mistletoe

My dear friend called me the other day because she had gotten the funniest fashion viewing offer that I have heard of in a long time. A gentleman (well, perhaps not so much of a gentleman) friend from her past asked to see her when she came home for the holidays and then said he wanted to show her his 'new mistletoe belt buckle'! Hahaha!

Hilarious mental picture and on the up-side (pun decidedly intentional) it definitely takes the guess work out of what he wants...which, when you consider it, is very refreshing. (slightly kinky, but each to his own!)

And then, of course, I get to thinking - which we all know is a dangerous thing for the poor unsuspecting world!

A whole new line/market of holiday clothing could emerge! Victoria Secret could make a fortune with such a line, forget the ruby and diamond bra - introduce the 'mistletoe bra and pantie collection'! It would sell out in 20 seconds, maybe less :)
(of course there would have to be a disclaimer to NOT accidentally consume any of the berries - which are highly poisonous)

Imagine that emergency room visit...
"Exactly how did your husband ingest mistletoe berries again ma'am?"
"Well...uhmmm...(long pause) ... Is he going to be ok?"

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!! :)

(and to all of you shaking your heads right now, but hopefully at least smiling - this is what happens when I have w-a-y too much time to think. maybe I should get a second job...
with Victoria Secret!)

the 'un-send' button

I don't usually do requests but I am making an exception with this post, so this one is for you - I hope you like it.

There is no 'un-send' button love, we all have to live with the choices we make, if you could undo everything how would we learn? However, since I can appreciate how you feel, here goes :)

...if there were one...
It would instantly transport us back to 5 seconds before sending that 'oh-shit' text...or the series of 20 'i have to pour my heart out' texts...and it would completely crash your phone and render it useless for 12 hours. (and before anyone laughs...we have ALL done it - don't bother denying it!!)
Long enough to re-think the - 'I love you and want you back, I am so sorry I slept with your sister!' text...yeah, definitely want an 'un-send' on that one - too much honesty might be a bad thing.

And while I believe we all can appreciate the advantages of an 'un-send' button, imagine a world with no consequences and if every mistake could be undone...
- how would we learn?
- grow?
- move cities because of a minor stalking issue? (nothing was ever proved by the way!)

anyway...

You get my meaning. :) There are no rehearsals or do-overs with life and that is what makes it fabulous!
because it is real,
alive,
passionate,
dangerous,
risky,
and...oh so sweet!!

So in conclusion dear friend, no 'un-send' button...
life is too beautiful and precious and it finds its greatness and grace in the fact that it is meant to be lived, right now, with all the passion - craziness - love - and inspiration that you can put into it!

cherry, grape, and orange

As I have mentioned previously, my mother and I did not get along very well - largely because I never did what she wanted and she had no sense of humor about my independent nature :)

But she had one secret weapon that I was defenseless against, as stubborn as I was. (or in her words; willful, challenging, disobedient...well, you get the idea.)

Whistle Pops.

I don't even know if they still make them, if it was just a southern thing, or if anyone else in the world will know what I am talking about. For those of you who don't know what they are, I will describe...
It is the most delicious lollipop that man has ever created since the invention of the lollipop. There were 3 perfect flavors; cherry, grape, and orange. Occasionally I could even talk my older brother into getting one (which he and I both knew he would never eat) and I could have 2!!!! And if the sugary confection of perfection was not fabulous enough, it was also a really loud whistle. (hence the name) It had a stick that was hollow with a mini trombone style slide build in that would change 'notes' (and I use that term very loosely) - how great is that-right? Right!

So, I could be hopped up on food coloring chemicals (it was the 70's), sugar, and really noisy all at the same time! Is that not the goal of every child?! Well, it should be!! :)

Oops, sorry, got a little off track there...anyway, my mother could get me to do anything for the promise of a whistle pop.
- be quiet in church
- go to bed early
- eat my dinner
- clean up my toys
- jump naked into a pit of water moccasins (poisonous snakes)
anything!

The last one I remember having was ... (sniffle) (sigh) ... (misty eyes) ... oh my, I miss those things!!
Where was I?
Oh yes, my last whistle pop...

I actually don't remember what my mother wanted me to do but I remember she bought the glorious whistle pop of awesomeness on Friday and I could not have it until Saturday morning. Plus, I was under strict instructions that I had to have it - outside. (why I just can't understand- hahaha)

So, in a rare moment for me as a child, I had managed to be super good at whatever I was supposed to do and I knew on Friday night before I went to bed that the whistle pop was mine in the morning! As discussed in previous musings, mornings and I do not like one another...but this morning I was awake at 6:00 a.m. and ready for my divine whistle pop (it was cherry, by-the-way).

I must pause here to let you know that I am not what you would consider a patient person (to put it mildly) and when I was a child ... well, let's just say - it was worse.

Now having met my end of the bargain we had struck, I felt extremely entitled to my 6:00 a.m. whistle pop.
but no...
6:00 a.m. was too early for my mother to get up on a Saturday (imagine!) and I could not go outside by myself if no one was awake. I felt the injustice intensely!

I had to wait...
I hate waiting...(shameless "Princess Bride" reference)
until 10:00 a.m. --- do you have any idea how l-o-n-g four hours is when delightful enchantment is in sight but just outside of attainment?!?
and you are a child...
a REALLY impatient child...

Eternity is shorter

But finally - it was mine!!

I stepped outside with my cherry whistle pop - the sun was shining, the angels were singing, small woodland creatures were coming up and talking to me...
oh-wait, that sounds more like an LSD trip...
So they didn't talk to me - but they were on hand in case I needed to burst into spontaneous song to accompany the dulcet tones of my Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious whistle pop.

It was perfection! Ahhh!! :)

pbp

Let us go once more into the breach and return for a few moments to 'the gym', (ba-ba-ba-bam - think Beethoven's 5th symphony) and its hidden dangers.

One of those dangers is running into a particularly beautiful person that you would dearly like to impress - and as I have mentioned before in, Why treadmills are the anti-christ, I am seriously un-impressive at the gym. (unless you are going for tremendous falling over belly laughs as the way to encourage someone to dig you...in which case I am golden!) hmmm...

I am tragically uncoordinated, thin, un-curvy, and have the over-all strength of a six year old on a good day - so what i was thinking at the gym this time still remains a touch of a mystery. But apparently my brain checked out in the presence of this particulary beautiful person (we will just refer to them as 'PBP' from now on - because who doesn't love a meaningless acronym) :)

I am walking, just a bit unsteady over to the weights section of the gym, after pushing a little too hard on the eliptical - so my knees have vanished and been replaced by water, when PBP calls my name and walks up to me. Now there is a bit of an awkward moment because usually we greet each other with a hug - but usually we are out and not both hot and sweaty at the gym.

So running through my mind are such thoughts as:
'do I give him a hug?'
'will it make him uncomfortable?'
'do I smell?'
'yummy, he looks good!'
all in the space of a nano-second (isn't the human brain amazing!!)

So after the mutual hesitation, we both give in and give each other a quick hug, exchange some light pleasantries and then return to our respective work-outs. I make my way over to some leg machines (I have a set rotation for which machines I use on which days) and I realize half way through the set that these machines are WAY more suggestive of an exercise than I had intended...oops (blush!!)

I glance around to see where PBP is and thankfully he wasn't looking in my direction at all ... whew! (but also, if I am honest, some slight disappointment, I am capricous that way-haha)

So I continue a ridiculously intense workout catching glimses of PBP in the gym's 3 million mirrors - sigh - which distracts me and I constantly lose count of how many reps I just did, so I have to start over! (ouch) My muscles are screaming at me to stop but my brain keeps saying, 'just 5 more minutes' and I don't want to look like the wimp that I am so I keep pushing...until...my body decides to get the last laugh.

PBP is behind me (looking completely awesome) and I have taken up residence on a mat to stretch and do sit-ups with a weight ball (a unique form of torture) BUT, my muscles have had enough - and they give out and I almost drop the 4 pound weight ball...on my face...
this is the point where I fully appreciate the ridiculousness of what I am doing and burst out laughing.

Perfect! Not only do I look like a complete weakling, I am also a lunatic laughing randomly at nothing...yeah! Very impressive - my work here is done!! PBP will absolutely be avoiding me in the future and in the meantime I am trying to figure out if I could make it any worse by crawling to the dressing room since I am positive that my legs will not support me the 10 feet I have to go to the lockers.

What do you think, time to switch gyms? Yeah, I am seriously considering it :)

granny

For those of you who follow my writing you will know that I usually stay away from serious topics, however with the recent passing of my granny I had to step away from the usual and put down some memories for her. So this one is for granny…

One of the things that I think about the most when I think of granny was that she was tough as steel which I always found in such stark contrast to the emotionally sweet side of my grandpa. Granny was the strength of them as a couple but in a unique balance that they achieved he was her rock. And they were both the loves of each other’s lives. It has occurred to me while I am writing this that I always think of them together and there are very few memories of granny that don’t also include grandpa – what a wonderful thing that says about their relationship.

I remember grandpa telling me stories of how he would finish his shift in the shipyards of Baltimore (which ended sometime in the small morning hours) and drive to Alexandria Virginia to be at granny’s house for breakfast and to take her to work. He would see her for less time than it took him to travel the route in a single direction and he did it every day. She was that special to him.

I remember them holding hands in church on Sundays and granny would put her head on his shoulder sometimes, and it was always so endearing to me.

One of the most touching pictures of them that I have ever seen is when they were a young couple. It was taken in a small photo booth, the kind that snaps 4 pictures in about 15 seconds and hopefully catches a perfect moment…they were so in love that all 4 were perfect. The pictures were black and white and grandma is sitting, snuggled against grandpa’s shoulder, she has a soft look in her eyes and grandpa is all smiles. The pictures were small, just slightly larger than postage stamps, and grandpa kept them in his wallet from the day they were taken, when granny was 19, until the day he died. The lovely treasure about the two of them was that he would take out those pictures and show them to me often and get misty eyed because he always saw her that way.

They would tussle too, of course, grandma could be feisty and very sharp witted, no doubt part of what grandpa liked…even though he grumbled. Grandpa owned his own plumbing business the entire time that I knew him and granny was the receptionist, secretary, accountant, scheduler, and office manager and in the days long before cell phones I can only imagine what a challenge she had keeping up with him. Granny was very well organized and more than one intense discussion would erupt over the disturbance of her filing system or the disarray that grandpa would visit upon her work desk. But most likely my favorite to watch, because it happened almost daily, was when grandpa would come home and unload his top shirt pocket. This was grandpa’s rolodex, receipt log, appointment book, and accounting system, all on 3x5 index cards…written sideways, on the back, and upside-down. He would hand them to granny and she would have to decipher from his scratched notes, where the next appointments were needed and when, what supplies were used, and who to bill!!!! All things considered it is a wonder that they didn’t fight a lot more than the minor skirmishes that we were privy to.

Granny would look after us before school most mornings when my brother and I were younger – and granny could really worry a topic to death…contrastingly grandpa was a seriously quiet man…perhaps because granny wouldn’t let him get a word in :) … but back to my reminiscing. One particular morning I was at the table, suffering through breakfast (I have never been and am still not a morning person) and granny was going at a topic with the vigor of a bull terrier while she went from room to room straightening and as she stewed her way down the hall, grandpa snuck out the back door. That in its self is amusing but it gets better, granny kept at it and after him for a full 10 minutes…and then from the back room she called his name.

“Charles?”

“Charles!”

Oh dear! Poor man, he should have just gone on to his first rounds…but no, he came back into the house - adorably enough, to kiss her goodbye - and granny lite into him like a Christmas tree.

One of the stranger moments of my life was when I came over to their house one day unexpectedly from college and I caught my grandparents fooling around – don’t worry gentle readers I will spare you (and them) the details. But it is completely fabulous that these two people, who at the time had been together 50 years, still had the hots for each other. (not quite what I was thinking at the time, I could not get out of the house fast enough, it was my shortest visit ever!) Yet now, I view it as one of those simply wonderful facets of love that their spark and passion for one another remained through trials, sickness, children, grandchildren, successes and challenges. I cannot help but snicker when I remember it and I am still not certain who was more embarrassed – me or them. We never spoke of it. Mutual understanding, I am sure.

Granny loved to cook for us and far and away my favorite was her Pennsylvania dutch pot pie. It was a heavenly dish of beef, strips of dough, and potatoes all simmered in a rich broth. Best food on earth. But she wasn’t always a fabulous cook. When she first got married she couldn’t boil water :) much less make her famous pies, fudge, and beef stew with biscuits. (I could eat my weight in her biscuits!) According to stories I have heard she used to practice cooking dishes while grandpa was working in the shipyard and then if the recipes didn’t turn out well she would throw them out before grandpa would get home so he would not know. Very funny for my practical and non-wasteful granny!

A particularly favorite story of granny’s to tell was the first time she made ‘pot-pie’ for grandpa. Now grandpa was from Pennsylvania and granny was from Virginia which doesn’t seem like a large geographical distance but for cuisine it was like night and day. So granny spent the day making ‘southern’ pot pie, complete with pie dough, chicken, peas, carrots, in a standard pie pan and cooked in the oven. What grandpa was expecting was Pennsylvania dutch pot-pie, cooked on the stove top with the afore mentioned beef, potatoes, and dough strips…serious miscommunication in culinary language. And while, according to granny he ate what she had prepared and said it was good – he had been thinking of the other dish all day and was sorely disappointed. She got the real (Pennsylvania dutch) pot-pie recipe from grandpa’s mother and I never remember her making a southern style pot pie again!

The simple and sweetest memory I have of granny in the kitchen, is when grandpa would come in from work and she would be cooking at the stove and he would walk over and give her a kiss and then swat her on the backside. “Charles!” she would always exclaim, in a voice so unlike the one she normally used for us grandchildren and others, it was full of both false affront and flirting in a way that is almost impossible to describe, but I can still hear it clear as if they were right in front of me. This was the woman, not the granny, and she was wonderful, passionate, strong, genuine, and sassy.

So in my final words I will say this because it is how I think of them now – grandpa and granny holding hands, strolling down the beach collecting seashells and being so in love, with all the time they could ever want. To be together, to laugh, to love, to hold each other into the long sweet years that they get re-acquainted – god-speed – you are loved and in my heart forever.

you know you are REALLY hunger when....

1. mayonnaise and crackers are gourmet

2. you order the largest hot dog that 7-eleven sells - slather it with everything and snarf half of it while walking out of the store - then scope the fallen condiments out with chips, because who would let all that yummy goodness go to waste!

3. anytime you end up at taco bell - period!

4. you open a can of tuna for the cat and sit on the couch 'sharing' it

5. potato chips and string cheese are 'the BEST dinner ever!'

6. you consume an entire Sara Lee cheesecake - family size
and no, I don't want to talk about it

7. pickled eggs - enough said
(and yes, they are purple!!! ewwwww!!!!)

sometimes hunger overrides common sense

why treadmills are the anti-christ

They look deceptively easy, especially compared to what most exercise equipment looks like, a cross between a jungle gym and torture devices (I have been to the Tower of London - the similarities are striking...hey wait, I might be on to something there) and while I can not speak for everyone, I have definitely left the gym feeling tortured a time or two.

So this remarkably simple device totally seemed like the way to go for me - the coordination / grace / balance challenged being that I am.

You just get on it and walk.

Well, hell! I walk all the time (yes - true sometimes into walls, half-way through doorways, and I have been known to trip over lint, but still...)

You just step up onto it and hit the the little speed button a couple of times and 'voila' - successful, healthy exercise...

unless you are me...

Allow me to elaborate -
My gym, which will remain nameless so that you can not go look up the security tapes, has a bank of approximately 15 treadmills all lined up in front of mirrors, supposedly so that you can watch your form but I think it is really so you can watch other people's forms (wink, wink). And behind them are the afore mentioned torture devices, with spinning fly wheels, wave motions, and a ladder climbing thingy that I would just end up tangled in for days if I ever tried to use it. (I am actually slightly scared to walk to close to it...)

But anyway - back to the anti-christ.

Usually the line of devil-machines is fully occupied in the evenings (obviously with angels because who else but God's spiritual warriors could tame the damn things!) and this svelte, trim, and lycra clad group run in a united and rhythmic cadence that is well beyond my abilities. So at least I had the foresight to go in the afternoon when my chance of being intimidated would be reduced by the lack of eye-witnesses.

I step up onto it.
Well, this isn't so bad. (of course I haven't actually turned it on yet but my life is made up of these little victories.)
The rubber belt is far more grippy than I thought it would be and I find myself wondering if that is a potential positive or negative...hmmm...
But I am comforted by the hand railings and the false sense of confidence they give me that all will go well. (visions of the 'bionic woman' opening - the original 1976 tv series are flashing through my mind - oh yeah, I am going to be soooo awesome at this!)

I start off at a snails pace, in fact one might have passed me, because the whole moving ground thing really messes with my non-existent balance. But gradually I gain confidence and increase the speed to where I am really cooking, at least for me.

Until...

I wasn't paying 100% attention to what I was doing (bad plan and yet so typical of me) and I accidentally mistook the incline button for the speed button...what can I say - I was in 'the zone' - not the right zone, but it was a zone.

In my defense, the incline button didn't make a dramatic difference the first few times that I pushed it, thinking it was the speed button, of course. So naturally, what does a frustrated Lindsay Wagner want-to-be do if the button doesn't appear to be working?

Well, yeah - press it 20 times really fast! Why, what was your answer?!

Needless to say I figured out it was the incline button - the only snag is now I am at a steep incline but going way faster than I should be because it is no longer flat...and something is going to give.

I had a brief moment, just before panic set in to make the right choice and press the gigantic red button that is labeled 'Stop' but that seemed so ... cowardly... so - not the choice I made.

I decided instead to lower the incline level back to flat, nice and easy - awesome choice really - calm, collected, no one will have to know that I can not work a 4 button machine properly - perfect!

Except,
with the quick pace and now a serious hill to tackle, I am further back on the satan-stridder than I thought and couldn't quite reach up to the incline buttons and inadvertently hit the speed buttons instead.

There was no saving me after that...

In slow motion in my mind's eye I could totally see myself (as Lindsay Wagner - of course!) doing a backwards somersault off the end of the treadmill flipping once in the air, landing on my feet with my hands held high going, 'ta-da', to the stunned on-lookers who all gasp in wonder at my cat-like reflexes and dexterity, I will be a You-tube legend!!!

Well, ok, it was almost like that...
Ok, ok, it was sort of like that...

Alright, fine - would you believe it was absolutely nothing like that...good choice.

Reality can be so harsh. I tripped on the super grippy rubber mat (definitely a negative) and slammed to my knees, removing most of the skin, flew off the end, and just for good measure bounced my chin off the back before ending the trip against a wall. I remained in a heap for several painful seconds before remembering that I was in a public place...and God help me someone was bound to see me. Oh No!! But my tumble had left me with two serious rubber burns on both knees, so crawling to the locker room wasn't even an option.

I look around - and to my delight and shock, there is absolutely no one around...I am so happy at that moment!! To have managed not to have utterly humiliated myself, that my joy actually diminished my extreme pain and wounded pride...until...I saw it....Nooooo!!

The security camera - pointed right in the direction of where my flailing acrobatics had taken place.

Oh f*ck!!! Now I really will be a You-tube legend!!

Whimper!!

taco bell and gastrointestinal harmonics

my intention here had been to relay my adventures in random late night dining and to discuss the reasons why i do not choose taco bell for any source of caloric intake ... except when enough time has lapsed between my going there to where i forget why it is strictly off limits. (in this case roughly 12 years)

but then i realized the title encapsulated it all so well, there really is no need to say any more...

don't worry gentle fans - i will attempt to be less concise next time :)

maybe

The ten ways you can tell you 'maybe' had too much to drink last night:

1. your mouth is so dry that you can not chew gum

2. every sentence you say begins with "oh my god, i did what..."

3. your car is parked in Virginia and you wake up in Delaware

4. your last text message to your friend was "oops, i think i am going to regret this"

5. your mountain bike is in bed with you

6. at 12 o'clock the next afternoon, you still would not pass a breathalyzer

7. your first thought in the morning is ... where DID my clothes fall off?

8. you have to spend 4 hours un-tagging yourself from facebook pictures - because last night you were 'super-awesome'

9. you are not sure where the lawn chair in your living room is from or why the cat is wearing a cowbell

10. the tub is full of jello, there is a reindeer in the closet, and you are wearing a Winnie-the-Pooh costume

Horoscopes and the Cookie Monster

Horoscopes are so appealing, have you ever wondered why? I do.

100,000 people all read the same thing - so how could all of us be 'meeting the new friend who will turn into a lover' all on the same day?!

And yet even with knowing this you actually find yourself thinking about it, and going - 'wow-really? cool!!'

It is like a drug! I wonder if there are self-help groups or 12 step programs?

It is worse than nicotine or perfect chocolate chip cookies (are you noticing, like I am, that I write an awful lot about food? especially sweet decadent foods - hmmm...)

Anyway, where was I? I got kind of lost in the whole cookie thing - and by the way
Since when did the Cookie Monster only like cookies 'sometimes' - what!?! Sometimes! Seriously! - He loves cookies ALL the time, that is WHY he is the Cookie Monster!! The cookie Monster is not, let me repeat is NOT responsible for childhood obesity - ever!

Long live the Cookie Monster!

but I digress...
where was I?
Oh yes, horoscopes...

I think they are appealing because the glimpse into a possible future is just so enticing. Who doesn't want to get a peek into what might happen next?

Even if we do try to laugh it off and say - 'oh, it is just for fun, I don't really pay any attention to it - I certainly don't believe in it, it is silly - __________ (fill in statement of denial here).'

It is still the first section of the paper (or internet today) that we turn to!
Because who doesn't want to believe...
"...that your patience will pay off in the long run..."

Boy - I hope so!

Too Late

What is it with my tendency to do everything just a little too late?

Walk out of my house
pull the door (which locks automatically) closed behind me
then...check for my keys!

Put oil in my car then...
double-check the cap that I pulled off was to the right part of the car!

Turn on the coffee pot then...
check to see that I have put water and grounds in it!

Get drunk then...
...well...oh nevermind!!
:)

Alright, I Admit It...

I consider myself a very liberated, independent woman...
and yet...
there is something irresistible, knee-weakening, eyelash-fluttering and completely dashing about a man who will get into a fight on your behalf.

Yes, I know - I can hear all of my fellow 'women's libbers' now...
"What! How could you say that!"
"As if a woman needs a man to defend her!"
"I can take care of myself."

Yeah - Yeah, I hear you but COME ON!
Really?!?

A man is willing to put his body on the line to protect/defend you!!

Who the f*ck are you kidding - it is awesome - in a giddy like Christmas morning kind of fabulous way :)

NOT that you tell him - of course.
As a liberated independent woman I am forced to 'act' affronted, possibly even indignant but on the inside...
I have turned into a puddle of mushy girlie-ness that would shock Barbie!

This has only happened to me twice in my whole life...but Ooooo ;)
Once was a boyfriend and once was a friend - but it was SO GREAT (tehe - snicker - blush)...
see even thinking about it again makes me giddy!

They thought so much of me to think that I needed their protection.

And that is really what it is all about - they 'value' you that much. Who doesn't want that?!

And by the way, if you say differently, well, let's face it - you're lying.

I Will Take Mine in an IV

You know that it is going to be a long day when you crawl (and no, I am NOT exaggerating) to the coffee pot - drag and pull yourself upright, propping yourself up on the counter, just upright long enough to dump water and coffee grounds into the coffee pot...
that for some reason will not entirely sit still - so you pour half of the water on the counter and subsequently on yourself.

Then having just exhausted all of your energy you
slowly
s
l
i
d
e
down the cabinets
falling over sideways from the sitting position on cold linoleum and curl into the fetal position while trying to - simultaneously - sleep and listen to the coffee finish brewing.

So you can inject it directly into your veins - because really, who has time to wait on your digestive system to process the caffeine at desperate moments like these!!!

Undo

Don't you think that life should come with an 'undo' button?

How GREAT would that be!!! With possibly even multiple levels of 'undo' like in my drawing programs, where you could set it to 50 or 100 or in my case, 6,528,452 - please...

'Ohhh, oops, I didn't mean for my hair to turn out green!'
Undo!

or

'I really didn't know that the cute guy/girl who asked me to look after his/her bag (stuffed with narcotics) at the airport was a drug runner!'
Undo!

or

Asking the officer: 'Well, if the car wasn't supposed to GO 140 miles per hour, why would they have put it on the speedometer?"
Undo! Undo!!

See what I mean, Very handy!

The Bleeding Obvious

I often marvel at people's ability to ask incredibly obvious questions, however, 'pool guy' takes the cake...let me explain:

Last week, it was hot-hot-hot where I live, so the perfect after work solution? Go for a swim at my neighborhood pool.

And while I was in the pool - swimming (and just to be clear, I was actually swimming, not just jumping around or splashing about, actual breast stroke swimming) - a man swims up beside me and at the side of the pool says:

"Do you know how to swim?"

Hmmm... well, I am in the pool, s-w-i-m-m-i-n-g, which I thought he might have noticed since he was also, in - the - pool, and had to swim up to me to ask the question...

So wouldn't the answer to his question be readily apparent?!?
:/

Apparently, not.

Evil Office Tormentor

It is a well documented phenomenon that the day that you finally make up your mind to stick to your diet and exercise plan - some evil office tormentor will bring in cupcakes.

And not just any cupcakes, scrumptiously divine cupcakes...that call to you from down the hall...beckoning you to come and stare at them longingly...
and lift one lovingly onto a plate and carry the decadently gorgeous, gooey, perfection that is covered in tempting icing and candied sprinkles back to your desk. Where you will sit and devour the glistening, lemony confection in less than 2 1/2 seconds (sigh of contentment) - as the last remnants melt on your tongue in unequaled bliss.

(followed by pangs of guilt as your sugar swamped brain realizes that cupcakes were NOT part of your diet and exercise plan!!)

Evil office tormentor - curse you!!!
Now I will have to spend another 40 minutes at the gym to work it off!

(will you bring some more tomorrow???)

Responsible and Adult

The joys of a mini-break with the girls are immeasurable – part is relaxing, part is pampering, and part is that you NEVER know what is going to happen. (This is far and away the best part!!)

To start the morning, I spent an hour and a half working out, after I had looked in the mirror and noticed I was more lumpy than svelte – ugh!! So some serious gym time a nice swim and I am feeling great! Now off to the spa for some delightful pampering that is slightly painful but we loving call it mexican facial torture, but in 3 days I will be soooo glad I went. After my incredibly healthy morning what could be better than a nice light lunch, I am thinking salad, maybe some tuna...

My girlfriends join me and what do they want for lunch...
cupcakes!!!

Ahhhh, Noooooo – not after my healthy gym routine, please nooo – not sugar and carbs....
and...
oh...ok...maybe they will have a healthy no calorie cupcake (I can dream, cant I)

I settle on a carrot cake cupcake, because it has fruit
and vegetables in it
with cream cheese icing...
that is healthy – right?!?

And what goes excellent with cupcakes when one is at the spa, why wine - of course!

Oh sure! Like you never wanted to do that!!!


Later that day
SO since I was feeling really good after my awesome facial and exercise, I had a marvelous thought...
I will get up tomorrow morning early – go to the gym – go for a swim – and have a healthy breakfast.
Awesome – perfectly responsible, adult thing to do.
Sweet!

A little later, a bottle of wine,
we are sitting together outside, chatting and trying to figure out if the random italian who decided to join us is wearing a shiny shirt from today’s boutiques or a 1970’s thrift shop...
interesting...
unfortunately he has actually decided to stay...NOT a good plan.

Second bottle of wine,
I very forcefully refuse the random italian’s offer to buy us another bottle – because then we will feel obliged to let him stay. (which none of us wants, but there is no polite way to ask him to leave)

Conversation turns to family and eventually after maneuvering over to sit by my friend, who staunchly refuses to engage him in conversation, the random italian gets the idea and leaves. Whew!

Much merriment ensues, but it is still early in the evening – I can still get up tomorrow morning at 7:00 – go to the gym – go for a swim – and have a healthy breakfast.
No Problem!

Third bottle of wine,
two more friends join our party and it is extremely evident that they have already been ‘pre-partying’ on their own. (Mostly because it took them 20 minutes to find our group and we were 5 seconds down the hall from them) :)

They begin regaling us with stories of their home improvement adventures – to wit, I have a sneaking suspicion there m-a-y have been alcohol involved then as well...not judging, just saying.

We are all crying they have us laughing so hard! With such jubilant stories how can one help but order another bottle of wine...right? Of Course!!

And after all it is only 10pm, that is still early - I can still get up tomorrow morning at 7:00 – go to the gym – go for a swim – and have a healthy breakfast.
No Problem! I’m Good, Bring It!!

Fourth bottle of wine,
the friends that joined us earlier start a whole new set of stories – and we thought the first ones were hilarious!! at this point they begin re-enacting the stories, even the bartender has to come over and watch.

Ok, maybe I can get up at 7:30 – that is still plenty of time to – go to the gym – go for a swim – and have a healthy breakfast.
Yeah, I can do that, it will be fine.
Let’s get another bottle.

Fifth bottle of wine,
Tattoos are starting to sound like a really good idea and we all launch into a discussion of who has them, and what...when one friend swears

“no – way. I will never get one, I hate needles”

Uh-oh, the gauntlet has been thrown!
Now the betting begins on what it would take to inspire them to get one, where, what, and how many years it will be before it happens. After much debate and refusal somebody chimes in with:

“Well, I have a Sharpie in my car, how about that?”
F-a-b-u-l-o-u-s!!!
All the creativity of ink with none of the blood, pain, or permancy!

What a great idea!

We can draw ‘tattoos’ on each other and they will be gone in the morning.

And you know if I get up at 8:30 in the morning that is still plenty of time to – go to the gym – go for a swim – and have a healthy breakfast.
All before we need to check out – awesome, I am golden!

Sixth bottle of wine,
Clothes are beginning to come off now, because, of course, you need more surface area to draw on!!
Like everybody doesn’t know that!!

More and more body parts are getting exposed and drawn on – pictures are being taken (for use later to get the real tattoos! buh-yah!!) then someone...
- and because this is the sixth bottle of wine, I can’t exactly remember who –
brings up piercings

At this point one of our friends totally exposes themselves – just to show that they DONT have any piercings....

hmmmm....
interesting thought, self-exposure just to prove that you have nothing pierced or tattooed or otherwise.
Fantastic!

And you know if I get up at 9:00 in the morning that is still plenty of time to – go to the gym – go for a swim – and have a healthy breakfast.
Sweet, I am sooo in control.
Life is good.
and
Yes, we would love another bottle of wine, thanks so much for asking.

Seventh bottle of wine,
the birds are singing...

are birds usually awake at 1:00 at night?? – I ask...

uhmmm – it is 4:30 in the morning.

oh F____!!!!

Perhaps I will not make it – to the gym – or for a swim – and really, who eats breakfast anyway, that is what coffee is for...

dammit...

so much for responsible and adult...

Procrastination and Denial

You know that uncomfortable feeling that there is something HORRIBLY wrong with your car, and you are pretty sure that you know what it is and that your car will be stuck in the shop for no less than a month and cost you roughly 5.2 million dollars to fix...I am having that feeling.
:(

So in my infinite ability to procrastinate doing any kind of painful activity (such as taking my car to the shop, going to the dentist, or going anywhere near a mall at Christmas time) ... I have put myself to a challenge...

How many different techniques can I use to not have to use my brakes to slow down my car. Thereby avoiding completely the unpleasant and wincing sound of the grinding of metal (where my brake pads used to be) against the very costly (roughly 5.2 million dollar) rotars.

Because certainly if I can avoid hearing the noise, then there is nothing really wrong with my car and absolutely no reason what-so-ever for me to have to take it into the shop and spend 5.2 million dollars.

I can accept that challenge! Bring it on! Sacrifices may have to be made ...

And one of those sacrifices is speed, I usually drive fast but not anymore because if I drive fast then I would have to use my non-existent brakes to slow me down. (Not an option) But by going slowly I can just take my foot off the gas and let the car coast to a stop. Nice!

Downhill slopes present a unique challenge, because let's face it - gravity works (a very hard lesson for me in my younger years - see "Learning to Fly" or "Me and Gravity"). So I have taken to down-shifting, even though I drive an automatic car, and letting the transmission slow the car down - compensating for my lack of brake pads. Good!

Curves can also be a useful car-slowing ally, the more curves in the road the greater amounts of momentum you will lose. Perfect!

Just a small warning here - beware of the curvy but downhill routes, w-a-y too dangerous and it forces you to make very tricky decisions, like:
- Do I grind the brakes further which will now cost me 6.4 million dollars to fix?
or
- Do I careen off the road and attempt to slalom through the trees in hopes of finding one that is both large enough to stop my car but small enough not to destroy it??

Yes, Yes, I Know it is Terrible

Yes, I fully understand that this is terrible, but I am sure that some of you have wondered the same thing too...

Do deaf people talk to themselves?

I talk to myself ALL the time, what do they do?
Do they sign to themselves? What would that look like I wonder?

If they do have a conversation in their head - do they just see the words like reading a book? Because how would you talk to yourself in your head if you had never heard your own voice and do not use words that way?

Just was a very random thought and I do not know anyone to ask without coming across as crass or insensitive.

I think it is highly possible that I have had too much 'me' time lately and I need to get out more.

Ten Things to Aviod

I was just pondering some things, that really, I wish I had avoided in my younger days. This is certainly NOT a comprehensive list...

1 - do not get mad at your older brother and sit on his favorite toy and break it, a sea plane - because apparently they NEVER made anymore of the crazy things because it was absolutely impossible to replace, I have not been able to find another one ever!!
(and the tendrils of guilt still linger...many years later)

2 - do not shave your eyebrows
(but come to think of it now, I did that WAY before 'The Wall" by Pink Floyd...Awesome-I am a trend-setter!...ok, maybe not...)

3 - do not try to curl your three-feet of hair with your mother's spiky-hot rollers
(which will leave you with only 6" of hair and much weeping)

4 - do not sit down and eat the entire contents of your Halloween basket within one hour of getting back from trick-or-treating
(you don't want to know - trust me)

5 - do not ride your bike under the clothes line beside the very prickly holly bush - forgetting that you are shorter when you are just running under the clothes line, than you are when you are on the bike...and then being swept off your bike and falling backwards into the afore mentioned prickly holly bush.

6 - do not talk your older brother into running away from home, with no clothes, no food, and worst of all...no teddy bear!

7 - do not step on a lizard's tail while in the process of trying to catch him, because it means being traumatized by his tail popping off and only the front half of him running away!

8 - do not slide down the stairs on:
a large piece of cardboard
your sled (no matter how well you wax the blades...really, take my word for it)
the vacuum cleaner (ok, that one was purely accidental)

9 - do not forget to put the straps to your bathing suit back on before playing in the particularly rough surf of NC - only to have the whole thing fall off as you are stepping onto the beach and get slammed by a wave - in front of the very cute boy that you are trying to impress...yeah you really do not want to do that...

10 - do not make the mistake of thinking that you are going to be able to do all of the awesome things that your older brother gets to do in boy scouts...if...you join the girl scouts...

seriously - cookies!!! my brother never had to sell cookies!! (ok, the coconut ones rock! but still!!)
and can someone please tell me what the hell the point of macrame is!?!

Larger than Life

When I was a child I was often in trouble with my mother, who was less than enthusiastic about my 'adventurous' spirit. So it fell to my father to act as a buffer between the two of us.

One of these times was in our very 70's kitchen with yellow walls, harvest gold kitchen appliances, and brown-gold-orange carpet...quick question, who puts carpet in a kitchen??

but i digress.

We were all around the dinner table, my father, my older brother, and me - while my mother was doing something over at the stove...and fussing at me over something (she fussed a lot so I have absolutely no memory of what it was about)

So my father in an effort to diffuse the mounting situation pulled the two - three foot tall carved wooden spoon and fork off of the wall behind him and began pretending to eat his dinner with them.

I fell out into peels of laughter which made my mother turn around sharply, at which point my father hastily dropped the large wooden utensils under the table and out of sight. My mother glared at me - telling me to behave and my father winked. Three times this happened until, my mother, losing her rather thin tether on patience threatened me with going to bed without any more dinner. So I stared down at my plate, trying really hard to not look at my father again.

But it was just irresistible, it was hilarious to me.

I looked...

And was completely lost in giggles to the point where I started bubbling the milk, that I had taken a drink of before I looked at him, out my nose. This made my older brother, who was usually pretty stoic, start to laugh...

and then it happened
my mother turned
with a 'Matrix' like speed and stealth
and caught my father
fork and spoon
in hand...

they just stared at each other...

my brother and I didn't even breath...

you could have cut the air with a three-foot carved wooden knife
then
my father grinned - a super big cheesy grin

my mother's lips quivered as she tried not to laugh and be serious, she failed.

The entire room erupted in laughter and I was forgiven for my lack of manners at the dinner table.

Me and Gravity

My foray into unfortunate experiences with gravity did not end with my swan dive off of my bed (see "Learning to Fly" post). Unfortunately for some of us (ok...me) the idea of one failure doesn't really transfer to other situations as well as it probably should. The thoughts of wanting to soar free and fly never actually left me, in spite of the whole Peter Pan 'incident'.

At eight years old, (four years is a l-o-n-g time at that age and things are easy to forget) I was a swing fanatic - absolutely crazy about it. The wind in your face and blowing your hair, that split second of free-fall when you are dropping, and then at the highest point of swinging forward - you jump out. Leaving the security of the swing, of being attached to anything, free to glide through the air - fantastic!

Swings were my favorite thing on the playground and we were really good friends, or so I thought...

The only thing that rivaled jumping from the swing was to get it going as high as possible and then holding on tight, and leaning all the way back in the swing and letting the world turn up-side-down. Ahhh - watching the world swish by, feeling my hair flow down (I should mention here that I had really long hair at the time). It was wonderful, the freedom, the fun, nothing was so wondrously relaxing and deliciously liberating, perfection...

until...

The chain on one side of the swing breaks, while you are up-side-down, eight feet in the air, and...
you fall
straight
down
on your
head
in gravel...

I ripped an entire chunk of hair out of the top of my head, like a reverse mohawk. I looked like I had been scalped, badly, with a stripe down the center of my head, totally bare and bleeding profusly...
I whimpered my way, slightly dazed and definitely shook up, to the school nurse - who had to fight between sympathy and laughter - as she wiped at my tears and the blood that stained my face with a clean towel. I tried desperately not to cry as she picked gravel out of the top of my head.

And if that was not enough - then the hair started to grow back...spikey, short, and standing STRAIGHT up for the the next two months...

Oh yeah, I was stunning.

Learning to Fly (or Lessons in Gravity)

When I was four years old (and even still) I was very adventurous, unafraid of heights, bold, and fearless. So when I saw "Peter Pan" on the Disney channel (this was pre-cable, you had to actually watch it on the "Wonderful World of Disney", Sunday nights, 7:00pm - Awesome!) it sparked a new idea...
Flight! Unfettered adventure!

Where I could explore endlessly and my mother would never be able to catch me, and hence stop me. Many of my earthbound adventures were thwarted by,
"No, you may not climb your dresser."
"No, don't hang from that."
"What ARE you doing on the roof!!"

So, you can understand why flight held such appeal.
But, back to the Disney movie, I was delighted by the images of flying around the city, over ponds, through clouds - sign me up!

I pondered my timing, when was I least likely to get caught so that I had enough time to get airbourne and sweep, like Peter, through the window and out of the house. My mother vacuumed everyday (and I just need to add here - yikes - why would you want to do that...) and it provided me with the perfect time for my experiments and adventures, in flight...stair surfing...how much Mr. Bubble does it take to overflow the bathtub, important stuff!

While she was vacuuming I would have at least 30 minutes before she would come and check on me, perfect.

After a series of test jumps on my bed, for the proper height and trajectory, I felt that I was ready. I checked that I had pulled the curtains back far enough to not interfere with an easy exit out the window (no ones wants to get stuck in the curtains on their first flight). I climbed back onto the bed, I was a very small child at four, so I did literially have to climb onto the bed. I took three successively larger jumps, each one higher and stronger than the one before, armed myself with a zillion 'happy thoughts' because that is crucial to flight, confident and smiling, I launched - arms spread wide (because that is what Peter Pan did!)

Ready to soar out the window
Fly over the tree tops
Spin through the clouds - Yes!!!!

-WHAM-

spread eagle, face first belly flop on the floor of my room - so confident in my success that I did not even attempt to stop myself

-WHAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!-

My mother comes rushing into the room and picks me up off the floor, blood is pouring everywhere...

I don't really remember anything else from that day, except for being horribly disappointed that Peter Pan lied to me and 'happy thoughts' didn't work AT ALL!

That is when my older brother came to remind me "It's not going to work without 'pixie dust' silly."

Nuts!
I am still looking for Tinkerbell!!

Musings from the Dating Impaired-Part 3

Wouldn't it be helpful if people came with warning labels like they put on beer and cigarettes?

"Warning: completely psychotic, juvenile rebel, who drinks too much and smokes pot."
or

"Warning: hopelessly unemployed couch potato who will never lift a finger to take out the trash, do laundry, or get the car fixed."

At least then you could make an informed decision, just like on a bag of chips
- Yeah, I am okay with consuming 850 calories in fat, while sitting on the couch watching Princess Bride ... again. -
or
in this instance with the personal label...
- Yeah, I am okay with a socially reclusive, paranoid schizophrenic because he is soooo hot! -

But then you would know up front,
gone is the wondering...
- Why IS he climbing a tree to sleep at night screaming 'don't let the dandelions get me' -

A simple label, that is all I am asking for.

Musings from the Dating Impaired-Part 2

And along the same lines as the dating buzzer (see part 1) but in a slightly different, save yourself kind of mode...I think that every phone should come with a BAC (blood alcohol calculator) built in. What a fabulous invention/app!!!

The feature would shut off all functions, text-email-phone calls (except to your local cab company) if it registers that your level is too high.

This would have saved me sooo many - OMG moments in the morning when I read the messages from the night before, quivering with embarrassment and trying to figure out how to recover from telling my ex that...

' i LOVE you & wnt u 2 b covered in Nutella & i will pretend 2 b a strawberri'

followed by ...

'u hopeless bastard if u dont write bck it is ovr!!'

followed by ...

'i miss u so much xoxo'

followed by...

'regally im eant fugs and hisses'

Yeah, I would pay money for an app like that, although now that I think about it, it should probably be offered as a public service :)

Musings from the Dating Impaired-Part 1

The Dating Buzzer
Everyone should come with a built in dating buzzer located in their left upper arm. The dating buzzer could be pushed (or punched depending on your needs) when you know that the date is utterly and completely beyond retrieval. An incident has occurred that you know just sealed the evening, and now you are searching desperately for a way out. Like a moth caught between a screen door and a main door, there is just enough room to flap around desperately ... but no escape. The dating buzzer would provide an instant escape - out into the night and much needed freedom.

So when you catch your date staring at the waitress's breasts or butt and he says "Boy, is she stacked!"

Wham! Hit the dating buzzer and you are instantly at home with a good book and a hot bath and your date is being boiled in oil - in medieval England.

or...

Your date casually brings up, "So I used to date this prostitute..."

Wham! You are now enjoying a nice glass of wine with friends while your date is being chased across Siberia - by woolly mammoths.

or...

Your date says "Well, I am separated, I just haven't called the lawyer yet."

Wham! Dating buzzer to the rescue...

You are enjoying time at the spa, while your date is shackled to a Viking raider ship in the north Atlantic.

Fabulous, thank you Dating Buzzer!

Adventures at the Museum

Way back in my twenties, when I actually believed that I could do anything I set my mind to, before I learned that math and I could never be friends. I was going to school to be a marine biologist. And because of this interest I went to work in the Cephalopod lab at the Museum of Natural History – by the way a totally fabulous experience.

Anyhow, they had a very large room crammed full of octopus, squid, cuttlefish, and nautilus, fermenting in jars and looking out at you with glazed over, eerie eyes, and arms flowing everywhere. Some looking like there really was just too much animal for the jar they were in and they were going to bust the seams at any minute. AWESOME STUFF.

So my brother, being a brother, says "hey there is a cool movie about working in museums called the Relic." (if you have not seen it, it is a late 80s - early 90s flick about a slithering, wheezing, scraping, carnivorous, gruesome, shape-shifting monster who haunts the local natural history museum….he did NOT tell me this BEFORE I saw it!)

So I am standing in the previously mentioned room of fermenting animals – cataloging what was where, and so forth…when off to the side of the room (that only has one door and I have been standing near it) comes a slithering, wheezing, scraping sound. My heart stopped and then was racing so fast I had to force myself to breath and I am thinking …."NO WAY" this is sooo totally not real …and then I make the most classic of all blunders – Yes, I actually went looking for the noise – I did not do the sensible thing (that everyone yells at the screen when they are watching the Relic, like "Go the other way!" or "Don't go looking for it, you idiot!") I crept slowly around each of the shelves, holding my breath and trying to peer through the age colored formalin and tangles of arms to spot the creature, braced with a clipboard and a pencil. (I am sure that I would have made an impressively daunting opponent!)

So what was the ferocious, intern-eating, slithering, and wheezing beast…well, apparently there was a hidden door behind one of the cabinets and a very aging, wheezing, foot sliding, cane using scientist had made his way in to the back of the room. I must admit, to my dismay, that I only spotted him departing by the back door when I gave up my bravery completely and had run from the room and around the outside corridor, out of fear and a vain effort to find a fire extinguisher. It seemed like a good idea at the time – I could either fry it with chemicals or hit it on whatever looked to be its head.

I am relieved to say that I did not attack the aging professor with a fire extinguisher, but it is a good thing he turned the corner before I did! As it was, he just thought I was a lunatic maintenance person brandishing a fire extinguisher and thankfully I never saw him again.