So, I may have reached an all time low. Or, perhaps I've figured out the secret that every woman should know.
If you are trying to fit into a dress that just needs a little bit more room you don't need to diet. Don't juice cleanse. Just learn from this modern day tale.
Once upon a time I had a gorgeous sweater dress to wear. The dress was just a wee bit clingy. Who am I kidding? It was totally clingy. So, I decided to call in reinforcements, my favorite friends Spanx and Assets. Yep, both of them.
To achieve the desired look I wore Spanx (the kind that go from below the bust to mid thigh) with Assets slimming tights (basically with 'control top' also starting below the bust and going to mid thigh) over them. This was double duty. Now, if anyone had seen me in these undergarments they would have had a good laugh!
I looked like a hybrid scuba instructor cyclist who favored black over the colorful uniforms that most road bikers sport.
But what really mattered is that to the general public I think I looked Pretty. Darn. Good. Received a few compliments in fact.
People I hadn't seen in months told me how great I looked. Asked if I had lost weight. I had not lost a pound. Just stuffed myself into two slimmers. So, I just smiled and said thank you and mentally praised Spanx and Assets for doing their job.
Thank you, Spanx. Thank you, Assets. Thank you for slimming me into a smaller size! I felt smaller, svelter, slimmer. And sometimes it felt like it was hard to breathe but whatever...I looked good! And felt lovely in my clingy sweater dress. Hallelujah!
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Monday, March 25, 2013
Mommy Mondays
Hello friends. No, this isn't my (not so) subtle way of making an announcement of a pending baby due - gasp! Or, the announcement of my adoption of a new, furry puppy. It's the announcement of a guest blog starring my dear friend, Laura. LJ for those of you know her from other times in our respective lives. Laura has two adorable darlings who are known to do some pretty funny stuff. She shares this with me via phone and email and I always laugh and laugh. And I thought you needed to hear some of it too. This may happen again. Or, maybe not. Just depends on how often her kids do silly, funny, blog-worthy stuff. And, how often it's Monday. And, how often I can get my act together to post her fine, clever prose on a Monday. So, welcome to Mommy Mondays!! And, welcome Laura. Okay, your mic is on...
From now on, I'll leave the teachings of Judaism to the experts.
Happy Passover to Harper and all my Jewish friends!
My son, Grayson, is three-and-a-half. He attends preschool one block from our house, and we walk there three mornings a week. We love his school and plan to send his one-year-old sister, Harper, there when she's ready, too. It happens to be a Jewish preschool. Our family isn't Jewish, so we think it's pretty cool that Grayson teaches us things about the Jewish religion/culture ("Hamen is a bad guy!"), new vocabulary words ("Mom, did you eat matzo/hamantashen/challah when you were a girl?") and brings home fun projects (like a "Plague Bag"--including, among other things, a locust, lice, blood, and a dead cow--all faux, of course) on a weekly basis.
Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, Grayson requested ham in his lunchbox. I told him that ham isn't allowed at his school and that I'd send turkey instead. He proceeded to ask me at least a hundred questions about why he couldn't have ham at school, and I did my best to explain. I said that some Jewish people don't believe in eating pork, and that he should ask his teachers if he wanted to know more. OK, maybe that wasn't the greatest explanation, but I really just wanted him to stop asking questions about ham!
Out of the blue at school that Wednesday, he declared to his teacher, "I'm not Jewish, because I like ham!" Fabulous (insert my red face here). We had lunch at home the following day, and (surprise!) we had ham. At some point, Harper started throwing hers on the floor. Grayson, momentarily glancing up from his iPad screen (mom of the year), wanted to know what she was doing. I told him she was throwing her ham on the floor, and he asked, "Does Harper not like ham?" I said that sometimes babies just throw things. He watched her for awhile, then shrugged and said... "Maybe she's Jewish."
Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, Grayson requested ham in his lunchbox. I told him that ham isn't allowed at his school and that I'd send turkey instead. He proceeded to ask me at least a hundred questions about why he couldn't have ham at school, and I did my best to explain. I said that some Jewish people don't believe in eating pork, and that he should ask his teachers if he wanted to know more. OK, maybe that wasn't the greatest explanation, but I really just wanted him to stop asking questions about ham!
From now on, I'll leave the teachings of Judaism to the experts.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Just Plane Inappropriate (3rd edition)
If you are joining us for the first time..welcome and let me give you some background. I travel for work. Fairly often. Not all the time. But, often enough that I've seen some crazy things.
One of my biggest pet peeves is people who take their shoes off on the plane.
I was telling my boss about this the other day and he acknowledged the he will go sans shoes on International flights. That gets a pass. They give you booties to cover your feet.
Domestic flights keep your shoes on.
Anyway, here's another pet peeve, people who eat weird, smelly or sloppy things on the plane.
So, the other day, we're in flight. I look over and there is a man sitting there with his work spread out across his tray table. He is working diligently. Scribbling feverishly. He must have really had some good thoughts burning through him. Then he paused. Reached into his lap and pulled out a bag of cereal.
No, not a baggie. Not a ziploc. The bag. That he removed from the standard size box of cereal.
The bag was nearly empty. There was probably enough in the bag for a kids size bowl of cereal. I couldn't believe he was going to stick his hand in that bag and snack on handfuls of cereal during our flight. Seriously?
So, he unrolled the top of the bag, positioned the bag to funnel the corner and leaned his head back. Opened his mouth as wide as it could go, lifted the bag upside down above his head and dumped in some cereal.
I was dumbfounded. So much so that I paused mid-conversation and shook my head. Then he started scribbling his notes again.
He repeated this two or three times until he got every last crumb of cereal out of that bag. It was one of the funniest and oddest things I've seen someone eat on the plane. A grown man. Graying beard and all. In 20D. Dumping cereal in his mouth. I hope he got all of the crumbs out of his beard.
One of my biggest pet peeves is people who take their shoes off on the plane.
I was telling my boss about this the other day and he acknowledged the he will go sans shoes on International flights. That gets a pass. They give you booties to cover your feet.
Domestic flights keep your shoes on.
Anyway, here's another pet peeve, people who eat weird, smelly or sloppy things on the plane.
So, the other day, we're in flight. I look over and there is a man sitting there with his work spread out across his tray table. He is working diligently. Scribbling feverishly. He must have really had some good thoughts burning through him. Then he paused. Reached into his lap and pulled out a bag of cereal.
No, not a baggie. Not a ziploc. The bag. That he removed from the standard size box of cereal.
The bag was nearly empty. There was probably enough in the bag for a kids size bowl of cereal. I couldn't believe he was going to stick his hand in that bag and snack on handfuls of cereal during our flight. Seriously?
So, he unrolled the top of the bag, positioned the bag to funnel the corner and leaned his head back. Opened his mouth as wide as it could go, lifted the bag upside down above his head and dumped in some cereal.
I was dumbfounded. So much so that I paused mid-conversation and shook my head. Then he started scribbling his notes again.
He repeated this two or three times until he got every last crumb of cereal out of that bag. It was one of the funniest and oddest things I've seen someone eat on the plane. A grown man. Graying beard and all. In 20D. Dumping cereal in his mouth. I hope he got all of the crumbs out of his beard.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
You gain weight?
As we all know, I love getting manicures and pedicures!! And, I am generally a very loyal client once I find someone who perfectly polishes my elegant fingers.
I found a gal I loved. She went by Katie because I, along with many others, couldn't pronounce her Vietnamese name. Katie was sweet and kind. She would sing and hum quietly when I was tired. Ask how I was doing. Ask about Sam and what puppy antics he had been up to. She asked about my boyfriend and work. I think she genuinely cared.
I was Katie's client for years. I would rearrange my schedule to make sure she would be the one clipping my cuticles and shaping my nails into perfect squovals.
Then one day everything changed. This was the day Katie looked at me slightly confused during my pedicure and said, 'You gain weight?'
I had. Probably 15 pounds. I was happy and in love so I ate and drank whatever I wanted. And, yes, I had gained weight. I was not happy about that but before I could answer she quickly followed with 'what you eat?'
I was mortified. Embarrassed. Red-faced. I already knew I wasn't happy with the extra 18 lbs I had put on. And, I certainly wasn't happy with Katie pointing it out either.
For my next manicure I took my money and my extra 21 pounds elsewhere.
I found a gal I loved. She went by Katie because I, along with many others, couldn't pronounce her Vietnamese name. Katie was sweet and kind. She would sing and hum quietly when I was tired. Ask how I was doing. Ask about Sam and what puppy antics he had been up to. She asked about my boyfriend and work. I think she genuinely cared.
I was Katie's client for years. I would rearrange my schedule to make sure she would be the one clipping my cuticles and shaping my nails into perfect squovals.
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CC
Calgary Review
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I had. Probably 15 pounds. I was happy and in love so I ate and drank whatever I wanted. And, yes, I had gained weight. I was not happy about that but before I could answer she quickly followed with 'what you eat?'
I was mortified. Embarrassed. Red-faced. I already knew I wasn't happy with the extra 18 lbs I had put on. And, I certainly wasn't happy with Katie pointing it out either.
For my next manicure I took my money and my extra 21 pounds elsewhere.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Just Plane Inappropriate (part deux)
Yep, it happened again.
Someone took their shoes off on the plane. In the seat next to me. Here's the proof.
Why. Do. You. People. Do. This? What on earth makes you think it's okay to remove your shoes on a plane? This is not your house or your car. Do you take your shoes off when you are shopping?
When you are at school? Or, walking around at work?
Seriously?
I mean, if your feet hurt that bad, acknowledge what you are going to do. Apologize and explain.
Don't just slip off your sneakers.
Ugh!
Someone took their shoes off on the plane. In the seat next to me. Here's the proof.
Why. Do. You. People. Do. This? What on earth makes you think it's okay to remove your shoes on a plane? This is not your house or your car. Do you take your shoes off when you are shopping?
When you are at school? Or, walking around at work?
Seriously?
I mean, if your feet hurt that bad, acknowledge what you are going to do. Apologize and explain.
Don't just slip off your sneakers.
Ugh!
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Maximizing my Assets
So you might be wondering where I've been. Why I haven't written in a bit. See, I've been busy. Busy working. Busy traveling for work. Busy buying the appropriate undergarments to wear to the work functions that I have to travel for to attend.
Undergarments are an interesting thing. Whether granny panties or hanky panky's we women are loyal to the things that touch our most delicate of parts. At the same time we also do what we can to maximize our assets.
I'll tell you a little story about that.
I am a curvier girl. Even curvier than I used to be. Particularly on the bottom. I've got some hips. I don't love them when I notice the dimples that I had hoped would be on my face are actually on my thighs. But, I do like having shape. I like having what Sir Mix A Lot calls an Oakland booty. It's mine and it's cool. I just wish it was sometimes a wee bit smaller. To achieve this desired state I have become good friends with an undergarment called Spanx. I've become even better friends with her wallet-friendlier sister, Assets.
These Assets flatter my assets. Everything is sleeker, smoother and better looking. Gone are panty-lines, bumps, jiggles and lumps. Everything is lifted, sucked in and I have a perfectly shaped lower half. Love it.
Over the holidays I found a new dress that I am In. Love. With. It's knit. It clings. It requires the incredibly slimming action of Spanx or Assets. I wanted a full body tube that would slim my tummy, slenderize my thighs and round out my derriere. I hit Tar-jzay (this is how you say Target when you are buying fancy things there i.e. Assets not toilet paper). I found exactly what I wanted in Assets. Probably saved a good $40 bucks vs. her sister, Spanx. Victory.
Fast forward to my work function. Left the hotel at 6:30. AM. Planning to be gone until 10 something. PM. Hair coiffed? Check. Make-Up Applied? Check. Tights? Check. Assets tube slimmer? Check. Darling knit dress? Check. Knee high black boots? Check. I. Looked. Awesome!
About 2 hours later, I felt like an idiot. Every step I took Assets slipped up a notch on my body. She was no longer slimming my thighs. She was now bunched up at my waist. Literally. She worked her way up my thighs the minute I would pull her down. She just wasn't having it. I toyed with taking her off mid-day. Maybe putting her in my bag. But, there was never an opportunity. What was I going to do, walk out of the bathroom carrying my undergarment in my hand?
So, instead, all day, I adjusted whenever I thought no one was looking. Which probably meant everyone was looking. Oh well. I just had to laugh. I have to laugh now. Here I was, trying to look better. And, instead I looked like the poor girl who had ill-fitting undergarments. My sophisticated cover was blown. I should have just let my tummy out. No one would have noticed that. I'm sure the entire party saw me stick my hand up my dress to yank my black tube 'dress' down from my waist to my knees.
Lovely.
Undergarments are an interesting thing. Whether granny panties or hanky panky's we women are loyal to the things that touch our most delicate of parts. At the same time we also do what we can to maximize our assets.
I'll tell you a little story about that.
I am a curvier girl. Even curvier than I used to be. Particularly on the bottom. I've got some hips. I don't love them when I notice the dimples that I had hoped would be on my face are actually on my thighs. But, I do like having shape. I like having what Sir Mix A Lot calls an Oakland booty. It's mine and it's cool. I just wish it was sometimes a wee bit smaller. To achieve this desired state I have become good friends with an undergarment called Spanx. I've become even better friends with her wallet-friendlier sister, Assets.
These Assets flatter my assets. Everything is sleeker, smoother and better looking. Gone are panty-lines, bumps, jiggles and lumps. Everything is lifted, sucked in and I have a perfectly shaped lower half. Love it.
Over the holidays I found a new dress that I am In. Love. With. It's knit. It clings. It requires the incredibly slimming action of Spanx or Assets. I wanted a full body tube that would slim my tummy, slenderize my thighs and round out my derriere. I hit Tar-jzay (this is how you say Target when you are buying fancy things there i.e. Assets not toilet paper). I found exactly what I wanted in Assets. Probably saved a good $40 bucks vs. her sister, Spanx. Victory.
Fast forward to my work function. Left the hotel at 6:30. AM. Planning to be gone until 10 something. PM. Hair coiffed? Check. Make-Up Applied? Check. Tights? Check. Assets tube slimmer? Check. Darling knit dress? Check. Knee high black boots? Check. I. Looked. Awesome!
About 2 hours later, I felt like an idiot. Every step I took Assets slipped up a notch on my body. She was no longer slimming my thighs. She was now bunched up at my waist. Literally. She worked her way up my thighs the minute I would pull her down. She just wasn't having it. I toyed with taking her off mid-day. Maybe putting her in my bag. But, there was never an opportunity. What was I going to do, walk out of the bathroom carrying my undergarment in my hand?
So, instead, all day, I adjusted whenever I thought no one was looking. Which probably meant everyone was looking. Oh well. I just had to laugh. I have to laugh now. Here I was, trying to look better. And, instead I looked like the poor girl who had ill-fitting undergarments. My sophisticated cover was blown. I should have just let my tummy out. No one would have noticed that. I'm sure the entire party saw me stick my hand up my dress to yank my black tube 'dress' down from my waist to my knees.
Lovely.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Happiest of New Years
There are a number of traditions around celebrating the New Year. Some are fun like getting dressed up and wearing silly hats. Others are said to bring love, fortune, success. Listening to Auld Lang Syne at the stroke of midnight and making a champagne toast (be sure to put a gold ring in your glass). Wearing white on New Year's Eve yields health and internal peace. Also, eating pork, black eyed peas and doughnuts on New Year's Day is custom for a good year ahead. Top it off with 12 grapes for 12 good months. Supposedly you are also not to remove anything from the home or clean on New Year's Day. And, don't pay a single bill or wash dishes.
One tradition I am particularly hopeful about is First - Footing. This tradition states that the first person to enter the home after midnight will determine the type of year ahead. And, according to everything I've read on this tradition, the key is for the “first footer” to be a tall, dark and handsome male. Even better if they come bearing gifts.
I am patiently waiting for said man to show up on my doorstep, gifts in hand. Hopefully my sitting and standing 3 times while writing this post will also encourage this dark haired Adonis to marry me in 2013 as well.
While I wait for his arrival I will spend the day doing a little bit of work, to ensure a good new year in that aspect of my life. I also will avoid the dishes or taking out the trash. I'll try to find a Chinese place for pork and I'll be happy and joyous all day (to set the tone for a happy 364 days in front of me). 2013 is going to be my year!!
Regardless of the tradition or ritual I am going to enjoy every minute of today. I am blessed with wonderful family and friends. I have a good life and good health. I am fortunate and grateful. I am accomplished and loved. I hope that you are too.
Happy New Year!!
Friday, December 28, 2012
U Can't Touch This..
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| CC by Witches Falls Cottages |
I'm just here for relaxation apparently translated to the massage therapist as 'please be very aggressive in tending to my muscles'.
Literally in pain at points. I didn't go in for that. I wanted a nice gentle massage. Maybe a little aromatherapy. Soothing and relaxing. Instead I was battered, kneaded, rolled, stretched and rubbed with an intensity I didn't see coming.
As I was lying there, trying to avoid whimpering when she hit the 'hot spots', my mind started to wander. And, I wandered down massage memory lane.
Here are my top massage moments:
1)
I had been to this massage therapist before so I kind of knew what to expect. Unfortunately, she had literally just survived a fire. Amen. Seriously, that's scary stuff. She was very fortunate. Unfortunately for me, her clothes smelled of smoke. And, she had a terrible cough. It was awful, she would try to breathe and start hacking. It was so bad! Glad she survived, wish she had taken the day off to recuperate.
2)
But, not as bad as the new age man I had recently. He wore a hemp necklace and mandals. And, every time he went in for a stroke he took a huge deep breath through his nose and then exhaled loudly through his mouth. I'm not kidding. I think his breathing technique is also used in Lamaze. Deep breath in through the nostrils.. Rub Liz's back and exhale. Repeat. The whole hour was spent with him focused on his breathing. It was completely awkward. Then he bowed when we parted ways. Weird.
3)
And, moving on to another winning massage moment. This was early in my massage life. I wasn't sure whether I should leave the underwear on or off. When the man came in to talk with me before my rub down he rubbed me the wrong way. Seemed kind of creepy. So, I left the underwear on.
He returned when I was comfortable under the sheet, face in the doughnut. Everything was wonderful. Just as I liked it.. The he moved down to my legs. At this point he apparently thought my underwear was impeding his work. So, he yanked them in between my cheeks giving me the worst wedgie I've ever had. Worse than jumping of the platform dive at the aquatic center. Worse than Hanky Pankys. It was suddenly like cheerleading and 'pinching a penny'. Then he went in for the kill and started massaging my bare bum. Seriously. There is a reason you leave underwear on. That means stay away. In the wise words of MC Hammer, U Can't Touch This.
4)
Out walked a small man. I could have squashed him. I didn't know how he was going to have enough oomph to make a difference in my Swedish massage. Probably for the better considering the massive hangover I was rocking. I had been in Chicago for a bachelorette weekend and the night before was a crazy, late night, shots, champagne and not enough dinner kind of party. Anyway, my Swedish massage started off lovely. Soothing. Perfect pressure. Relaxation station. Thank you!
Then he asked me to turn over. At this point I am face up and he moved the sheet for access to my legs. Then he lifted my leg and bent it at the knee. Then slowly straightened it. He repeated this motion several times puppeting my leg as if I was riding a bike. When the bicycle riding came to a stop he straightened my leg and began rolling it around at the hip creating giant leg circles in the air. Then he combined the two. Bicycle ride leg circle. Over and over and over again. The he pulled my leg, shook it vigorously and did it all again. Moved on to the other leg for the same amazing (sarcasm) experience.. I was in shock.
After all was said and done, he left, I changed. When I met him outside to receive my bottle of water I asked him what techniques he applied and mentioned I had never experienced anything like it before. I had a straight face but was laughing hysterically inside. His reply..Asian BodyWork.
Make a note ladies and gents, if you ever have a massage with Asian BodyWork I suggest leaving your underwear on.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Reply To All
The Reply To All option has a purpose. And, in most instances it is helpful. When you are having a conversation amongst a group of people. Maybe it's about a business decision. Or, maybe it's about where to go to lunch. Maybe it's about an upcoming trip and what the group wants to do while you are out of town. Maybe it's coordinating the weekend's plans. In these instances Reply To All is the key to success at group organization!The Reply To All button is also sometimes misused. Occasionally I receive an email response (so does the entire office) telling me something that was really only intended for the person who sent the email. Often, it's just annoying. Nothing I need to worry about so I roll my eyes, shake my head while muttering 'Reply To All' and delete the email.
The worst is when someone sends out a mass email and someone replies to all with something completely inappropriate for the audience.
Case in point.
Several (many,many) years ago a co-worker sent out an announcement that they were having a baby!! This exciting email was sent to everyone on our team, our boss, our boss's boss, our President, the receptionist. Plus all of his family and friends. You name it they got it. In actuality, they were adopting a dog! I sent him a 'reply' note of congrats along with several reasons on why I love dogs. No surprise that I went on and on about how much I cherish my pooch, Sam.
Twenty minutes later a 'reply to all' came through. His friend wished him well and then went on to explain that often the manner in which the baby was conceived plays a huge impact on the personality of the baby. He then proceeded to highlight that in this case it must have been...
Doggy Style.
Holy Crap! I still can't handle it when I think about it today. I could not believe that his friend literally just sent this to our entire office. For me it was one of those loud, eyes-watering, stomach-hurting laughs at my desk. For my co-worker, it was probably one of those moments when you hang your head in embarrassment, look back and wish you had sent it to your intended distro list under a BCC so Reply To All was never ever ever an option.
I wonder how the
Monday, December 17, 2012
Pay It Forward
I've been overwhelmingly fascinated with the Newtown tragedy. I have been interested to learn about what happened. How it happened. Who was there. Who wasn't there. Why it happened. I want to read about every person who is now gone. Even if they lived a very short life, I want to know about it. I want to hear what their parent's have to say, what their children think and what their brother or sister will miss. And, in doing so, I will take a moment to honor them. Even when I can't finish the article because I feel sickened with sadness, I will honor them. I want to hear the stories of selflessness of the teachers and administrators. I want to know that the first responders have the support they need to work through what they saw. I want the world to offer prayer, empathy and support for everyone touched by this event.
I am amazed at the outpouring of support immediately shown from people around the world. An athlete who acknowledged his biggest fan. A man who took his dog to offer up hugs to anyone who needed one. A woman who donated to a local charity just because she wanted to do something to support children. The newspaper that left out haunting images and simply and graciously listed the names of the victims on the front page. A flash sale site that changed their daily email sale announcement to instead honor those who have been lost and provided a link so that you could donate to the United Way of Western Connecticut. The countless people who are posting on facebook in support of all those who were lost. The sports teams that offered a moment of silence in honor before their games. The President who shared heartfelt remarks. The religious leaders who come together to pray for all people. The person who hugs a child just a little tighter before sending them off to school or practice. And, I commend the woman who wrote the article about navigating through life with a son who seems to possess one too many similarities to many of the young men who have recently committed unfortunately comparable and disgusting acts of violence just so that we may better understand.
While many of these acts are simple in their nature, together they represent a community of people all over the United States and the World who are thinking of and praying for Sandy Hook and its' village of people mourning their unbelievable loss. Some of these acts are grand and others simple. All heartfelt.
We all can do this. And, it doesn't have to be a an extravagant gesture. But, take a moment, and find the good in the world and in your heart. Once you find it, share a little bit of it with a person around you. My kind actions may not reach the people of Newtown directly but if everyone one of us pays it forward eventually it will get there. And, the warmth and love we feel for them now will be magnified tremendously. And, that same love and kindness will benefit everyone around us as well.
I am amazed at the outpouring of support immediately shown from people around the world. An athlete who acknowledged his biggest fan. A man who took his dog to offer up hugs to anyone who needed one. A woman who donated to a local charity just because she wanted to do something to support children. The newspaper that left out haunting images and simply and graciously listed the names of the victims on the front page. A flash sale site that changed their daily email sale announcement to instead honor those who have been lost and provided a link so that you could donate to the United Way of Western Connecticut. The countless people who are posting on facebook in support of all those who were lost. The sports teams that offered a moment of silence in honor before their games. The President who shared heartfelt remarks. The religious leaders who come together to pray for all people. The person who hugs a child just a little tighter before sending them off to school or practice. And, I commend the woman who wrote the article about navigating through life with a son who seems to possess one too many similarities to many of the young men who have recently committed unfortunately comparable and disgusting acts of violence just so that we may better understand.
While many of these acts are simple in their nature, together they represent a community of people all over the United States and the World who are thinking of and praying for Sandy Hook and its' village of people mourning their unbelievable loss. Some of these acts are grand and others simple. All heartfelt.
We all can do this. And, it doesn't have to be a an extravagant gesture. But, take a moment, and find the good in the world and in your heart. Once you find it, share a little bit of it with a person around you. My kind actions may not reach the people of Newtown directly but if everyone one of us pays it forward eventually it will get there. And, the warmth and love we feel for them now will be magnified tremendously. And, that same love and kindness will benefit everyone around us as well.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Honoring Helen
When someone passes you try to find ways to honor them. Whether in song or quotation, you look for things that have a deeper meaning to show your love, hopes, wishes and dreams for them in their afterlife and for the family and their friends in their "After" life.
Tomorrow marks the two year anniversary of the passing of our dear family friend after her battle with Pancreatic Cancer. The world lost a wonderful mother, daughter, wife, sister, role model and friend. I think of her often and am thankful that she is at peace.
What troubles me still is the loss for her daughters, my 'sisters', twins I grew up babysitting, playing with and watching develop into two of the funniest, kindest, most beautiful women. And, I am tickled when they laugh and I hear their mother's laughter ring through the air.
I am bothered for her sons who need their mother in ways they can't even imagine but I am happy to see how they've grown into incredible men who treat the women in their lives in a way that would make her proud and feel honored.
I hope for her husband as he continues to find his way in navigating the world without her by his side and I smile because I know she watches over him and that he is surrounded with her love everyday through their children.
I am sad for her mother for losing her daughter far too soon. But, I find peace knowing that she is smiling down onto her mother and caring for her from above.
I wonder about her friends and how lonely they feel when they want to share a story with her but I am grateful that they have found ways to cherish her memory in the places she loved most and feel her spirit when there together.
And, while thinking of these things brings tears to my eyes, I know that the most important thing is that in our "After" life we honor her by always living our best life. Living a life in the amazing way that she lived hers. A life filled with happiness, laughter and appreciation for the good around us. A life where you cherish accomplishments, support others wholeheartedly and always are willing to lend a hand and an ear. A life blooming with sunshine, celebration and love.
Today, tomorrow, and for every day after, I will honor Helen by trying to live my best life. I ask that you do too.
HSB
1/4/53 - 12/13/10
those 3 little words..
I was head over heels. I had found him. The guy that made my heart race. My mind fuzzy. My stomach do flip flops.
We had been dating for a while. Plans were made for The Holidays. We spent a perfect amount of time together. Not too much. Not too little.
I laughed more, smiled more, skipped more. Because. Of. Him.
It was my first 'love'. I knew it. We were going to be together. Forever. I had found my King. I was certain. I couldn't wait to hear it out of his mouth. I love you. I just wanted him to say it first so I could say it back.
We were out with friends. He liked to drink. A lot. Later I realized too much.
He got that look in his eye. Or, that one eye. The one that got smaller and squintier. The look that I knew meant the proverbial 'other shoe' may drop. He was slurring his words when he was telling me how much he liked me. He was so happy I was in his life. He couldn't imagine being with anyone but me. The moment he saw me it was like a circle of light was surrounding me. He was drawn to me in that very first moment and could never let me go.
I knew it was coming. He was going to say those 3 little words I had been waiting to hear for SOOO LOOONG. To profess his unwavering love for me. It was on the tip of his tongue. I stopped breathing waiting for him to whisper it in my ear.
"I slub you" he says.
He was trashed.
And, he slubbed me.
I felt like theunluckiest girl in the world. My boyfriend slubbed me. I wanted him to take it back. I wanted to cry. Who wants to hear for the first time that their boyfriend 'slubs' them? Where was I love you?
Gone. Gone about 8 gins ago. That's where it was. He slubbed gin too.
We had been dating for a while. Plans were made for The Holidays. We spent a perfect amount of time together. Not too much. Not too little.
I laughed more, smiled more, skipped more. Because. Of. Him.
It was my first 'love'. I knew it. We were going to be together. Forever. I had found my King. I was certain. I couldn't wait to hear it out of his mouth. I love you. I just wanted him to say it first so I could say it back.
We were out with friends. He liked to drink. A lot. Later I realized too much.
He got that look in his eye. Or, that one eye. The one that got smaller and squintier. The look that I knew meant the proverbial 'other shoe' may drop. He was slurring his words when he was telling me how much he liked me. He was so happy I was in his life. He couldn't imagine being with anyone but me. The moment he saw me it was like a circle of light was surrounding me. He was drawn to me in that very first moment and could never let me go.
I knew it was coming. He was going to say those 3 little words I had been waiting to hear for SOOO LOOONG. To profess his unwavering love for me. It was on the tip of his tongue. I stopped breathing waiting for him to whisper it in my ear.
"I slub you" he says.
He was trashed.
And, he slubbed me.
I felt like the
Gone. Gone about 8 gins ago. That's where it was. He slubbed gin too.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Holiday Bonus
I owe my cleaning lady. BIG TIME.
I love the day that she comes. My place looks and smells amazing! I love being in it. I don't want to leave. I just want to lay around in it's cleanliness and enjoy the serenity that comes with a combination of pine-sol, windex, spic'n span, elbow grease and pledge. Eau de Peace & Calm.
I just want to lounge on my comfy couch in my comfy post-work wear. aka pajamas. I want to inhale clean air and not see a spec of dust anywhere. I want Eau de Peace & Calm to permeate my clothes, hair and self. It is Heavenly.
For her visit last week I had left a Holiday Bonus in her check. An extra show of thanks.
Usually she texts me when she leaves. I was actually very much looking forward to getting her text all day because the cleanliness of my place would radiate the peace and calm through the cellular network. And, I would feel so much more at ease knowing that I was going home to a clean, organized and smelling-good house. Not the tornadic disaster I had left earlier that day.
The text arrived. She thanked me for the Holiday Bonus and mentioned that she really appreciated it. Warm and fuzzy feelings washed over me. Eau de Peace & Calm was radiating from my inner self..
Then she sent another text.
"Sam 'got sick' in his cage. The towel is now in the hall. Put new towels in the kennel. Cleaned him up. Hope that was okay".
I had to read the text twice. To make sure it really said that Sam got sick in his cage. Of course he did. On the day that I didn't go home at lunch. And, the day that my cleaning angel came.
So much for a holiday bonus. That was like prepayment for the bonus she was getting straight from Sam's intestines. Eau de Puke and Stench.
I love the day that she comes. My place looks and smells amazing! I love being in it. I don't want to leave. I just want to lay around in it's cleanliness and enjoy the serenity that comes with a combination of pine-sol, windex, spic'n span, elbow grease and pledge. Eau de Peace & Calm.
I just want to lounge on my comfy couch in my comfy post-work wear. aka pajamas. I want to inhale clean air and not see a spec of dust anywhere. I want Eau de Peace & Calm to permeate my clothes, hair and self. It is Heavenly.
For her visit last week I had left a Holiday Bonus in her check. An extra show of thanks.
Usually she texts me when she leaves. I was actually very much looking forward to getting her text all day because the cleanliness of my place would radiate the peace and calm through the cellular network. And, I would feel so much more at ease knowing that I was going home to a clean, organized and smelling-good house. Not the tornadic disaster I had left earlier that day.
The text arrived. She thanked me for the Holiday Bonus and mentioned that she really appreciated it. Warm and fuzzy feelings washed over me. Eau de Peace & Calm was radiating from my inner self..
Then she sent another text.
"Sam 'got sick' in his cage. The towel is now in the hall. Put new towels in the kennel. Cleaned him up. Hope that was okay".
I had to read the text twice. To make sure it really said that Sam got sick in his cage. Of course he did. On the day that I didn't go home at lunch. And, the day that my cleaning angel came.
So much for a holiday bonus. That was like prepayment for the bonus she was getting straight from Sam's intestines. Eau de Puke and Stench.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
My Dating misAdventures Entry # 2
A friend set us up. On paper he was AMAZING.
Tall. Love it!
VP of Marketing for a major sports team. Smart and Savvy.
Dark Hair. *swoon*
Christian. My mom would approve.
We talked and agreed to meet on Saturday night. He suggested the Top of the Mark.
I knew nothing about the Top of the Mark. I wanted to wear jeans. He said he would be wearing a suit. He wanted to get dressed up. See you soon fancy man.
Enter blonde girl. Tuxedos in the lobby. I am totally underdressed in my heeled sandals, skirt and tank. I should have worn a sequined ballgown. Up top, I take in the glory of this elegant restaurant at the peak of the Mark Hopkins Intercontinental Hotel in San Francisco's Nob Hill. Apparently you go here to celebrate your 50th wedding anniversary. China. Multiple forks and spoons. Crystal. Why not a pub with burgers and fries??
Over candlelight I drank wine with dinner. He asked if I had been SAVED by Jesus. I ordered another glass. I mean it's great to have a relationship with the big guy upstairs. I have one, we talk. However, date 1 may not the best time to bring it up. Let's have breezy conversation. Flirt. Laugh. Share funny stories. No need to go biblical.
He said and did some other odd things. Kind of arrogant too. We parted ways knowing we would never see each other again. The car from the Mark Hopkins took me home. Where was The Bachelor camera crew to film my tipsy commentary about my feelings toward the Jesus-loving sports exec?
Many months later I learned from the person who set us up that 1) she didn't know much about him and 2) at this exact same time he was trying to determine what to do about another female in his life.
Apparently they met at church. Their lust and desire overtook them during bible study. A one-night stand occurred. She was pregnant. They weren't exactly sure what to do.
I think going out with me was a brilliant idea. Do you sense the sarcasm in my voice? Seriously? Dude, you probably should have been attending to your knocked-up church friend.
Tall. Love it!
VP of Marketing for a major sports team. Smart and Savvy.
Dark Hair. *swoon*
Christian. My mom would approve.
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| CC By Eric Heath |
I knew nothing about the Top of the Mark. I wanted to wear jeans. He said he would be wearing a suit. He wanted to get dressed up. See you soon fancy man.
Enter blonde girl. Tuxedos in the lobby. I am totally underdressed in my heeled sandals, skirt and tank. I should have worn a sequined ballgown. Up top, I take in the glory of this elegant restaurant at the peak of the Mark Hopkins Intercontinental Hotel in San Francisco's Nob Hill. Apparently you go here to celebrate your 50th wedding anniversary. China. Multiple forks and spoons. Crystal. Why not a pub with burgers and fries??
Over candlelight I drank wine with dinner. He asked if I had been SAVED by Jesus. I ordered another glass. I mean it's great to have a relationship with the big guy upstairs. I have one, we talk. However, date 1 may not the best time to bring it up. Let's have breezy conversation. Flirt. Laugh. Share funny stories. No need to go biblical.
He said and did some other odd things. Kind of arrogant too. We parted ways knowing we would never see each other again. The car from the Mark Hopkins took me home. Where was The Bachelor camera crew to film my tipsy commentary about my feelings toward the Jesus-loving sports exec?
Many months later I learned from the person who set us up that 1) she didn't know much about him and 2) at this exact same time he was trying to determine what to do about another female in his life.
Apparently they met at church. Their lust and desire overtook them during bible study. A one-night stand occurred. She was pregnant. They weren't exactly sure what to do.
I think going out with me was a brilliant idea. Do you sense the sarcasm in my voice? Seriously? Dude, you probably should have been attending to your knocked-up church friend.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Just Plane Inappropriate
I travel often. I am not a 'road warrior' but I do have status which allows me great perks like access to exit row seats.
I am also tall, for a lady. And, taller than many men. Which drains my dating pool. Significantly. This is another post. But, just a second. Seriously, it stinks. I am doing the online dating thing and I rule out thousands of men due to height alone. Some are hot! Reminds me of a guy from college my friends and I used to call 'would be hot if tall'. I don't think we ever called him this to his face. Well, maybe once, after spending too many hours enjoying Penny Pitchers.
Anyway, I digress. Back to the original story... I am also tall, for a lady. So, I really appreciate when I secure the exit row aisle seat. I'll take an exit window or an exit center if necessary. But the aisle is hitting the airplane seat assignment jackpot!!
On my recent trip to the islands I secured the exit row. But, it was the window seat. Okay, not ideal, but definitely better than a standard row where my knees are always at risk for being knocked around when someone in front of me decides to recline to rest. Then I have to uncross my legs because I am never prepared and I always knock them back. They think I am a bitch. And, in the spirit of honesty since it is Sunday, sometimes I knock a little harder if I am annoyed that they flopped back during the recline and jarred my computer.
Moving on.
So, my seatmates were a young couple in love. They were lost in eachother's eyes. Holding hands. Maybe it was a honeymoon trip. It was kind of sweet and kind of annoying.
We take off and the girl decides its time to get comfortable. So, she takes off her shoes. Really? I think this is totally inappropriate on the plane. Now, it could be worse, she could be clipping her fingernails or eating chicken off the bone straight out of a ziploc baggie. I've seen both. But, shoe removal on the plane is bad and one of my pet peeves.
What if I was terrified of feet? Or, what if her feet smelled? You don't always realize it. And, she was wearing inexpensive pleather ballet flats which is a prime way to achieve foot smell. Not knocking them. Have several pair. Also carry baby powder when I wear mine to avoid the foot sweats.
Anyway, her feet are pointed in my direction for a bit. Then she starts to shift. And, then she gets really comfortable. Like, laying-around-the-house-watching-tv comfortable. She just up and throws her un-shoed feet and legs over her main squeeze's lap. Awesome, I've just crashed date night.
Seriously? Is this your living room? Are we on your couch? In your gingerbread house? I would bet that she doesn't do that at a dinner party when she is kindly waiting for dessert to be served. Or, in a hotel lobby. Or, in the Dr's office waiting room. Or, at her in-laws house before she really got to know them. So, why on earth 17E is it okay to do it on the plane?
Take your legs off your husband, shoeless wonder. Put your darling ballet flats back on. Stop cuddling so that in the event of an emergency you will be willing and ABLE to assist the flight crew. Bare feet are justplane plain inappropriate!
I am also tall, for a lady. And, taller than many men. Which drains my dating pool. Significantly. This is another post. But, just a second. Seriously, it stinks. I am doing the online dating thing and I rule out thousands of men due to height alone. Some are hot! Reminds me of a guy from college my friends and I used to call 'would be hot if tall'. I don't think we ever called him this to his face. Well, maybe once, after spending too many hours enjoying Penny Pitchers.
Anyway, I digress. Back to the original story... I am also tall, for a lady. So, I really appreciate when I secure the exit row aisle seat. I'll take an exit window or an exit center if necessary. But the aisle is hitting the airplane seat assignment jackpot!!
On my recent trip to the islands I secured the exit row. But, it was the window seat. Okay, not ideal, but definitely better than a standard row where my knees are always at risk for being knocked around when someone in front of me decides to recline to rest. Then I have to uncross my legs because I am never prepared and I always knock them back. They think I am a bitch. And, in the spirit of honesty since it is Sunday, sometimes I knock a little harder if I am annoyed that they flopped back during the recline and jarred my computer.
Moving on.
So, my seatmates were a young couple in love. They were lost in eachother's eyes. Holding hands. Maybe it was a honeymoon trip. It was kind of sweet and kind of annoying.
We take off and the girl decides its time to get comfortable. So, she takes off her shoes. Really? I think this is totally inappropriate on the plane. Now, it could be worse, she could be clipping her fingernails or eating chicken off the bone straight out of a ziploc baggie. I've seen both. But, shoe removal on the plane is bad and one of my pet peeves. What if I was terrified of feet? Or, what if her feet smelled? You don't always realize it. And, she was wearing inexpensive pleather ballet flats which is a prime way to achieve foot smell. Not knocking them. Have several pair. Also carry baby powder when I wear mine to avoid the foot sweats.
Anyway, her feet are pointed in my direction for a bit. Then she starts to shift. And, then she gets really comfortable. Like, laying-around-the-house-watching-tv comfortable. She just up and throws her un-shoed feet and legs over her main squeeze's lap. Awesome, I've just crashed date night.
Seriously? Is this your living room? Are we on your couch? In your gingerbread house? I would bet that she doesn't do that at a dinner party when she is kindly waiting for dessert to be served. Or, in a hotel lobby. Or, in the Dr's office waiting room. Or, at her in-laws house before she really got to know them. So, why on earth 17E is it okay to do it on the plane?
Take your legs off your husband, shoeless wonder. Put your darling ballet flats back on. Stop cuddling so that in the event of an emergency you will be willing and ABLE to assist the flight crew. Bare feet are just
Friday, November 30, 2012
Counting My Blessings
I took a little blogging break as I was resting, relaxing, shopping, sunning and watching some hoops in the Virgin Islands over Thanksgiving. The Littlest was playing in an islands tournament and so our family hopped a few planes to celebrate one of my most favorite holidays beachside.
Over the last month I've seen Facebook friends posting daily about all of things that have made their Thankful lists. I didn't partake in this trend but decided that on the last day of the month I'd jot down all of things I am blessed by and with. Efficiency. 30 days of something I'm thankful for in one list, one post. Done. Read on. And, this is not in order of least to most thankful or vice versa so don't be insulted if you aren't number 1.
My Blessings
1) Laughter (side-splitting, eyes watering, out loud
laughter)
2) Kindness (in heart and mind)
3) La Famiglia (both sides and the 'family' that is
not even biologically tied)
4) Sunshine
5) My pooch, Sam (although sometimes I want to send
him off with the Gypsy's)
6) Girlfriends (enough said)
7) Baubles (bracelets, diamonds, cheap costume plastic
stuff, heirlooms)
8) Ice Cream (Ben & Jerry's Phish Food in
particular)
9) Bond No. 5 Nuit de Noho
10) Beaches (sand, turquoise water, sunshine, palm
trees, Bette Midler)
11) Crushes (and the butterflies that come with them)
12) My trusty Volvo
13) Xanax (the calm that overcomes the storm)
14) Seashells (junonia's, jewels of the sea, catpaws,
conchs, tulips)
15) Open Windows
16) Chardonnay (Rombauer is at the top of the list)
17) Gossip Magazines (and the trash they talk)
18) Grandparent memories (old spice, tab, velcro
rollers, pontoon boats)
19) Church Hopping
20) Mani-Pedi's (and the Vietnamese women who are really
good at doing them)
21) Wi-Fi and data plans
22) Sunroof - Moonroof (toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe)
23) Post-It's (thank you Romy & Michelle or maybe
3M)
24) Good reads (bound or nook)
25) Hand Lotion (Kiehls, l'occitane, love+toast,
Archipelago)
26) Mentors (you know who you are)
27) Frequent flyer miles and hotel status (Thank you
AA and Marriott)
28) Coca Cola (diet, zero, caffeine free and just
plain ol' Coca Cola in the red can)
29) Old Sweatshirts (one GAP gray one that I love to
wear inside out)
30) Gluten free cookies (who am I kidding, gluten free
everything)
Saturday, November 17, 2012
My Dating misAdventures Entry #1
I've gone on a few dates in my day. Some wonderful. Some not so wonderful. All good stories.
My friends get a good laugh at my dating adventures. They ask when I have good ones. Awkward ones. Funny ones. Short ones. Tall ones. Sad ones. Bad ones. I sound like Seuss.
Anyway, considering I am a single 35 year old, I've had a decent dating experience. Many crushes. Many good-byes. A few boyfriends. A couple of loves. And, an occasional mistake (or two).
I've decided that you, too, may enjoy some of my datingmisadventures.
My first 'real' date. He asked me out. A few days in advance. That's apparently all it takes.
He was in college. I was in high school. I guess I've always had a thing for older men.
He was going to take me to House Decs. We would walk around Greek Town and admire all of the decorations and skits each of the sororities and frats had conjured up in the grand spirit of Homecoming. I was sure we would hold hands.
He picked me up. There was no plan other than house decs. Of course. He was a freshman in college. He drove through Taco Bell because he was hungry. I didn't order anything. I don't know that he asked if I wanted anything. Not even a burrito. I didn't want to hold his hand anymore.
House Decs? Good. The 'date'? Really lame.
There you have it. My first real date. I was completely disappointed. I called my girlfriends and complained. At least that part of the 'date' went well.. Rehashed the whole thing with my girlfriends. They told me he wasn't good enough. I deserved better. Exactly what girlfriends are supposed to do after a bad date. The pattern was established.
Now, you'd think that any guy who took me on a date since then would score an A because the first one set the bar SO low.
Wrong. I have high standards. He was just the tip of the dating iceberg.
Now, don't get me wrong there are some good ones. And, my girlfriends hear about those too. And, encourage me and tell me how excited they are and how great he sounds and when are you going out again?? We oooh and awww over those.
But, there are many really bad ones. And, honestly, those are the funniest. And, make for the best stories. And, the most laughter. So that's what you will find the most of on this blog. There may be a sweet one in there occasionally. And, just like in dating, it's the occasional sweet one that keeps you coming back for more.
My friends get a good laugh at my dating adventures. They ask when I have good ones. Awkward ones. Funny ones. Short ones. Tall ones. Sad ones. Bad ones. I sound like Seuss.
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| CC Trevor Hurlbut Aug. 28, 2010 |
I've decided that you, too, may enjoy some of my dating
My first 'real' date. He asked me out. A few days in advance. That's apparently all it takes.
He was in college. I was in high school. I guess I've always had a thing for older men.
He was going to take me to House Decs. We would walk around Greek Town and admire all of the decorations and skits each of the sororities and frats had conjured up in the grand spirit of Homecoming. I was sure we would hold hands.
He picked me up. There was no plan other than house decs. Of course. He was a freshman in college. He drove through Taco Bell because he was hungry. I didn't order anything. I don't know that he asked if I wanted anything. Not even a burrito. I didn't want to hold his hand anymore.
House Decs? Good. The 'date'? Really lame.
There you have it. My first real date. I was completely disappointed. I called my girlfriends and complained. At least that part of the 'date' went well.. Rehashed the whole thing with my girlfriends. They told me he wasn't good enough. I deserved better. Exactly what girlfriends are supposed to do after a bad date. The pattern was established.
Now, you'd think that any guy who took me on a date since then would score an A because the first one set the bar SO low.
Wrong. I have high standards. He was just the tip of the dating iceberg.
Now, don't get me wrong there are some good ones. And, my girlfriends hear about those too. And, encourage me and tell me how excited they are and how great he sounds and when are you going out again?? We oooh and awww over those.
But, there are many really bad ones. And, honestly, those are the funniest. And, make for the best stories. And, the most laughter. So that's what you will find the most of on this blog. There may be a sweet one in there occasionally. And, just like in dating, it's the occasional sweet one that keeps you coming back for more.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
My (sometimes) High Maintenance Life
I am sometimes High Maintenance. I am a girl. I think most of us can be this way. Occasionally. Or, often. Whatever.
I try to keep my high maintenanceness under control. I am good at this. Sometimes. Not as often as I'd like.
Like the other day.
I went to breakfast with some girlfriends last Sunday. It was an eggs and bacon and
biscuits&gravy and pancakes kind of place.
No eggs benedict. No frittatas.
We had a party of five.
The restaurant was not that busy.
There was no wait. They seated us
at the most awkward table. It was
situated between 2 benches. One side of
the bench could accommodate 2 people. The other side, 3. But, the weird thing was that the table was
incredibly long. Like 10 feet long. So, the 5th person would not be facing
anyone. It was like they would be eating
at their own table with no one to talk with or look at.
I didn't want to sit at this weird, non-inclusive
table. I didn't want anyone to sit by
themselves at the odd end. I didn't want
anyone to have to sit across from no one.
Weird. Awkward. I hated it.
 |
| © Copyright Ben Harris licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons License |
Host: "No,
that's reserved".
Me:
"Really?" "This
exact table is reserved"?
"Well, is there somewhere else we can sit?" *snotty tone
kicking in*
Host: "No,
you'd have to wait".
Waiting doesn't work for me. Particularly when I am feeling high
maintenance. I was hungry.
And, high maintenance. We took the weird table.
10 minutes later a party of 2 was escorted to the table by
the host.And, high maintenance. We took the weird table.
Host: "It's so nice to see you again, Mary".
My motto from here on out:
Eat, Drink and (one day) Be Mary.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Naked People
There are many different types of people in the world. Skinny, Tall, Brown-Haired, Muscular, Chunky, Blue-Eyed, Petite..I could go on.
There are also two very distinctive people - Naked People and Not Naked People.
The Naked Cowboy likely only wears underwear to avoid the NYC slammer. He has made good money off of his nakedness. Clearly he is a Naked Person. Probably everyday. Probably all of the time.
I am a Not Naked Person. I don't walk around the house naked. I don't dry my hair naked. Nothing. I did not grow up in a Naked House. We wore clothes. Always. I don't have anything against Naked People. I am just not one of them. So, their nakedness is sometimes surprising.
I dated a Naked Person once. I found him sitting naked on the couch and felt so bad for every other person who would ever sit on that couch again. Yuck! This happened a few times and every time I was like 'put some freaking shorts on'...Sheesh.
I also had a Naked Person as a roommate. One night our home phone started screaming at 2am. We were in our 20's. This was not abnormal. We both came running out of our rooms. I, clothed head to toe, in yoga pants, a long sleeve shirt and a sweatshirt. It was winter. She, on the other hand, was naked. Totally naked. Not even jewelry naked. We stared at the phone, looked at each other, laughed and went back to our respective Not Naked and Naked Rooms.
You are either a Naked Person or a Not Naked Person. There is no in-between. The Naked Ex sometimes also cooked naked. Breakfast. Really. Nothing like a full moon when you walk into the kitchen on a Sunday morning.
There are also two very distinctive people - Naked People and Not Naked People.
The Naked Cowboy likely only wears underwear to avoid the NYC slammer. He has made good money off of his nakedness. Clearly he is a Naked Person. Probably everyday. Probably all of the time.
I am a Not Naked Person. I don't walk around the house naked. I don't dry my hair naked. Nothing. I did not grow up in a Naked House. We wore clothes. Always. I don't have anything against Naked People. I am just not one of them. So, their nakedness is sometimes surprising.I dated a Naked Person once. I found him sitting naked on the couch and felt so bad for every other person who would ever sit on that couch again. Yuck! This happened a few times and every time I was like 'put some freaking shorts on'...Sheesh.
I also had a Naked Person as a roommate. One night our home phone started screaming at 2am. We were in our 20's. This was not abnormal. We both came running out of our rooms. I, clothed head to toe, in yoga pants, a long sleeve shirt and a sweatshirt. It was winter. She, on the other hand, was naked. Totally naked. Not even jewelry naked. We stared at the phone, looked at each other, laughed and went back to our respective Not Naked and Naked Rooms.
You are either a Naked Person or a Not Naked Person. There is no in-between. The Naked Ex sometimes also cooked naked. Breakfast. Really. Nothing like a full moon when you walk into the kitchen on a Sunday morning.
Friday, November 9, 2012
Who do you think you are, Kim Kardashian?
Since I was writing about ending my last relationship the other day I started thinking about The BreakUp.
One of my favorite comments he threw at me: "Who do you think you are, Kim Kardashian"?
Really? Kim Kardashian? Did he really say that? We don't look alike. At all. Except that I have a generously sized derriere. That we have in common.
I am laughing just thinking about it. "Who do you think you are, Kim Kardashian"? Howling, in fact. Tears in eyes laughing. That is absurd.
I think I had actually forgotten about this gem of a moment until Halloween when I wrote about The BreakUp in the exceptionally funny post Ruby Red Lipstick: Anniversary Edition. Yes, I sometimes think I am funny. I laugh at my own blogs. Narcissistic, I know.
I love Kim K. She makes me laugh. She is glamorous and ridiculous and keeping up with her makes for great DVR. Her family is amazing! I laugh out loud at their antics and dysFUNction! As much as I enjoy their shows and the entire Kardashian - Jenner family, I have no idea why on earth he thought that I thought that I was Kim Kardashian.
And, know that when I say dysFUNction it is with complete love and adoration. My father always said that our family puts the FUN in dysfunctional. Total term of endearment. My love to the Kardashian-Jenners. They add the FUN too.
Anyway, around that same time last year, Kim decided to end her relationship with Kris Humphries (Hump to you Kardash fans). In fact, I do believe her divorce filing was on October 31st of Twenty-Eleven. The same day of The BreakUp. Google confirmed.
Apparently my ex was keenly aware of this and felt that me ending my bad relationship on Halloween was akin to Kim ending hers. I didn't understand the comparison then and I don't understand it now.
Regardless, here's to you Kim Kardashian! It seems that you are much happier one year later. Me too!
One of my favorite comments he threw at me: "Who do you think you are, Kim Kardashian"?
Really? Kim Kardashian? Did he really say that? We don't look alike. At all. Except that I have a generously sized derriere. That we have in common.
I am laughing just thinking about it. "Who do you think you are, Kim Kardashian"? Howling, in fact. Tears in eyes laughing. That is absurd.
I think I had actually forgotten about this gem of a moment until Halloween when I wrote about The BreakUp in the exceptionally funny post Ruby Red Lipstick: Anniversary Edition. Yes, I sometimes think I am funny. I laugh at my own blogs. Narcissistic, I know.
I love Kim K. She makes me laugh. She is glamorous and ridiculous and keeping up with her makes for great DVR. Her family is amazing! I laugh out loud at their antics and dysFUNction! As much as I enjoy their shows and the entire Kardashian - Jenner family, I have no idea why on earth he thought that I thought that I was Kim Kardashian.
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| CC BY Holywood Branded, Inc. |
Anyway, around that same time last year, Kim decided to end her relationship with Kris Humphries (Hump to you Kardash fans). In fact, I do believe her divorce filing was on October 31st of Twenty-Eleven. The same day of The BreakUp. Google confirmed.
Apparently my ex was keenly aware of this and felt that me ending my bad relationship on Halloween was akin to Kim ending hers. I didn't understand the comparison then and I don't understand it now.
Regardless, here's to you Kim Kardashian! It seems that you are much happier one year later. Me too!
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