinced? My one story didn't sway you? My wing lady (let's call her Stella) and I went out a few weeks ago and she had a man ask her to go outside with him while he smoked. She is way nicer than me and obliged him. While outside he looked at her (I must insert here that Stella is way, way out of his league) and informed her that he was tired of women using him for sex and that when they made love it would be with strawberries and whip cream because he wanted to do it the right way. May I point out that this man was over thirty? Way too old to believe the 'right way' involves fruit and dairy products? And that he had just met her an hour before but was telling her how they were going to get it on? And if that doesn't convince you, I have a friend on Facebook that just posted about how a man she just met sent her a picture on her phone.....of. his. penis. To see if she was interested since she was single. Because naturally all of us single ladies are just waiting by our phones hoping to see a penis.
This is by no means a condemnation of all men...simply evidence that supports our whining from time to time about the ridiculousness of being single amidst a slew of morons.
***If you have not ever asked a woman you just met about the precipitation in her pants, never told a woman you just met you were going to make love to her with fruit that would stain her sheets forever, or never sent any women pictures of your penis - you are exempt from this rant.
Friday, July 30, 2010
There have been many criticisms of President Obama on his so-called "Pop Culture Agenda" and to me, this just makes him more my president than ever. Opponents and naysayers all complain about how he spends time on interviews with late night tv and such. People on Facebook post status messages about how he should stop making comments about sports and worry about the country. First of all, I am pretty sure being the President means that you can still have interest in things non-political. I don't remember anywhere that the Presidential Oath includes abstaining from sports. And second of all, pop culture is where current generations get their news, isn't it?
When I was growing up, here is how every single evening played out at my house. My stay-at-home mom made a sit down dinner that was almost always a meat, a potato, a veggie, and bread and butter of some variety. My dad came home from work, we ate as a family after saying grace, and then we did dishes or were banished from the living room while Mom and Dad sat down and watched the six o'clock local news, followed by World News and newspaper sharing. That was how they collected their information - how most people at that time collected their information. I am sure that many people had the same scenario play out in their homes and are nodding along with this.
Here is how my evenings play out at my house now. I go out to eat with friends, go to mom's for dinner, order in pizza, make a bowl of cereal, eat a sandwich in front of the tv, skip dinner and go out to play cards, grab a happy meal through the drive thru during errand running, or something else completely random for dinner depending on the day. About half of the time I come home and/or finish dinner and run laundry on the commercial breaks of my favorite tv shows or in between chapters of a bestseller. The other half of the time I don't come home until it is time to go to sleep. There is no sitting down with the paper or a news anchor.
Instead, I collect the majority of my news from sources considered to be entertainment rather than hard hitting journalism. Every morning and every night before bed, I go online. I check my email, scroll through my home page that is loaded up with current headlines, go on Facebook, update myself on all the blogs I follow...and most evenings I check out my DVR to watch Hot Topics on The View and see who is on late night tv - in addition to my mindless reality tv shows of course. (Which have nothing to do with news in any way.) For me, having a President that understands that times have changed is a positive thing, a sign that he understands how people of my generation gather their information. Do I want him doing daytime television all the time? Of course not. But I hardly think that one appearance next to Barbara Walters and Whoopi make him a pop culture sell-out. Just this woman's view...
Thursday, July 29, 2010
This week I was playing my best round ever and right before the seventh hole I was an idiot and answered a text. The following conversation riled me up and I am sure my last three holes were less than my best effort. I did end up with my personal best - but just think how much better I would have done if I had ignored the phone! I love golf because I am in constant competition with the best possible opponent - myself. Nothing makes me happier than kicking my own ass.
We don't need to get into the specifics of this text conversation, but I will tell you it was with John Black. (If you don't remember him then I suggest you revisit the character page or Season One.) And here is the one comment that seriously just set me off.
"I need to do what is best for myself."
Why? Isn't that the teeniest bit selfish? Since when is it okay to excuse bad behavior just because it is in your best interest? Isn't that the very definition of selfish? Now, as a quick disclaimer, I am not saying John Black is totally selfish. But at the end of the day...if it comes down to choosing between what is best for him and best for someone else, he always goes with what is best for him. And he is always going to use that excuse to sanctify anything that he wants to do. And I don't think this is just a John Black problem. I think that this goes way beyond an individual and is something that society preaches today. Be whoever you want to be. You can have whatever you want. Look after number one. It almost makes me want to go back in time to an era where neighbors all pitched in whenever anyone needed help except that I don't want to raise any dumb barns and women pretty much weren't allowed to blog back then...
I don't think you can have whatever you want. And I don't think you can be everything that you want to be. I think that you have to stand up and make tough decisions based on your behavior. If you do something wrong - you fix it. Even if it isn't in your best interest. You handle your life with integrity and with honesty and with the people that you love in mind. You don't charge forward with your eyes on the prize and hurt anyone in your way to get to it. You don't get to use people when it is convenient for you and toss them aside when it is in your best interest. Life is not about having everything or being great at everything or taking care of number one. Life is about building relationships with people that we care about and that inevitably involves making choices that sometimes we would rather not make. When we do that, we make a very strong statement about the kind of person that we are and the values we hold. And when you are weak and think only of yourself....well, you make a strong statement about yourself then, too.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Sometimes it makes me feel like a gigantic loser to have three fairly major failed relationships behind me. But sometimes it makes me feel relieved, like I did my part to try and create that kind of life and now that it hasn't worked out I can go guilt free into my future....of gardening and feeding mangy cats. No, no....I would have dead plants and dead cats littering my yard if I were solely in charge of those things. Not my forte. Some other spinster will need to pick up that banner and fly with it.
But sometimes it seriously feels like I have used up all my energy dealing with the men that have already come and go. Before I started dating Chet I felt like my life was in the best possible place that it could be. Everything was fantastic, I was happy, I had my circle of people...my life was set up exactly the way I wanted it. I took a chance on Chet and risked messing up my perfect world and compromising to possibly create a better one - and that didn't pan out so well. Now that I am on the opposite end of that relationship and building back my life the way I like it, I find that I just don't have the energy to put it at risk again. I like my life. There would need to be a seriously spectacular man for me chance disturbing it again.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
I am not going to get into great detail about them all at this point. (Although one of them is a blind date so I am sure that will be a blog worthy story sometime next week. It is pretty much a rule that if you blog about your dating life, a blind date deserves its own post.) I don't have any of them quite figured out in my head yet, so I don't want to share my half developed theories and plans. I am just going to go with the flow for a few weeks and see how things work themselves out. I really don't like to multi-date, so this likely won't last for long. I am bad at man juggling, I just don't like to play games or be anything less than honest - so I just need to figure out what is going on with the sudden influx of man candy and draw a few lines in the sand. When I figure out what that means, you will be not the first, but also not the last, to know...
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
So my pretend BFF, Jennifer Aniston, debuted her new perfume today. My knowing this does not make me a stalker - I swear I wasn't lurking around her house or her fan club website - it simply is apparently big news on Yahoo at one in the morning. (If you are thinking...'damn, this chica likes to blog way late at night'...then you would be correct. I think my creative brain cells sleep during the monotony of my day and stagger awake when the sun goes down.) I want you to know that I had zero intention...ok maybe a sliver of intention....of buying perfume purely because she likes it and it has her name on it. However, when reading the article about the debut in London it mentions that it has notes of jasmine. Two fun facts about jasmine: It is a natural aphrodisiac and I absolutely love it. I own straight jasmine essential oil - although I am very careful about when I wear it. Sometimes it is not appropriate to have men sniffing your neck all night....you have to be responsible when you are dealing with mind altering oils. In a nutshell, I guess I am going to have to buy some new perfume.
Development Number Two! I am giving myself an imaginary soulmate. I know you are wondering why it took me so long to think of this, since Jen A. and I have been imaginary friends for years....and I have no excuse. I just didn't realize the potential of an imaginary life until I started fantasizing about Pat Monahan (lead singer of Train for those of you uneducated in the art of imaginary rockstar boyfriends) after watching him unexpectedly on television. And I thought....why not? I am going to be the first to admit that this is a completely shallow relationship built purely on my needs and fantasies. He is sexy, has nice shoulders, and commands the stage like he is a pirate. He is all I have ever dreamed of in an imaginary boyfriend. I am sure that there will be more on this topic later, but now I am going to load up 'Save Me, San Francisco' and play "Marry Me" on repeat as I fall asleep. Life is good.
Friday, July 16, 2010
This is the first line in a book that I just bought called "Hope In A Jar". I am only a few chapters in, but I am pretty sure it is going to make the list of recommended books...if only for the amusing description of how Allie found her boyfriend in bed and issuing denials. I loved it.
Not only did I love it, but I loved the first line. I related to the first line. I have been cheated on once. Well, more than once, but by just one man. And he cheated with the same dirty girl over and over. So I am not terribly sure how I should count that? Anyway...after that I think that I made my position very clear on cheating and either scared future boyfriends faithful or just made better boyfriend choices, not really sure which one applies. The end result of no more cheaters was good either way.
Brad cheated on me with a very average, slightly grubby looking girl that was his subordinate at work. Not to make myself sound like all that and a bag of chips, but she definitely wasn't an upgrade. She wasn't prettier than me or smarter than me or more successful than me. She was just some average girl with dishwater blond hair that didn't make him be responsible for ironing his own work shirts or picking up his own dinner dishes.
I am not saying that I would have been happy exactly if he had cheated with a gorgeous girl, but at least there would have been a little understanding. If I could have looked at her and saw that she was way hotter than me I would have still been pissed but it would have made more sense. Cheating on me with this dingy girl was almost like an insult to me...like this was the best he could come up with. I was married to a man that couldn't even get a random hot girl to have an affair with him. He had to pick up this nondescript girl who's paycheck he handed out. How dumb must I have been to have been married to a man that had to do that? It is just one more example of how I have the worst judgement in men ever. Maybe I need to let all my readers pick my next boyfriend....
Thursday, July 15, 2010
When Brad and I split, I lived on my own for the very first time and I was a slight basketcase. I can admit this and laugh now, but back then I hated being in the house at night alone. I would go through the house after dinner and close every window and put wooden dining room chairs under the doorknobs to the basement door and my bedroom door. I would sleep with the cordless phone on the pillow next to me and it took several weeks before I was able to fall asleep without lying there worrying over every creak of the house.
It has been years since I put a chair under a doorknob and I rarely bother to lift my head off the pillow for any noise anymore - I just assume it is one of my animals and nod back off - but tonight I swear that I kept seeing moving shadows. Not that I ever caught sight of anything specific, but I always felt like something was shifting in my peripheral vision. I had all the lights off while catching up on my DVR and probably about three times I was convinced that I saw movement in the shadows. I still wasn't worried enough to actually close a window or investigate, but I laughed at myself and briefly considered emailing my ex to tell him I was being stalked by a ghost. Briefly.
So at the end of the night I gathered up my bedtime toys (my laptop, cell phone, book of choice, bottled water...what were you thinking?) and headed to my room on the other end of the house. I fed the cat, settled the dogs on the bed where they insist on sleeping no matter how much floor room I give them, and went to use the bathroom before I went to bed myself. My bathroom really isn't very big - it is like a baby rectangle with a window at one end. Right in front of the window is the toilet and a shelving unit for all my girly stuff. So I am sitting on the top of the toilet seat, digging through a basket for some hand lotion....in my dead quiet, ghost infested house....and all of a sudden the curtain behind my head moves and something lands on my arm. I screamed, jumped up, got lotion everywhere, and had a mini little panic attack.....all as my cat jumped down from the back of the toilet and looked at me like I had lost my mind as he nonchalantly made his way to his food dish.
I am now safely ensconced in my bedroom on the one-fifth of the mattress that my dogs left me, bedroom door shut, cell phone charging within arm reach....and I am calling it a victory that I didn't bring a dining room chair in with me for the door knob.
THERE'S A HOLE IN MY SIDEWALK
Autobiography in Five Short Chapters
By Portia Nelson
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost .... I am helpless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend that I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in this same place.
But, it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in ... it's a habit ... but, my eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
I walk down another street.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Here is what I don't love about living in a small town. At some point, everyone is connected to everyone. I feel like it is possible that I personally know ninety percent of all the thirty year olds in town. OK- maybe not that high. But I probably am connected indirectly - through a family member or an old boyfriend or a class at school - to at least eighty percent of them. This makes dating a little interesting because everyone you date has connections to someone else.
So it should come as no surprise that a little while ago I was absently scrolling through my Facebook wall and saw flirts from Chet with some girl that I know online. Not that I object to him flirting or to this girl in particular, but I really don't want to look at it. If we lived in Detroit or Chicago it would have been over and we wouldn't have had to even cross paths again. Sadly, that is not the case. Especially sad since I love Chicago....
So I did the mature, adult thing....and deleted that girl from my account so I didn't have to look at it. (ok, maybe not the most mature thing, but it was definitely in my best interest) Chet and I have been over almost as long as we were together - I have completely burned all the candles I took with me when we split - and while I have moved on, I would rather not see proof that he has as well. It is better for my ego to think he is wallowing in self doubt and loneliness while I am auditioning new sexy shoulders and enjoying myself. Speaking of sexy shoulders....
Another potentially awkward aspect of dating in small towns is that waters get muddied. I had a fairly entertaining evening with an interesting man a little while ago. Nothing serious, but definitely fun. A week later I was given a set of rules by....let's call her Leah. Leah felt like it was in her best interest to make sure that if I continued to dally with this guy then I had to forsake all other men in her social circle to avoid any awkwardness. So I just unknowingly forfeited all my rights to swim in this dating pool for random moments with this guy. Granted, he is clever and passed the shoulder audition, but it is highly doubtful that he is going to be the guy to get me a tiara and a boa for my birthday celebration every year. Hopefully there is not a tiara buying man in Leah's social circle because I just unwittingly closed that door with the sexy shoulder guy.
Maybe I need to consider moving to Chicago....
Sunday, July 11, 2010
In this article that I read a woman wrote an entire book on how to tell if you are marrying the wrong guy and what kind of red flags to look for. An ENTIRE book! Not that I don't believe that there are that many things wrong to watch out for - because that is entirely true - but writing an entire book takes a relatively long time. That is a lot of effort put into what is basically common sense. Not that I am one to talk - I have literally no common sense. I have to learn everything through trial and error. The following is what I learned~
1. Don't date any men that have not lived on their own at least sometime in their life. This is true for so many reasons that I cannot even list them all. I will share one story to make my point. When I first moved in with Brad we had an argument because I didn't move the furniture every single time I vacuumed like his mom did. (She didn't by the way, I called her) Men need to live alone to appreciate the things that you do.
2. Don't date any men that never drive, never offer to pay, or never let you see where they live. I once had a man let me pay for everything on a first date and drive him around all evening. I don't mind paying or driving, but I am never going to be attracted to a man that wants me to be the man on a first date.
3. Any stranger that randomly contacts you on any social networking site? Wierdo. (Or painfully lonely - also not a good dating quality) If he has time to sit around online and search female profiles then he isn't using that time to have a life. Block him.
4. Forget checking out men's bathrooms - I have yet to meet a single man that has a clean bathroom. The first time you go to a man's place - check his kitchen out. If he has nothing in his fridge but beer and nothing in his cupboards but chips - he is still a wanna be frat boy or he is getting his meals from another female. Or he is starving I suppose. All bad options.
5. If you don't click with a man when you kiss...nothing else is going to click either. Quit while you are ahead. Chemistry cannot be forced no matter how many dreams, people, or values you have in common.
6. If you have to work at it too hard - conversation, intimacy, finding common ground- then something is wrong. Your gut knows it but your brain is in denial. Walk away.
7. If a man is intimidated by your successes, your talents, or your high heels - move on. He has issues of his own to deal with before he is going to be ready to appreciate your awesomeness.
8. If your friends and family don't like him - he will never be able to make you happy. You will always be going back and forth between them and him. No matter how great you click, this will stress you out and wear you down.
I am sure there are more, but these are a good beginning. For the rest you will need to buy the book.