This past weekend was, by far, one of the best weekends I have ever experienced in my life. They say in life that timing is everything and there are times in life when you have experiences that completely reinforce this concept. I have been eagerly anticipating this blog post for several days, and my fingers can not type as fast as I would like.
For several years I have not been myself. The after effect of several difficult things in my life. As a result, my once self confident self was thrown off kilter. The A I once knew had disappeared and I was fighting to find myself once again.
This journey began with returning home. To that place that was safe, supportive and could offer me the foundation on which to build. Then came the job change. A very important change considering the professional journey and the future of the company. Moving and changing jobs within a three month time period was stressful, but with each decision and move, a move meticulously thought through as if I were playing chess for my life, gave me a sense of relief. Change was good. I was making steps toward a better life for myself.
I adapted to my new home, making it my own space, adapted to my new job by getting acclimated with the people and politics and took it at a steady pace. With each new experience I could feel myself growing within as well. But I was afraid to acknowledge that progression or fully think it through to experience it. Perhaps it was fear that I could really be happy once again, therefore not giving it the attention it deserved.
Since the New Year, and my declaration to release completely from my past; or at least those parts of it that were holding me back remembering the best parts that had become a piece of my personality, I can feel new growth each day.
My brother moving in with me was like a breath of fresh air. My perfectly decorated, perfectly clean house had suddenly become chaos, and I loved it. I loved knowing that someone was there if I needed to talk. I liked having someone share a meal with me. I liked knowing that if I were in trouble or he were in trouble we would be there for each other. I feel a sense of closeness to my brother which I always imagined but never had. I admire him, love him and appreciate his friendship to the ends of the earth. In addition, he is so honest with me that our conversations force me to confront issues that I refuse to deal with…because he knows its something I must overcome and he wants to help me get there.
On Friday, I had absolutely no intention of going out. I saw Friday as my opportunity as rest up for a busy weekend. My brother had plans to go downtown and meet up with a group of his friends. These were not his close friends (of which I all know) but a group of guys he flies with regularly and trusts. The conversation went like this:
J said, “You should come out with us. It’s a great group of people and I think you would really have a good time.”
I responded, “I don’t know J, I just don’t feel like it. I mean, I have nothing to wear, no time to get ready and I feel fat as hell. You know I don’t like to go out when I am feeling fat.”
He said, “Come on. Please come. Besides, I need someone to babysit me so I don’t get in trouble. You are not fat. Go put your jeans on, and do your hair and makeup real quick and we will go.”
I responded, “I know I completely suck, but I'm just not going to go.”
J said, “Are you sure, its going to be a really good time. Once you get out and start drinking you’ll forget about feeling fat and you will forget about all the shit that bothers you.” God love my brother for understanding that sometime alcohol does in fact heal the soul.
I contemplate. Studying his face that is filled with hope that I come hang out with. I had spent so many weekends on the couch when living alone, occasionally going out with my girlfriends but most times not having the courage, energy or desire. This is not how I once was but it was who I became with my struggling self confidence and holding onto my past.
J said, “Alright.” Disappointingly.
He jumped in his truck and drove off. It was a beautiful night. Sunny, 70’s, cool breeze, and the CAVS were playing so anyplace downtown would be sure to be an absolute blast based solely on the fact that everyone would have their TV’s tuned to the big game.
As he drove away, I walked back into the house, sat on the couch, turned on the TV and my stomach sank. I remember shaking my head and myself and thinking…
”Are you really going sit here by yourself all night when you have a perfectly good chance to go out and have a BLAST with your big brother!?”
I jumped off the couch, ran to the mirror in my bedroom and looked at myself studying my sad facial expression and body language. Then I said out loud, “I am so fucking sick of feeling sorry for myself!”
I scurried to find my cell phone, dialed J’s number.
J answered, “Hey. What’s up?” obviously still a little irritated that I decided not to go.
I replied, “Come back. I want to go.”
J said, “Are you sure? I don’t want you to go just because you think I need someone to watch me.”
I responded, “I want to go because you DO need someone to watch over you, AND I am not sitting here on my couch by myself on this gorgeous night.”
He responded, “I'm on my way back.”
I quickly found the only pair of jeans that fits my now round ass. The after effect of being totally and completely lazy. Threw on one of my favorite black shirts, slide into my ballet flats, pulled my hair back into a clip, fixed my makeup, threw on some gloss, sprayed a bit of perfume and headed outside. As I was walking outside he was pulling up in his truck.
He exclaimed, “That was quick! Look at you, you look great! I am glad you are coming.”
We jumped in the car and headed downtown.
The evening events were so fun. We started at a small bar on E 4th. Sat with a group of people drinking beers, bullshitting and watching the Cavs game. The group was so much fun. The conversation was across the spectrum. Wedding plans for one couple, flight training for another guy, discussion on another gentlemen’s decision to go another direction in his career…and then there was this last guy. Hysterical beyond any comprehension and his call sign was perfect considering his personality. I immediately took a liking to him which was only further reinforced when he took seat at the piano in the bar and began a Billy Joel rendition.
We moved onto another bar, where our party took on the likes of riding a bull. Pictures were taken to be sure to embarrass all. Ever tried to ride a bull drunk? Then onto dancing where we watched Lebron sink his last second shot, all the dancers retreated from the floor standing around the bar where the TV’s were positioned, exploding into joy as the ball went through the hoop and the buzzer sounded!
By this point, I was so completely intoxicated that I was not sure if I could move to the next place. But off we went, to see a live rock band. We danced for what seemed to be hours. As I danced, with my vodka cranberry in hand, sunglasses on at night and dancing from the inner depths of my soul with ALL my might, our friends about, I declared in my drunken stuper that I would no longer hold onto anything from the past that was holding me back. That I was going to live my life to the fullest extend and if there was anything I wanted to do, I was going to do it. If there was anything I was doubting, I was going to find out why I doubted and get the right answer. If there was anything I was thinking I could not do, I would conquer to prove to myself that I would. As we left the bar and staggered back to a hotel room (no way any of us could drive) and we all crashed on the beds, the gentlemen from the evening that I took a bit of a liking too, turned towards me lying on the bed and said,
“That was so much fun. I am so glad you came out tonight. I heard you weren’t going to come.”
I smiled at him and said, “I'm glad I came out too. I had a really good time. Although you do have a great voice, you do know that you can’t play the piano for shit, right?” He laughed. I then asked, “Would you please hold me?”
I fell asleep in his arms and never slept better. Most definitely the combination of my self declaration and his boyish jovial charm that reminded me to always have fun and always have a sense of humor. Morning came quickly, and as friends said goodbye and my brother and I drove home he turned to me and said,
“Well, are you glad you came out.”
I responded, “I am so glad I came out and I’m ready. I'm really ready to make some changes in my life.”
His response, “You have no idea how great you are. But you’ll figure it out.”
The only way I can best repay my brothers support is to show it in return.
Thursday, May 28
Friday, May 22
The Weekend Ahead
Today has gotten off to a strange start. I feel asleep last night with temps in 70s with low humidity and a nice breeze in my bedroom. I woke up to 80s high humidity and no breeze. I'm not sure who was more uncomfortable, Emily my cat or myself. I woke up very hot and sweaty. I love the warm weather, but should have planned ahead to wake up in the air conditioning. There is a small storm system moving in from the West. When I realized it, I started to get frustrated. My preference would have been to stay in bed all day and listen to the rain and feel the drop in temperature, but alas, I headed into work to finish up a few projects that I do not want to spill over into next week.
The commute to work was quick. My normal hour drive was a quick 20 minute zip up the freeway, as the traffic was almost non existent. I struggled at the prospect that it was a good day to come in to get things done, because it would be quiet…while I secretly yearned to be back in my bed watching the storm make its way in and start making my mother’s chicken cacciatorre. Imagining my favorite man would be laying in bed next to me, ignoring his hefty schedule, ignoring his phone and paying all his attention to me. I wonder if he’d like the rain?
As I pulled onto Carnegie, a major downtown throughput for Cleveland and was sitting at a red light, a bus of inmates being transported pulled up next to me. It’s a strange sensation to experience the two emotions of hilariousness and creepiness at the same time.
“I wonder how many are innocent?” I thought to myself.
“Not that one…” I chuckled to myself for the middle aged man who peered out the tiny little slot of a window with eyes full of malice. His gaze was evil.
I nearly hit a car in the parking garage, my mistake as I had my attention to my bb and not the road. I attempted to apologize to the lady, but she was too angry at me. Guess her morning is not going well either.
“I hear ya lady.” I thought to myself. “It’s a shitty day to come into work and to boot, you almost get hit. So sorry!” I further thought to myself.
Headed down the stairs of the parking garage to the crosswalk on campus, and from just behind me a squad pulled out of one of the medical buildings and started the sirens, on his way to tend to a patient’s needs. It startled me so, that I jumped up and turned around quickly. The cop who stays at the crosswalk got a really good laugh out of me being scared out of my wits, and then tried to start up a conversation after mocking me.
I smiled and titled my head to the side and said, “Really, don’t. Its not been a good morning.”
My air must have been bitch, because he threw his hands up as if I was the cop and said,
“Ok, no problem. I hear ya.”
Asshole, I thought to myself. Stop the effing traffic so I can cross now.
Into my office and an intended delectable treat from my boss on my desk was enough to attract every ant in the building to my desk. There was a basketball size swarm of ants eating the brownie my boss intended to be a treat for me. Damn that brownie looked tasty.
I am eagerly anticipating the finish of my projects today so that I can go home, unwind and prepare for a fantastic weekend.
Tonight – Netflix arrivals of BlackHawk Down and Flags Of Our Fathers. Most likely pork chops or steaks on the grill, ice cold beers and a few friends. Start making mom’s chicken cacciatorre for a Sunday treat!
Saturday – Wash my car, roto-till the back lawn, hit the local landscaping company to price large round stones to line my flower beds with. Time with the Lily and Braden and the off to the Cleveland Great American Rib Cook Off to chomp on some of the areas best molasses soaked pork and beef ribs and a special evening of checking out Third Eye Blind’s concert. I suspect this evening will be a long one and a cab ride home is likely.
Sunday – Meet The Press and then heading to Mohican to hike the 13 mile trail, two times. Since I will be going alone, I see this time as an opportunity for me to reflect, maybe even meditate. Sunday night, Ill put the finishing touches on mom’s chicken cacciatorre and feast with my loved ones.
Monday – The local town of Avon Lake Memorial Day parade, where I will watch my niece Lily throw candy from a unicorn float in her ballerina costume. She is most excited at the prospect that she is going to be riding a unicorn! Braeden her little brother will be in tow. My brother and father will ride their Harleys, and mom and I will walk and we will meet in the same spot we have met many times past. We will bullshit with the local Vietnam Vets at the Local, maybe a quick flag ceremony and then we will all go out for a big lunch!
I am looking forward to the long weekend, because the extra day of unwinding just soothes the soul. Oh, and I couldn’t pass on telling you about this…
Last night, my niece Lily made a surprise visit. Lily is going through a phase where she likes to tell the truth about everything…this after a phase of a lot of fibbing, particularly when discussing whether or not she really DID wash her hands after potty or before dinner or after snack. She’d retreat to the restroom, stay there a few minutes (never turn on the water) and then declare her conquer of the germs on her hands. I knew she hadn’t washed them so I played silly and smelled them and would say, “Well I guess we have to try again because I can’t smell the soap!”
In her new phase of being totally honest, we’ve run across the gamut of phrases a child uses when discussing being honest or telling fibs. These have included:
Liar Liar Pants of Fire
Coming Clean
Honesty is the Best Policy
Liar Liar pants on fire went over like a rock! Turns out a 4 year old translation is literal and I had to explain that her pants won’t burst into flames – way to go Aunt Angie. Coming Clean didn’t catch her attention. She couldn’t get past the literal translation of ‘clean’. Honesty is the Best Policy was indeed the one that she liked.
In a moment of honesty, Lily came ‘clean’ yesterday.
“Daddy, I have something to tell you.” She says to her father
“Yes, Lily.” He responds
“I was rolling a boogie between my fingers and I dropped it on the floor and I can’t find it.” She apologetically confesses.
Jeff and I both burst into laughter. She smiled at us both wildly realizing that she had made a good joke.
Jeff says, “Lily, I am so proud of you telling me the truth. Now lets go find that boogie!”
These are things that I must write about in my blog so when she’s older I can share them.
Have a wonderful holiday weekend by blogger friends! Whatever it is you choose to do I hope that you find it relaxing and refreshing.
The commute to work was quick. My normal hour drive was a quick 20 minute zip up the freeway, as the traffic was almost non existent. I struggled at the prospect that it was a good day to come in to get things done, because it would be quiet…while I secretly yearned to be back in my bed watching the storm make its way in and start making my mother’s chicken cacciatorre. Imagining my favorite man would be laying in bed next to me, ignoring his hefty schedule, ignoring his phone and paying all his attention to me. I wonder if he’d like the rain?
As I pulled onto Carnegie, a major downtown throughput for Cleveland and was sitting at a red light, a bus of inmates being transported pulled up next to me. It’s a strange sensation to experience the two emotions of hilariousness and creepiness at the same time.
“I wonder how many are innocent?” I thought to myself.
“Not that one…” I chuckled to myself for the middle aged man who peered out the tiny little slot of a window with eyes full of malice. His gaze was evil.
I nearly hit a car in the parking garage, my mistake as I had my attention to my bb and not the road. I attempted to apologize to the lady, but she was too angry at me. Guess her morning is not going well either.
“I hear ya lady.” I thought to myself. “It’s a shitty day to come into work and to boot, you almost get hit. So sorry!” I further thought to myself.
Headed down the stairs of the parking garage to the crosswalk on campus, and from just behind me a squad pulled out of one of the medical buildings and started the sirens, on his way to tend to a patient’s needs. It startled me so, that I jumped up and turned around quickly. The cop who stays at the crosswalk got a really good laugh out of me being scared out of my wits, and then tried to start up a conversation after mocking me.
I smiled and titled my head to the side and said, “Really, don’t. Its not been a good morning.”
My air must have been bitch, because he threw his hands up as if I was the cop and said,
“Ok, no problem. I hear ya.”
Asshole, I thought to myself. Stop the effing traffic so I can cross now.
Into my office and an intended delectable treat from my boss on my desk was enough to attract every ant in the building to my desk. There was a basketball size swarm of ants eating the brownie my boss intended to be a treat for me. Damn that brownie looked tasty.
I am eagerly anticipating the finish of my projects today so that I can go home, unwind and prepare for a fantastic weekend.
Tonight – Netflix arrivals of BlackHawk Down and Flags Of Our Fathers. Most likely pork chops or steaks on the grill, ice cold beers and a few friends. Start making mom’s chicken cacciatorre for a Sunday treat!
Saturday – Wash my car, roto-till the back lawn, hit the local landscaping company to price large round stones to line my flower beds with. Time with the Lily and Braden and the off to the Cleveland Great American Rib Cook Off to chomp on some of the areas best molasses soaked pork and beef ribs and a special evening of checking out Third Eye Blind’s concert. I suspect this evening will be a long one and a cab ride home is likely.
Sunday – Meet The Press and then heading to Mohican to hike the 13 mile trail, two times. Since I will be going alone, I see this time as an opportunity for me to reflect, maybe even meditate. Sunday night, Ill put the finishing touches on mom’s chicken cacciatorre and feast with my loved ones.
Monday – The local town of Avon Lake Memorial Day parade, where I will watch my niece Lily throw candy from a unicorn float in her ballerina costume. She is most excited at the prospect that she is going to be riding a unicorn! Braeden her little brother will be in tow. My brother and father will ride their Harleys, and mom and I will walk and we will meet in the same spot we have met many times past. We will bullshit with the local Vietnam Vets at the Local, maybe a quick flag ceremony and then we will all go out for a big lunch!
I am looking forward to the long weekend, because the extra day of unwinding just soothes the soul. Oh, and I couldn’t pass on telling you about this…
Last night, my niece Lily made a surprise visit. Lily is going through a phase where she likes to tell the truth about everything…this after a phase of a lot of fibbing, particularly when discussing whether or not she really DID wash her hands after potty or before dinner or after snack. She’d retreat to the restroom, stay there a few minutes (never turn on the water) and then declare her conquer of the germs on her hands. I knew she hadn’t washed them so I played silly and smelled them and would say, “Well I guess we have to try again because I can’t smell the soap!”
In her new phase of being totally honest, we’ve run across the gamut of phrases a child uses when discussing being honest or telling fibs. These have included:
Liar Liar Pants of Fire
Coming Clean
Honesty is the Best Policy
Liar Liar pants on fire went over like a rock! Turns out a 4 year old translation is literal and I had to explain that her pants won’t burst into flames – way to go Aunt Angie. Coming Clean didn’t catch her attention. She couldn’t get past the literal translation of ‘clean’. Honesty is the Best Policy was indeed the one that she liked.
In a moment of honesty, Lily came ‘clean’ yesterday.
“Daddy, I have something to tell you.” She says to her father
“Yes, Lily.” He responds
“I was rolling a boogie between my fingers and I dropped it on the floor and I can’t find it.” She apologetically confesses.
Jeff and I both burst into laughter. She smiled at us both wildly realizing that she had made a good joke.
Jeff says, “Lily, I am so proud of you telling me the truth. Now lets go find that boogie!”
These are things that I must write about in my blog so when she’s older I can share them.
Have a wonderful holiday weekend by blogger friends! Whatever it is you choose to do I hope that you find it relaxing and refreshing.
Thursday, May 21
Laser Hair Removal – WHERE!?
Technology continues to advance in the area of lasers. Well, geez, if you think about it, there is a laser for just about everything. There are lasers to make incisions during surgery which reduces scarring. There are lasers that can help cure skin conditions, such as dry skin, or improve the appearance of skin such as that which has a lot of broken blood vessels. There are lasers that can remove hair, and there are lasers that can even give you near perfect eye sight.
The risk of having treatment by laser is that if the laser is not not handled properly permanent scarring can occur. The skin on my face has improved from the laser facial treatments I have had. Sun spots have disappeared and the overall appearance of my skin is brighter and tighter. Never hurts to be a little tighter anywhere.
When I met my esthetician, James, I was skeptical. I had already trusted another to using a laser and the end result was not positive. Further, I was not convinced that it wouldn’t happen again. The malpractice was evident from my past experience, the machine was calibrated at a joule setting far higher than normal for this type of procedure…this being something that was unlikely to happen again through good preparation…but I still was fearful. James rested my fears and after three successful sessions, my confidence has been restored in lasers.
Next week, I have my fourth laser appointment. A quick touch up on the face, and this time too, hair removal on my legs! Can you believe it ladies! Yes, you heard it. In about six months, I will no longer have to shave or wax! For those of you who are a fan of the Brazilian, they can actually laser in all those particular places as well eliminating the “grow in” period and the discomfort that can come with it. I mean really, don’t we all just really prefer to have smooth skin all the time? How great that we have an option now that eliminates any waiting time. Or the conversation in which he have to advise our honey, “Don’t touch me there for about 3 days because you’ll get pricked!” best timed with your cycle to eliminate any additional down time.
So wish me well! I am a little nervous to be thinking of laying there in all my splendor from the waist down bending and contorting in positions that you’d find in the book, “The Joy of Sex”. On the plus side, James, my esthetician is in love with a man, so having a male gay esthetician is comparable to have a female gynecologist. You know…they are not that into pussy, so you have no fear in putting the pussy out there.
The risk of having treatment by laser is that if the laser is not not handled properly permanent scarring can occur. The skin on my face has improved from the laser facial treatments I have had. Sun spots have disappeared and the overall appearance of my skin is brighter and tighter. Never hurts to be a little tighter anywhere.
When I met my esthetician, James, I was skeptical. I had already trusted another to using a laser and the end result was not positive. Further, I was not convinced that it wouldn’t happen again. The malpractice was evident from my past experience, the machine was calibrated at a joule setting far higher than normal for this type of procedure…this being something that was unlikely to happen again through good preparation…but I still was fearful. James rested my fears and after three successful sessions, my confidence has been restored in lasers.
Next week, I have my fourth laser appointment. A quick touch up on the face, and this time too, hair removal on my legs! Can you believe it ladies! Yes, you heard it. In about six months, I will no longer have to shave or wax! For those of you who are a fan of the Brazilian, they can actually laser in all those particular places as well eliminating the “grow in” period and the discomfort that can come with it. I mean really, don’t we all just really prefer to have smooth skin all the time? How great that we have an option now that eliminates any waiting time. Or the conversation in which he have to advise our honey, “Don’t touch me there for about 3 days because you’ll get pricked!” best timed with your cycle to eliminate any additional down time.
So wish me well! I am a little nervous to be thinking of laying there in all my splendor from the waist down bending and contorting in positions that you’d find in the book, “The Joy of Sex”. On the plus side, James, my esthetician is in love with a man, so having a male gay esthetician is comparable to have a female gynecologist. You know…they are not that into pussy, so you have no fear in putting the pussy out there.
Your Bed
For those of us who sleep alone, we have a choice.
For those of us who sleep with a loved one, we have an arrangement.
For those of us who sleep with a loved one, we have an arrangement.
Fetal - (curled into a ball) / Tough on the outside, soft on the inside
Soldier - (on back, arms at side) / Quiet individual with high standards
Starfish - (on back, arms leg stretched out) / Good listener doesn’t like attention
Freefall - (on belly, arms extended out) / Rough exterior, nervous, sensitive to criticism
Log - (on your side, arms at side) / Social and easy going
Yearner - (on your side, arms extended) / Suspicious and cynical
I normally sleep in the fetal position. My upper body is in the fetal position but my legs are extended. I also sleep in my bed solo and rather than sleeping in the middle of the bed, I sleep on the right side of the bed closest to the window. Occasionally, if I am having a restless night, I find comfort is laying diagonally across the bed. Almost always, I wake up in the middle of the night and remove any clothing. But I can’t fall asleep naked. I need to fall asleep with clothing on, and then wake up in the middle of the night and remove the clothing. Its comparable to the cool side of the pillow...for your body.
What position do you sleep in? Do you have any weird sleeping habits?
Starfish - (on back, arms leg stretched out) / Good listener doesn’t like attention
Freefall - (on belly, arms extended out) / Rough exterior, nervous, sensitive to criticism
Log - (on your side, arms at side) / Social and easy going
Yearner - (on your side, arms extended) / Suspicious and cynical
I normally sleep in the fetal position. My upper body is in the fetal position but my legs are extended. I also sleep in my bed solo and rather than sleeping in the middle of the bed, I sleep on the right side of the bed closest to the window. Occasionally, if I am having a restless night, I find comfort is laying diagonally across the bed. Almost always, I wake up in the middle of the night and remove any clothing. But I can’t fall asleep naked. I need to fall asleep with clothing on, and then wake up in the middle of the night and remove the clothing. Its comparable to the cool side of the pillow...for your body.
What position do you sleep in? Do you have any weird sleeping habits?
Wednesday, May 20
The Nose Knows
Do you believe in the healing powers of aromatherapy? I never did, until recently.
As a baby, my mother used to bathe me and then rub my body with baby powder scented lotion. This continued when I was a little girl. We had a routine, dinner, studies, bath and then mom would rub my legs, arms, belly and back with powder scented lotion. I would stand there in my day of the week undies, always wearing the right pair of undies on the right day of the week and she would massage the lotion into my skin.
As I grew into my pre-teens, I started doing the same. I used Avon’s Skin So Soft line which has the faint smell of powder and doubles as a mosquito repellent.
As I grew up into my teens, I began to stray from the powder scented lotions and explored with floral, vanilla and musk scents. An act I think subconsciously was me claiming my individuality! The musk reminding me of my mother. I continued doing this through my teens and into my twenties.
In my late twenties, when all my energy and efforts were focused on the healing of another, and the start of a new business, …I discontinued this morning ritual, justifying it by reminding myself than it took an extra 20 minutes and I just did not have the time.
Then I moved into my “minimalist” period where I wanted to feel and understand my skin and body in its purest form. I dare not alter my natural body scent by masking it with a heavy scented lotion.
Just recently, particularly after a few winters in Ohio, I was reminded of how although I could get away without using heavy body lotions in Miami (high humidity level), I could not get away with it in Ohio. The winters took a toll on my skin.
So I again, turned to the scented lotions of floral, vanilla and musk. I have enjoyed wearing them again, and laugh when I am reminded of a memory in which I was wearing the scent. In particular, the amazing sex I was having when I wore vanilla. It was the late 90’s when vanilla was really popular and he totally dug the scent. We used vanilla lotion everywhere! We washed our bodies in vanilla scrub, rubbed each others feet with vanilla body butter, gave each other massages with vanilla oil.
I have been toying with my signature scent for a few months now, and have realized that I do not want to have a signature scent. I want to change my scent each day, depending on my mood. Sometimes I use the vanilla. Sometimes the floral (usually Saturdays where I am outside in the sunshine a lot!). Occasionally the musk. I’ve also begun to occasionally use a scent that wrenches my heart because it was a scent I wore at a time that was very difficult for me. This I reserve for days when I am in deep.
Today, I am wearing Juicy Couture’s Viva La Juicy. I love it. Its enough to satisfy my sweet tooth, and so much so that I passed on adding sugar to my morning coffee. Second cup too!
I have been enjoying finding new scents and adding to my bathroom vanity a plethora of bottles in all different colored shapes and sizes. My vanity is beginning to look a bit crowded and cluttered, so now I am thinking I need to purchase plastic clear bottles that I can empty the lotions into…removing the stickers that allows me to decide what scent I want to wear by reading them, and forcing me to decide my scent by enjoying each one delightfully in the morning.
Aromatherapy does in fact have healing powers. I’ve added many powder scented lotions to my repertoire too, which of course, my beautiful 4 year old niece just LOVES to smell and wear!
As a baby, my mother used to bathe me and then rub my body with baby powder scented lotion. This continued when I was a little girl. We had a routine, dinner, studies, bath and then mom would rub my legs, arms, belly and back with powder scented lotion. I would stand there in my day of the week undies, always wearing the right pair of undies on the right day of the week and she would massage the lotion into my skin.
As I grew into my pre-teens, I started doing the same. I used Avon’s Skin So Soft line which has the faint smell of powder and doubles as a mosquito repellent.
As I grew up into my teens, I began to stray from the powder scented lotions and explored with floral, vanilla and musk scents. An act I think subconsciously was me claiming my individuality! The musk reminding me of my mother. I continued doing this through my teens and into my twenties.
In my late twenties, when all my energy and efforts were focused on the healing of another, and the start of a new business, …I discontinued this morning ritual, justifying it by reminding myself than it took an extra 20 minutes and I just did not have the time.
Then I moved into my “minimalist” period where I wanted to feel and understand my skin and body in its purest form. I dare not alter my natural body scent by masking it with a heavy scented lotion.
Just recently, particularly after a few winters in Ohio, I was reminded of how although I could get away without using heavy body lotions in Miami (high humidity level), I could not get away with it in Ohio. The winters took a toll on my skin.
So I again, turned to the scented lotions of floral, vanilla and musk. I have enjoyed wearing them again, and laugh when I am reminded of a memory in which I was wearing the scent. In particular, the amazing sex I was having when I wore vanilla. It was the late 90’s when vanilla was really popular and he totally dug the scent. We used vanilla lotion everywhere! We washed our bodies in vanilla scrub, rubbed each others feet with vanilla body butter, gave each other massages with vanilla oil.
I have been toying with my signature scent for a few months now, and have realized that I do not want to have a signature scent. I want to change my scent each day, depending on my mood. Sometimes I use the vanilla. Sometimes the floral (usually Saturdays where I am outside in the sunshine a lot!). Occasionally the musk. I’ve also begun to occasionally use a scent that wrenches my heart because it was a scent I wore at a time that was very difficult for me. This I reserve for days when I am in deep.
Today, I am wearing Juicy Couture’s Viva La Juicy. I love it. Its enough to satisfy my sweet tooth, and so much so that I passed on adding sugar to my morning coffee. Second cup too!
I have been enjoying finding new scents and adding to my bathroom vanity a plethora of bottles in all different colored shapes and sizes. My vanity is beginning to look a bit crowded and cluttered, so now I am thinking I need to purchase plastic clear bottles that I can empty the lotions into…removing the stickers that allows me to decide what scent I want to wear by reading them, and forcing me to decide my scent by enjoying each one delightfully in the morning.
Aromatherapy does in fact have healing powers. I’ve added many powder scented lotions to my repertoire too, which of course, my beautiful 4 year old niece just LOVES to smell and wear!
Tuesday, May 19
A Phillips Head Screwdriver, An Allen Wrench and a Masonry 5/16 Drill Bit
I was put on a mission. Go to Home Depot, and buy a drill bit. The American flag and flag pole had been bought and was ready for installation.
The conversation about where to put the flag (front porch / flanking garage left / flanking garage right) was useless. It began with, "Where do you want to hang this flag?" and ended with, "Do you really want to hang the flag there?". I am not sure why he asks where I think it should be hung, he is going to put it where he wants it anyways?
The instructions were specific masonry drill bit, 5/16 inch. The type of drill bit that could drill a hole into my brick home. The thought of this makes me cringe, but I felt a bit of relief while driving through my neighborhood and realizing that almost everyone had a flag pole holder installed just flanking their garage. Some drilled into beautiful stone, lessening my fear of drilling into the beautiful red brick.
My mom and I drove up to Home Depot, a store that is filled with testosterone and manly eye candy. "Why don't I visit here more often," I thought to myself...as I happily looked about at the handsome rugged tan men. The outdoor furniture positioned just at the front entrance. "Clever location", I think to myself as I pass it.
When you walk into a department store, you often see the husbands or boyfriends sitting in the chairs just outside the ladies fitting rooms, or leaning against the counter of the cash register area, waiting in pain and agony as their female counterpart shops for clothes. But at Home Depot, its the ladies that sit and wait for their men, and they sit on that outdoor furniture just at the front entrance, sitting pretty and enjoying the view. Nice how that works out for us ladies.
After we found the section where all the drill bits were located (how about my mom knew where they were!) we walked up to a wall, at least 18 feet in length covered in drill bits. I had no idea where to begin. When I walk into Marshall's or TJ Maxx, I can spot a pair of 7 for All Mankind jeans 500 feet away. But a masonry 5/16 inch drill bit just wasn't jumping out at me. I didn't even attempt.
In walks a middle aged man, who obviously knows his stuff. He walks over to the area, goes directly to the wall, and pulls down a drill bit and is about to make his merry way out.
I look at him and smile.
He tilts his head down, looks over his reading glasses, and says, "You having trouble?"
I respond, "Well, to say I was having trouble would mean I actually tried to look and find this thing. But I haven't".
He laughs and removes his reading glasses, putting his right thumb and forefinger to his chin, "What are you looking for?" He asks.
"I am looking for a masonry 5/16 drill bit." I respond.
He walks to the wall, pulls one down, and then says, "Wait, this other one might be a buck or two cheaper." And grabs the cheaper one.
"See how easy that is for you guys. I never could have found this thing." I tell him. "Thank you. You saved me about 45 minutes or arguing by ensuring I have the right drill bit."
He smiles and says, "No problem. Now you get out of here at don't be spending anymore money!"
A trip to Home Depot for a masonry drill bit $4.67
A good old boy reminding me not to spend too much money - priceless
The conversation about where to put the flag (front porch / flanking garage left / flanking garage right) was useless. It began with, "Where do you want to hang this flag?" and ended with, "Do you really want to hang the flag there?". I am not sure why he asks where I think it should be hung, he is going to put it where he wants it anyways?
The instructions were specific masonry drill bit, 5/16 inch. The type of drill bit that could drill a hole into my brick home. The thought of this makes me cringe, but I felt a bit of relief while driving through my neighborhood and realizing that almost everyone had a flag pole holder installed just flanking their garage. Some drilled into beautiful stone, lessening my fear of drilling into the beautiful red brick.
My mom and I drove up to Home Depot, a store that is filled with testosterone and manly eye candy. "Why don't I visit here more often," I thought to myself...as I happily looked about at the handsome rugged tan men. The outdoor furniture positioned just at the front entrance. "Clever location", I think to myself as I pass it.
When you walk into a department store, you often see the husbands or boyfriends sitting in the chairs just outside the ladies fitting rooms, or leaning against the counter of the cash register area, waiting in pain and agony as their female counterpart shops for clothes. But at Home Depot, its the ladies that sit and wait for their men, and they sit on that outdoor furniture just at the front entrance, sitting pretty and enjoying the view. Nice how that works out for us ladies.
After we found the section where all the drill bits were located (how about my mom knew where they were!) we walked up to a wall, at least 18 feet in length covered in drill bits. I had no idea where to begin. When I walk into Marshall's or TJ Maxx, I can spot a pair of 7 for All Mankind jeans 500 feet away. But a masonry 5/16 inch drill bit just wasn't jumping out at me. I didn't even attempt.
In walks a middle aged man, who obviously knows his stuff. He walks over to the area, goes directly to the wall, and pulls down a drill bit and is about to make his merry way out.
I look at him and smile.
He tilts his head down, looks over his reading glasses, and says, "You having trouble?"
I respond, "Well, to say I was having trouble would mean I actually tried to look and find this thing. But I haven't".
He laughs and removes his reading glasses, putting his right thumb and forefinger to his chin, "What are you looking for?" He asks.
"I am looking for a masonry 5/16 drill bit." I respond.
He walks to the wall, pulls one down, and then says, "Wait, this other one might be a buck or two cheaper." And grabs the cheaper one.
"See how easy that is for you guys. I never could have found this thing." I tell him. "Thank you. You saved me about 45 minutes or arguing by ensuring I have the right drill bit."
He smiles and says, "No problem. Now you get out of here at don't be spending anymore money!"
A trip to Home Depot for a masonry drill bit $4.67
A good old boy reminding me not to spend too much money - priceless
Monday, May 18
Inspiration
I have been eagerly seeking a new source of inspiration since I moved from the ‘social service’ aspect of healthcare and into finance. My previous career allowed me the opportunity to work with the less fortunate, something that after time became tireless as the number of those looking for freebies, often outweighed those that were taking advantage of free healthcare because they truly needed it; as in transitional help.
This past weekend on DateLine, I was inspiried by a woman who has devoted her life to fighting for women’s rights and maybe possibly, rights equal to a man in the country of Afghanistan. A feat some would say is an endless battle.
I was intrigued by the woman, not just for her crusade, but also because her motiviation was from a personal experience of being raped at a young age. What bothered her most about the opressed woman in the country is how often woman are raped and then in a excruciating mental way; punished by their male counterparts for being raped; punishment often resulting in death by beating, suggesting it was her actions which prompted a rapists sexual promiscuity. Disgust.
During her entire interview she was rock solid, even when challenged with the most difficult of questions (the most difficult Ann Curry can muster, which often times when its female interviewees can be tough). She did not waiver one bit. However, when Ann brought to this woman her source of motivation, and her 4 year old daughter, even a woman of her strength couldn’t resist the emotional overload.
As a victim of rape, I find great strength and inspiration in women who have the courage to celebrate their misfortune to the benefit of others. I celebrate this woman’s strength to stand up, own her past, declare her future and her daughter’s future, and fight to make a difference.
Maybe if I get involved in a rape victim group for young girls in Cleveland, I too can make a difference. This documentary on DateLine touched me so deeply, that I have found the strength to share in an open forum, that this too has happened to me. There is no greater feeling of self satisfaction that doing something for the greater good.
Click here to read or watch this inspiring story:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/30798316/
This past weekend on DateLine, I was inspiried by a woman who has devoted her life to fighting for women’s rights and maybe possibly, rights equal to a man in the country of Afghanistan. A feat some would say is an endless battle.
I was intrigued by the woman, not just for her crusade, but also because her motiviation was from a personal experience of being raped at a young age. What bothered her most about the opressed woman in the country is how often woman are raped and then in a excruciating mental way; punished by their male counterparts for being raped; punishment often resulting in death by beating, suggesting it was her actions which prompted a rapists sexual promiscuity. Disgust.
During her entire interview she was rock solid, even when challenged with the most difficult of questions (the most difficult Ann Curry can muster, which often times when its female interviewees can be tough). She did not waiver one bit. However, when Ann brought to this woman her source of motivation, and her 4 year old daughter, even a woman of her strength couldn’t resist the emotional overload.
As a victim of rape, I find great strength and inspiration in women who have the courage to celebrate their misfortune to the benefit of others. I celebrate this woman’s strength to stand up, own her past, declare her future and her daughter’s future, and fight to make a difference.
Maybe if I get involved in a rape victim group for young girls in Cleveland, I too can make a difference. This documentary on DateLine touched me so deeply, that I have found the strength to share in an open forum, that this too has happened to me. There is no greater feeling of self satisfaction that doing something for the greater good.
Click here to read or watch this inspiring story:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/30798316/
Tuesday, May 12
My Conservative Filled Weekend
My weekend began with a 12 hour course for a conceal carry weapon permit. Although I had been thinking about taking this class, for no other than security reasons, I knew I would never take it unless my “American Dad” brother tagged along. You see, its not that I am intimidated by a class of men who drive pick up trucks with NRA stickers all about the window on the back of the cab, it’s that I was afraid that one of them might really annoy me and I’d shoot them. Can I trust myself with a gun?
Deciding to have a gun within reach at any given moment in which you feel your life might be in danger comes with a boatload of responsibility. I mean, you don’t want to go and shoot anyone for just no good reason, and you definitely do not want to shoot anyone in the back. Not to mention you have to take careful precautions that your weapon is not stolen. You see, that would be my luck, the gun is stolen and used in the robbery of a gas station and the attendant shot and killed. Thankfully, however, they got away with beef jerky and cheese puffs so it was worth it. I intend to collect my reward.
Aside from being in a class with 25 men, all of whom sported moustaches and 1 other woman who also sported a moustache, the room stunk and the instructor was from the NRA. I knew my day was going to be rocking!
The woman and man, who hosted the event in the wooded cabin, were likely the kind that kept shotguns above their fireplace. And this wasn’t to keep the gun warm in the winter; they really just believed that the gun looked nice over the fireplace. This decoration much better than family photos or a painting. But I will have to say, they did make a mean bad ass chili dog. I just wish I had a Bud Light too.
We started at 7am and were firing our guns by 9am. I was a bit skeptical of those around me.
You see, the 2 hours of instructional were not enough for me to feel safe around the others who sported large revolvers or semi automatics.
We shot from 20 feet away; our targets were 9 inch paper plates. I shot 50 rounds from a 40 caliber glock, and hit the plate 42 times. My nickname for the class was “Blondie” and I was invited to the front of the class several times to do demonstrations. The instructor was nice enough, but he tried to trick me and even tried to intimidate me once.
After our class on Saturday, I found myself watching, “Rendition”. This is a fantastic movie about the capture of an Egyptian traveling business man who is charged with being involved in the attempted murder of a well known interrogator and torturer in North Africa. The attempted murder conducted Jihad style by a young man sacrificing his body, the young man coincidentally linked to the interrogators daughter, an act of revenge as the interrogator killed the young man’s brother. The movie was the kind of movie that keeps you on the edge of your seat, and the CIA leadership was relentless in holding the man traveling responsible, but not because there was any solid evidence, but rather because the needed to assure the people from a foreign affairs perspective that the offender had been captured.
Sunday, I started my morning with, “Meet the Press” and found David Gregory and a handful of conservative analyst, give their opinion and feedback on the interviews of the President of Afghanistan and the President of Pakistan. I don’t dare type their names as I am certain the Federal spyware will catch their names on my blog and I will be shipped to Afghanistan to be held prisoner, beaten, possibly beheaded.
I have decided to obtain the permit for the CCW license. What I intend to do is to be sure I can protect myself in the event I am put in a situation that I am unable to deal with, without the threat of death to someone. I hope that I am never put into this position, but if I am, I will shoot and I will hit my target.
Deciding to have a gun within reach at any given moment in which you feel your life might be in danger comes with a boatload of responsibility. I mean, you don’t want to go and shoot anyone for just no good reason, and you definitely do not want to shoot anyone in the back. Not to mention you have to take careful precautions that your weapon is not stolen. You see, that would be my luck, the gun is stolen and used in the robbery of a gas station and the attendant shot and killed. Thankfully, however, they got away with beef jerky and cheese puffs so it was worth it. I intend to collect my reward.
Aside from being in a class with 25 men, all of whom sported moustaches and 1 other woman who also sported a moustache, the room stunk and the instructor was from the NRA. I knew my day was going to be rocking!
The woman and man, who hosted the event in the wooded cabin, were likely the kind that kept shotguns above their fireplace. And this wasn’t to keep the gun warm in the winter; they really just believed that the gun looked nice over the fireplace. This decoration much better than family photos or a painting. But I will have to say, they did make a mean bad ass chili dog. I just wish I had a Bud Light too.
We started at 7am and were firing our guns by 9am. I was a bit skeptical of those around me.
You see, the 2 hours of instructional were not enough for me to feel safe around the others who sported large revolvers or semi automatics.
We shot from 20 feet away; our targets were 9 inch paper plates. I shot 50 rounds from a 40 caliber glock, and hit the plate 42 times. My nickname for the class was “Blondie” and I was invited to the front of the class several times to do demonstrations. The instructor was nice enough, but he tried to trick me and even tried to intimidate me once.
After our class on Saturday, I found myself watching, “Rendition”. This is a fantastic movie about the capture of an Egyptian traveling business man who is charged with being involved in the attempted murder of a well known interrogator and torturer in North Africa. The attempted murder conducted Jihad style by a young man sacrificing his body, the young man coincidentally linked to the interrogators daughter, an act of revenge as the interrogator killed the young man’s brother. The movie was the kind of movie that keeps you on the edge of your seat, and the CIA leadership was relentless in holding the man traveling responsible, but not because there was any solid evidence, but rather because the needed to assure the people from a foreign affairs perspective that the offender had been captured.
Sunday, I started my morning with, “Meet the Press” and found David Gregory and a handful of conservative analyst, give their opinion and feedback on the interviews of the President of Afghanistan and the President of Pakistan. I don’t dare type their names as I am certain the Federal spyware will catch their names on my blog and I will be shipped to Afghanistan to be held prisoner, beaten, possibly beheaded.
I have decided to obtain the permit for the CCW license. What I intend to do is to be sure I can protect myself in the event I am put in a situation that I am unable to deal with, without the threat of death to someone. I hope that I am never put into this position, but if I am, I will shoot and I will hit my target.
Friday, May 8
Happy Mother's Day
It is finally Friday and it has been a crazy week indeed! My home which was once preoccupied by one, now has two; and when blessed with a visit from my niece and nephew, four; add nani and papa and it quickly becomes six! The house is filled with laughter and activity and nothing fills my heart more.
This evening is my spa evening. I am looking forward to tonight and the relaxation of highlights, cut, mani and pedi...and am excited to see how my hair comes out. Still today, I struggle with deciding whether to get just a trim or cutting my hair short to the chin. The bob cut would be easier to maintain and frame my face nicely, but I am afraid Ill regret it and miss the length I have now.
Tomorrow, my brother and I are attending a 12 hour course to earn a permit to carry a concealed weapon. I have wanted to get this permit so that when I am in the house alone, I feel more protected. The responsibility also comes with a lot of safety check features. So I have purchased a storage system in the home that will lock the gun. Ill store it a safe spot that is also easily accessible from my bed at night. I think its also time to install the home alarm system.
Sunday is Mother's Day. This is the day that we will honor our mothers and what they have meant to us. For some it will be church, maybe brunch, flowers, small gifts, or perhaps for those that are not able to celebrate in person, a phone call. For those who have said goodbye, a prayer to their mother who has passed, and her spirit risen. Whatever the circumstance, we will celebrate that our mothers gave us life, and brought us into the world, and each of us has a piece of her within us.
Our family will have mom over and cook out. The menu will be mom's favorite meal. Filet mignon, twice baked potatoes and asparagus. She will sip a glass of Kendall Jackson Chardonnay which is her favorite.
Whatever your weekend brings upon you...ENJOY! Happy Friday fellow bloggers, and have a splendid weekend.
The white rose picture is a gift to my mom. White rose is her favorite flower.
This evening is my spa evening. I am looking forward to tonight and the relaxation of highlights, cut, mani and pedi...and am excited to see how my hair comes out. Still today, I struggle with deciding whether to get just a trim or cutting my hair short to the chin. The bob cut would be easier to maintain and frame my face nicely, but I am afraid Ill regret it and miss the length I have now.
Tomorrow, my brother and I are attending a 12 hour course to earn a permit to carry a concealed weapon. I have wanted to get this permit so that when I am in the house alone, I feel more protected. The responsibility also comes with a lot of safety check features. So I have purchased a storage system in the home that will lock the gun. Ill store it a safe spot that is also easily accessible from my bed at night. I think its also time to install the home alarm system.
Sunday is Mother's Day. This is the day that we will honor our mothers and what they have meant to us. For some it will be church, maybe brunch, flowers, small gifts, or perhaps for those that are not able to celebrate in person, a phone call. For those who have said goodbye, a prayer to their mother who has passed, and her spirit risen. Whatever the circumstance, we will celebrate that our mothers gave us life, and brought us into the world, and each of us has a piece of her within us.
Our family will have mom over and cook out. The menu will be mom's favorite meal. Filet mignon, twice baked potatoes and asparagus. She will sip a glass of Kendall Jackson Chardonnay which is her favorite.
Whatever your weekend brings upon you...ENJOY! Happy Friday fellow bloggers, and have a splendid weekend.
The white rose picture is a gift to my mom. White rose is her favorite flower.
Thursday, May 7
The Move
So it was raining cats and dogs yesterday afternoon and all evening in Cleveland. I took delivery of a StairMaster shortly after 4pm. My brother was making his way from Little Rock, AR to North Ridgeville, OH.He was supposed to arrive about 9pm. But 9pm turned into 10:45pm because of the weather. When he called to let me know he would be late, I could hear the tension in his voice.
After my StairMaster was delivered I changed the sheets in Jeff’s bedroom, dusted, vacuumed, lit a candle and added a few extra pillows for comfort. I also cleaned his bathroom, brought him fresh towels and added a few extra features in the bathroom I knew we would like. A stainless holder for his q-tips. A cup for his toothbrush. A soap dispenser for hand soap. Aveda lotion for his hands.
I went to the grocery store and filled my cart full. My normal quick trip turned into a full grocery shopping hour. Jeff will have his kids over often. Juice boxes, fresh fruits and vegetables, chicken, beef, milk, yogurt…and all the good healthy things that kids love to snack on. I stocked up so it doesn’t feel like we are running to the grocery store constantly.
When I came home, I emptied the groceries into the fridge, freezer and cupboards, ridding the fridge of any leftovers from his last stay.
After, I tested my StairMaster by taking it for a 20 minute spin. It felt really good to get sweaty; my calves, hips and thighs burned. Today my legs are tight. I can already tell I am going to love the convenience of a piece of cardio equipment in my home. I like when my body feels sore from a good workout. I sleep better and feel better in my skin. Must be the endorphins fueling my muscles.
Jeff pulled in with his truck and U-Haul full of his things. I could tell when he got out of the truck that this was tough for him. You see, the eight other times he has come home from an assigned training base, he had headed to his colonial home where his wife and children live. But this time was different. He was coming home to an uncertain future. A life change that would cause any man, even the strongest to feel sad. He’s is very tough on himself and takes a lot of the responsibility for the marriage not working, perhaps too much. But he’s not ready to talk about that.
I gave him a big hug when he got home. Welcomed him home. He was anxious to get the U-Hual unpacked and get settled.
“So do I just jump in and start grabbing stuff or do I wait for orders?” I asked, saluting him acknowledging his military rank. He visited Iraq four times, and deserves the rank.
He turned towards me, smiled wide and said, “Well wait for orders of course!” and chuckled.
So we started to unpack the back of his truck first. Lots of bags of clothes, endless flight suits and pairs of black boots, one by one going into his bedroom. Then his kitchen items, his office items, his gym room items, his bathroom items, his storage items. The house was becoming more full with each trip.
He was worried about bringing things into the house – most likely because my decorating style is very minimalist. He was being sensitive to the fact that I don’t like a lot of ‘stuff’ in my decor. I assured him his things in my home were fine, and that he was welcome to bring all his comforts into his new home.
“Jeff”, I said to him. “I want you to think of this as your home. There is no separation in what is mine and what is yours. Fill the place full with all the things that are familiar and make it your own.”
“I appreciate that.” He replied. “I just don’t want to bring a bunch of shit into your house.”
“Actually, I think its good for me to have a change of environment. I have gotten way to comfortable and set in my ways for such a young age.” I chuckled.
He replied in a joking matter, “Young? Is that what you think we are? Young?”
“Ok, get all of your shit out now.” I replied. The appropriate answer for him teasing me about my age! As if! We both laughed.
We unloaded his motorcycle. That was a feat indeed. There is me in my jeans, tennis shoes and white tshirt. Of course, this was a more of a ceremony than necessary. Can’t scratch it, can’t move it too hard, rock it easy, get it on the plank and roll it down safely, can’t let the speed mess us up nor can we let it stray from the narrow path of the plank and fall. Alright, maybe not more of a ceremony than necessary but since I do not receive the same sensitivity when picking out shoes, I can criticize.
I was so nervous that I didn’t end up helping because I was laughing too insanely out of control. You see, I have a really bad habit of laughing at inappropriate times when I am nervous. When I was a little girl, I would laugh and pull up my knee socks at the same time. Now I just laugh, because knee socks are no longer in fashion. At least not in public.
“Hard to believe we both have jobs and can take care of ourselves. I mean, we can’t even get a damn motorcycle out of a U-Haul.” I said.
“For real Angela! We can’t get it out because you aren’t helping. You are just standing there laughing. Get your ass over here and pull!” He was joking.
I stood there looking at him with a look making sure I was telling him there was no way in hell I would stand for that!
“Don’t give me that look.” he apologetically replied.
“Say your sorry.” I insisted.
“What, are we 10 years old?” He questioned.
“Well, if you had apologized when we were 10 years old, maybe I wouldn’t be asking you to apologize now” I said in a snotty manner, folding my arms over my chest and turning my head to the side. I was so proud of my comeback but it was so lame.
“Sorry.” He said.
“You’re not forgiven.” I replied.
Then we both laughed and finally got the damn motorcycle off the U-Haul, the final tribute to his move. We celebrated the end of the move and his welcome home by making nachos. Tostitos scoops with melted colby jack and salsa, and sipped diet dr. peppers (with cherry).
I arranged the furniture so the largest sitting chair, which is most comfy, sits directly in front of the tv, paired with a large round end table and lamp for him to do his paperwork. Its positioned it next to the fireplace and a window. I think he will like the comfy little space in the main living area that will be just for him. He nestled into that seat farily quickly, taking claim of it knowing full well I created the space for him. There was no need to acknowledge. I knew how much he appreciated it, as much as he knew how I appreciated him bringing home a dozen bottles of red wine!
Today he is with the kids, a treat for him indeed. Nothing brings him greater joy that being with his children. The juice boxes, snack packs and fruit will all have been enjoyed by those precious little treasures. And I assure you without any doubt, I will come home and there will be an American flag hanging on the front porch.
Welcome Home Jeff!
Wednesday, May 6
Welcome Home Mi Brosher
Today, my older brother is moving in with me. Life circumstances have taken him in a new direction and as a result, we are ‘shacking up’ for the next year.
I have never officially lived with someone. I spent 4 months in the same apartment with an ex-boyfriend once. But that wasn’t the kind of living arrangement that one would think of when saying you have lived with someone. You see, he was addicted to cocaine and I was there to help support his recovery. I grew up so much in those few short months.
My brother has been slowing moving-in over the past 3 months. He travels a lot because of his work, so he’s spent a few weeks at my house already. His room is kind of set up. He needs some furniture, but his presence is enough that I feel a bit safer. I’ve tried to tend to his needs as best I can but he likes his privacy.
My brother is the social-lite of the century. He goes out often, has lots of friends and is always the life of the party. I am much more introverted that Jeff. I do not go out nearly as often, nor do I have as many friends as he does. This brings me much happiness as I am looking forward to being a part of his life more.
There is only a two year difference between Jeff and I. He will be turning 34, I will be turning 32. As a little girl, he teased me to tears often. I loved it.
I can remember fondly when my parents went out, and we had a babysitter, we would play pranks on the babysitter. There was a cubby space behind the coat closet at the front door. It was a pantry converted into a crawl space. It also had access to a sliding panel door between the main hallway and the kitchen. Jeff would tell the babysitter he had to go to the bathroom, pretend he was going upstairs, and sneak into the crawl space. He would bang on the wall, and move the sliding panel door and the babysitter would freak out. She had no idea where the noise was coming from or who was making the noise. I supported his evilness by telling the babysitter that it was just a known fact that we had a ghost in our house. I would caution the babysitter not to make the ghost mad, telling her it was the spirit of a young boy who was shot in our basement. The part about a young man being shot in our basement is true. But there was no ghost, or at least no ghost that I was aware of.
Another fond memory was how we used to play WWF wrestling. He would be Rowdy Rowdy Piper (he has red hair) I would be Hulk Hogan (I had blond hair – no female wrestlers in those days to admire). We would stuff pillows up our shirts and take position at either end of the room. We would run at each other full speed and knock into each other, the pillows throwing us back across the room upon impact. We would laugh hysterically, get up and do it again…over and over and over.
We also liked to play records on my dad’s record player. That was until I frisbee’d the Billy Joel record across the room at my brother when he teased me and the record shattered. Dad put a stop to our record listening when I made that mistake. That was the day I thought Billy Joel died. Turns out,he didn’t. But my brain was making some sort of weird connection that upon shattering his record, I had killed him.
Then of course, there was the time we played church. We were raised Catholic. Attending church each Sunday in our best clothes and attended parochial school where each room was crowned with a cross just above the entryway. The cross always had Jesus nailed to it, and blood dripping. I would usher myself quickly through the doorway, thinking the blood might drip on me. Jeff would always be the priest and I would be the nun. We would smoosh bread into a mini host, imprinting the cross and it and use red kool-aid for wine. We used our parents wedding bible to read scripture. Turns out the glass coffee table couldn’t support the impact of the bible and it shattered into a million pieces.
Then of course, there was the time the tree fell down and we tried to use the chainsaw to cut the tree and stack the wood before dad got home. It’s a wonder we are still alive.
Although I am very nervous about not having a lot of time to myself, I must say that I welcome my brother home with a lot of excitement and anticipation. One thing is for sure. My house will be hustling and bustling with activity…kids, friends, parties.
My brother earned the nickname “Krusty” in military flight school. To save him some face (for sure I will post pictures of his hilariousness this summer to embarrass the hell out of him), I won’t share with you how we got that name, but rest assured, it will be the “Summer of Krusty 2009”, making good on my #9 New Years Resolution no doubt.
My brother just called, to tell me how his drive from the south to the north is going. To give you an idea of his personality and sense of humor, he left me a 5 minute message, titled, “The Joy of Sirius Radio – Playboy Style”. I guess the playboy channel on Sirius Satellite radio comes highly recommended from my brother. This shortly after I realized last night that my brother set my TV to default to the Fox News network when I turn it on. You see, my political views sit a bit more left than my brother. Sigh, I do love it!
Wish me luck and wish me fun!
I have never officially lived with someone. I spent 4 months in the same apartment with an ex-boyfriend once. But that wasn’t the kind of living arrangement that one would think of when saying you have lived with someone. You see, he was addicted to cocaine and I was there to help support his recovery. I grew up so much in those few short months.
My brother has been slowing moving-in over the past 3 months. He travels a lot because of his work, so he’s spent a few weeks at my house already. His room is kind of set up. He needs some furniture, but his presence is enough that I feel a bit safer. I’ve tried to tend to his needs as best I can but he likes his privacy.
My brother is the social-lite of the century. He goes out often, has lots of friends and is always the life of the party. I am much more introverted that Jeff. I do not go out nearly as often, nor do I have as many friends as he does. This brings me much happiness as I am looking forward to being a part of his life more.
There is only a two year difference between Jeff and I. He will be turning 34, I will be turning 32. As a little girl, he teased me to tears often. I loved it.
I can remember fondly when my parents went out, and we had a babysitter, we would play pranks on the babysitter. There was a cubby space behind the coat closet at the front door. It was a pantry converted into a crawl space. It also had access to a sliding panel door between the main hallway and the kitchen. Jeff would tell the babysitter he had to go to the bathroom, pretend he was going upstairs, and sneak into the crawl space. He would bang on the wall, and move the sliding panel door and the babysitter would freak out. She had no idea where the noise was coming from or who was making the noise. I supported his evilness by telling the babysitter that it was just a known fact that we had a ghost in our house. I would caution the babysitter not to make the ghost mad, telling her it was the spirit of a young boy who was shot in our basement. The part about a young man being shot in our basement is true. But there was no ghost, or at least no ghost that I was aware of.
Another fond memory was how we used to play WWF wrestling. He would be Rowdy Rowdy Piper (he has red hair) I would be Hulk Hogan (I had blond hair – no female wrestlers in those days to admire). We would stuff pillows up our shirts and take position at either end of the room. We would run at each other full speed and knock into each other, the pillows throwing us back across the room upon impact. We would laugh hysterically, get up and do it again…over and over and over.
We also liked to play records on my dad’s record player. That was until I frisbee’d the Billy Joel record across the room at my brother when he teased me and the record shattered. Dad put a stop to our record listening when I made that mistake. That was the day I thought Billy Joel died. Turns out,he didn’t. But my brain was making some sort of weird connection that upon shattering his record, I had killed him.
Then of course, there was the time we played church. We were raised Catholic. Attending church each Sunday in our best clothes and attended parochial school where each room was crowned with a cross just above the entryway. The cross always had Jesus nailed to it, and blood dripping. I would usher myself quickly through the doorway, thinking the blood might drip on me. Jeff would always be the priest and I would be the nun. We would smoosh bread into a mini host, imprinting the cross and it and use red kool-aid for wine. We used our parents wedding bible to read scripture. Turns out the glass coffee table couldn’t support the impact of the bible and it shattered into a million pieces.
Then of course, there was the time the tree fell down and we tried to use the chainsaw to cut the tree and stack the wood before dad got home. It’s a wonder we are still alive.
Although I am very nervous about not having a lot of time to myself, I must say that I welcome my brother home with a lot of excitement and anticipation. One thing is for sure. My house will be hustling and bustling with activity…kids, friends, parties.
My brother earned the nickname “Krusty” in military flight school. To save him some face (for sure I will post pictures of his hilariousness this summer to embarrass the hell out of him), I won’t share with you how we got that name, but rest assured, it will be the “Summer of Krusty 2009”, making good on my #9 New Years Resolution no doubt.
My brother just called, to tell me how his drive from the south to the north is going. To give you an idea of his personality and sense of humor, he left me a 5 minute message, titled, “The Joy of Sirius Radio – Playboy Style”. I guess the playboy channel on Sirius Satellite radio comes highly recommended from my brother. This shortly after I realized last night that my brother set my TV to default to the Fox News network when I turn it on. You see, my political views sit a bit more left than my brother. Sigh, I do love it!
Wish me luck and wish me fun!
Tuesday, May 5
Congratulations King James
Lebron James was named NBA’s, “Most Valuable Player” for the 2009 season.
Lebron joins the ranks of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (x6), Michael Jordan (x5), Kobe Bryant and Shaquille O’Neal, and joins at a ripe age.
My junior year of high school, my basketball team went to states. We won states by one point, a shot from the top of the key at the buzzer – no shit. It was insane. I still have the memorabilia…the bus ride into the little town of Avon Lake was a site to see as we drove down State Route 83. The experience of bringing our community together was one I will never forget.
Lebron, in true fashion, celebrated his award by visiting his high school alma-mater, St. Vincent – St. Mary in Akron, Ohio to share his honor and perhaps, provide hope to impressionable youngings who desire to be just like the “King”.
The city of Akron is just a short drive from Cleveland, as is where Lebron grew up. Lebron, among much skepticism and fear of fleeing to New York (which is where I think he will end up after bringing a championship to Cleveland) has remained loyal to the cities of Akron and Cleveland, both in a severe economic depression with much less to offer than the likes of New York or LA.
Today I say congratulations to Lebron, and thank you! Thank you for donating bicycles to children and local police forces; thank you for donating resources and time to clean up our parks and the flats; thank you for being an inspiration to youth; thank you for respecting your mother; and thank you for reminding the world that Cleveland does exist. Maybe, just maybe, Cleveland is not the “Mistake On The Lake”.
Lebron joins the ranks of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (x6), Michael Jordan (x5), Kobe Bryant and Shaquille O’Neal, and joins at a ripe age.
My junior year of high school, my basketball team went to states. We won states by one point, a shot from the top of the key at the buzzer – no shit. It was insane. I still have the memorabilia…the bus ride into the little town of Avon Lake was a site to see as we drove down State Route 83. The experience of bringing our community together was one I will never forget.
Lebron, in true fashion, celebrated his award by visiting his high school alma-mater, St. Vincent – St. Mary in Akron, Ohio to share his honor and perhaps, provide hope to impressionable youngings who desire to be just like the “King”.
The city of Akron is just a short drive from Cleveland, as is where Lebron grew up. Lebron, among much skepticism and fear of fleeing to New York (which is where I think he will end up after bringing a championship to Cleveland) has remained loyal to the cities of Akron and Cleveland, both in a severe economic depression with much less to offer than the likes of New York or LA.
Today I say congratulations to Lebron, and thank you! Thank you for donating bicycles to children and local police forces; thank you for donating resources and time to clean up our parks and the flats; thank you for being an inspiration to youth; thank you for respecting your mother; and thank you for reminding the world that Cleveland does exist. Maybe, just maybe, Cleveland is not the “Mistake On The Lake”.
Monday, May 4
Real Housewives of Cleveland
This past weekend, I got tied up watching the show, “Real Housewives of New York.” This show is hilarious beyond any comprehension. Women with lots of money; some self made, some marriage made, some old money; and women with lots of time equals a whole lot of drama.
What I like most about this show however, is not the drama, but the fashion including make-up, jewelry, clothing and accessories. I especially took a liking to Bethenny who is single, successful, and desperately trying to find Mr. Right.
This show is like a reality “Sex In the City”; perhaps giving those of us who are single a bit more hope than our old HBO show, because its real life, not fiction.
Outside of being inspired as to how best start rebuilding my wardrobe, I have been motivated by the power of these women. Not power in the sense of influencing others, but power in the sense of themselves.
There is not one single thing a woman who believes in herself can not accomplish.
Friday, May 1
Spring Has Sprung – And It’s Here to Stay
Spring has sprung in Cleveland and from the weather forecast it looks like it is here to stay. I relish these warms days in Cleveland because there are so few. Not to mention the sunshine! Oh how I love the sunshine!
My weekend is getting off to a great start. I’ve had a productive week, even considering I’ve only been in the office four days this week.
As a bonus, my car dealership called. Seems that when they re-certified my car, they did not complete the paperwork. They did the maintenance (or so they say) but forgot to complete the paperwork…so it was taken in for maintenance today as a precaution. This is a bonus because Ill be able to go another 12k before service. This will save a few bucks and the car will come back clean. I love to wash my car but since I have a full weekend, I'm looking forward to the extra time. I love this dealership, and a commercial spot may be in my future.
I had planned on sneaking away to Miami with my older brother for the weekend. Circumstances were such that it would have not been the best choice but I was tempted. Mom went in for minor knee surgery today and with the swine flu and all, its safe to say travel is not the best option. My lure to Miami was two fold, great weather and great company, but alas, plans have been cancelled. Perhaps another time soon. I was looking forward to his scent again, so clean, so manly, a bit musky.
Instead, Ill tinker around the house and visit mom and dad. The front door needs a second coat of paint, as do the shutters. My home needs landscaping attention (I have no idea what the hell I am paying for) but instead I feel the urge to go shopping and buy clothes. Intense workouts are a given. I will tend to the laundry, visit the cleaners, maybe even steam clean the carpets. Prepare the office for the desk delivery, wash the wood floors, maybe install the kitchen and bathroom cabinet hardware.
I may even pick up canvas and acrylic paint and attempt a piece for the bathroom. I was inspired by a fish painting last weekend. I’ve always been a fan of muted earth tones for interior décor; wondering how to best incorporate splashes of color into my home. I saw a few quirky fish pieces last weekend, that were loud with color. At first glance it was confusing, but as you looked closer it was soothing, almost a bit comical. I wanted to look at them longer to study them, but did not have the chance, so the inspiration was fleeting. Thinking of those paintings makes me laugh. Having the canvas and acrylic and the faint memory will determine if my creativity can flow. Lily likes fish and the guest bathroom has a beach theme. Sand dollars and shells from our trips to Emerald Isle are about…all hand picked by that curious little girl. Ill make the fish bright blue, black and white with a bright yellow fin. The last piece I was inspired by came from my brother and sister in laws home. A Pablo Neruda poem demonstrated as a bold art piece.
The farmers market at Crocker Park makes its debut this weekend. Fresh veggies, fruits and flowers will be abundant. The Park comes alive with color and the hustle and bustle of people. I think Ill make vegetable skewers on the grill, slather them with a tomato sauce, sprinkle them with cinnamon and add some white rice; pairing it with a pinot grigio.
Its going to be a good weekend, I can feel it.
Happy Friday fellow bloggers. Enjoy the weekend time with your special someone or yourself!
My weekend is getting off to a great start. I’ve had a productive week, even considering I’ve only been in the office four days this week.
As a bonus, my car dealership called. Seems that when they re-certified my car, they did not complete the paperwork. They did the maintenance (or so they say) but forgot to complete the paperwork…so it was taken in for maintenance today as a precaution. This is a bonus because Ill be able to go another 12k before service. This will save a few bucks and the car will come back clean. I love to wash my car but since I have a full weekend, I'm looking forward to the extra time. I love this dealership, and a commercial spot may be in my future.
I had planned on sneaking away to Miami with my older brother for the weekend. Circumstances were such that it would have not been the best choice but I was tempted. Mom went in for minor knee surgery today and with the swine flu and all, its safe to say travel is not the best option. My lure to Miami was two fold, great weather and great company, but alas, plans have been cancelled. Perhaps another time soon. I was looking forward to his scent again, so clean, so manly, a bit musky.
Instead, Ill tinker around the house and visit mom and dad. The front door needs a second coat of paint, as do the shutters. My home needs landscaping attention (I have no idea what the hell I am paying for) but instead I feel the urge to go shopping and buy clothes. Intense workouts are a given. I will tend to the laundry, visit the cleaners, maybe even steam clean the carpets. Prepare the office for the desk delivery, wash the wood floors, maybe install the kitchen and bathroom cabinet hardware.
I may even pick up canvas and acrylic paint and attempt a piece for the bathroom. I was inspired by a fish painting last weekend. I’ve always been a fan of muted earth tones for interior décor; wondering how to best incorporate splashes of color into my home. I saw a few quirky fish pieces last weekend, that were loud with color. At first glance it was confusing, but as you looked closer it was soothing, almost a bit comical. I wanted to look at them longer to study them, but did not have the chance, so the inspiration was fleeting. Thinking of those paintings makes me laugh. Having the canvas and acrylic and the faint memory will determine if my creativity can flow. Lily likes fish and the guest bathroom has a beach theme. Sand dollars and shells from our trips to Emerald Isle are about…all hand picked by that curious little girl. Ill make the fish bright blue, black and white with a bright yellow fin. The last piece I was inspired by came from my brother and sister in laws home. A Pablo Neruda poem demonstrated as a bold art piece.
The farmers market at Crocker Park makes its debut this weekend. Fresh veggies, fruits and flowers will be abundant. The Park comes alive with color and the hustle and bustle of people. I think Ill make vegetable skewers on the grill, slather them with a tomato sauce, sprinkle them with cinnamon and add some white rice; pairing it with a pinot grigio.
Its going to be a good weekend, I can feel it.
Happy Friday fellow bloggers. Enjoy the weekend time with your special someone or yourself!
Thursday, April 30
Committing One Of My Greatest Sins
There are times in life when you commit a major sin; demonstrating conduct that is not becoming to the human race. Sometimes when you commit those sins, even though you know full well that you should not be, you are incapable of disciplining yourself to stop.They are perhaps, the types of sins that give you the utmost pleasure and an equal amount of shame. The human psyche complex enough to give your conscious full permission to focus on the good and not the evil.
You stand there in a full length mirror, looking deep within yourself. Gesturing to the right and to the left as you have conversations with your angel-self and your devil-self sitting on your shoulder. A quick flick of your thumb and forefinger and your angel-self, adorning a halo and gold sandals, flies across the room, hitting the wall and falling dead to the ground. You have ushered your angel-self from your soul. “Who needs a conscious”, you chuckle to yourself.
Its only a matter of time that it will catch up with you. You begin to allow yourself to think about the consequences….but not long enough to truly realize or embrace. Its too hard to take it that far, because it feels too good. You give yourself full permission to continue, falling victim to the ‘wrongs’ you’ve had in life as motivation that you deserve it. Mother was right, two wrongs never make a right.
You walk around, living a secret. Most likely a sin or shame that you dare not share with another. Or if you do, its only with those that you know don’t really give a fuck about you, because they won’t pester you.
You catch glimpses of yourself in the mirror, you saw yourself as once beautiful but now what you see are the imperfections and ugliness. Its coming from within and exuding through your appearance. You scrutinize others to the same degree. When the hell did you become so judgemental?
You walk with an air of superiority because your insecurity is so great.
Any psychologist will tell you that a character representation that is prominent is typically a front to the complete opposite. Your subconscious knowing full well, but of course you are in denial. Overly Arrogant = Insecure. Gushing Love = Angry. Hyper Sensitive = Insensitive. Always Brilliant = Idiot. The only exception being Asshole = Asshole.
Your secret and sin finally become public, and the repercussions are greater than you anticipated. It is years before you fully realize the hurt you caused. Its only when you grow old enough to experience those life lessons that you realize its true impact.
Eventually, you find a way to forgive yourself, even though you were never forgiven. You wonder if the person will take their bad fortune to their grave, and you can only hope and pray that it is not something they think of during their last days, even though you know you will in your last days.
You carry on with life, trying to put together some sort of normalcy. You realize your purity was not stolen, and when given the chance you did not claim it back, but you surrendered and took it a step further.
I forgive myself and I forgive him. I hope the best for his wife and children.
The Case Of The Disappearing Liquids
At work, we have a mystery and a case to crack. Small bottles of liquids continue to disappear. Here is the laundry list so far of what has vanished into thin air:
One bottle of eyeglass cleaner
Three bottles of hand lotion
Two bottles of aerosol spray
Infinite bottles of h2o
One bottle of electronics cleaner
Four bottles of alcohol
Two bottles of compressed air
The obvious suspect would be the evening crew who cleans our space. But since we live in a democracy, and you are innocent until proven guilty, we would be committing a crime to say that we know who the offender is without good evidence. Suspect and coincidence is not enough.
Some think we should report it to the management. I say lets make it known publicly that we have an issue, and give the person the opportunity to return the things or replace them, no questions asked. If nothing becomes of that, lets see if it stops. If then it continues, lets pass the investigative work onto the authorities. And of course, I would have to set up bait since some of these things that are disappearing are things that I have brought into the office. I take offense to their actions.
To that point, I will say that although these things do not have significant monetary value, its more of a nuisance than anything.
For instance, I’ve smudged my glasses and reach for my eyeglass cleaner spray and its not there. My hands feel dry, and the nicely scented cherry blossom lotion I purchased is no where to be found. And finally, I really do not want to smell the men in my hallway after they have used the bathroom. I love it when someone walks around spraying hairspray or body spray in a dramatic fashion, obviously sending a message to the hallway shitter to at least give some effort. Maybe try closing the door after you’ve done your business…all the way please!
If it doesn’t stop after plenty of fair warning, I will for sure plant a hand lotion bottle that will be a concoction of my own, mixing plain non-scented lotion and vinegar. A scent sure to delight only the twisted. Maybe when they steal that and use it on their hands they will realize that things are not always what they seem.
As for the offender sticking to bottles and liquids, these products would look inconspicuous on a cleaning cart….hmmmm…..
One bottle of eyeglass cleaner
Three bottles of hand lotion
Two bottles of aerosol spray
Infinite bottles of h2o
One bottle of electronics cleaner
Four bottles of alcohol
Two bottles of compressed air
The obvious suspect would be the evening crew who cleans our space. But since we live in a democracy, and you are innocent until proven guilty, we would be committing a crime to say that we know who the offender is without good evidence. Suspect and coincidence is not enough.
Some think we should report it to the management. I say lets make it known publicly that we have an issue, and give the person the opportunity to return the things or replace them, no questions asked. If nothing becomes of that, lets see if it stops. If then it continues, lets pass the investigative work onto the authorities. And of course, I would have to set up bait since some of these things that are disappearing are things that I have brought into the office. I take offense to their actions.
To that point, I will say that although these things do not have significant monetary value, its more of a nuisance than anything.
For instance, I’ve smudged my glasses and reach for my eyeglass cleaner spray and its not there. My hands feel dry, and the nicely scented cherry blossom lotion I purchased is no where to be found. And finally, I really do not want to smell the men in my hallway after they have used the bathroom. I love it when someone walks around spraying hairspray or body spray in a dramatic fashion, obviously sending a message to the hallway shitter to at least give some effort. Maybe try closing the door after you’ve done your business…all the way please!
If it doesn’t stop after plenty of fair warning, I will for sure plant a hand lotion bottle that will be a concoction of my own, mixing plain non-scented lotion and vinegar. A scent sure to delight only the twisted. Maybe when they steal that and use it on their hands they will realize that things are not always what they seem.
As for the offender sticking to bottles and liquids, these products would look inconspicuous on a cleaning cart….hmmmm…..
Wednesday, April 29
New Do
For the past year, I have been trying to return my hair to my natural hair color. When I was a little girl, my hair was as white as could be. White, wispy and sometimes stuck straight up when my mom cut it into a short bob. I would dry my hair as a little girl by swinging on the swing set in the backyard. I loved to make "cherry bumps".
As I grew older, my hair became darker. Since I always secretly wanted to be a brunette, I relished in the fact that perhaps I would experience life as a blonde and as a brunette. Now we all know that blondes have more fun, but just as a hair cut can give the impression of your personality, so can the hair color. I remember vividly in 5th grade, my teacher Mrs. Burger, shouted out loud as the class was taking a test. She was a robust woman with a loud boisterous voice. The class had our noses to the desks, furiously filling in bubbles on the state exams. Mrs. Burger loud out a loud shriek. She exclaimed, "Angela, my dear. Your hair is turning dark!" I just looked at her. Not sure if it was a compliment or an insult, but I quickly concluded that it was a compliment, as at a young, ripe, impressionable age, I could not stomach an insult.
Blonde is fun, exciting, thrilling. Brunette is sexy, mysterious, seductive. Short haircuts can scream mom, or if done correctly they can be cute. Medium length hair or long hair either says 70's or sexy...all dependent upon the cut.
As I embarked upon my journey to return to my natural hair color, at the same time I gave up manicures and pedicures. I guess in a weird sort of way I was working to make my canvas blank, and rebuilding myself physically...and quite frankly I am totally sick of it.
I have wondered for the past year, as I have gotten fed up with my dirty dishwater blonde hair, limp roots and short manicured fingers and toes, when I would give in. But NO! I would not surrender to the temptation of vanity. I would defeat and find a way to feel absolutely beautiful without the need for any chemical or cosmetics! And to boot, the extra money each month was a treat. Mind you, highlight, cut, manicures and pedicures all come at a cost.
I've surrendered and scheduled myself a spa evening for Friday, May 8th. I am going to return to the Angela I once knew physically, the place where I feel most confident. I am going to remember how this past year of retreating to simplicity in my appearance, encouraged me to take a look within and realize that my beauty on the inside is really what matters, the outside is just a bonus. We all know it, we all say it, but the question of whether or not its truly what we demonstrate or conduct is another question. Ugliness comes in many forms, but the form that leaves the lasting impression is the kind of ugly that comes from within. I've been that ugly many times. I am beautiful on the inside...most times.
I have never thought that I would be approaching 32 (June 7th) as a single woman. I imagined I would be married, with a few kids and madly in love. I've been madly in love, but not the kind of love that sustains time. I've had the good fortune of having kids in my life, my niece and nephew and am reminded when I see them that I am not able to give up on my desire for an offspring of my own, ideally the product of love between two, but at a minimum...a part of me. But, as my choices in life have dictated; its just me. And since its just me, I am going to be the best me I can be. Inside, outside and all around.
Platinum blonde, short bob, big smile and wide green eyes. That does in fact suit me best physically. I may even throw in a mani and pedi!
Tuesday, April 28
A Celebration Fit For A Family
My family is my single greatest source of strength. During my facial lawsuit, my mom, dad and brothers were always there to listen to me babble, weep, and find my way through a complex legal process. They never judged, criticized or gave me 'tough love'. They just listened and understood.
I have not ever been one to be able to express my emotional feelings. When I was younger, I used to write my mom and dad letters and put them in envelopes and leave them on their pillows.
I invited my family to a long weekend in Florida. My first choice was Marco Island, but it turns out we landed in Naples. We stayed at a beautiful resort in old downtown Naples. Walking distance to 5th Avenue restaurants, shopping and the beach.
My mom and I fly in late Wednesday evening. We arrived at Fort Myers shortly after 730pm and drove to Naples. After we deplaned, we stopped at the rental car check in to get our car. We walked to pick up the keys to the car and we were greeted by a young, cheesy boy by the name of Chris. We had rented an SUV so that we could fit our family in it. Chris did not seem to think that our SUV was large enough. So after showing us three different SUV models, all three coincidentally an upgrade, I assured him the Nissan Exterra would suit us just fine. When that was not the right answer, he then switched to try to upgrade us to a Lincoln Town Car. He was pressure selling. I began to laugh, after we moved onto the Town Car. I said, "Chris, listen, the Exterra is fine. Let's get this paperwork completed so we can get out of here."
But no...we were just beginning. Chris moved onto insurance. Now...call me crazy, but I've never been one to understand the purpose of rental car insurance. Perhaps its because I have a good driving record with no major accidents, or perhaps its the comfort that I have the same auto insurance that my great grandparents, grandparents and parents have, thus understanding we are fully covered and fully vested. No one in our family has ever had a need to file a major claim. So, basically, I'm protected. Chris tried to pressure sell my mom and I to getting car insurance. He told of us a story about a woman who drove out, totaled the car and ended up in the hospital with not only medical bills but Enterprise rental car bills because she did not get the rental car insurance and her insurance did not cover her.
I couldn't believe my ears. As Chris told his story, I could see the anxiety, worry and fear just build in my mother. I told my mother to sit in the car while I finished the paperwork. As she closed the door to the car, I looked Chris straight in the eyes.
I said, "Do you understand what you are doing here?"
His response, "What?".
I responded, "Chris, you are scaring my mother with your pressure sell techniques for me to buy auto insurance."
I continued, "Understand me here and now. I am not buying the auto insurance. I plan on bringing this car back just as I am taking it."
His response, "Well you can't predict what is going to happen. You could have an accident." I insisted, "You are being a real downer Chris. We are on vacation. No deal, now let's sign the paperwork so we can get out of here."
Chris then continues to ask me about my deductible amount and the name of my insurance agency.
My response, "My insurance is Coniglio. I am not telling you my deductible. If something happens, we can discuss the particulars. See you Monday."
As we drove off, he walked away shaking his head at us. Yea, I thought thinking to myself, you thought we looked like suckers when we walked up to that booth, but no deal. I guess his revenge was giving us the cherry red Nissan Xterra that you could spot 5 miles away. I am not a red car kind of girl. I like the least amount of attention possible on the road, because I have a lead foot.
We had a nice drive to Naples. When we arrived at the resort, we checked in and settled down. The room requests were well documented and the suite was perfect. Feather pillows, marina view, third floor, not near the elevator, extra towels and a balcony. The master suite which my mother and I shared was overlooking the marina and had an access to the balcony. The second bedroom was situated at the front of the unit, giving my younger brother and his wife privacy...perfect.
Mom and I woke up early Thursday. We made coffee and tea and sipped it while watching the boaters get ready to go out for the day. The marina police strolled through and visited the boaters. Saying hello and checking in to see how long they planned on being around. The resort had condos that were owned and came with a boat slip. Obviously Floridians escaping their hefty schedules and responsibilities by coming to this escape.
After we took the scenery in, we went to the grocery store and stocked up on beer, sparkling wine, bottled water, snacks and the fixings for cold cut sandwiches - the obvious and easy and necessary guy food. Then, onto the airport to pick up my older brother. Thursday night we dined at Tin City and took in the Gulf view. Munching on stone cold crab and hush puppies and sipping on cold beers.
Onto Friday. This morning, however, we had three of us. Breakfast and coffee on the balcony. A quick stop at the gym. A Friday trip to pick up my little brother and his wife, an afternoon at the 12th Avenue Pier Beach and dinner was delivered pizza from a nearby pizza joint called Dino's. Neapolitan pizzeria style pizza. Delicious! We rented the movie, Burn After Reading. I had already seen it, but my little brother had not. Knowing his sense of humor, I knew we would all enjoy watching it together because its so funny.
Saturday, we woke up early, had bagels, cream cheese, coffee, tea and orange juice on the balcony. After, we quickly retreated to the resort pool. My older brother and I went early and had energy massages. It had been so long since I had a massage and I forgot how good it feels. We met my mom and brother and sister in law at the pool. It had a large swimming pool, a waterfall, a slow moving river that you could float in innertubes on, a lap pool, and an adult only quiet zone pool. We all opted for the lounge chairs adjacent to the quiet zone pool. Many drinks and lunch later, 4pm quickly fell upon us, and we retreated back to the room to shower and get ready for a trip back into Fort Myers to see, Fiddler on the Roof, at the playhouse. A treat from mom which began by feasting on a boat of sushi (sashimi / nigiri )and a few extra surprises (don't care for the eel) http://sushithaitoo.com/sushi_thai_menu.pdf. Dinner and the play was fantastic! One of Topol's final performances. I still have the melody, "If I Were A Rich Man" in my head.
Sunday, I woke, lounged around, and jumped in the car about noon to take my brother back to the airport and then drive to Miami to visit a friend, my old neighborhood and visit Bobby to check on apartment availability. What I enjoyed most about this trip was seeing my friend. He gave me a tour of a beautiful new home he purchased on South Beach. He is in the fun phase of selecting furniture and designing his personal space. He has great taste. The place is amazing and will be stunning when his renovations are complete. I left with the scent of his aftershave on my tshirt, and it was a pleasant treat for a tough ride home. A two hour trip became three and a half hours after I75 closed due to fires in the Everglades. I had never seen so many gas stations that I refused to stop at to pee, because they were so shady.
Monday morning came quickly and before I knew it I was back at home.
What I have not been able to demonstrate in this post are the great conversations I had with my brothers, my sister in law and my mother. Some of the conversations quick and easy. Some of the conversations deep and involved, complex. There is no greater joy for me these days than to feel close to the people I love most, my family.
What a great way to start the spring season! To Mom, Jeff, Dave and Lisa...thank you for such a fantastic weekend. I love you all very much! Oh, also, turns out the rental car was returned just fine - no accidents. So take that Chris!
Monday, April 27
Refreshed and Renewed
After a month of time off from my blog, I returned refreshed and renewed. Having just returned from a fabulous vacation in sunny Naples, Florida, I prepare to return to work tomorrow, with a better understanding of myself and the path I am going to take.
What I enjoy most about having time off is that you get to think about nothing but everything except work, and if you are lucky, you learn something about yourself.
What I learned about myself this past week is that I do not present to people the person who I think I am. Does this happen to you? Where you have moments, instances, perhaps even full up interactions when you understand how someone views you and looks at you, and you think to yourself, "Oh my god...thats not who I am?". Then you investigate inward and realize that its not them...its what you present.
Its often in life, I think, that we imagine ourselves to be someone and do not always present ourselves that way. Is it because we are trying to adapt to the other person? Is it because we become so set and comfortable in our ways that the change we know we take as a person is only mental?
Ive lived most of my life in the past 3 years in fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of being hurt. Fear of, I guess, understanding who I am.
As I return from vacation, I look forward, not only to a fantastic summer with my brothers and niece and nephew, but also a summer to settle into myself, and sculpt myself spiritually and socially.
PS - To my fellow bloggers, I also have a lot of blog reading to catch up on.
What I enjoy most about having time off is that you get to think about nothing but everything except work, and if you are lucky, you learn something about yourself.
What I learned about myself this past week is that I do not present to people the person who I think I am. Does this happen to you? Where you have moments, instances, perhaps even full up interactions when you understand how someone views you and looks at you, and you think to yourself, "Oh my god...thats not who I am?". Then you investigate inward and realize that its not them...its what you present.
Its often in life, I think, that we imagine ourselves to be someone and do not always present ourselves that way. Is it because we are trying to adapt to the other person? Is it because we become so set and comfortable in our ways that the change we know we take as a person is only mental?
Ive lived most of my life in the past 3 years in fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of being hurt. Fear of, I guess, understanding who I am.
As I return from vacation, I look forward, not only to a fantastic summer with my brothers and niece and nephew, but also a summer to settle into myself, and sculpt myself spiritually and socially.
PS - To my fellow bloggers, I also have a lot of blog reading to catch up on.
Friday, March 27
Going Down In a Blaze Of Glory
One of the interesting things when living alone is that you have the luxury of doing whatever you want, whenever you want, with no one to criticize or comment. Emily, of course, my pet of 12 years has a thing or two to say when I play music too loud, but that’s only a mean look and a saunter to the deep abyss of the back corner of the closet (did I just make reference to my cat not coming out of the closet?)
One of the other interesting things when living alone, is that if something happens, you are left alone to take care of it. There have been several circumstances when I wished I was not the one left to take care of these tasks. Not just because I am not good at them, but to be quite frank, I don’t want to deal with them and its stuff a guy should do anyway.
Last winter, it was my furnace. Its only five years old, however a furnace filter placed upside down rather than right side up, not allowing proper air flow, was the reason for the motor burning out. Ouch, not cheap, and chilly for a few days. In a ironic and mocking twist, Home Depot was sold out of electric units.
This past summer, it was finding the best way to manage my garbage so as not to get maggots. I put the garbage out each week, but in the hottest times of the summer, I couldn’t avoid the little buggers. Using the garbage disposal as often as possible, rinsing out empty containers, and spraying the inside of the garbage can with a pesticide once a week did the trick. I also learned that maggots are the eggs of flies, and if you shut the lid on the garbage can all the way (sealed) that flies cant get in and then you wont get maggots. Duh. Those things are fucking disgusting. I can only imagine the humor my neighbors found in me putting my garbage can on the lawn and spraying it with a hose a quarter mile away because I was afraid the maggots would get on my skin and burrow into my soul.
This past fall, it was those damn spouts that attached to the end of your gutters to trail water off the roof and into the yard. I was getting heavy water in two spots, and I had to rig the gutter system to take the water further away from the foundation of the house. Turns out when you add footage to the spout of gutters, your best to use an epoxy to set them in place, otherwise, after a heavy wind storm, you’ll find them in several of your neighbors yards. How embarrassing? Again, I’m sure they found humor in my shameless walk between homes, picking up the 6 spouts that had taken flight.
Last night, it was a stupid mistake on my part that had my heart racing, and my jeans wet.
So the story goes...
I set the pot to boil some water. My stove is a flat top. I settled into the couch knowing it would take a few minutes before I could boil my pasta and several minutes later, I smelled a wretched scent that catapulted me from the couch and into the kitchen. As I turned around, I noticed flames from the stove top. As I raced to the area, I was thinking to myself, “Oh my god, I never picked up a fire extinguisher from Home Depot. What the fuck am I going to do.” It was a plastic food scale that had caught fire and I had turned on the wrong burner, not boiling the water, but cooking the scale. YIKES! I thought to myself “This will teach me to not keep a lot of shit on the stove.” The scale was on fire, and it was pretty good, I would say flames about 2 – 3 feet high. The hot gloves were an option, but I was afraid they would not suffice and protect my hands from the heat. So I grabbed a pair of tongs, grabbed a corner of the plastic scale, and flung it across the kitchen, hoping my basketball skills would come in handy and land that unit square into the kitchen sink. It did. I couldn’t help myself in adding humor to a situation I felt petrified in (I often joke when I am really upset about something.) “She shoots and she scores” I shouted out loud. Throwing my arms up as a referee would when a punter it successful. I then ran over to the faucet and turned on the water and doused the flaming scale out.
Then comes the remaining plastic bits, still in flames and smelling craptastic (word courtesy of Elle Michelle) so I took the extendable water spicket from my sink and shot it across the room. Success, yet again.
When the fire was out, in an ironic and mocking twist, the fire alarms began to sound.
Emily looked at me as if I was crazy. I swear she shook her head at me, and I stood there in the kitchen, at first proud of my fire woman like skills, thinking to myself, “Yeah, I could do it. I could be a fire fighter.”
Then suddenly realizing my jeans were wet thinking it was the water from the faucet, but realizing it wasn’t. I was so scared I peed myself. I then quickly changed my mind and thought to myself, “Yeah, maybe I wouldn’t be good at it.”
Let’s just say this morning rather than boiling tea in the tea kettle on the stove, I stuck with the microwave.
Those ladies of you out there that have a man to take care of this kind of shit for you, don't take it for granted. Repay with warm meals or sexual favors...because it blows to have to do it on your own (in a strange and non mocking twist, blow could be a pun relating to sexual favors).
Have a fantabuloso weekend readers...I'm headed to Chi town to celebrate a friend's birthday!
Shopping, tatoo (not me), wine and fondue, in that order than you very much.
One of the other interesting things when living alone, is that if something happens, you are left alone to take care of it. There have been several circumstances when I wished I was not the one left to take care of these tasks. Not just because I am not good at them, but to be quite frank, I don’t want to deal with them and its stuff a guy should do anyway.
Last winter, it was my furnace. Its only five years old, however a furnace filter placed upside down rather than right side up, not allowing proper air flow, was the reason for the motor burning out. Ouch, not cheap, and chilly for a few days. In a ironic and mocking twist, Home Depot was sold out of electric units.
This past summer, it was finding the best way to manage my garbage so as not to get maggots. I put the garbage out each week, but in the hottest times of the summer, I couldn’t avoid the little buggers. Using the garbage disposal as often as possible, rinsing out empty containers, and spraying the inside of the garbage can with a pesticide once a week did the trick. I also learned that maggots are the eggs of flies, and if you shut the lid on the garbage can all the way (sealed) that flies cant get in and then you wont get maggots. Duh. Those things are fucking disgusting. I can only imagine the humor my neighbors found in me putting my garbage can on the lawn and spraying it with a hose a quarter mile away because I was afraid the maggots would get on my skin and burrow into my soul.
This past fall, it was those damn spouts that attached to the end of your gutters to trail water off the roof and into the yard. I was getting heavy water in two spots, and I had to rig the gutter system to take the water further away from the foundation of the house. Turns out when you add footage to the spout of gutters, your best to use an epoxy to set them in place, otherwise, after a heavy wind storm, you’ll find them in several of your neighbors yards. How embarrassing? Again, I’m sure they found humor in my shameless walk between homes, picking up the 6 spouts that had taken flight.
Last night, it was a stupid mistake on my part that had my heart racing, and my jeans wet.
So the story goes...
I set the pot to boil some water. My stove is a flat top. I settled into the couch knowing it would take a few minutes before I could boil my pasta and several minutes later, I smelled a wretched scent that catapulted me from the couch and into the kitchen. As I turned around, I noticed flames from the stove top. As I raced to the area, I was thinking to myself, “Oh my god, I never picked up a fire extinguisher from Home Depot. What the fuck am I going to do.” It was a plastic food scale that had caught fire and I had turned on the wrong burner, not boiling the water, but cooking the scale. YIKES! I thought to myself “This will teach me to not keep a lot of shit on the stove.” The scale was on fire, and it was pretty good, I would say flames about 2 – 3 feet high. The hot gloves were an option, but I was afraid they would not suffice and protect my hands from the heat. So I grabbed a pair of tongs, grabbed a corner of the plastic scale, and flung it across the kitchen, hoping my basketball skills would come in handy and land that unit square into the kitchen sink. It did. I couldn’t help myself in adding humor to a situation I felt petrified in (I often joke when I am really upset about something.) “She shoots and she scores” I shouted out loud. Throwing my arms up as a referee would when a punter it successful. I then ran over to the faucet and turned on the water and doused the flaming scale out.
Then comes the remaining plastic bits, still in flames and smelling craptastic (word courtesy of Elle Michelle) so I took the extendable water spicket from my sink and shot it across the room. Success, yet again.
When the fire was out, in an ironic and mocking twist, the fire alarms began to sound.
Emily looked at me as if I was crazy. I swear she shook her head at me, and I stood there in the kitchen, at first proud of my fire woman like skills, thinking to myself, “Yeah, I could do it. I could be a fire fighter.”
Then suddenly realizing my jeans were wet thinking it was the water from the faucet, but realizing it wasn’t. I was so scared I peed myself. I then quickly changed my mind and thought to myself, “Yeah, maybe I wouldn’t be good at it.”
Let’s just say this morning rather than boiling tea in the tea kettle on the stove, I stuck with the microwave.
Those ladies of you out there that have a man to take care of this kind of shit for you, don't take it for granted. Repay with warm meals or sexual favors...because it blows to have to do it on your own (in a strange and non mocking twist, blow could be a pun relating to sexual favors).
Have a fantabuloso weekend readers...I'm headed to Chi town to celebrate a friend's birthday!
Shopping, tatoo (not me), wine and fondue, in that order than you very much.
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