Wow, it truly has been a long time since I’ve posted. Chalk it up to being a busy, single mom, trying to raise a very bright, funny, and loving daughter, working, and trying like hell to keep a manageable work/life balance. It. Is. Not. Easy. Being an adult. Is. Not. Easy. Remember when all you wanted as a kid was to grow up and have no rules, be able to drive, have a job, party all night and sleep all day? Yeah, that’s a bunch of bullshit. There is really no preparation or training for adulthood, regardless of how informed and prepared you think you might be. All of the literature, information, tests, books, classes, or groups you can join….you will never be fully prepared! You can try but life throws curve-balls. It presents situations for which you never thought you’d encounter. Or things you’d never thought you’d say, like, “Stop licking my knee and my salt lamp!” or, “I am pretty sure farts existed when I was little; I’m not THAT old”, “Yes, I am SO excited for my new steam cleaner and vacuum! Yes! What can I clean?!,” “I can write that off on my taxes, right?”
I have had a rough year. Well, a rough couple of years. I’ve been up and down, around the bend, dropped, and picked up. I have cried probably to the point where I didn’t think I could produce any more tears. Yelled to the point of a sore throat or voice loss. Stayed up on sleepless nights, pondering everything from the time I stole $5 from my dad’s wallet (sorry, dad), over salting the Brussels sprouts at a family gathering, a new chicken recipe (trust me; I have chickens in some form…dancing, alive, dead, cooked, neon, chasing me, etc….in probably 80% of my dreams), how I could be messing up my daughter’s life, how a conversation could have gone if I said something differently, how I wasted so much of my life on either being selfish or trying to please others, thinking about plot holes in a movie or show I just watched. You get my point. My mind will not shut up or slow down often.
I was recently let go from my job; a horrifying experience to go through as a single 37 year old mom, with a mortgage, bills, unexpected house or car repairs, random medical bills. Life has thrown down the gauntlet and thrown a huge dodge ball in my face. I felt sorry for myself. Sometimes I still do. I think that’s okay and allowed. I also realized that I make more of an impact on people than I thought. I used to think I was worthless and of very little value. After I was let go from my job, I had dozens of people reach out to check in to see if I was okay or if they could help me. I had former co-workers and friends from all walks of life tell me I made them laugh and they miss my presence. I am funny – I’ll give that one to myself. Haha. I also had so many people reach out and comfort me when I had to put my 16 year old cat, Tango, down. Cards, notes, candy, flowers, cookies, calls and texts. They could feel my pain. I realized while they were upset I had to put her down, they were TRULY concerned and cared for what I was going through, not just the fact I just lost my best friend. At that point, I started doing some “emotional inventory” and grasped the concept that people care. They care about ME. I didn’t allow myself to let the walls down and let people into my life. Defense mechanism, I suppose.
So, in the venture for a new job (yes, I have been applying like crazy and had some pretty good interviews), I am trying not to totally freak out. I still have more in my life than most. Does it suck? Yes. Absolutely. Will it last forever? No. I sort of went down the Rabbit Hole as I usually do when I get traumatic news. I can’t help it; it’s how I deal with things at first. So If I seem shut off, just give me some time and space. I wanted to put out into the Universe that while I don’t understand the order or reason for things, I must have faith and trust that I’ll end up where I need to be. I have to. I am a believer in signs and I’ve had some pretty strong ones lately. For those of you who have always been there, have come back into my life, been recently introduced into my life, and those I will meet in the future….thank you. Thank you. Gracias. And know it means so much to me, I appreciate and love all of you, and I will be here for you too.
Saturday, December 21, 2019
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
My Father, The Ricker
Wow! It's been over a year since my last post? Unacceptable! Sorry about that...I really do need to post more regularly; I don't know why I don't...it's fun and therapeutic for me. I'll work on that.
So anyways, back to my father...The Ricker. We call him The Ricker because he deserves a title. A nickname. A presence. He gives the "most interesting man in the world" (aka the Dos Equis guy) a run for the money. I was thinking about a subject to write about and my father immediately popped up in my head. Rick. Dad. Daddy. Yep, there's something to write about!
My dad just turned 70. Seventy. SEVENTY! That's SEVEN decades of life. Holy crap! That is amazing to me. Mostly because I think as his child, I never really imagined him as "old". I mean sure, when I was a kid, I joked about his age and how uncool he was because of it. But he was never "old" to me. Also because as he gets older, that means I'M getting older. I'm sure it's just as odd for him to think of his daughter in her thirties, with a child of her own. Along the years, we've both watched each other get older and grow up. Well, maybe not grow up. He's 70 and still acts like he's 45.
The Ricker has great stories. Some are true, some not so much, though it can be hard to tell which are which! He has truly lived and seen/done a lot in 7 decades. When I was young, I remember him telling me stories while tucking me into bed. Stories from his childhood that I repeatedly asked him tell me over and over. They were great stories! And I'm sure he added some "fabricated details" in them to get me even more excited and curious about them. Oh, those silly Jolly twins! And whenever a group of his buddies would get together, the stories flowed and the laughter broke out. Always the life of the party...The Ricker.
We have a special relationship, The Ricker and I. We are an odd concoction of oil and vinegar, fire and ice, cats and dogs; I could go on forever with clever analogies, but you get the point. We mix but not so well all of the time. I'll be the first to admit that we have gone head to head more than a few times. We are both strong. We are both stubborn. We are both opinionated. And we are related, like it or not!
I've always seen my dad as a bit of an anomaly. There is simply nobody like him. Especially nobody with his...shall we say "unique" style. The guy on the Pringles can comes close but I'm sure he copied The Ricker's look. He walks into a room and all eyes are on him. Which is probably why he was so successful in the world of sales. A true salesman commands the attention of a room. He was born a salesman and always will be. I got that trait from him. I always joke that we could sell a 70" TV to a blind Monk.
Dad has had a successful professional life. He put in long hours that I only now understand as an adult. He worked tedious hours and commuted for hours in gridlock traffic, often times in the rigid, unpredictable weather of Colorado. But he did it because he wanted my brothers and I to have access to a great life in the woods of Monument, CO. Great schools, small town, good community. He is now enjoying a well deserved retirement in Mexico. He's always got some sort of project going. He can't stay still. He can't keep his mind from running overtime. The man retired twice. He drives my mom nuts! But I guess when the biggest concern of his day is if it will rain while they're at the beach or he's trying to find a toilet seat that fits at the Mexican Home Depot rather than worrying about firing someone or not making his sales quota, it's a pretty good deal.
With him turning 70, it made me start to think about the fact that he won't be around forever. That devastates me. He is getting older, getting more fragile, and slowing down a bit. He doesn't WANT to slow down and I know that my mom has to remind him he's no spring chicken anymore! But there's that Leo fire in him that can't be extinguished; I know because I have it too. That little flame he passed on is the reason my EX husband is my EX. He couldn't "put it out" and change me. That was a case where my stubbornness worked to my benefit. Albeit painful, it was one of the better life experiences. I wrote a blog entry about the trip from FL to AZ with my dad in a Penske truck following the crumbling of the life I knew (you should go read it if you haven't!) and is one of the best memories I have of my dad and me. At the risk of sounding cliche, a girl's daddy is always supposed to be her hero, her knight in shining armor. My dad was my saving grace in a moving truck. I'll never forget that trip and I know he won't either.
With him getting older, it makes me realize how much I need and love him. It makes me value the time we have together, over the phone or in person. Every little conversation matters. Even when we butt heads we always make up. I couldn't imagine not talking to him again. And I know someday I won't be able to talk to him again. I read articles about "older folks" getting sick, falling, losing their brain/body function and I think to myself, "oh well they're just old" and then I look at the age. 76. 82. 91. Then I realize my dad is "getting up there" and there's nothing either of us can do to stop it. It breaks my heart to think that someday, I won't be able to call him and ask about taxes, mortgage statements, barbecuing, investing, real estate, or even something as simple as how his day is going. I can still ask but I won't always get a response. I can only imagine (and this is where my sense of humor comes in) having some sort of meltdown over something simple and wanting to call him only to realize I can't. So instead, I just look up to the Heavens and say, "DAD! Would you please stop golfing and get your butt off the 9th green? I need to ask you something!" The image of him whacking away at an endless supply of golf balls, blaring solid gold oldies, surrounded by cats, with a Cuba Libre in his hand makes me smile. Well makes me smile as much as it can for thinking of something so morbid.
I love my dad. He's one of the smartest, most intelligent people I know. He knows something about everything. He likes to keep his mind sharp. He also still likes to learn and research. He's up on current events. He knows what's going on. When we have an argument, it might piss us off, but now that I think about it, I'm glad. I'm glad we're fighting. That means his mind is working! In that case, I shall take it upon myself to piss him off until the day he dies. You're welcome, dad!
Watching your parents age is not easy. They start to behave like "old" people. They are set in their ways and have their routines. Don't MESS with that routine. I beg you! Don't MOVE that cutting board because THAT'S where it goes! What do you mean you're out of rum? Why is the rum always gone??
Though we butt heads a lot, I know why. It's because we're just like each other. People have told me I'm just like him and I always used to deny it. But it's true; I'm just like my dad. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
So anyways, back to my father...The Ricker. We call him The Ricker because he deserves a title. A nickname. A presence. He gives the "most interesting man in the world" (aka the Dos Equis guy) a run for the money. I was thinking about a subject to write about and my father immediately popped up in my head. Rick. Dad. Daddy. Yep, there's something to write about!
My dad just turned 70. Seventy. SEVENTY! That's SEVEN decades of life. Holy crap! That is amazing to me. Mostly because I think as his child, I never really imagined him as "old". I mean sure, when I was a kid, I joked about his age and how uncool he was because of it. But he was never "old" to me. Also because as he gets older, that means I'M getting older. I'm sure it's just as odd for him to think of his daughter in her thirties, with a child of her own. Along the years, we've both watched each other get older and grow up. Well, maybe not grow up. He's 70 and still acts like he's 45.
The Ricker has great stories. Some are true, some not so much, though it can be hard to tell which are which! He has truly lived and seen/done a lot in 7 decades. When I was young, I remember him telling me stories while tucking me into bed. Stories from his childhood that I repeatedly asked him tell me over and over. They were great stories! And I'm sure he added some "fabricated details" in them to get me even more excited and curious about them. Oh, those silly Jolly twins! And whenever a group of his buddies would get together, the stories flowed and the laughter broke out. Always the life of the party...The Ricker.
We have a special relationship, The Ricker and I. We are an odd concoction of oil and vinegar, fire and ice, cats and dogs; I could go on forever with clever analogies, but you get the point. We mix but not so well all of the time. I'll be the first to admit that we have gone head to head more than a few times. We are both strong. We are both stubborn. We are both opinionated. And we are related, like it or not!
I've always seen my dad as a bit of an anomaly. There is simply nobody like him. Especially nobody with his...shall we say "unique" style. The guy on the Pringles can comes close but I'm sure he copied The Ricker's look. He walks into a room and all eyes are on him. Which is probably why he was so successful in the world of sales. A true salesman commands the attention of a room. He was born a salesman and always will be. I got that trait from him. I always joke that we could sell a 70" TV to a blind Monk.
Dad has had a successful professional life. He put in long hours that I only now understand as an adult. He worked tedious hours and commuted for hours in gridlock traffic, often times in the rigid, unpredictable weather of Colorado. But he did it because he wanted my brothers and I to have access to a great life in the woods of Monument, CO. Great schools, small town, good community. He is now enjoying a well deserved retirement in Mexico. He's always got some sort of project going. He can't stay still. He can't keep his mind from running overtime. The man retired twice. He drives my mom nuts! But I guess when the biggest concern of his day is if it will rain while they're at the beach or he's trying to find a toilet seat that fits at the Mexican Home Depot rather than worrying about firing someone or not making his sales quota, it's a pretty good deal.
With him turning 70, it made me start to think about the fact that he won't be around forever. That devastates me. He is getting older, getting more fragile, and slowing down a bit. He doesn't WANT to slow down and I know that my mom has to remind him he's no spring chicken anymore! But there's that Leo fire in him that can't be extinguished; I know because I have it too. That little flame he passed on is the reason my EX husband is my EX. He couldn't "put it out" and change me. That was a case where my stubbornness worked to my benefit. Albeit painful, it was one of the better life experiences. I wrote a blog entry about the trip from FL to AZ with my dad in a Penske truck following the crumbling of the life I knew (you should go read it if you haven't!) and is one of the best memories I have of my dad and me. At the risk of sounding cliche, a girl's daddy is always supposed to be her hero, her knight in shining armor. My dad was my saving grace in a moving truck. I'll never forget that trip and I know he won't either.
With him getting older, it makes me realize how much I need and love him. It makes me value the time we have together, over the phone or in person. Every little conversation matters. Even when we butt heads we always make up. I couldn't imagine not talking to him again. And I know someday I won't be able to talk to him again. I read articles about "older folks" getting sick, falling, losing their brain/body function and I think to myself, "oh well they're just old" and then I look at the age. 76. 82. 91. Then I realize my dad is "getting up there" and there's nothing either of us can do to stop it. It breaks my heart to think that someday, I won't be able to call him and ask about taxes, mortgage statements, barbecuing, investing, real estate, or even something as simple as how his day is going. I can still ask but I won't always get a response. I can only imagine (and this is where my sense of humor comes in) having some sort of meltdown over something simple and wanting to call him only to realize I can't. So instead, I just look up to the Heavens and say, "DAD! Would you please stop golfing and get your butt off the 9th green? I need to ask you something!" The image of him whacking away at an endless supply of golf balls, blaring solid gold oldies, surrounded by cats, with a Cuba Libre in his hand makes me smile. Well makes me smile as much as it can for thinking of something so morbid.
I love my dad. He's one of the smartest, most intelligent people I know. He knows something about everything. He likes to keep his mind sharp. He also still likes to learn and research. He's up on current events. He knows what's going on. When we have an argument, it might piss us off, but now that I think about it, I'm glad. I'm glad we're fighting. That means his mind is working! In that case, I shall take it upon myself to piss him off until the day he dies. You're welcome, dad!
Watching your parents age is not easy. They start to behave like "old" people. They are set in their ways and have their routines. Don't MESS with that routine. I beg you! Don't MOVE that cutting board because THAT'S where it goes! What do you mean you're out of rum? Why is the rum always gone??
Though we butt heads a lot, I know why. It's because we're just like each other. People have told me I'm just like him and I always used to deny it. But it's true; I'm just like my dad. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Friday, June 14, 2013
If I was a Millionaire
Ah, money. One of the best things and worst things. It causes joy, it causes anger, it causes happiness, and it causes people to do dumb things. I say it "causes" versus "creates" because in my opinion, money isn't created in a person's life. It's more of a cause and effect situation. If that makes sense. Some people are born into money, some work their asses off to earn it, and some just win it. Unfortunately, most of America works their collective asses off to support the higher classes, and also the lower classes. I'm it -- I'm middle America! Blue collar, paying my taxes, and trying to survive. More often than not, from paycheck to paycheck, and sometimes I get unexpected money in the mail (love that! so much better than bills!) or win the occasional lotto scratcher. I have bought lottery tickets for the Powerball of $500 Million. $500 MILLION!!! That's more than I can even fathom. I would do so much with that money. Hell, I'd be happy with just A million dollars. We do a company pool to buy multiple tickets. I believe the last Powerball landed us with about $16. So, we reinvested the money in more tickets and lost. Then some old biddy in some Podunk town won it. Figures. What are you going to do with the money!? You're one foot in the grave. Maybe you'll invest in a diamond encrusted cane and a Benz wheelchair with gold plated rims? Styin' Granny!
Why can't someone like me win? I do my civil duty, I pay taxes as mentioned, I work and make a paycheck, and I struggle to make ends meet. I'm a single mom. My house needs some work. I have medical bills and loans to pay off. If I get a little ahead, something always pulls me back. It gets tiring and frustrating. So the literal million dollar question is: what would I do with a million dollars? Or even more than a million. After you see the sign for $500 million, $1 million seems like pocket change. But, money is money!
First things first, I think I would take the lump sum because, well, I'm not patient and I'd like to spend my money while I can enjoy it.
1. Pay my house, bills, loans, etc. OFF. I would LOVE to send a payment in full to them and write "I owe you nothing now! Eff off and have a nice day!" on the check memo. That would feel fantastic.
2. Home repair/remodel. I would love to get some things updated/fixed in my home. I would love tile flooring so my little asshole of a cat would stop pissing on my already dirty carpet. Tear it up! New A/C unit...ah...that's not a want, it's a need. Or maybe sell it and move to a bigger house, but nothing insane. I don't need 8 bedrooms and 5.5 bathrooms, a heated infinity pool and a kitchen as big as my house currently. Ooh, that does sound nice though, doesn't it?
3. Pay my car off and buy another one. Nothing outlandish, but something awesome for my needs.
4. Help the family out. $50K each? I don't know, I'd have to work on the numbers. LOL
5. Invest. If I can't see it, I can't spend it. And I can save for my retirement and my daughter's college.
6. Travel! It's certainly not cheap. Maybe a nice spa trip to Hawaii, a journey down under, to the Motherland of Ireland....
7. Get someone else to clean my house. This is very important. Especially the bathtubs...I DESPISE cleaning them. And maybe someone to do my hair and make-up, and a personal trainer (preferably a hot, young male that has an accent).
8. Donate. I have my top charities: cancer research, animal rescue, emergency relief, food/education/medicine to other countries as well as ours.
9. I think a little wardrobe refresh would be in order. Not that I mind my off brands now, but it wouldn't hurt a girl to have some designer named things. Hello, Gucci and Louis Vuitton!
10. Spend more time with my kid and volunteer more time with others that need help.
I know most of those probably sound cliché. But, I can't really think of better ways to spend it. But if I had $500 million, I think I'd need a heart transplant because mine would probably explode. If I had THAT much, I could help so many more unfortunate and give a helping hand to family and friends that could use it. Everyone gets a Lexus! Haha.
Why can't someone like me win? I do my civil duty, I pay taxes as mentioned, I work and make a paycheck, and I struggle to make ends meet. I'm a single mom. My house needs some work. I have medical bills and loans to pay off. If I get a little ahead, something always pulls me back. It gets tiring and frustrating. So the literal million dollar question is: what would I do with a million dollars? Or even more than a million. After you see the sign for $500 million, $1 million seems like pocket change. But, money is money!
First things first, I think I would take the lump sum because, well, I'm not patient and I'd like to spend my money while I can enjoy it.
1. Pay my house, bills, loans, etc. OFF. I would LOVE to send a payment in full to them and write "I owe you nothing now! Eff off and have a nice day!" on the check memo. That would feel fantastic.
2. Home repair/remodel. I would love to get some things updated/fixed in my home. I would love tile flooring so my little asshole of a cat would stop pissing on my already dirty carpet. Tear it up! New A/C unit...ah...that's not a want, it's a need. Or maybe sell it and move to a bigger house, but nothing insane. I don't need 8 bedrooms and 5.5 bathrooms, a heated infinity pool and a kitchen as big as my house currently. Ooh, that does sound nice though, doesn't it?
3. Pay my car off and buy another one. Nothing outlandish, but something awesome for my needs.
4. Help the family out. $50K each? I don't know, I'd have to work on the numbers. LOL
5. Invest. If I can't see it, I can't spend it. And I can save for my retirement and my daughter's college.
6. Travel! It's certainly not cheap. Maybe a nice spa trip to Hawaii, a journey down under, to the Motherland of Ireland....
7. Get someone else to clean my house. This is very important. Especially the bathtubs...I DESPISE cleaning them. And maybe someone to do my hair and make-up, and a personal trainer (preferably a hot, young male that has an accent).
8. Donate. I have my top charities: cancer research, animal rescue, emergency relief, food/education/medicine to other countries as well as ours.
9. I think a little wardrobe refresh would be in order. Not that I mind my off brands now, but it wouldn't hurt a girl to have some designer named things. Hello, Gucci and Louis Vuitton!
10. Spend more time with my kid and volunteer more time with others that need help.
I know most of those probably sound cliché. But, I can't really think of better ways to spend it. But if I had $500 million, I think I'd need a heart transplant because mine would probably explode. If I had THAT much, I could help so many more unfortunate and give a helping hand to family and friends that could use it. Everyone gets a Lexus! Haha.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Missing My Nana
I know it's been a while since I've written. I need to keep up!
My Nana recently passed away (May 29, 1921- Oct. 21, 2012) at the age of 91. I guess we were sort of expecting it, but she held on until she talked to everyone she loved in her life. That was Nana. Get everything done -- take care of business! It's not surprising she stayed until she felt she could go. She died peacefully in her sleep. No one can ask to leave this world in a better way. She felt fulfilled. And why not? She had an amazing life!
Born in 1921...can you imagine all of the world events, inventions, and social changes during almost a 100 years?! The Great Depression, automobiles, World Wars, sexism, racism, etc. I'm amazed at what she went through. She had so many stories about her life. She was the very image of a woman in those times. But Nana (Maxine) would never stop. She was a fighter, a lover, an intellectual, a frugal, and an amazing person. I really miss her.
I've heard stories of Nana from her past. She ran a babysitting business, was a bit of a prankster, loved a good deal, had a steady hand, was a bit of a stickler, loved her family, and ran the house smoothly. She traveled, she loved, she ... prank called people!
She saved young children on a ski trip. She's always been a nurturer, yet also a realist. She knew how life was, and if you didn't, she'd let you know. She was a fighter. Her husband died and she was left to raise 3 young children on her own. Needless to say, she had a full plate and had to deal with life. She knew she had to be a fighter and deal with life. She never hid from it. She just did. She was a very determined person.
I have such wonderful memories of her. I remember her home in Lake Oswego where my brother and I would visit every summer. I remember the smell of that house. The garden. Her sewing room. The office. Everything. I remember picking strawberries with her, and her laughing so hard when I screamed when I uncovered a huge, ugly slug. I remember our sewing lessons. She never gave up on me, though I did! I remember her watching her soap operas and knitting. I remember how she always used Rose Milk lotion. I can't smell roses without thinking of her. She loved her garden.
I called my Nana at least once a week. I looked forward to our calls, as did she. We would chat about the weather, school, jobs, my child, family, etc. We laughed about silly things. I enjoyed our talks. I remember the last call I had with her. She couldn't speak, so my Aunt held the phone to her ear while I spoke. I told her how much I loved her and asked if she knew how much I loved her. I heard a grunt. I told her about Lilli and said a few things about my life. I cracked a joke (though I can't remember what it was at the moment), but I made her smile. I MADE HER SMILE. I got to say goodbye to her. She passed the next night. I got the text from my brother that my Nana had "passed into glory". I slumped down to my kitchen floor, as I cried and held my head with my hands. My daughter came up to me (4 years old) and told me she was sorry that my Banana died. That cheered me up a little.
The next weekend, the family flew up to Oregon for her services. There was a service at the cemetary. We all said something about Nana. My Aunt played "What a Wonderful World" on top of her urn. We cried. It was our last goodbye. She was buried next to her first husband. The next day was the actual funeral in the church. More crying. More stories about Nana. They played her favorite hymnal.
I know she's watching over me. I see her in the form of a dove all the time. And one night, my TV was on (I know I turned it off). Just the screen, no sound, no cable. I came to check it, and realized I had left my candle warmer plugged in. Thanks, Nana! I hope you are singing and dancing up in the clouds. I miss you very much, but I'll see you again someday. Please keep being my guardian angel. I love you.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
You're guilty and you know it...
These are my confessions (cue the Usher song) and I'm going to share. Maybe against my better judgement. But, I'll bare my guilty pleasures. You know you want to share yours too. Hehe!
1. I still try to avoid cracks on the sidewalk. I would rather not break my mother's back.
2. I love limes. I'm addicted! My teeth hate me, but at least I'll never get Scurvy!
3. Salt and vinegar anything. Yep. Mouth is now watering...
4. I like to practice my stand up comedy routine in the mirror. I think I'm hilarious!
5. Sometimes I prance through my living room like a Sugar Plum Fairy. Shush.
6. I'm addicted to cheesy movies on Lifetime. And Wife Swap and the like.
7. I hate scrubbing the bath tub. It has to be pretty dirty or have stuff growing on it for me to get motivation.
8. I love cats. I might be a closet cat lady, having 3 and all. But I say more than 3 would definitely qualify me.
9. I choose my perfume by my mood...and if I can't decide, I either match it to the mood I want to be in, or to my outfit...as in the color of the bottle.
10. I think I might be addicted to cheese.
11. I still have a soft spot for some corny bands: Ace of Base, Hansen, Aqua, La Bouche, etc.
12. I think Zac Effron is adorable.
13. I love to watch movies! I have quite the collection. I still buy ones geared towards teeny boppers and tweens, shhh....
14. I don't like naked dolls. They need their clothes on. This stems from my mother, who would make me dress all of my Barbies before putting them away. You never know when Ken might want to take a peek.
15. I've never seen Top Gun.
There's a few of my guilty pleasures and confessions. Care to share any of yours?
1. I still try to avoid cracks on the sidewalk. I would rather not break my mother's back.
2. I love limes. I'm addicted! My teeth hate me, but at least I'll never get Scurvy!
3. Salt and vinegar anything. Yep. Mouth is now watering...
4. I like to practice my stand up comedy routine in the mirror. I think I'm hilarious!
5. Sometimes I prance through my living room like a Sugar Plum Fairy. Shush.
6. I'm addicted to cheesy movies on Lifetime. And Wife Swap and the like.
7. I hate scrubbing the bath tub. It has to be pretty dirty or have stuff growing on it for me to get motivation.
8. I love cats. I might be a closet cat lady, having 3 and all. But I say more than 3 would definitely qualify me.
9. I choose my perfume by my mood...and if I can't decide, I either match it to the mood I want to be in, or to my outfit...as in the color of the bottle.
10. I think I might be addicted to cheese.
11. I still have a soft spot for some corny bands: Ace of Base, Hansen, Aqua, La Bouche, etc.
12. I think Zac Effron is adorable.
13. I love to watch movies! I have quite the collection. I still buy ones geared towards teeny boppers and tweens, shhh....
14. I don't like naked dolls. They need their clothes on. This stems from my mother, who would make me dress all of my Barbies before putting them away. You never know when Ken might want to take a peek.
15. I've never seen Top Gun.
There's a few of my guilty pleasures and confessions. Care to share any of yours?
Monday, August 15, 2011
Are you pregnant? No? Oh, awkward.
I haven't written for a while, and I need a quick blogging fix! Today's subject: keeping your mouth shut and leaving certain topics alone. I know...me. With a FILTER? Impossible you say. Well, in my almost 30 years of life, I have actually developed one. It may not always be on, but I've gotten better.
There are the usual suspects of topics that are best left untouched, at least with those people that you are not close with, or those that are easily offended. Unless you are looking to stir up a debate, healthy or not. Know your "audience" before diving in.
Subject: Religion
Leave it alone. I'm all for equality and different religions, but I haven't always been. I went through my "pushy Bible thumper" phase (no offense to those that are religious. See, that might already be taboo!)and thought I must be right. I remember the day that helped me see that there's not a "right" religion. One day, I was reading the Bible, and realized my brother wasn't a believer/follower (at least not to my standards), and I was worried about his soul. I went to his room to plead with him that he read the Bible and that I was worried that we wouldn't see each other in Heaven. He listened with an attentive ear; he let me speak and rant. I left a copy of the Bible on his bed and gave him a tearful hug. He never once said anything until I was done. In a nutshell, it was this: Julie, there are many religions out there. If a Muslim is the best Muslin he can be, a Buddhist is the best Buddhist he can be, or a Jew is the best Jew she can be...will they not get into Heaven? They are following the rules of THEIR religion and beliefs. Just because they don't believe in what you do, does that make them wrong? I didn't want to admit it at the time, I mean....I wanted to be right! But, that really got me thinking. My general mantra of religion, and mine personally, taken from The Dalai Lama: My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness. I take this to heart on a daily basis. It's not hard to hold a door open for someone, or give them a dime for their coffee when they are 6 cents short.
Subject: Politics
While some are looking for a grand political debate, and a spoon to stir the pot with, in general, this can be a touchy subject. Personally, I'm not a political person. I vote, I try to understand the issues, and I choose the best candidate. But, I'm not that "into" it. I have friends that are hardcore politicians at heart. They love to shove beliefs down your throat. Bickering won't help, voting will. For instance, I have a friend that brought up a very valid political question and posted his ideas on Facebook. This started a riot. Name calling, nay saying, questioning of his character/morals/beliefs, and anger in general. He was expressing his beliefs. Which, is a right he has, and as Facebook glory goes, if you don't like it, don't read it. If you want to express your beliefs to counteract his, that's fine. You don't have to be mean about it. Once again, it's about having an open mind and letting people do what they will do. You can tell me about your political stance until you're blue in the face. I will listen, and I will respect it. I will NOT try to change your mind. That's not my job, it's yours.
Subject: Parenting
Touchy! Not everyone likes to hear they are failing as a parent, or that there are other ways of doing things, or even take advice for that matter. Oh, YOUR kid doesn't eat his peas? Wow, you're a crappy parent. MY kid eats all of his peas....AND cauliflower. Hey, that's great! Parenting award for you! You know, I just saw your kid eat 3 boogers while you've been here. I don't agree with all people's child rearing methods. You are raised by your parents, and you either adhere to their methods, go a completely different route, or perhaps combine them. Nothing is wrong with that. I remember I went to the store once with Lilli. She was less than a year and a half. It was fall time. I had to run to the store really quickly, so I just grabbed her in her button up long legged, short sleeved onsie and socks. It's Arizona. Fall means perhaps dropping to the low 70s/high 60s. By my standards, it was not cold. In the store, I had a lady approach me. She got really close...too close for my comfort. She says, "Wow, you should really put a coat and shoes on her. It's freezing out! I know, I teach a parenting class." To which, I graciously thanked her for her advice and told her, "it's Arizona, and it's really not cold out. She's not blue, is she? I'm quite sure she doesn't have hypothermia. Thanks for your concern, but we'll be fine. And good luck with those parenting classes!" I got a scowl for that one. Oh well, stick your nose in someone else's business. It was not as if I was hitting my child in public. Guess what? She lived! I'm quite certain she felt the need to insert herself in my business because she assumed I was probably 20 with a kid and had no idea what to do. I got you, you old hag! I should have recommended a good brand of fiber for her.
Subject: Weight
Oh dear LORD, leave it alone! People are self conscious as it is. They don't need you pointing out their "Oprah arms" or extra few pounds in their gut. You think I don't know? I do! If you have weight issues, I'm sure you are acutely aware of it. Unless you don't own a mirror or a scale, I'm sure you know. You don't tell someone that they need to start dieting if they don't want to be as fat as they were before. Leave those thoughts in your head! If people want to shove their face full of fried Twinkies and cheese burgers, let it be. If you think they have an issue, and you truly care and are close to them, maybe some sort of intervention is needed. Unless they are truly at risk of health issues or have lost so much weight, they look like a skeleton, try to keep your thoughts to yourself. I like to say: my weight will not be on my tombstone, and I'm certain that is not what I will be remembered for. If I died tomorrow, would the person delivering my eulogy say, "we are here to mourn the loss of Julie. 29 years old and 138 pounds"? Pretty sure that would be a NO. I now understand why my mother was so hurt when I was about 9 years old and she had a swimsuit on, and I asked if she was having another baby. Ouchie. Sorry, mommy! After years of wear and tear, age, and kids, the human body changes. It's nature. Unless you want a punch to the nose, never ask a woman if she is expecting, unless it's VERY obvious!!!
People can be very sensitive. I run my mouth and I'm certain I've offended multiple people in my day. Usually, it's not because I don't care, it's because my mouth runs faster than my brain. With age, I've become more aware of social no-nos. I laugh when Lilli does it, but youth really sees no sides; they just say what they see! I had a friend who's kid came up, patted my belly, and asked if I was going to have a baby. It hurt a little, but it made me laugh. He's 5. Maybe time to hit the treadmill? ;)
There are the usual suspects of topics that are best left untouched, at least with those people that you are not close with, or those that are easily offended. Unless you are looking to stir up a debate, healthy or not. Know your "audience" before diving in.
Subject: Religion
Leave it alone. I'm all for equality and different religions, but I haven't always been. I went through my "pushy Bible thumper" phase (no offense to those that are religious. See, that might already be taboo!)and thought I must be right. I remember the day that helped me see that there's not a "right" religion. One day, I was reading the Bible, and realized my brother wasn't a believer/follower (at least not to my standards), and I was worried about his soul. I went to his room to plead with him that he read the Bible and that I was worried that we wouldn't see each other in Heaven. He listened with an attentive ear; he let me speak and rant. I left a copy of the Bible on his bed and gave him a tearful hug. He never once said anything until I was done. In a nutshell, it was this: Julie, there are many religions out there. If a Muslim is the best Muslin he can be, a Buddhist is the best Buddhist he can be, or a Jew is the best Jew she can be...will they not get into Heaven? They are following the rules of THEIR religion and beliefs. Just because they don't believe in what you do, does that make them wrong? I didn't want to admit it at the time, I mean....I wanted to be right! But, that really got me thinking. My general mantra of religion, and mine personally, taken from The Dalai Lama: My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness. I take this to heart on a daily basis. It's not hard to hold a door open for someone, or give them a dime for their coffee when they are 6 cents short.
Subject: Politics
While some are looking for a grand political debate, and a spoon to stir the pot with, in general, this can be a touchy subject. Personally, I'm not a political person. I vote, I try to understand the issues, and I choose the best candidate. But, I'm not that "into" it. I have friends that are hardcore politicians at heart. They love to shove beliefs down your throat. Bickering won't help, voting will. For instance, I have a friend that brought up a very valid political question and posted his ideas on Facebook. This started a riot. Name calling, nay saying, questioning of his character/morals/beliefs, and anger in general. He was expressing his beliefs. Which, is a right he has, and as Facebook glory goes, if you don't like it, don't read it. If you want to express your beliefs to counteract his, that's fine. You don't have to be mean about it. Once again, it's about having an open mind and letting people do what they will do. You can tell me about your political stance until you're blue in the face. I will listen, and I will respect it. I will NOT try to change your mind. That's not my job, it's yours.
Subject: Parenting
Touchy! Not everyone likes to hear they are failing as a parent, or that there are other ways of doing things, or even take advice for that matter. Oh, YOUR kid doesn't eat his peas? Wow, you're a crappy parent. MY kid eats all of his peas....AND cauliflower. Hey, that's great! Parenting award for you! You know, I just saw your kid eat 3 boogers while you've been here. I don't agree with all people's child rearing methods. You are raised by your parents, and you either adhere to their methods, go a completely different route, or perhaps combine them. Nothing is wrong with that. I remember I went to the store once with Lilli. She was less than a year and a half. It was fall time. I had to run to the store really quickly, so I just grabbed her in her button up long legged, short sleeved onsie and socks. It's Arizona. Fall means perhaps dropping to the low 70s/high 60s. By my standards, it was not cold. In the store, I had a lady approach me. She got really close...too close for my comfort. She says, "Wow, you should really put a coat and shoes on her. It's freezing out! I know, I teach a parenting class." To which, I graciously thanked her for her advice and told her, "it's Arizona, and it's really not cold out. She's not blue, is she? I'm quite sure she doesn't have hypothermia. Thanks for your concern, but we'll be fine. And good luck with those parenting classes!" I got a scowl for that one. Oh well, stick your nose in someone else's business. It was not as if I was hitting my child in public. Guess what? She lived! I'm quite certain she felt the need to insert herself in my business because she assumed I was probably 20 with a kid and had no idea what to do. I got you, you old hag! I should have recommended a good brand of fiber for her.
Subject: Weight
Oh dear LORD, leave it alone! People are self conscious as it is. They don't need you pointing out their "Oprah arms" or extra few pounds in their gut. You think I don't know? I do! If you have weight issues, I'm sure you are acutely aware of it. Unless you don't own a mirror or a scale, I'm sure you know. You don't tell someone that they need to start dieting if they don't want to be as fat as they were before. Leave those thoughts in your head! If people want to shove their face full of fried Twinkies and cheese burgers, let it be. If you think they have an issue, and you truly care and are close to them, maybe some sort of intervention is needed. Unless they are truly at risk of health issues or have lost so much weight, they look like a skeleton, try to keep your thoughts to yourself. I like to say: my weight will not be on my tombstone, and I'm certain that is not what I will be remembered for. If I died tomorrow, would the person delivering my eulogy say, "we are here to mourn the loss of Julie. 29 years old and 138 pounds"? Pretty sure that would be a NO. I now understand why my mother was so hurt when I was about 9 years old and she had a swimsuit on, and I asked if she was having another baby. Ouchie. Sorry, mommy! After years of wear and tear, age, and kids, the human body changes. It's nature. Unless you want a punch to the nose, never ask a woman if she is expecting, unless it's VERY obvious!!!
People can be very sensitive. I run my mouth and I'm certain I've offended multiple people in my day. Usually, it's not because I don't care, it's because my mouth runs faster than my brain. With age, I've become more aware of social no-nos. I laugh when Lilli does it, but youth really sees no sides; they just say what they see! I had a friend who's kid came up, patted my belly, and asked if I was going to have a baby. It hurt a little, but it made me laugh. He's 5. Maybe time to hit the treadmill? ;)
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Diary of a perpetually single woman
DATING. The awkward, unnatural process of selecting one's lifetime mate. The trial and tribulations of success and rejection. The fear of being alone forever.
After my divorce, I went a bit wild. I was FREE! Meeting my EX at age 17, married by 19, divorced by 22. I made up for lost time doing things I should have been doing during my early college years. I was single, in a new state, thin, rocking tons of blonde highlights, working odd shifts at Starbucks, with an EX husband paying my car off and getting alimony. Not too shabby for a girl that was just jilted and torn up. I went crazy! I wasn't under his thumb any more. I went dancing with a girlfriend (thanks, Angie!) the day I got my divorce finalization in the mail. Not familiar with dressing sexy (wasn't allowed to), I innocently wore a white t-shirt, jean shorts, and tennis shoes. My hair was up in a curly ponytail. After dinner, on a whim, we hit up a club/bar. I'm surprised I got in. I wasn't dressed up, and I pretty much looked about 18. I got in, and I got DOWN! After a few drinks, I was dropping it like it was hot, dancing around poles, doing some gymnastics, and flirting my ass off. One guy actually asked Angie, "where did THIS girl come from?!" Clearly, not expecting me to be shaking like a salt shaker. Don't let the tennies fool you!
That unlocked something in me. I was out and about enjoying the nightlife. I danced, I sang karaoke, I flirted, and I put a few new notches in my lipstick case. (disclaimer: I'm sorry for that tidbit, family members). A few guys I met. I will not name names to protect the innocent...or guilty in this case.
Mr. C. Met him while enjoying dinner with some girlfriends. I saw him. My motto has always been: Julie sees, Julie wants, Julie gets. I was going to get him. To the disbelief of my friends, I walked right up to his table, where he was with 3 other guys. I asked a few random questions and walked away. After their meals were gone, guess who joined us? Yep. Got him! I gave him my number, and then off he went...to a strip club. This did not raise any flags for me. He called me at 1 am, drunk. I was hooked. He wanted to talk to me! And damn, he had pretty eyes! We hung out the next night at his house. In his 30s with 3 roommates. Still no red flags. Found out he had a baby on the way with his EX. STILL no red flags. He was so hot! And he liked me. Now that I'm thinking about it, I'm pretty sure we never went on any dates. We went to a strip club once, and a few clubs with his friends, but never an official date.
Mr. F. Met him while at a club celebrating a birthday or a going away something rather that my brother had invited me to. Getting pretty good at the whole "sexy" thing, I sported a low cut red top, a skirt that barely covered my ass cheeks, a tiny G-string, and heels. I was dancing and accidentally kicked his friend. We got to talking, and danced. I'm pretty sure there wasn't any body part he didn't touch while we were dancing. Had that happened now, I would have kicked him so hard he would be pulling his balls out of his throat. No red flags. This one was different. We went on a date. He introduced me to his friends and family. After about a year of dating, we moved in together. I managed to get a 25 year old mama's boy out of his parent's house! We stayed together for almost another year. Perhaps if he had paid more attention to me and helped out around the house, things would have worked out differently.
Single in a big house, I decided to take in a roommate. Mr. B. I think at the time, we were both lonely and were just looking to have someone to talk to. We didn't date...we were JUST roommates. He was a quirky little guy. An OCD, gangly, possibly gay (or bi) computer nerd with a drug and alcohol problem. We went out all the time. To the local dive bars, the clubs, etc. I met a few of his hot friends. That didn't last too long, and I swore after that, I would never have a roomie again! He still owes me money. If you're reading this, Mr. B...I would like my $300 back please.
Fast forward to Halloween of 2007. We see a hot, skinny, blonde/red haired girl, in a bikini. My friends and I decided to be the Swedish Drinking Team ala Beer Fest that year. I was sporting a light blue bikini, a white furry vest zipped up to display my cleavage, and white, furry, calf high boots. Pretty hot, right?! On the patio, we drank at the Irish Pub. Drinks were flowing. A portly pirate asked for a cigarette. I bummed one from my friend and gave it to him. He made a beeline for me, and after talking for a few minutes, he wanted to buy me a drink. That drink turned into 3, then 5, then 7. After talking and flirting, we decided: WE'RE GOING TO VEGAS TO GET MARRIED!!! Then it occurred to me: I can't get married in a bikini! That would be dumb! Ah, drunk logic. I drove us to my house (got lucky I didn't get caught driving. Pretty sure I was swerving all over the road). DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE, PLEASE!!! We made it safely. We came inside to my roommate and his current flavor of the week. WE'RE GETTING MARRIED!!! Um, what? Finally, in a moment of sobering realization, I told him that he should probably meet my parents first. We dated for a few months, he moved in, then BAM. Knocked up! I had a beautiful baby girl 2 days before Halloween of 2008. How's that for a quick run?
Now that I'm a single mom, my dating standards have been raised. I'm done with the hot douchebags that look good without a shirt. Well, not totally. I get short and stocky. Think Shrek. Not having much free time to get out, I signed up for a dating site. Let me tell you, there are some creepy dudes out there! I have met a few, but somehow, I seem to attract stalkers. Saying "I'm taking my profile down, I found you!" and "I love you" after 2 weeks. MAJOR RED FLAGS! After calling it off, and trying to pursue me 4 months after the fact...you are officially a stalker. Taking subtle hints didn't work. I'm sure I had a few "drive-bys" after that. I hope he doesn't have a used tissue of mine, a lock of my hair, and an alter set up in my honor. My standards were not that demanding. He must have a job, a car, and shoes. Yes, it has come down to that. Something is wrong if I have to declare shoes as a requirement. FYI, Aqua Socks ARE NOT SHOES!!! Now, I have added additional desires: non-smoker, single (being "single" while still living with your soon to be EX wife is not acceptable), age appropriate (21 years old?! Oh, honey, how's your first beer taste? 55 year old band groupie? Hey, how cool WAS the invention of the TV?), not looking for a fling, must like children, have good hygiene, and realize my child comes before him. Getting a message that says, "Come and get me baby, my biscuit is already buttered" is NOT sexy. What the hell does that even mean anyways?
I'm getting to the point where I feel I will either be an Old Maid, or simply not look any longer. I'm also to the point where I almost feel like I might not really need a mate. After being single for so long, I am pretty set in my ways. I think for myself and do my own things. I pay my own bills. I still like to listen to Ace of Base. I enjoy peeing with the door open. I enjoy having sole control over the remote. I watch chick flicks and Lifetime. I don't care for sports. I don't think I can share my bed with anyone other than my kid. The "passenger" side is for temporary parking only! I don't sleep well with someone there, and if you snore, GOODBYE! Being alone and single has both benefits and set backs. Maybe I can find a guy that will let me cook for him, hang out, then get the hell out! I don't know what I want anymore. I don't have a "type" any longer. This thing called "dating" is so tiring! I might as well pick a random guy from a line-up and call it good.
They say once I stop looking, I'll find him. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Love happens when it happens. There are thousands of cliches and quotes to make one feel ok about not having a partner. I think I'm ok with it. I am pretty awesome though, and I should have my PhD in flirting, so if you know of any single, non-weird, successful, cute, and funny men, feel free to send them my way.
After my divorce, I went a bit wild. I was FREE! Meeting my EX at age 17, married by 19, divorced by 22. I made up for lost time doing things I should have been doing during my early college years. I was single, in a new state, thin, rocking tons of blonde highlights, working odd shifts at Starbucks, with an EX husband paying my car off and getting alimony. Not too shabby for a girl that was just jilted and torn up. I went crazy! I wasn't under his thumb any more. I went dancing with a girlfriend (thanks, Angie!) the day I got my divorce finalization in the mail. Not familiar with dressing sexy (wasn't allowed to), I innocently wore a white t-shirt, jean shorts, and tennis shoes. My hair was up in a curly ponytail. After dinner, on a whim, we hit up a club/bar. I'm surprised I got in. I wasn't dressed up, and I pretty much looked about 18. I got in, and I got DOWN! After a few drinks, I was dropping it like it was hot, dancing around poles, doing some gymnastics, and flirting my ass off. One guy actually asked Angie, "where did THIS girl come from?!" Clearly, not expecting me to be shaking like a salt shaker. Don't let the tennies fool you!
That unlocked something in me. I was out and about enjoying the nightlife. I danced, I sang karaoke, I flirted, and I put a few new notches in my lipstick case. (disclaimer: I'm sorry for that tidbit, family members). A few guys I met. I will not name names to protect the innocent...or guilty in this case.
Mr. C. Met him while enjoying dinner with some girlfriends. I saw him. My motto has always been: Julie sees, Julie wants, Julie gets. I was going to get him. To the disbelief of my friends, I walked right up to his table, where he was with 3 other guys. I asked a few random questions and walked away. After their meals were gone, guess who joined us? Yep. Got him! I gave him my number, and then off he went...to a strip club. This did not raise any flags for me. He called me at 1 am, drunk. I was hooked. He wanted to talk to me! And damn, he had pretty eyes! We hung out the next night at his house. In his 30s with 3 roommates. Still no red flags. Found out he had a baby on the way with his EX. STILL no red flags. He was so hot! And he liked me. Now that I'm thinking about it, I'm pretty sure we never went on any dates. We went to a strip club once, and a few clubs with his friends, but never an official date.
Mr. F. Met him while at a club celebrating a birthday or a going away something rather that my brother had invited me to. Getting pretty good at the whole "sexy" thing, I sported a low cut red top, a skirt that barely covered my ass cheeks, a tiny G-string, and heels. I was dancing and accidentally kicked his friend. We got to talking, and danced. I'm pretty sure there wasn't any body part he didn't touch while we were dancing. Had that happened now, I would have kicked him so hard he would be pulling his balls out of his throat. No red flags. This one was different. We went on a date. He introduced me to his friends and family. After about a year of dating, we moved in together. I managed to get a 25 year old mama's boy out of his parent's house! We stayed together for almost another year. Perhaps if he had paid more attention to me and helped out around the house, things would have worked out differently.
Single in a big house, I decided to take in a roommate. Mr. B. I think at the time, we were both lonely and were just looking to have someone to talk to. We didn't date...we were JUST roommates. He was a quirky little guy. An OCD, gangly, possibly gay (or bi) computer nerd with a drug and alcohol problem. We went out all the time. To the local dive bars, the clubs, etc. I met a few of his hot friends. That didn't last too long, and I swore after that, I would never have a roomie again! He still owes me money. If you're reading this, Mr. B...I would like my $300 back please.
Fast forward to Halloween of 2007. We see a hot, skinny, blonde/red haired girl, in a bikini. My friends and I decided to be the Swedish Drinking Team ala Beer Fest that year. I was sporting a light blue bikini, a white furry vest zipped up to display my cleavage, and white, furry, calf high boots. Pretty hot, right?! On the patio, we drank at the Irish Pub. Drinks were flowing. A portly pirate asked for a cigarette. I bummed one from my friend and gave it to him. He made a beeline for me, and after talking for a few minutes, he wanted to buy me a drink. That drink turned into 3, then 5, then 7. After talking and flirting, we decided: WE'RE GOING TO VEGAS TO GET MARRIED!!! Then it occurred to me: I can't get married in a bikini! That would be dumb! Ah, drunk logic. I drove us to my house (got lucky I didn't get caught driving. Pretty sure I was swerving all over the road). DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE, PLEASE!!! We made it safely. We came inside to my roommate and his current flavor of the week. WE'RE GETTING MARRIED!!! Um, what? Finally, in a moment of sobering realization, I told him that he should probably meet my parents first. We dated for a few months, he moved in, then BAM. Knocked up! I had a beautiful baby girl 2 days before Halloween of 2008. How's that for a quick run?
Now that I'm a single mom, my dating standards have been raised. I'm done with the hot douchebags that look good without a shirt. Well, not totally. I get short and stocky. Think Shrek. Not having much free time to get out, I signed up for a dating site. Let me tell you, there are some creepy dudes out there! I have met a few, but somehow, I seem to attract stalkers. Saying "I'm taking my profile down, I found you!" and "I love you" after 2 weeks. MAJOR RED FLAGS! After calling it off, and trying to pursue me 4 months after the fact...you are officially a stalker. Taking subtle hints didn't work. I'm sure I had a few "drive-bys" after that. I hope he doesn't have a used tissue of mine, a lock of my hair, and an alter set up in my honor. My standards were not that demanding. He must have a job, a car, and shoes. Yes, it has come down to that. Something is wrong if I have to declare shoes as a requirement. FYI, Aqua Socks ARE NOT SHOES!!! Now, I have added additional desires: non-smoker, single (being "single" while still living with your soon to be EX wife is not acceptable), age appropriate (21 years old?! Oh, honey, how's your first beer taste? 55 year old band groupie? Hey, how cool WAS the invention of the TV?), not looking for a fling, must like children, have good hygiene, and realize my child comes before him. Getting a message that says, "Come and get me baby, my biscuit is already buttered" is NOT sexy. What the hell does that even mean anyways?
I'm getting to the point where I feel I will either be an Old Maid, or simply not look any longer. I'm also to the point where I almost feel like I might not really need a mate. After being single for so long, I am pretty set in my ways. I think for myself and do my own things. I pay my own bills. I still like to listen to Ace of Base. I enjoy peeing with the door open. I enjoy having sole control over the remote. I watch chick flicks and Lifetime. I don't care for sports. I don't think I can share my bed with anyone other than my kid. The "passenger" side is for temporary parking only! I don't sleep well with someone there, and if you snore, GOODBYE! Being alone and single has both benefits and set backs. Maybe I can find a guy that will let me cook for him, hang out, then get the hell out! I don't know what I want anymore. I don't have a "type" any longer. This thing called "dating" is so tiring! I might as well pick a random guy from a line-up and call it good.
They say once I stop looking, I'll find him. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Love happens when it happens. There are thousands of cliches and quotes to make one feel ok about not having a partner. I think I'm ok with it. I am pretty awesome though, and I should have my PhD in flirting, so if you know of any single, non-weird, successful, cute, and funny men, feel free to send them my way.
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