Issues - we all have them. I was married to a man for 22 years who asked everytime I had a hostess cupcake if I really needed it. Need? no. Want? yes. That rubbed off on my daughter and my son but not thru me - thru him. I always like to say that old dear phrase - If I'd known then, what I know now. . . .
So, I'm not 23 anymore which happens to be my favorite age of all time. I look back and was so worried about being too thin. Really? My breasts were too small, my legs too skinny, no hips and generally didn't know about any kind of good hair product or how to properly tweeze my eyebrows and still wish I was there again. So that being said. . .
I'm 23 on the inside in terms of energy, outlook for the future and exuberance for life. I still feel I have at least 70 years ahead of me and feel I can physically do anything I want and still look 23. Yeah, about that.
So it's been a little over 3 years since I lost 50 pounds, gained 8 back and still think I need to lose more weight. I don't see what the others do. Why the hell I feel the need to still do sit-ups, work my arms, tone my legs which seems to be a losing battle is beyond me. But, that's exactly the attitude that keeps me from wearing elastic waist band pants, nursing shoes with velcro straps and loose comfortable tops. I keep asking DD to tell me when, in his words, "need to tuck that shit in". This is referring to shorts too low, shirt too tight or pants not doing me any favors. So far, he hasn't had to. I'm my own worst critic but I also have kids that need to be able to NOT be embarrassed but rather smile and say "that's my mom".
We go dancing just about every Thursday and if not then the next day or two of every week. First of all it't fantastic exercise and secondly, I love dancing with DD. He is very very good. I've spoken before of the numerous folks that ask us to teach them on cruise ships, compliment at the clubs and just smile in our direction. DD always says - "If you aren't screwing it up, you aren't having any fun". Well, we did both last night and the week before.
Last week, we were doing a west coast swing and I have no idea how, but when he threw me around the back, I took an elbow to the right upper breast. Hard to tell exactly where but it literally took my breath away and I had to walk off and rest a bit. Of course we laughed and I explained that these could actually "pop" if hit hard enough. Last night was a different story. I need to digress and fill in a previous event.
March 2012 - I was escorting some of my fabulous friends from the Renaissance Esmeralda Resort in La Quinta to Victory Lane at the big race on Sunday. I had a backpack slung over my right shoulder and was speaking to them over my left. My left foot struck a 2" cement platform that stuck out about a foot from a power box I thought I had cleared and I took the entire fall on my right eye/cheekbone. Broke my left wrist, had numerous contusions on my right shoulder and all I could say was -"get them to Victory Lane". I look like someone literally beat the shit out of me. I wore sunglasses all day at work for almost 2 weeks. Was very black and blue (our care center stitched up my right eye) and garnered horrified stares everywhere I went. My eye was swollen shut and trust me - it was bad. Not as bad as poor DD everytime we went out and they looked at him like he was a bad guy. They all asked what happened and I always said - I tripped. Sure you did looking at him like he is a total rat bastard woman beater. I couldn't even touch it to wear concealer make-up. Bad, very very bad.
So, last night. DD and I are twirling around the floor in counter clockwise fashion and as I spin, I take an elbow to the right side of my nose with such force I knew immediately it was bad. We stop on the spot and I clutch my nose and exclaim "I have to go the bathroom now!". Yep, bloody nose. A woman walks in asking if I'm ok. I explain. She says, is that your guy outside? He has his head in his hands and looks worried. I go out there and DD is close to distraught. He then explains how it is ENTIRELY my fault for feeding him (I wish you could have seen me plugging his nose so he had to ingest this) Fireball Whiskey. Uh huh. Trust me, the guy doesn't drink - ever. I do believe the first double shot did him in, but the next few sealed the deal.
I now have 2 black eyes and when telling Maree she offered the perfect solution for when and if anyone asks. Since they didn't believe the previous - I tripped - I'm just going to offer. . . . "No worries, we are working thru it. Counselling is helping". I laughed so hard and she actually might have snorted upon offering that easy explanation. So now that we have the black eyes - I can continue with the rest of the story. . . .
Additionally last night dancing, a very nice man I always see there approached me at the bar. He paid me several very nice compliments and then explained that he and his friends had been talking about DD and me. I knew what he was going to say before he said it so I jumped in. Let me guess I said. We look happy? He says "yeah". You two are the only ones that smile, laugh and have fun when you are dancing. I fill DD in on this and he, in his Fireball state, informs me that they all hate him because he is with the red head, I'm beautiful, the prettiest girl in the land, fairest of them all and has declared his undying love for me. The whole time I'm there, I've been worried about my top, are my shorts too short and do I look fat. I need to realize I'm 55, I'm never going to look 23 again and I've got a fabulous man that sees me AS 23 and appreciates what I bring to the table.
Now for the good part of the story. We got to our place the Brandin' Iron in San Bernaghetto early. Had a chicken quesadilla (they really do have fantastic food) and then started dancing. Well, DD has come to the conclusion that Carl's Jr. Turkey Burgers with Jalapenos are heaven sent. We are post crack a lackin' my nose, he is feeling the Fireball and in a very hilarious voice I've spoken of before asks/accuses me if we are going to get a turkey burger when we leave. It is 9:15PM, he has already declared for the 1000th time that he is a short fat fuck pig, gnawing on his own pork shoulder but of course I say - yes.
We leave and drive 15 seconds down the road, he is fumbling for $4 and we get him and only him a turkey burger with jalapenos. He is happy declaring that although it's not the best, it is truly good. But maybe another one would help. I remind him that when we exit the freeway in about 10 minutes for home there will be yet ANOTHER Carl's Jr. Yes, I drove thru again and asked for another at this time, in the voice, he informs me he doesn't have the right cash. I tell him, really? It's $4 - I've got it. Well this one hits the mark. Now there is some very funny physical action in the drive thru - proclamations of my beauty and devouring the new burger in about 4 seconds. We get home and by the time I've taken a whole 15 seconds to remove my eye make-up - he's out.
Long story to get here. . . . he has never said anything to me other than I'm perfect in every way. I know I'm not but I tell him, I like his prescription glasses and please keep wearing them.
Women. We are sooooo critical seeing every stooopid bump, lump and crease. We've earned them and as long as we keep trying to keep it all in check to be healthy, I'm guessing they guys aren't going to complain too much. Do your hair, make-up and make them number one. Trust me - they will make you feel beautiful, appreciate you and make you number one. Sounds old school and a bit simple/naive. It isn't. It's the basics of why you were first attracted to each other and how it continues to show you give a diddly squat about him first and you second.
That being said, I'm going to still lose that 8 pounds because I feel better, but I may not worry about the sit ups or crunches that go with it. I may just accept I once again have "skinny" jeans and "regular" jeans. :-)
Friday, June 14, 2013
Friday, June 7, 2013
Boots vs. Bugatchi
DD and I have been officially living together for over a year. Unofficially out of a weeknight/weekend suitcase for almost 2 years. Since then the slow migration of my things has been steady. It started off innocently enough with the basics in clothing stuffed into some very large tupperware type standing drawers next to the antique bookcase/TV stand. Then I "cleaned" out that bookcase and put some more clothes, jewelry box, essential DVD's and my jeans. The shoes under the bed. I kept most of my real things however at the Little Trailer that could I had been living in for sometime at the Speedway. Another story for another blog. I will say though, DD loved bragging about my 2 mile long driveway and the privacy of 586 acres completely locked, dark and quiet at night. Just us and the occasional fox, raccoon or train.
Finally bought a very large nightstand to house my purses, electronics and a lamp. The large chair and a half in purple chenille was generously taken from storage and placed in the room. I had officially moved in. I came home one night after work and he had been home all day (one of the weird shifts) and had cleared out a wall, drawer and floor space in the closet for me. A very big move and made a very big statement. I'm staying.
I moved over all my dresses and a few pair of boots. I'm fond of cowboy boots for a variety of reasons. First of all because they really are very comfortable on my completely jacked up right foot. 5 pins, 4 surgeries and DD will often tease me about whether I'm actually missing a toe, have an extra one or just exactly what is going on. If he even looks down at it, I put my left foot over it. I am truly embarrassed about it and usually tape up the three right toes just to get in a shoe. Enough of that nonsense. I love the colors, He asks me if all my clothes are in the closet yet. Uh, no. Why? I have a lot. How much more? A lot. So it begins.
The clothes still aren't all in because DD is self proclaimed "gay". I mean that in the commonly accepted, although inappropriate, use as it relates to his own issues with clothing. The guy is vain and I'm good with it. Who wants to be with someone who doesn't care or try to impress you? Hewears very crazy color dress shirts. All solids in pink, lavender, mint green, turquoise - you get the idea. I think he owns 2 white shirts. As Administrative Sergeant he wore them everyday to work just to shock folks. He is a visual contradiction as some have said his face resembles Angry Bird but Angry Bird is in happy color clothing. Then of course he smiles and you've never seen a face transform so quickly. Literally twinkly eyes and a smile that can disarm a hardened criminal. So early on I decided to take a chance and get him an offbeat crazy shirt - BUGATCHI. These are spendy little items I get at the Nordstrom Rack. They sport an original price tag of anywhere from $180 to $210 a piece. They are beautiful pieces of fabric art known for the cuffs and collars having a strikingly different fabric and colors. He definitely does NOT wear them to work but does wear them every chance he gets. He is up to 11 now (you're welcome) and his space in the closet is rivaling the best of the best gay men who want options, set fashion styles and can actually wear it well.
I'm up to 25 pair of cowboy boots in all types of colors, toe shape and heel. DD tells everyone he's counted and I'm over 40 pair, well, it's just not true. Too many to actually have on the floor normal style so I put one boot shaft upside down into the other one so both toes are facing the same direction and now the space of two boots has become one. I'm still out of room and it's basically a freaking disaster in that closet. My obsession is more intrusive than his flaming selection of amazing colorful shirts that decorate the upper shirt rod. Oh, I forgot to mention it is apparently also my job to select which shirt he is to wear each time we go out. That on top of the previous blog about his need for options when we travel for 2 days and there are 4-6 Bugatchis, 10 colorful crew neck t-shirts, 6 pair of True Religion jeans and the requisite cowboy boots.
Recently at the race here in March, he climbed out of my VERY feminine car (orange convertible bug with black dots and stripes down the front hood and back trunk resembling a lady bug) in top of the line Joey True's, a Bugatchi, his boots and the sunglasses he loves to brag about - Biohazards - 12 for $36. A kid proclaims - geez, you are in $1,000 dollar outfit! Seriously dude - at a NASCAR race? They are still talking about it. Trust me, the guy can wear a pair of jeans. Topped with his shirt - I'm good.
So, discussion continues as to revamping the closet and master bath so as best accommodate his ever growing collection of shirts and my obsession with boots. What a couple of goofballs. Right now we are down to considering just getting rid of the bathtub that only houses a laundry basket and whatever my latest project is. That would add at least another 6 feet. Hmmm, I see pink boots in my future! :-)
Finally bought a very large nightstand to house my purses, electronics and a lamp. The large chair and a half in purple chenille was generously taken from storage and placed in the room. I had officially moved in. I came home one night after work and he had been home all day (one of the weird shifts) and had cleared out a wall, drawer and floor space in the closet for me. A very big move and made a very big statement. I'm staying.
I moved over all my dresses and a few pair of boots. I'm fond of cowboy boots for a variety of reasons. First of all because they really are very comfortable on my completely jacked up right foot. 5 pins, 4 surgeries and DD will often tease me about whether I'm actually missing a toe, have an extra one or just exactly what is going on. If he even looks down at it, I put my left foot over it. I am truly embarrassed about it and usually tape up the three right toes just to get in a shoe. Enough of that nonsense. I love the colors, He asks me if all my clothes are in the closet yet. Uh, no. Why? I have a lot. How much more? A lot. So it begins.
The clothes still aren't all in because DD is self proclaimed "gay". I mean that in the commonly accepted, although inappropriate, use as it relates to his own issues with clothing. The guy is vain and I'm good with it. Who wants to be with someone who doesn't care or try to impress you? Hewears very crazy color dress shirts. All solids in pink, lavender, mint green, turquoise - you get the idea. I think he owns 2 white shirts. As Administrative Sergeant he wore them everyday to work just to shock folks. He is a visual contradiction as some have said his face resembles Angry Bird but Angry Bird is in happy color clothing. Then of course he smiles and you've never seen a face transform so quickly. Literally twinkly eyes and a smile that can disarm a hardened criminal. So early on I decided to take a chance and get him an offbeat crazy shirt - BUGATCHI. These are spendy little items I get at the Nordstrom Rack. They sport an original price tag of anywhere from $180 to $210 a piece. They are beautiful pieces of fabric art known for the cuffs and collars having a strikingly different fabric and colors. He definitely does NOT wear them to work but does wear them every chance he gets. He is up to 11 now (you're welcome) and his space in the closet is rivaling the best of the best gay men who want options, set fashion styles and can actually wear it well.
I'm up to 25 pair of cowboy boots in all types of colors, toe shape and heel. DD tells everyone he's counted and I'm over 40 pair, well, it's just not true. Too many to actually have on the floor normal style so I put one boot shaft upside down into the other one so both toes are facing the same direction and now the space of two boots has become one. I'm still out of room and it's basically a freaking disaster in that closet. My obsession is more intrusive than his flaming selection of amazing colorful shirts that decorate the upper shirt rod. Oh, I forgot to mention it is apparently also my job to select which shirt he is to wear each time we go out. That on top of the previous blog about his need for options when we travel for 2 days and there are 4-6 Bugatchis, 10 colorful crew neck t-shirts, 6 pair of True Religion jeans and the requisite cowboy boots.
Recently at the race here in March, he climbed out of my VERY feminine car (orange convertible bug with black dots and stripes down the front hood and back trunk resembling a lady bug) in top of the line Joey True's, a Bugatchi, his boots and the sunglasses he loves to brag about - Biohazards - 12 for $36. A kid proclaims - geez, you are in $1,000 dollar outfit! Seriously dude - at a NASCAR race? They are still talking about it. Trust me, the guy can wear a pair of jeans. Topped with his shirt - I'm good.
So, discussion continues as to revamping the closet and master bath so as best accommodate his ever growing collection of shirts and my obsession with boots. What a couple of goofballs. Right now we are down to considering just getting rid of the bathtub that only houses a laundry basket and whatever my latest project is. That would add at least another 6 feet. Hmmm, I see pink boots in my future! :-)
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
You Were a Bunch of Trouble
First thing DD said this morning when the alarm went off for my normal every Wednesday breakfast with the Domestic Goddesses - DG's.
He got home at 6:40 AM Tuesday morning from a 12 hr shift. Up at 12:30 for a 1:30 meeting that lasted until 4:30 then on shift at 6:00 PM to deal with a double fatality motorcycle accident. Said he'd be home earlier than the normal 6:30 AM again. I went to bed after 11:00 PM and had no idea he'd crawled in sometime during the early hours.
Alarm goes off, I roll to find him nudging me and he whispers in this hilarious slightly lisping put on voice - "You were a bunch of trouble."
me - what do you mean? I didn't even know you were in bed.
him - you were sprawled all over and only left me 12" of bed and no blankers
me - what did you do?
him - it wasn't easy, I moved you.
Now understand, anyone who's ever slept with me (this actually is a pretty large group of folks including each of my girlfriends, kids, sisters and of course DD) says I sleep like a vampire. I never move, have one or both arms crossing my chest and sleep on about 6" of bed space. Right foot always hanging out without any blankets or sheets on it from all the surgeries and it always hurts. Truth is the way I sleep creeps out my girlfriends and I'm pretty sure on our get away weekends they are drawing straws as to who has to sleep with me.
I talk a lot in my sleep, tend to sleep walk and believe it or not can put out a pretty good snore if an abundance of awesome water has been involved before bedtime. I wear ear plugs (someone else can REALLY snore) and of late tend to wake up missing half my pajamas if I decided to wear them at all due to as DD puts it - Your side of the bed is "steamy". I'd like to say I'm hot - but I'm literally putting off steam and am in the Karate Kid adult female mode of Blanket on, Blanket off, Blanket on, Blanket off.
There is also a much more involved story but the crux is I bought the wrong size underwear and wore them to bed. They were too big. Evidently I had walked in my sleep (we were at the Lake Havasu house) and DD heard me shuffling about in the other bedroom. He gently steered me back to bed (I don't remember any of it). I woke up the next morning and went to get out of bed and didn't have on any underwear. What? I asked him - "hey, didn't I have underwear when I went to bed?" Yeah, we found them in the hallway, I had walked out of them. Size 6 looks like Size 9 when you buy the package upside down.
I've always slept in a King bed, when married for 22 years and even after the divorce by myself. Then I met DD who has always had a Full. First time I looked at it I thought - can't he afford a queen? Who in their right mind sleeps in a full as an adult? Sure it makes the room bigger but how to two people actually sleep in it. Then I found out why.
My left hand is always in his right or within grasping distance. Didn't know that was so nice. There actually is a lot of room for us when I am on the edge. DD's got a lot more going on. Body pillow, pillow on the head to block the light, 2 pillows under the head and all the blankets. It literally is a man cave. Sometimes I reach over and think wow, he's kinda soft and then I remember - oh yeah, body pillow. I chuckle and drift off again. So I've become used to the closeness and now hate it when we go stay somewhere hotel, cruise etc that has a king and still sleep on my edge of the bed. Feels like I'm sleeping alone.
Our first cruise we had a king bed and he woke up the next morning telling me he hated the bed. I said it was great to sleep in. He then expounded - "I had to send out the Pygmies looking for you". What? "I sent a search party to look for you. You slept in a different neighborhood. I had to roll over 3 times just to hold your hand". I laughed and laughed and laughed. Well then I start acting like those cartoons we watched growing up with the cannibals and spears always trying to cook some safari guide. Soon after this I sent him a postcard I'd painted and wrote on it - I'll never be far, but just in case here's a Pygmy to find me. It's still on the wall by the front door. Picture attached.
Try a smaller bed. You'd be surprised how nice it is to actually remember you are sleeping next to someone. I love rolling over in the morning and just throwing my arm over him. It's also harder to be mad at each other when there is only a foot between you at most. It's also more obvious that I've resorted to a towel between the fitted sheet and the mattress cover because I'm steamy. :-)
He got home at 6:40 AM Tuesday morning from a 12 hr shift. Up at 12:30 for a 1:30 meeting that lasted until 4:30 then on shift at 6:00 PM to deal with a double fatality motorcycle accident. Said he'd be home earlier than the normal 6:30 AM again. I went to bed after 11:00 PM and had no idea he'd crawled in sometime during the early hours.
Alarm goes off, I roll to find him nudging me and he whispers in this hilarious slightly lisping put on voice - "You were a bunch of trouble."
me - what do you mean? I didn't even know you were in bed.
him - you were sprawled all over and only left me 12" of bed and no blankers
me - what did you do?
him - it wasn't easy, I moved you.
Now understand, anyone who's ever slept with me (this actually is a pretty large group of folks including each of my girlfriends, kids, sisters and of course DD) says I sleep like a vampire. I never move, have one or both arms crossing my chest and sleep on about 6" of bed space. Right foot always hanging out without any blankets or sheets on it from all the surgeries and it always hurts. Truth is the way I sleep creeps out my girlfriends and I'm pretty sure on our get away weekends they are drawing straws as to who has to sleep with me.
I talk a lot in my sleep, tend to sleep walk and believe it or not can put out a pretty good snore if an abundance of awesome water has been involved before bedtime. I wear ear plugs (someone else can REALLY snore) and of late tend to wake up missing half my pajamas if I decided to wear them at all due to as DD puts it - Your side of the bed is "steamy". I'd like to say I'm hot - but I'm literally putting off steam and am in the Karate Kid adult female mode of Blanket on, Blanket off, Blanket on, Blanket off.
There is also a much more involved story but the crux is I bought the wrong size underwear and wore them to bed. They were too big. Evidently I had walked in my sleep (we were at the Lake Havasu house) and DD heard me shuffling about in the other bedroom. He gently steered me back to bed (I don't remember any of it). I woke up the next morning and went to get out of bed and didn't have on any underwear. What? I asked him - "hey, didn't I have underwear when I went to bed?" Yeah, we found them in the hallway, I had walked out of them. Size 6 looks like Size 9 when you buy the package upside down.
I've always slept in a King bed, when married for 22 years and even after the divorce by myself. Then I met DD who has always had a Full. First time I looked at it I thought - can't he afford a queen? Who in their right mind sleeps in a full as an adult? Sure it makes the room bigger but how to two people actually sleep in it. Then I found out why.
My left hand is always in his right or within grasping distance. Didn't know that was so nice. There actually is a lot of room for us when I am on the edge. DD's got a lot more going on. Body pillow, pillow on the head to block the light, 2 pillows under the head and all the blankets. It literally is a man cave. Sometimes I reach over and think wow, he's kinda soft and then I remember - oh yeah, body pillow. I chuckle and drift off again. So I've become used to the closeness and now hate it when we go stay somewhere hotel, cruise etc that has a king and still sleep on my edge of the bed. Feels like I'm sleeping alone.
Our first cruise we had a king bed and he woke up the next morning telling me he hated the bed. I said it was great to sleep in. He then expounded - "I had to send out the Pygmies looking for you". What? "I sent a search party to look for you. You slept in a different neighborhood. I had to roll over 3 times just to hold your hand". I laughed and laughed and laughed. Well then I start acting like those cartoons we watched growing up with the cannibals and spears always trying to cook some safari guide. Soon after this I sent him a postcard I'd painted and wrote on it - I'll never be far, but just in case here's a Pygmy to find me. It's still on the wall by the front door. Picture attached.
Try a smaller bed. You'd be surprised how nice it is to actually remember you are sleeping next to someone. I love rolling over in the morning and just throwing my arm over him. It's also harder to be mad at each other when there is only a foot between you at most. It's also more obvious that I've resorted to a towel between the fitted sheet and the mattress cover because I'm steamy. :-)
Friday, May 31, 2013
The bar set too high
So as I'm sitting here an odd thought occurs. No one (to my knowledge) has complained about me lately. I find it hilarious.
I was hauled in late last year about my attitude, my tone in emails about lazy dirty folks in the company kitchen, talking about myself, being too loud, driving too fast and generally making me feel like a horrible human being. The disclaimer is always that upper management loves me but I need to "tone it down" for the rest of humanity. My answer is always No.
Nothing I'm about to disclose will shock those that know me best. In the above conversation I was told I have the bar set pretty high for folks to meet. That I expect people to be on the same page as me in terms of acting like adults and I'm in charge of the morale in general. Let me add as a post script that people are afraid of me because I asked why they just don't approach me directly if I bother them in some way.
1. Setting the bar too high. My kids had the bar set high. In all ways of manners, schooling, behavior and responsibility.
I was hauled in late last year about my attitude, my tone in emails about lazy dirty folks in the company kitchen, talking about myself, being too loud, driving too fast and generally making me feel like a horrible human being. The disclaimer is always that upper management loves me but I need to "tone it down" for the rest of humanity. My answer is always No.
Nothing I'm about to disclose will shock those that know me best. In the above conversation I was told I have the bar set pretty high for folks to meet. That I expect people to be on the same page as me in terms of acting like adults and I'm in charge of the morale in general. Let me add as a post script that people are afraid of me because I asked why they just don't approach me directly if I bother them in some way.
1. Setting the bar too high. My kids had the bar set high. In all ways of manners, schooling, behavior and responsibility.
- Always shake the hand of the person you are meeting and do so with purpose. That limp dishrag or halfway into the hand holding the fingers is weak and sends the wrong message. My dad always said shake that hand with intention, let them know who's on the other end. Force your hand all the way in. Now of course they are more worried about hand sanitizer than the action. How did we all survive before hand sanitizer.
- Always ask adults how they prefer to be addressed. I always called my parents friends by Mr or Mrs. or Ms. Today's efforts to let kids be your friend early on has buried respect for elders and the right to be the adult. I don't agree. I've been Ms. "C" forever and I like it. It meets in the middle.
- I'm not the cool mom. I'm the one that holds kids accountable. There is a great story and it's somewhat lengthy but needs to be told. In the days of homes actually in the home that rang and you all ran to, the rule was the caller needed to say hello, introduce themselves, ask me how I was and then ask for the kid they wanted. If you came to my house to see my kids you had to introduce yourself, shake my hand and then we'll move onto your visits purpose.
- Ring
- Me - Hello?
- Is Devin there?
- I hang up the phone and both kids look at me
- Ring
- Me - Hello?
- Ms. C - Is Devin there?
- I hang up the phone and both kids are now asking who's the bozo on the other end
- Ring
- Me - Hello?
- Ms. C - It's Adrien. Oh, hi Adrien. Is Devin there?
- I hang up the phone and both kids are now desperately embarrassed. I don't care.
- Ring
- Me - Hello?
- Hi Ms. C it's Adrien. Hi Adrien. How are you Ms. C? I'm great thanks for asking, how are you? I'm good, I was wondering if I could speak with Devin? Sure Adrien, he's right here giving me stink eye - hold on.
- Devin - Dude, I told you the rules.
- Devin had a group of kids coming over and as each one drove up - he greeted them outside laying down the rules.
- Introduce, shake, ask first and everything in the kitchen is yours to gobble up. Works every time.
I once had a parent call me and ask me if I knew that after school all the kids were coming to my house to hang out. Devin was captain of the football team and that meant fellow players, cheerleaders and friends. I said I did know they were coming over. She questioned if they were behaving, did I have alcohol in the house and how did I know they weren't basically having orgies and getting drunk.
Well I did stammer a bit and simply state that I trusted my son. The rules with the kids were, you aren't paying for any of this so you better respect the house. They did.
I decided to pay two different surprise visits. Trust me they were shocked and so was I. I walked in the first time and Adrien was playing the piano, someone was on guitar and they were all literally singing Christian songs in my living room. I looked around as if I was in some old Beach Blanket Bingo movie. Made up some dumb excuse about needing something for work and scampered off.
Next time about a month later was finding them quizzing each other about words in the dictionary. I'm good, never went back although every alcohol bottle was marked with a felt tip marker as to the level in it. Turn the bottle upside down though and make that mark. Not so obvious and easier to track. Was never missing any.
2. Be on the same page. How about the same book? Business is business and hard feelings do not belong in it. Once again Dad said men are different in business than women. There are no emotions in business. You can certainly be passionate about something but it's not always a contest. I've been yelled at, embarrassed by someone and by myself. I've been asked to do things that appear to "not be in my job description" or beneath me. My feeling is unless it's disrespectful or out of my knowledge/physical capability I'll do it. I answer phones, put away supplies, go pick up food and gas cars. So what - I'm perfectly capable and being paid to be busy 8 hours a day.
I expect folks to approach me and let me know if I've offended them and trust me I will correct it. But to stew in silence or go around looking for validation in your feelings about something is really all about you is immature and unnecessary. The previous ruined a perfectly great friendship and workship with me a couple of years ago. I don't go for that and seem to always be the one asking to talk to someone about an issue. Why can't people just talk it out, agree to be different but appreciate what everyone brings to the table to make this world successful. I do have certain folks in my life that I just can't overlook the huge gap in what I'm willing to be exposed to and just steer clear.
3. Tone it down. I went most of my life acting like I was confident, in charge, smart and knew what I wanted. I was always worried about what people thought about me. Always acting like I was supposed to because I was trying to get ahead in banking and be conservative. I should have thrown all that out the window and pursued a career in dance or comedy.
- I married too young because I thought nobody would ever want me and I should take what I get - mistake.
- I was told by my mom I wasn't pretty enough to be Rockette so I better find a man and get married.
- Didn't have any money for college so I quit and went to work instead of figuring it out
No, I'm not toning down anything. I am finally owning who I am and am with the most important folks that actually like me the way I am. I laugh loud, tend to drop the F bomb, enjoy awesome water (vodka), tap dance, read, sing badly, love country dancing with DD, have Texas big hair, enjoy false eyelashes and am rocking the cowboy boots.
Yes, I have at work simply rebooted and don't feel the need to wrap everyone into my life or get validation anymore that way. Things are great and when they aren't I plow ahead. Took me 55 years but I'm there.
3. People are afraid of me.
Because of all of the above, evidently the bottom line is I have the distinct honor of always being a mom and frankly people just don't want to let me down. That's the afraid part. It's not fair and in my good friend here always says - "you are not the boss of the world, mom". Well, yes as a matter of fact I am. I believe we all should hold each other accountable for the fall of manners, respect, truth, ethics and behavior. That's what parents do. Especially moms.
So to wrap up the rambling. . . . and assign homework. . . Be the person you know you are supposed to be. Put aside assuming the worst, assume the best and be pleasantly surprised. I'm OK being naive and let down because the opposite is never giving anyone a chance. That is not to say certain behaviors by folks absolutely can be determined from history, environment or evidence. Just speak the truth, it's always hard to keep a lie going. Be sincere. Be someone your mom would be proud of.
Love to all and happy weekend.
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Malts vs Shakes
So for the three of us in the office today - discussion up front as I declare. . . . I so NEED a Carl's Jr. Chocolate Malt.
Everyone has their favorite place. For me any place can make a shake, but not everywhere makes malts. Maree and I have become connnoisseurs in this matter. DD on the other hand is not too picky as long as strawberry is offered.
So, DD and I have it figured out. We drive thru Jack in the Box for the larger than life Strawberry Banana shake with whip cream for him then just next door to Carl's for mine.
There is a technique in devouring this little bit of goodness.780 calories and 35 grams of fat. In order to make it all work this should actually be 3 meals but once in awhile you just gotta do it. Carl's has the domed plastic lid with the whip cream poking out the top. I stick my tongue right down in the opening and start sucking it out. What I can't get to gets stirred into the rest of the malt.
DD on the other hand has finished his entire shake before I get thru the whip cream and is asking for "10 more please". I'm not kidding. I don't know where he puts it.
The only other places I'll go for one is Dairy Queen or Fosters Freeze. They seem to have it figured out. 31 flavors incredibly over rated and expensive. After all if I'm really just after the malty flavor and a vacuum of whip cream why pay $5 for it.
Malt powder is great in your home made waffle batter. Other than than the jar just sits in the pantry waiting for me to get a hankering. I feel one coming on. soon.
Everyone has their favorite place. For me any place can make a shake, but not everywhere makes malts. Maree and I have become connnoisseurs in this matter. DD on the other hand is not too picky as long as strawberry is offered.
So, DD and I have it figured out. We drive thru Jack in the Box for the larger than life Strawberry Banana shake with whip cream for him then just next door to Carl's for mine.
There is a technique in devouring this little bit of goodness.780 calories and 35 grams of fat. In order to make it all work this should actually be 3 meals but once in awhile you just gotta do it. Carl's has the domed plastic lid with the whip cream poking out the top. I stick my tongue right down in the opening and start sucking it out. What I can't get to gets stirred into the rest of the malt.
DD on the other hand has finished his entire shake before I get thru the whip cream and is asking for "10 more please". I'm not kidding. I don't know where he puts it.
The only other places I'll go for one is Dairy Queen or Fosters Freeze. They seem to have it figured out. 31 flavors incredibly over rated and expensive. After all if I'm really just after the malty flavor and a vacuum of whip cream why pay $5 for it.
Malt powder is great in your home made waffle batter. Other than than the jar just sits in the pantry waiting for me to get a hankering. I feel one coming on. soon.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Linda
Just off the phone with Maree. Someone today asked her if her family was all in California. She stumbled and fumbled, glossed over her eyes and said yes. Not before telling the young man that asked, that she hadn't been asked that before because her usual answer is yes with one in Virginia. He apologized. It's always awkward.
I'm driving to work today and hear Carrie Underwood's song See You Again and start crying. I'm thinking it's about a lover, God and certainly it applies to a sister. Last night I went shopping for the statement pieces of jewelry I want to wear with the dress I'm wearing to Robbie's wedding in July. I get it's not about me but I also understand we "represent" the Mitchell's. We are the cool, hip California Aunts folks have heard about but have no idea what we are really all about.
Maree and I are a force to be reckoned with. Not a little, a lot. Maree decided her Power color is Royal Blue and she wanted to wear it to Robbie's wedding. I'd already bought a royal blue amazing dress but conceded to her as I know her in a dress is a big deal. Well, a short dress would have been a big deal but it's long one so not so much. She sent me the pictures and it will be fabulous.
I had bought a long somethin' somethin' on my girls trip to Oxnard not too long ago and I tried it on for Alexis and Maree. They are either fantastic liars or I really do look amazing in it. So, I'm wearing that dress now instead of the short royal blue knock out I had in mind.
I don't know how long it's going to take us to quote move on. I don't feel like moving on. I feel as if I need to validate Linda on all levels.
Maree said she's going to see a psychic and wanted to know if I want to ask anything. For the record, I'm a skeptic. Big Time. I did request - ask Linda if I'm doing what I'm supposed to do. What happens if I don't like the answer. Well, let's hope all has been resolved at that point.
Psychics. Odd lot don't you think? DD is agnostic. I struggle but don't judge. It really is what you've been raised with. I tell him all the time I talk to GOD about him. I really do. I pray in a lot of ways for hope, love and to release bitterness. I do not pray for him to forgive. He has earned the right to hate in this case and although it grieves me to constantly hear the names associated with the infraction and disrespect to the contract of marriage I get it. He usually says he's ruined me. I used to go to church all the time. Every week. Then things changed. I give my money to real people. Real charities. Things that make a difference. I'm really not interested in converting the world. I just want to help.
I donated money in memory of Linda to a breast cancer walk recently. To the Ahmanson Theatre as she loved the arts. I buy folks meals. I give away great clothing. I'm not buying "stuff" anymore. Over it.
Homework. . . . look in your closet. Your cupboard. Your bank account. Do we really need 20 versions of the same white blouse? How about 30 pair of jeans? I'm not saying give it away - just be smart about where you spend your happiness money. If you are alone as Linda was, don't waste it on the hobby that isn't going to make you happy. Spend it on the charity that makes the item you like. Donate your time somewhere important to you. Ok, so that being said I only give money in most cases because what matters to me is abused children and all I want to do is kill the rat bastards that do the harm. I stay away from the physical proof that these kids had inflicted on them because it's too much. I write a check. Make it better. Believe in humanity and that there are people that are going to make a difference.
Ok, off to make bacon sandwiches and omelettes for DD who is a self described "trash collector" and keeping the city clean of the dirt bags that try to make us lose faith. It's the parents. It's always the parents fault. Stop the cycle. Make a difference.
Love, serious Peace and make your mark.
CAL
I'm driving to work today and hear Carrie Underwood's song See You Again and start crying. I'm thinking it's about a lover, God and certainly it applies to a sister. Last night I went shopping for the statement pieces of jewelry I want to wear with the dress I'm wearing to Robbie's wedding in July. I get it's not about me but I also understand we "represent" the Mitchell's. We are the cool, hip California Aunts folks have heard about but have no idea what we are really all about.
Maree and I are a force to be reckoned with. Not a little, a lot. Maree decided her Power color is Royal Blue and she wanted to wear it to Robbie's wedding. I'd already bought a royal blue amazing dress but conceded to her as I know her in a dress is a big deal. Well, a short dress would have been a big deal but it's long one so not so much. She sent me the pictures and it will be fabulous.
I had bought a long somethin' somethin' on my girls trip to Oxnard not too long ago and I tried it on for Alexis and Maree. They are either fantastic liars or I really do look amazing in it. So, I'm wearing that dress now instead of the short royal blue knock out I had in mind.
I don't know how long it's going to take us to quote move on. I don't feel like moving on. I feel as if I need to validate Linda on all levels.
Maree said she's going to see a psychic and wanted to know if I want to ask anything. For the record, I'm a skeptic. Big Time. I did request - ask Linda if I'm doing what I'm supposed to do. What happens if I don't like the answer. Well, let's hope all has been resolved at that point.
Psychics. Odd lot don't you think? DD is agnostic. I struggle but don't judge. It really is what you've been raised with. I tell him all the time I talk to GOD about him. I really do. I pray in a lot of ways for hope, love and to release bitterness. I do not pray for him to forgive. He has earned the right to hate in this case and although it grieves me to constantly hear the names associated with the infraction and disrespect to the contract of marriage I get it. He usually says he's ruined me. I used to go to church all the time. Every week. Then things changed. I give my money to real people. Real charities. Things that make a difference. I'm really not interested in converting the world. I just want to help.
I donated money in memory of Linda to a breast cancer walk recently. To the Ahmanson Theatre as she loved the arts. I buy folks meals. I give away great clothing. I'm not buying "stuff" anymore. Over it.
Homework. . . . look in your closet. Your cupboard. Your bank account. Do we really need 20 versions of the same white blouse? How about 30 pair of jeans? I'm not saying give it away - just be smart about where you spend your happiness money. If you are alone as Linda was, don't waste it on the hobby that isn't going to make you happy. Spend it on the charity that makes the item you like. Donate your time somewhere important to you. Ok, so that being said I only give money in most cases because what matters to me is abused children and all I want to do is kill the rat bastards that do the harm. I stay away from the physical proof that these kids had inflicted on them because it's too much. I write a check. Make it better. Believe in humanity and that there are people that are going to make a difference.
Ok, off to make bacon sandwiches and omelettes for DD who is a self described "trash collector" and keeping the city clean of the dirt bags that try to make us lose faith. It's the parents. It's always the parents fault. Stop the cycle. Make a difference.
Love, serious Peace and make your mark.
CAL
Clothes you'll never wear again
At our recent adult tap competition in Anaheim, there was quite the drill to find something snappy and appropriate for our age and the number we were dancing to. We were all on the hunt for sparkle and I was tasked with "our upper arms need to be covered" and somewhat modest. This is not an easy task.
Online at Macy's, JCPenney, Kohls, Sears, Overstock, Shop NBC and HSN. Found 2 perfect tops at HSN and Overstock. Both Deep navy with sequins. One is 3/4 sleeve with sequins around the neck and down the sleeves. Bought it in black as well for the studio owner Kay - whom I love to death.
The other is a kimono wing sleeved incredibly snazzy top we wore with long black tap pants. Everyone is digging this top (the judges would later write in their comments we looked very elegant) and we have asked DD to take a picture of all of us. Funny thing is we take the picture in the other shirt with our black skirts but not this top. We are walking down the hall and DD whispers - that is a beautiful top, you would look great dancing in that when we go out. So, here's where the struggle starts. I've now put it on as a "costume". It was a costume before it was a going out dancing top so I'm going to have to get over it because I do really like the top.
Similar to when you are pregnant for the first time. You aren't fooled in your 2nd or beyond with this stooopid line of thinking. If I get this just the right size, I could belt it and where this dress later. Same theory - it's now become your pregnant costume. You are NEVER going to wear that damn dress again - get over it. Also don't save your clothes for the next pregnancy. They won't fit. Trust me. I gained 75 lbs and delivered at 190lbs. Trust me I never wanted to see those clothes again.
How about the bridesmaid dress. Those stories are legendary. I got smart this time. Alexis, my amazing daughter, has asked me to be her Maid of Honor and well as mother of the bride. I couldn't be more honored. Well, I bought the dress she wants us all to wear - do yourself a favor and get one. Henkaa - Henkaa.com. This dress (I got royal blue for myself and the deep purple for the wedding) turns into about 100 dresses. The fabric does not wrinkle, feels like silk, travels in a wadded up ball and will steal the show. DD and I on the Allure by Royal Carribean were approached several times asking me about the dress. I have the short version and when you twirl it goes full Ginger Rogers. I don't care how old you are, spinning is necessary to first of all feel pretty and secondly to see what the rest of the crowd is going to be viewing. Spinning in the dress made me wear my skimpy black dancer shorts underneath. No free show on the cruise.
Now, DD has purchased some True Religion jeans a the outlet in Cabazon, CA. TR has distressed and put in holes but patched them from the back with that very vibrant Mexican Sarape material that is striped and durable. They've also covered one of the pocket flaps in the sarape. Very cool. Yes, we bought one to try. I'm going to try it out on a pair of jeans I'm never going to wear again. Unfortunately I have a few of those. I also have a pair of jean shorts I'd to experiment on. Who knows, just might work. I'll let you know.
Online at Macy's, JCPenney, Kohls, Sears, Overstock, Shop NBC and HSN. Found 2 perfect tops at HSN and Overstock. Both Deep navy with sequins. One is 3/4 sleeve with sequins around the neck and down the sleeves. Bought it in black as well for the studio owner Kay - whom I love to death.
The other is a kimono wing sleeved incredibly snazzy top we wore with long black tap pants. Everyone is digging this top (the judges would later write in their comments we looked very elegant) and we have asked DD to take a picture of all of us. Funny thing is we take the picture in the other shirt with our black skirts but not this top. We are walking down the hall and DD whispers - that is a beautiful top, you would look great dancing in that when we go out. So, here's where the struggle starts. I've now put it on as a "costume". It was a costume before it was a going out dancing top so I'm going to have to get over it because I do really like the top.
Similar to when you are pregnant for the first time. You aren't fooled in your 2nd or beyond with this stooopid line of thinking. If I get this just the right size, I could belt it and where this dress later. Same theory - it's now become your pregnant costume. You are NEVER going to wear that damn dress again - get over it. Also don't save your clothes for the next pregnancy. They won't fit. Trust me. I gained 75 lbs and delivered at 190lbs. Trust me I never wanted to see those clothes again.
How about the bridesmaid dress. Those stories are legendary. I got smart this time. Alexis, my amazing daughter, has asked me to be her Maid of Honor and well as mother of the bride. I couldn't be more honored. Well, I bought the dress she wants us all to wear - do yourself a favor and get one. Henkaa - Henkaa.com. This dress (I got royal blue for myself and the deep purple for the wedding) turns into about 100 dresses. The fabric does not wrinkle, feels like silk, travels in a wadded up ball and will steal the show. DD and I on the Allure by Royal Carribean were approached several times asking me about the dress. I have the short version and when you twirl it goes full Ginger Rogers. I don't care how old you are, spinning is necessary to first of all feel pretty and secondly to see what the rest of the crowd is going to be viewing. Spinning in the dress made me wear my skimpy black dancer shorts underneath. No free show on the cruise.
Now, DD has purchased some True Religion jeans a the outlet in Cabazon, CA. TR has distressed and put in holes but patched them from the back with that very vibrant Mexican Sarape material that is striped and durable. They've also covered one of the pocket flaps in the sarape. Very cool. Yes, we bought one to try. I'm going to try it out on a pair of jeans I'm never going to wear again. Unfortunately I have a few of those. I also have a pair of jean shorts I'd to experiment on. Who knows, just might work. I'll let you know.
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