Simple Sophistication

When You Have The Time, Drop A Dime

2009-06-16T11:39:00.000-04:00

History will tell you that ladies tend to like talking on the phone more than men.

As pre-teens, we obsess over having our own phone in our room preferably and our own line if daddy will foot the extra expense. Outside of wanting to feel like a supercool chick when our friends came over, the privacy of our own phone line was AWESOME. We could talk to our girlfriends and our boy crushes into the wee hours of the morning. Talk included parents, teachers, friends, boys…boys…boys, fashion, makeup, what the heck was going on with our bodies…just to name a few.

As we grow older and mature, those long phone calls turn into the desire to be with someone. The phone calls are exchanged for nights out with our friends, after parties, bom-fires and rolling around town with whomever was lucky enough to have a car.

As I have recently gotten to know a special someone, I have taken pleasure in the warm fuzzy feeling I have with just a simple phone call. I feel again like a gitty high schooler waiting for her boyfriend to call. My voice goes up several octaves and I twirl my hair and tilt my knees inward. I giggle at every silly comment and laugh too hard at his jokes. I accept his every compliment with sincerity and repay compliments with the same sincerity.

For those of you out there who are married, in a long term relationship or perhaps wishing to get closer to a special someone, do not underestimate the power of a simple phone call.

A quick hello during lunch to let them know you are thinking of them. An afternoon call squeezed in between meetings to tell your lover that you can’t wait to see them when you get home. Or perhaps a call on your ride home to say, “I love you and I'll be home soon"!

When you have the time, drop a dime…to the one your with (or want to be)!

Thank You For The Reminder That I Am

2009-06-15T10:30:00.002-04:00

There are times in life when you feel like the people that surround you understand you.

There are times in life when you feel like the people that surround you misunderstand you.

There are times in life when you meet a complete stranger and have an instant connection.

There are times in life when you spend years talking with someone but never really get to know them.

There are times in life when you feel as if you finally have things figured out.

There are times in life when you realize you have not even begun to scratch the surface of the complexity of life.

There are times in life when you feel like the end of something is near.

There are times in life when you feel like that day is the first day of the rest of your life.

There are times in life when you are your best.
There are times in life when you are your worst.

There are times in life when you have demonstrated character traits that you want to be remembered for.
There are times in life when you have demonstrated character traits that you hope someone doesn’t remember.

I want to send a special thanks to someone who has recently reminded me that no matter who I am…no matter how rich or poor, how fat or thin, how pretty or ugly, how wrong or right…that what really matters is how I treat people and the impact I have on other’s lives.

A Man Who Vowed To Never Forget

2009-06-11T16:10:00.003-04:00

The person who did this was Jack Benny....You have to read this it is absolutely beautiful.....

Each year he sent her roses,
And the note would always say,
I love you even more this year,
Than last year on this day.
My love for you will always grow,
With every passing year.'
She knew this was the last time
That the roses would appear.
She thought, he ordered roses
In advance before this day.
Her loving husband did not know,
That he would pass away.
He always liked to do things early,
Way before the time.
Then, if he got too busy,
Everything would work out fine.
She trimmed the stems and
Placed them in a very special vase.
Then, sat the vase beside
The portrait of his smiling face..
She would sit for hours,
In her husband's favorite chair.
While staring at his picture,
And the roses sitting there.
A year went by, and it was
To live without her mate..
With loneliness and solitude,
That had become her fate.
Then, the very hour,
The doorbell rang, and there
Were roses sitting by her door.
She brought the roses in,
And then just looked at them in shock.
Then, went to get the telephone,
To call the florist shop.
The owner answered, and she asked him,
If he would explain,
Why would someone would do this to her, causing her such pain?
'I know your husband passed away,
More than a year ago,'
The owner said,
'I knew you'd call, and you would want to know.'
The flowers you received today,
Were paid for in advance.
Your husband always planned ahead,
He left nothing to chance.
There is a standing order,
That I have on file down here,
And he has paid, well in advance,
You'll get them every year
There also is another thing,
That I think you should know,
He wrote a special little card...he did this years ago.
Then, should ever I find out that he's no longer here, that's the card that should be sent to you the following year.'
She thanked him and hung up the phone, her tears now flowing hard.
Her fingers shaking,
As she slowly reached to get the card.
Inside the card, she saw that he
Had written her a note...
Then, as she stared in total silence,
This is what he wrote..
'Hello my love, I know it's been a year
Since I've been gone.
I hope it hasn't been too hard for you to
Overcome.
I know it must be lonely,
And the pain is very real.
Or if it was the other way,
I know how I would feel.
The love we shared made everything
So beautiful in life.
I loved you more than words can say,
You were the perfect wife.
You were my friend and lover,
You fulfilled my every need.
I know it's only been a year,
But please try not to grieve.
I want you to be happy,
Even when you shed your tears.
That is why the roses will be sent to you for years
When you get these roses,
Think of all the happiness that we had together,
And how both of us were blessed.
I have always loved you and
I know I always will.
But, my love, you must go on,
You have some living still.
Please..try to find happiness,
While living out your days.
I know it is not easy,
But I hope you find some ways.
The roses will come every year,
And they will only stop,
When your door's not answered,
When the florist stops to knock.
He will come five times that day,
In case! You have gone out.
But after his last visit,
He will know without a doubt!
To take the roses to the place,
Where I've instructed him
And place the roses where we are,
Together once again.
Sometimes in life, you find a special friend;
Someone who changes your life
Just by being part of it.
Someone who makes you laugh
Until you can't stop;
Someone who makes you believe
That there really is good in the world.
Someone who convinces you
That there really is an unlocked door
Just waiting for you to open it.

Tuna Fish and Milk In A Bowl

2009-06-10T16:18:00.000-04:00

Well its official. I am back at the gym and working out regularly. I have finally concluded after 32 years that the ONLY way to sustain the physique that I desire it to combine cardio with resistance training. My employer offers a free gym membership as part of their Wellness program, so I booted the high priced gym I was attending, and swapped it for a gym just a few blocks from my office building. I have committed myself to at least 10 days of resistance training a month. Cardio as often as possible, at least 5 days a week is a given without objection.

My first night at the gym, I was mesmerized by this female, about my age, who is in unbelievable shape. She is lean and cut, but not so much that she looks unfeminine. I tend to desire the lean look, not very sculpted, but this woman was a bit of a source of inspiration. She proved that a woman can be sculpted and still look extremely sexy and not bulky. Her posture was impeccable and she had not an ounce of fat on her body.

I approached her like the dork that I am and commended her on her discipline. It was risky because I was not sure how she would respond, but it was certain she appreciated the comment. We got to talking. Five minutes turned into fifteen minutes as she shared with me her workout routine. The girl rocked it out on the StairMaster like I have never seen. Although I would guess my good friend Snow White could give her a run for her money! But few could…

My big brother is a total doll and is landscaping my backyard. I have a small backyard that backs up to a MetroParks protected wooded lot. A lot of the brush was overgrown and coming into my backyard, taking up the little space that I have. My brother took down the brush (not the trees, I wouldn’t let him!) and filled in the area with topsoil and this weekend we will be planting grass seed and laying hay. He’s also started on a few other projects in the house. This weekend I think I’ll talk to him about the possibility of adding shelving and a shoe rack to my closet. He often cleans my garage, takes out the garbage, and picks things up that he sees the house needs. I just love having him around…aside, of course, from the occasional bitchfest about how I live. Point in case, the way I feed my cat.

My cat Emily is larger than a small dog. It is no mystery that I feed my cat that way I wish I could eat. Endless treats, a full food bowl and splashes of milk anytime she lets out a cry are the norm. When I adopted Emily she was so little and so underweight (she was a stray cat living on the streets) that the way I showed her she could trust me was to feed her, endlessly. The end product is an obese cat, who is insanely happy and saunters with her fat ass all about the house, not taking any disliking to my brothers attempts to taunt her to keep her away from his living space.

My brother is creeped out by Emily. Ok, so maybe it is totally nasty that when I eat baked or grilled chicken I will cut little pieces for her and feed them to her at the table. And maybe it is totally and unbelievably disgusting that I will share my chocolate pudding with her, and my soft yogurt too! But, why is it more disgusting when it’s a cat? I mean, its really no different than if she were a dog (obvious sarcasm here).

Anyways, as my brother is settling into my home, I have noticed my once formal approach to living is becoming more of the “ordinary sort”. I guess that is my way of saying, I lived and lounged a certain way before my brother moved in, changed things as he first arrived to make him feel comfortable (as did he I am sure) and now am going back to my normal and typical habits (as is he such as leaving his dirty laundry ontop of the washing machine – an obvious but unspoken request to wash it!).

One of these bad habits of mine is to feed Emily tuna fish and splash the bowl with milk. It’s a disgusting combination but one which she likes. When I would do this in the past, I would rid of the evidence quickly after Emily ate knowing full well my brother would just stare in awe as the disgust of this practice. Not to mention it smells horrific! So this morning, in a rush to get out of the house (I spent extra time making my hair curly) I fed Emily and scooted out of the house forgetting to rinse the tuna fish and milk bowl.

The three o’clock hour comes upon. My office phone rings. The caller ID shows the familiar cell phone number of my brother. The conversation begins:

I say, “Yo, yo, yo wassup?”

My brother responds, “Are you shitting me?!!!!!!! Tuna fish and milk in the same bowl Angela!!!!!! I almost puked when I woke up and passed it and smelled it this morning.”

My response, “Did you get your clean laundry?”

It’s a lucky thing for him he takes out the trash. Maybe next week as a practical joke Ill put a small pile of Emily’s shit just atop the garbage can to mess with him.

Nothing better than humor to deal with a sometimes stressful situation!

I’ve Got Sex On The Brain

2009-06-09T09:43:00.002-04:00

My brother was recently telling me about this book he found. It is called “365 Nights”. It is a book written by a couple, married couple, who make a pact to have sex every day for a year. No if’s and’s or but’s about it. Before their pretty little heads hit the pillow each night, they were going to shag, make sweet lovins, rock the van…whatever you call it…to gauge the impact of sex on their relationship.
The important question being, “Does good sex and often sex make a relationship better?”

The question is not geared solely to the physical aspect. I mean, its no mystery that having an orgasm makes you feel better. Not to mention the endorphins that are released into your system and the love juices flowing from your...pores (got ya!).

But also, the impact of having sex with your loved one from a psychological perspective. Being intimate with your loved one does put into perspective the pettiness of the bullshit that our lives bring us.

Could sex be the key to any fight or disagreement? I say yes. To my fellow bloggers have sex often and in new exciting ways all the time. Your bed should be smokin' hot and so should your libido! And if you are not in a relationship, like me...well, let's just say perhaps its time to throw a lifeline and phone a friend.

Article courtesy of http://www.buzzle.com/
http://www.buzzle.com/articles/could-you-have-sex-every-day-for-a-year.html

By Anastacia Mott Austin

Charla Muller couldn’t think of what to give her husband for his 40th birthday. It was a special birthday, but nothing she came up with seemed particularly creative. Then she had a flash of insight. As her gift, she promised her husband they would have sex every day for a year. 365 days of sex. "This is something no one else would give him," said Muller in an interview. "It didn’t cost a lot of money, it was highly memorable. It met all the criteria for a really great gift." At first he was delighted. Then he figured she wouldn’t follow through. But when it became clear that she was serious, off they went, having sex almost every day for a year. The experience is chronicled in Muller’s book, "365 Nights." Coincidentally, the book is being released at nearly the same time as another one with the same subject matter. "Just Do It," by Douglas Brown, tells the story of Brown and his wife and their pledge to have sex 101 days in a row. Both books seem to have hit a nerve and are selling well, and the couples are being adopted as media darlings and hitting the talk show circuit. Psychotherapist Dr. Barton Goldsmith, author of "Emotional Fitness for Couples," said to reporters that the economic situation could be part of the reason for the books’ popularity. "Recession is good for relationships," said Dr. Goldsmith. "People don't want to go out so they can cocoon, and sex can be fun for many couples. It beats the hell out of Monopoly. Reclaiming the spark of romance is always a timely subject." While the Mullers embarked on their year of love as a birthday gift, the Browns decided to "just do it" because they were in the doldrums after having moved from Baltimore to Colorado. Missing friends, family, and neighborhood, the couple thought up their idea as a way to get them out of their depression. "We were just kind of bummed out when Annie handed me this idea, and I said that it might be kind of fun and put some spark back in our lives," said "Just Do It" author Douglas Brown. "Baltimore was the kind of place that generated its own spark. We wanted to see if we could do the same in what we began to call our sensory-deprivation chamber." That doesn’t say much for Stapleton, Colorado, where they had moved to. Both books chronicle the challenges of sex every single day, whether they felt like it or not. Sick? Gotta have sex anyway. Mad? Too bad, time to have sex. Kids getting in the way? Hire a babysitter and go to it. There were definitely obstacles. One day Doug Brown experience a bout of vertigo (dizziness and disorientation) and his wife was not going to take no for an answer. "I’m not a quitter," she told reporters. "The night he had vertigo, I said, ‘I’m sorry guy, but you’ve got to keep going.’" For her part, Charla Muller says she hit a wall around month 10, and started referring to the "gift" as "my stupid idea," and "my cross to bear." But the Mullers, too, kept going, missing only a few days per month as husband Brad traveled for work. "When he was traveling, we tried to make up for it," said Charla. Both books are selling very well, though "Just Do It" is doing somewhat better on bestseller lists, some say because the details of the 101-day sexathon are more graphic, and the reader feels like he or she "is part of a threesome." Think you could do it? It might not solve all your problems, say psychologists and sex therapists. "There’s all sorts of reasons people lose interest in sex with their partner; disappointments, life cycles, financial issues. Just having [sex] isn’t going to resolve those." But for the Mullers and the Browns, they say it definitely brought them closer. "[We had] this intense closeness," said Annie Brown of the 101-day experience. "We were so aware of wherever the other person was mentally and emotionally, and physically." The Browns say they didn’t have sex for a month after the 101st day, but that their frequency these days is better than it was before the experiment. The Mullers, too, say that sex is better these days, and they’re glad for their year-long tryst. "It made it much easier to be open to the idea, more spontaneous," says Charla Muller. "It was a really meaningful lesson."

A Birthday Weekend of Filled Wishes

2009-06-08T10:48:00.000-04:00

Sunday was my birthday. Thirty two years old and I have never felt better about myself. The weekend was absolutely fabulous. It was relaxing, not too hectic and full of love and fun festivities.

Rather than hit any local restaurants or bars, I decided to stay close to home and celebrate my individuality and life accomplishments. A sort of self reflective weekend looking back upon my past and relishing in the best and worst of times.

I splurged and overspent on Saturday and it felt good! It bewilders me the sense of satisfaction I get when I use my hard earned money to purchase finer things that I enjoy.

I bought pillows for my bedroom, including two Euro shams and two down feather pillows, and I also bought these amazing Marc Jacobs Euro pillow shams in the most unique iridescent green/brown color with gorgeous piping.

I have been wanting to buy a cotton metalasse for several years now but was having a hard time finding a color and stitching that was more modern. Most of the metalasse are a traditional off white with a flower pattern. This weekend I found a stark white one with box stitching that had the traditional metalasse cotton feel but a modern look. This fit nicely between my flat sheet and my down comforter giving the covers a weight that snuggles the body.

I also purchased two pairs of shoes. For some reason I was drawn to the wedge heels this weekend. I have never purchased a pair of wedge heels because I have never been too excited about the look…but they offer extra stability and height and are hardly seen when I wear them with my long dress pants. They are typically a rounder toe instead of a pointed toe which is nice when walking across campus for work. I decided my pointed toe shoes could be worn with my jeans when I go out, rather than work, and I could use the wedge heels, incognito, under my dress pants at work and provide extra support and comfort when walking during the day. Then I would still not lose the professional look of added height.

Then I went product crazy and bought an extraordinary amount of hand lotions, body lotions, body washes, bubble baths, oils, and scented candles.

My parents were generous in purchasing me an bedside table for my bedroom. Since my bed sits in a large bedframe I needed a large piece, the size of a coffee tables (at least 36’ wide which is hard to find in an end table) but also square so it did not look like I was using a coffee table for an end table. I found it at a furniture store after looking for months, so of course, after it was set up next to my bed, I had to dress it up with a crystal piece, lotions, candles, a small light and a small clock that goes “tick tock” at night and helps me sleep. The piece of furniture sits just below a framed christening gown that is perfectly pressed and centered onto a piece of pink felt fabric. The frame is gold and had mini shooting stars going across it. It was my grandmother Audrey’s christening gown and someday I hope to be able to take apart that frame and dress my child in the gown on his or her baptism day.

On Sunday, after a glorious early morning walk in the park, and a trip to the grocery store, I headed over to my parents house to meet my family and niece and nephew for a small birthday party cookout. We feasted on bbq ribs, chicken, potato salad, green beans, fresh fruit salad and pasta salad. It all paired nicely with a sweet raspberry Riesling my aunt had wanted to try. We laughed about how we shouldn’t have waited so long to try the new wine. Then onto birthday cake and a few gifts. We as a family have agreed that gifts would be of the personal affect and we would not go overboard.

My dad’s mother, who passed when I was a pre-teen due to ovarian cancer was a very special lady. She was the mother of two boys and was a woman who could “do it all” well before the times when a woman had many options. She was an accountant, a mother, a caretaker, a wife, a volunteer and active community and church member and more.

She had a gentleness and lady likeness about her that emulated. She was loved by many and liked by all. Her name was Audrey. My large forehead, wide nose, and light hair and skin coloring are just as hers. If you place a picture of her as a young girl next to a picture of me as a young girl, we look identical. It is seldom I can go to a family party and not be told how much I am like Audrey. Even to the detail of how I decorate. Low profile, large pieces, earth tones and lots of contrast. She too had a love for the finer things. Her guest bathroom was always decorated with shell soaps and beautiful hand stitched hand towels and her house had the familiar scent of home when you were welcomed at the door.

When my grandmother passed at a young age, the family was devastated. My rough and tough grandfather was offset by my grandmother’s gentleness. She reminded him often not to be too “gruff”. My father’s heart was broken. It was the first and last time I saw my father cry. My father who is the pillar of strength in my life. My grandfather almost immediately after my grandmother’s death took house with another lady, 20 years his younger. It is obvious now he was fearful to be alone, but that act hurt the family so and caused a lot of turmoil and anger.

Many years have passed. My grandfather ended up marrying that lady, divorcing her, and then re-marrying her again and to this day they are wed. His second wife was recently ill and was treated at the hospital that I work. She had a serious neurological issue and I spent several hours of each morning of the 10 days she was here, up in her room, at her bedside, trying to console her and provide my grandfather some relief as he waited for his ride to be by her bedside. My grandfather is 86 years old and I could see from the pain on his face that watching a second spouse pass would be difficult for him.

It has been about 6 weeks since his wife went home, and the prognosis for her is good, but I can see my grandfather’s health failing. It is as if that experience allowed him to give himself permission to let go to the after life, where he could meet and be with Audrey and avoid the pain of losing another wife. This observation along with his most recent chatter about Audrey including; requesting the meals and recipes she prepared for him be prepared, sharing with me the tiny little shovel Audrey used while gardening and talking about Audrey more…has led me to this conclusion. Its as if he is preparing to pass by re-experiencing Audrey as he prepares to meet her again.

As a birthday gift, my grandfather and his wife gave to me my grandmother Audrey’s cook book. It was a cook book her mother in law gave to her in 1942. It is called the “Women’s Home Companion Cook Book” and has several hand written notes placed in particular pages to note where she would adjust a recipe to her liking. Celery salt instead of celery. Add garlic powder. Make it a heaping teaspoon. The inside page of the front cover of the book has a handwritten note from her mother in law. Certain pages are splattered with the likings of sauces and oils, making it obvious her favorite recipes. The gift came with a note from my grandfather and his wife…acknowledging my life successes, my willingness to open up my home to my brother, my time commitment to his wife while she was in the hospital and more. I was so completely and totally overwhelmed I broke into tears.

There are few gifts you receive it life that touch your soul. This was one of those gifts. I brought the book home and immediately found the perfect place in the kitchen for it and have already begun to page through and take mental inventory of the things Ill need to gather at the grocery store to prepare her favorite meals. My plan is to prepare those meals and take them to my grandfather and his wife so that they together can celebrate their love and the future.

As a final note, it was at that moment that I browsed through the recipe book that I realized that the ribs that we ate that evening were prepared by using my grandmother’s recipe and homemade bbq sauce.

I love you Audrey. I love you Bob. I love you Jeanite. Thank you for making my thirty second birthday one I will never ever forgot.

Much love and blessings,
Angela

A Weekend For Relaxation

2009-06-05T10:33:00.002-04:00

Well what began as, I don't know if he wants to see me again, has turned into a flurry of plans as we both admitted to each other that we were really looking forward to seeing each other again. I have a bit of a smile on today and I have a sneaking suspicion it will be hard to take off.

It started off as him asking me to attend an event with him in late June. He told me about the event and not only did it sound like a lot of fun, but it gives us the opportunity to spend some time together...what better way to get to know someone? I was flattered that he asked and told him,

"I would absolutely love to go. It sounds like it will be fun and I would like to see you again."

His response was adorable, "I was hoping you would come."

To then I which replied, "Are you going to make me wait until June 20th to see you again?" I couldn't believe I said it, but...I thought Id take a leap of faith anyhow.

His response, "What are your plans this weekend?"

I smiled and giggled and could feel my shoulders shrug as a little girl in excitement. There is something about his voice that I like. Its a bit boyish, but strong. And when he is not sure of something...or maybe feels a bit out of his comfort zone, the tone changes to anticipation...maybe even hope. Its as if he is making a statement while asking for affirmation at the same time.

I told him, "I do not know if you remember me telling you this when you called me from Vegas (let's just say he was a little intoxicated), but I really like the sound of your voice."

He said, "I do remember you telling me that. Thank you." in his softer voice.

To which then he payed me a compliment, but one that I will keep to myself out of protection from a friend of his who reads my blog (YUPIE!). I know you will try to embarrass the living hell out of him! I've got a practical joke to play on him of another means.

The compliment was sweet...really, really sweet.

The rest of the conversation included us exchanging schedules for the next 2-3 weeks and working to figure out how we might be able to squeeze in time with each other. It will be tough, especially this weekend, but I think its safe to say we are both looking forward to it.

Friday is here my fellow bloggers, and it has been a long but great week indeed! My weekend plans include lots of time outside (hiking / jogging / in line skating) and a birthday celebration with my family and a few friends.

Have a fantastic weekend and enjoy the time with those whom you spend it with!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Big hug,
Audrey

I Do, In Fact, Like Sloppy Joe

2009-06-04T14:03:00.004-04:00

Hello my fellow bloggers.

So as you may recall, my last post included a story about a gentleman I met out while out with some friends a few weekends ago. We had a smashing time during a fun night out in Cleveland, and we cuddled into the wee hours of the morning.

When we woke up the morning after, I felt a bit uncomfortable because I did not know if he was truly interested, or if perhaps the cuddling was the result of several Red Bull and Vodkas on his part and Vodka cranberries on my part.

When I woke up, the first thing I thought was how bad I must have looked. My makeup from the night before still on, my hair I was almost certain was overly poofy, not a good look unless you’re an 80’s chick and of course I had no toothbrush to speak up…not even gum.

Luckily, I retreated quickly to the hotel bathroom before he woke and washed my face with a cold washcloth, I dared not use the hand soap on my sensitive facial skin, rinsed my mouth…no mouthwash…RATS!...and washed my hands. I used my clip from the night before to pull back my hair in somewhat of a reasonable fashion and grabbed my shades to use them as a headband to rid of some of the poofiness in my hair.

Because there was a group of us, and we just crashed on the beds, he and I weren’t alone.

Everyone slowly started to wake as I came out of the bathroom. Moaning and groaning from headaches, the guys thinking it was funny to pass gas loudly in the room. I felt like I was back in college.

The gentlemen I met sat up in the bed, and saw me walking from the bathroom and said,

“Good Morning,” and gave me a wide smile.

“Good Morning” I said in return. A bit bashful because of my sleepover appearance.

When he sat up in the bed, he was not wearing a shirt. I remembered feeling his skin against me, but it was so late when we all piled into that room that I never had a chance to see his bare chest. Lean, muscular and just enough hair…and dark. I like the contrast of light skin and dark hair. His eyes are a deep brown and his nose is a bit larger. I like his eyes because the color is so deep, but they sparkle. Perhaps it’s the shape of his eyes that catches the light so. He is very handsome.

I went and sat on the edge of the bed and asked my brother if he would go get me a coffee and pick me up, knowing full well we had a 20 minute walk outside to where the car was parked. Not to forget to mention that my head was pounding and the thought of stepping out into the early morning bright sun, in my sleepover glory walking through downtown was not appealing in any way shape or form. My bro wouldn’t go for it.

“Hell no! We are walking together and we will get a coffee on the ride home“ he responded

The gentlemen I took a liking to, who also happens to be a friend of my brothers chuckles. I took at him and give him a half smile and raise my eyebrow, almost as if to say, “I hope you aren’t laughing at that.” He smiled at the funny face I made at him.

As I sat on the edge of the bed, I could feel his hand on the small of my back. As if he was gesturing everything was okay. It was as if he sensed I was nervous, perhaps afraid my brother might be able to see right through me to the fact that I was interested in one of his friends.
Goodbyes between friends were exchanged quickly. The last memory I have of him is sitting up in the bed, his one knee bent and his elbow resting on his knee. Very casual, very comfortable…very sexy.

I went about my day and thought about him, and the night before and the morning several times. The conversations and words exchanged that evening and into the wee hours of the morning kept running through my head. The rumor was that he had a girlfriend but it was on the rocks. This made things a little bit more complicated. I took a leap of faith and called him the following Sunday.

We have had several phone conversations since that evening. The conversations are getting to know each other and he makes me laugh…a lot…which I really like. He doesn’t take things too seriously and likes to have fun. It’s the kind of summer crush I am looking for.

His schedule has been hectic. LA, Vegas, Houston, drill weekend. There has not been one opportunity for us to get together since that chance meeting. Next week would be the first opportunity. I don’t know if he will ask if I want to get together, or if perhaps it will be another outing with friends that creates the opportunity for me to see him again, but one thing is for sure. I do want to see him again. If not for any other reason than to laugh my ass off, tell him how sexy I think his chest is, and toast vodka drinks.

Oh, and I will definitely make sure the next time we go out that I have plenty of time to get ready, unlike that evening where I rushed after a last minute decision to go out. I want him to think I am unbelievably gorgeous and sexy when he lays his eyes on me again, maybe even a bit irresistible.

Intoxicating

2009-05-28T13:19:00.003-04:00

This past weekend was, by far, one of the best weekends I have ever experienced in my life. They say in life that timing is everything and there are times in life when you have experiences that completely reinforce this concept. I have been eagerly anticipating this blog post for several days, and my fingers can not type as fast as I would like.

For several years I have not been myself. The after effect of several difficult things in my life. As a result, my once self confident self was thrown off kilter. The A I once knew had disappeared and I was fighting to find myself once again.

This journey began with returning home. To that place that was safe, supportive and could offer me the foundation on which to build. Then came the job change. A very important change considering the professional journey and the future of the company. Moving and changing jobs within a three month time period was stressful, but with each decision and move, a move meticulously thought through as if I were playing chess for my life, gave me a sense of relief. Change was good. I was making steps toward a better life for myself.

I adapted to my new home, making it my own space, adapted to my new job by getting acclimated with the people and politics and took it at a steady pace. With each new experience I could feel myself growing within as well. But I was afraid to acknowledge that progression or fully think it through to experience it. Perhaps it was fear that I could really be happy once again, therefore not giving it the attention it deserved.

Since the New Year, and my declaration to release completely from my past; or at least those parts of it that were holding me back remembering the best parts that had become a piece of my personality, I can feel new growth each day.

My brother moving in with me was like a breath of fresh air. My perfectly decorated, perfectly clean house had suddenly become chaos, and I loved it. I loved knowing that someone was there if I needed to talk. I liked having someone share a meal with me. I liked knowing that if I were in trouble or he were in trouble we would be there for each other. I feel a sense of closeness to my brother which I always imagined but never had. I admire him, love him and appreciate his friendship to the ends of the earth. In addition, he is so honest with me that our conversations force me to confront issues that I refuse to deal with…because he knows its something I must overcome and he wants to help me get there.

On Friday, I had absolutely no intention of going out. I saw Friday as my opportunity as rest up for a busy weekend. My brother had plans to go downtown and meet up with a group of his friends. These were not his close friends (of which I all know) but a group of guys he flies with regularly and trusts. The conversation went like this:

J said, “You should come out with us. It’s a great group of people and I think you would really have a good time.”

I responded, “I don’t know J, I just don’t feel like it. I mean, I have nothing to wear, no time to get ready and I feel fat as hell. You know I don’t like to go out when I am feeling fat.”

He said, “Come on. Please come. Besides, I need someone to babysit me so I don’t get in trouble. You are not fat. Go put your jeans on, and do your hair and makeup real quick and we will go.”

I responded, “I know I completely suck, but I'm just not going to go.”

J said, “Are you sure, its going to be a really good time. Once you get out and start drinking you’ll forget about feeling fat and you will forget about all the shit that bothers you.” God love my brother for understanding that sometime alcohol does in fact heal the soul.

I contemplate. Studying his face that is filled with hope that I come hang out with. I had spent so many weekends on the couch when living alone, occasionally going out with my girlfriends but most times not having the courage, energy or desire. This is not how I once was but it was who I became with my struggling self confidence and holding onto my past.

J said, “Alright.” Disappointingly.

He jumped in his truck and drove off. It was a beautiful night. Sunny, 70’s, cool breeze, and the CAVS were playing so anyplace downtown would be sure to be an absolute blast based solely on the fact that everyone would have their TV’s tuned to the big game.

As he drove away, I walked back into the house, sat on the couch, turned on the TV and my stomach sank. I remember shaking my head and myself and thinking…

”Are you really going sit here by yourself all night when you have a perfectly good chance to go out and have a BLAST with your big brother!?”

I jumped off the couch, ran to the mirror in my bedroom and looked at myself studying my sad facial expression and body language. Then I said out loud, “I am so fucking sick of feeling sorry for myself!”
I scurried to find my cell phone, dialed J’s number.

J answered, “Hey. What’s up?” obviously still a little irritated that I decided not to go.

I replied, “Come back. I want to go.”

J said, “Are you sure? I don’t want you to go just because you think I need someone to watch me.”

I responded, “I want to go because you DO need someone to watch over you, AND I am not sitting here on my couch by myself on this gorgeous night.”

He responded, “I'm on my way back.”

I quickly found the only pair of jeans that fits my now round ass. The after effect of being totally and completely lazy. Threw on one of my favorite black shirts, slide into my ballet flats, pulled my hair back into a clip, fixed my makeup, threw on some gloss, sprayed a bit of perfume and headed outside. As I was walking outside he was pulling up in his truck.

He exclaimed, “That was quick! Look at you, you look great! I am glad you are coming.”

We jumped in the car and headed downtown.

The evening events were so fun. We started at a small bar on E 4th. Sat with a group of people drinking beers, bullshitting and watching the Cavs game. The group was so much fun. The conversation was across the spectrum. Wedding plans for one couple, flight training for another guy, discussion on another gentlemen’s decision to go another direction in his career…and then there was this last guy. Hysterical beyond any comprehension and his call sign was perfect considering his personality. I immediately took a liking to him which was only further reinforced when he took seat at the piano in the bar and began a Billy Joel rendition.
We moved onto another bar, where our party took on the likes of riding a bull. Pictures were taken to be sure to embarrass all. Ever tried to ride a bull drunk? Then onto dancing where we watched Lebron sink his last second shot, all the dancers retreated from the floor standing around the bar where the TV’s were positioned, exploding into joy as the ball went through the hoop and the buzzer sounded!

By this point, I was so completely intoxicated that I was not sure if I could move to the next place. But off we went, to see a live rock band. We danced for what seemed to be hours. As I danced, with my vodka cranberry in hand, sunglasses on at night and dancing from the inner depths of my soul with ALL my might, our friends about, I declared in my drunken stuper that I would no longer hold onto anything from the past that was holding me back. That I was going to live my life to the fullest extend and if there was anything I wanted to do, I was going to do it. If there was anything I was doubting, I was going to find out why I doubted and get the right answer. If there was anything I was thinking I could not do, I would conquer to prove to myself that I would. As we left the bar and staggered back to a hotel room (no way any of us could drive) and we all crashed on the beds, the gentlemen from the evening that I took a bit of a liking too, turned towards me lying on the bed and said,

“That was so much fun. I am so glad you came out tonight. I heard you weren’t going to come.”

I smiled at him and said, “I'm glad I came out too. I had a really good time. Although you do have a great voice, you do know that you can’t play the piano for shit, right?” He laughed. I then asked, “Would you please hold me?”

I fell asleep in his arms and never slept better. Most definitely the combination of my self declaration and his boyish jovial charm that reminded me to always have fun and always have a sense of humor. Morning came quickly, and as friends said goodbye and my brother and I drove home he turned to me and said,

“Well, are you glad you came out.”

I responded, “I am so glad I came out and I’m ready. I'm really ready to make some changes in my life.”

His response, “You have no idea how great you are. But you’ll figure it out.”

The only way I can best repay my brothers support is to show it in return.

The Weekend Ahead

2009-05-22T09:31:00.001-04:00

Today has gotten off to a strange start. I feel asleep last night with temps in 70s with low humidity and a nice breeze in my bedroom. I woke up to 80s high humidity and no breeze. I'm not sure who was more uncomfortable, Emily my cat or myself. I woke up very hot and sweaty. I love the warm weather, but should have planned ahead to wake up in the air conditioning. There is a small storm system moving in from the West. When I realized it, I started to get frustrated. My preference would have been to stay in bed all day and listen to the rain and feel the drop in temperature, but alas, I headed into work to finish up a few projects that I do not want to spill over into next week.

The commute to work was quick. My normal hour drive was a quick 20 minute zip up the freeway, as the traffic was almost non existent. I struggled at the prospect that it was a good day to come in to get things done, because it would be quiet…while I secretly yearned to be back in my bed watching the storm make its way in and start making my mother’s chicken cacciatorre. Imagining my favorite man would be laying in bed next to me, ignoring his hefty schedule, ignoring his phone and paying all his attention to me. I wonder if he’d like the rain?

As I pulled onto Carnegie, a major downtown throughput for Cleveland and was sitting at a red light, a bus of inmates being transported pulled up next to me. It’s a strange sensation to experience the two emotions of hilariousness and creepiness at the same time.

“I wonder how many are innocent?” I thought to myself.

“Not that one…” I chuckled to myself for the middle aged man who peered out the tiny little slot of a window with eyes full of malice. His gaze was evil.

I nearly hit a car in the parking garage, my mistake as I had my attention to my bb and not the road. I attempted to apologize to the lady, but she was too angry at me. Guess her morning is not going well either.

“I hear ya lady.” I thought to myself. “It’s a shitty day to come into work and to boot, you almost get hit. So sorry!” I further thought to myself.

Headed down the stairs of the parking garage to the crosswalk on campus, and from just behind me a squad pulled out of one of the medical buildings and started the sirens, on his way to tend to a patient’s needs. It startled me so, that I jumped up and turned around quickly. The cop who stays at the crosswalk got a really good laugh out of me being scared out of my wits, and then tried to start up a conversation after mocking me.

I smiled and titled my head to the side and said, “Really, don’t. Its not been a good morning.”

My air must have been bitch, because he threw his hands up as if I was the cop and said,
“Ok, no problem. I hear ya.”

Asshole, I thought to myself. Stop the effing traffic so I can cross now.

Into my office and an intended delectable treat from my boss on my desk was enough to attract every ant in the building to my desk. There was a basketball size swarm of ants eating the brownie my boss intended to be a treat for me. Damn that brownie looked tasty.

I am eagerly anticipating the finish of my projects today so that I can go home, unwind and prepare for a fantastic weekend.
Tonight – Netflix arrivals of BlackHawk Down and Flags Of Our Fathers. Most likely pork chops or steaks on the grill, ice cold beers and a few friends. Start making mom’s chicken cacciatorre for a Sunday treat!
Saturday – Wash my car, roto-till the back lawn, hit the local landscaping company to price large round stones to line my flower beds with. Time with the Lily and Braden and the off to the Cleveland Great American Rib Cook Off to chomp on some of the areas best molasses soaked pork and beef ribs and a special evening of checking out Third Eye Blind’s concert. I suspect this evening will be a long one and a cab ride home is likely.

Sunday – Meet The Press and then heading to Mohican to hike the 13 mile trail, two times. Since I will be going alone, I see this time as an opportunity for me to reflect, maybe even meditate. Sunday night, Ill put the finishing touches on mom’s chicken cacciatorre and feast with my loved ones.

Monday – The local town of Avon Lake Memorial Day parade, where I will watch my niece Lily throw candy from a unicorn float in her ballerina costume. She is most excited at the prospect that she is going to be riding a unicorn! Braeden her little brother will be in tow. My brother and father will ride their Harleys, and mom and I will walk and we will meet in the same spot we have met many times past. We will bullshit with the local Vietnam Vets at the Local, maybe a quick flag ceremony and then we will all go out for a big lunch!

I am looking forward to the long weekend, because the extra day of unwinding just soothes the soul. Oh, and I couldn’t pass on telling you about this…

Last night, my niece Lily made a surprise visit. Lily is going through a phase where she likes to tell the truth about everything…this after a phase of a lot of fibbing, particularly when discussing whether or not she really DID wash her hands after potty or before dinner or after snack. She’d retreat to the restroom, stay there a few minutes (never turn on the water) and then declare her conquer of the germs on her hands. I knew she hadn’t washed them so I played silly and smelled them and would say, “Well I guess we have to try again because I can’t smell the soap!”

In her new phase of being totally honest, we’ve run across the gamut of phrases a child uses when discussing being honest or telling fibs. These have included:

Liar Liar Pants of Fire
Coming Clean
Honesty is the Best Policy

Liar Liar pants on fire went over like a rock! Turns out a 4 year old translation is literal and I had to explain that her pants won’t burst into flames – way to go Aunt Angie. Coming Clean didn’t catch her attention. She couldn’t get past the literal translation of ‘clean’. Honesty is the Best Policy was indeed the one that she liked.

In a moment of honesty, Lily came ‘clean’ yesterday.

“Daddy, I have something to tell you.” She says to her father

“Yes, Lily.” He responds

“I was rolling a boogie between my fingers and I dropped it on the floor and I can’t find it.” She apologetically confesses.

Jeff and I both burst into laughter. She smiled at us both wildly realizing that she had made a good joke.

Jeff says, “Lily, I am so proud of you telling me the truth. Now lets go find that boogie!”

These are things that I must write about in my blog so when she’s older I can share them.

Have a wonderful holiday weekend by blogger friends! Whatever it is you choose to do I hope that you find it relaxing and refreshing.

Laser Hair Removal – WHERE!?

2009-05-21T11:17:00.001-04:00

Technology continues to advance in the area of lasers. Well, geez, if you think about it, there is a laser for just about everything. There are lasers to make incisions during surgery which reduces scarring. There are lasers that can help cure skin conditions, such as dry skin, or improve the appearance of skin such as that which has a lot of broken blood vessels. There are lasers that can remove hair, and there are lasers that can even give you near perfect eye sight.

The risk of having treatment by laser is that if the laser is not not handled properly permanent scarring can occur. The skin on my face has improved from the laser facial treatments I have had. Sun spots have disappeared and the overall appearance of my skin is brighter and tighter. Never hurts to be a little tighter anywhere.

When I met my esthetician, James, I was skeptical. I had already trusted another to using a laser and the end result was not positive. Further, I was not convinced that it wouldn’t happen again. The malpractice was evident from my past experience, the machine was calibrated at a joule setting far higher than normal for this type of procedure…this being something that was unlikely to happen again through good preparation…but I still was fearful. James rested my fears and after three successful sessions, my confidence has been restored in lasers.

Next week, I have my fourth laser appointment. A quick touch up on the face, and this time too, hair removal on my legs! Can you believe it ladies! Yes, you heard it. In about six months, I will no longer have to shave or wax! For those of you who are a fan of the Brazilian, they can actually laser in all those particular places as well eliminating the “grow in” period and the discomfort that can come with it. I mean really, don’t we all just really prefer to have smooth skin all the time? How great that we have an option now that eliminates any waiting time. Or the conversation in which he have to advise our honey, “Don’t touch me there for about 3 days because you’ll get pricked!” best timed with your cycle to eliminate any additional down time.

So wish me well! I am a little nervous to be thinking of laying there in all my splendor from the waist down bending and contorting in positions that you’d find in the book, “The Joy of Sex”. On the plus side, James, my esthetician is in love with a man, so having a male gay esthetician is comparable to have a female gynecologist. You know…they are not that into pussy, so you have no fear in putting the pussy out there.

Your Bed

2009-05-21T09:21:00.009-04:00

For those of us who sleep alone, we have a choice.
For those of us who sleep with a loved one, we have an arrangement.

Fetal - (curled into a ball) / Tough on the outside, soft on the inside

Soldier - (on back, arms at side) / Quiet individual with high standards
Starfish - (on back, arms leg stretched out) / Good listener doesn’t like attention
Freefall - (on belly, arms extended out) / Rough exterior, nervous, sensitive to criticism
Log - (on your side, arms at side) / Social and easy going
Yearner - (on your side, arms extended) / Suspicious and cynical

I normally sleep in the fetal position. My upper body is in the fetal position but my legs are extended. I also sleep in my bed solo and rather than sleeping in the middle of the bed, I sleep on the right side of the bed closest to the window. Occasionally, if I am having a restless night, I find comfort is laying diagonally across the bed. Almost always, I wake up in the middle of the night and remove any clothing. But I can’t fall asleep naked. I need to fall asleep with clothing on, and then wake up in the middle of the night and remove the clothing. Its comparable to the cool side of the pillow...for your body.

What position do you sleep in? Do you have any weird sleeping habits?

The Nose Knows

2009-05-20T09:31:00.003-04:00

Do you believe in the healing powers of aromatherapy? I never did, until recently.

As a baby, my mother used to bathe me and then rub my body with baby powder scented lotion. This continued when I was a little girl. We had a routine, dinner, studies, bath and then mom would rub my legs, arms, belly and back with powder scented lotion. I would stand there in my day of the week undies, always wearing the right pair of undies on the right day of the week and she would massage the lotion into my skin.

As I grew into my pre-teens, I started doing the same. I used Avon’s Skin So Soft line which has the faint smell of powder and doubles as a mosquito repellent.

As I grew up into my teens, I began to stray from the powder scented lotions and explored with floral, vanilla and musk scents. An act I think subconsciously was me claiming my individuality! The musk reminding me of my mother. I continued doing this through my teens and into my twenties.

In my late twenties, when all my energy and efforts were focused on the healing of another, and the start of a new business, …I discontinued this morning ritual, justifying it by reminding myself than it took an extra 20 minutes and I just did not have the time.

Then I moved into my “minimalist” period where I wanted to feel and understand my skin and body in its purest form. I dare not alter my natural body scent by masking it with a heavy scented lotion.

Just recently, particularly after a few winters in Ohio, I was reminded of how although I could get away without using heavy body lotions in Miami (high humidity level), I could not get away with it in Ohio. The winters took a toll on my skin.

So I again, turned to the scented lotions of floral, vanilla and musk. I have enjoyed wearing them again, and laugh when I am reminded of a memory in which I was wearing the scent. In particular, the amazing sex I was having when I wore vanilla. It was the late 90’s when vanilla was really popular and he totally dug the scent. We used vanilla lotion everywhere! We washed our bodies in vanilla scrub, rubbed each others feet with vanilla body butter, gave each other massages with vanilla oil.

I have been toying with my signature scent for a few months now, and have realized that I do not want to have a signature scent. I want to change my scent each day, depending on my mood. Sometimes I use the vanilla. Sometimes the floral (usually Saturdays where I am outside in the sunshine a lot!). Occasionally the musk. I’ve also begun to occasionally use a scent that wrenches my heart because it was a scent I wore at a time that was very difficult for me. This I reserve for days when I am in deep.

Today, I am wearing Juicy Couture’s Viva La Juicy. I love it. Its enough to satisfy my sweet tooth, and so much so that I passed on adding sugar to my morning coffee. Second cup too!

I have been enjoying finding new scents and adding to my bathroom vanity a plethora of bottles in all different colored shapes and sizes. My vanity is beginning to look a bit crowded and cluttered, so now I am thinking I need to purchase plastic clear bottles that I can empty the lotions into…removing the stickers that allows me to decide what scent I want to wear by reading them, and forcing me to decide my scent by enjoying each one delightfully in the morning.

Aromatherapy does in fact have healing powers. I’ve added many powder scented lotions to my repertoire too, which of course, my beautiful 4 year old niece just LOVES to smell and wear!

A Phillips Head Screwdriver, An Allen Wrench and a Masonry 5/16 Drill Bit

2009-05-19T14:33:00.004-04:00

I was put on a mission. Go to Home Depot, and buy a drill bit. The American flag and flag pole had been bought and was ready for installation.

The conversation about where to put the flag (front porch / flanking garage left / flanking garage right) was useless. It began with, "Where do you want to hang this flag?" and ended with, "Do you really want to hang the flag there?". I am not sure why he asks where I think it should be hung, he is going to put it where he wants it anyways?

The instructions were specific masonry drill bit, 5/16 inch. The type of drill bit that could drill a hole into my brick home. The thought of this makes me cringe, but I felt a bit of relief while driving through my neighborhood and realizing that almost everyone had a flag pole holder installed just flanking their garage. Some drilled into beautiful stone, lessening my fear of drilling into the beautiful red brick.

My mom and I drove up to Home Depot, a store that is filled with testosterone and manly eye candy. "Why don't I visit here more often," I thought to myself...as I happily looked about at the handsome rugged tan men. The outdoor furniture positioned just at the front entrance. "Clever location", I think to myself as I pass it.

When you walk into a department store, you often see the husbands or boyfriends sitting in the chairs just outside the ladies fitting rooms, or leaning against the counter of the cash register area, waiting in pain and agony as their female counterpart shops for clothes. But at Home Depot, its the ladies that sit and wait for their men, and they sit on that outdoor furniture just at the front entrance, sitting pretty and enjoying the view. Nice how that works out for us ladies.

After we found the section where all the drill bits were located (how about my mom knew where they were!) we walked up to a wall, at least 18 feet in length covered in drill bits. I had no idea where to begin. When I walk into Marshall's or TJ Maxx, I can spot a pair of 7 for All Mankind jeans 500 feet away. But a masonry 5/16 inch drill bit just wasn't jumping out at me. I didn't even attempt.

In walks a middle aged man, who obviously knows his stuff. He walks over to the area, goes directly to the wall, and pulls down a drill bit and is about to make his merry way out.

I look at him and smile.

He tilts his head down, looks over his reading glasses, and says, "You having trouble?"

I respond, "Well, to say I was having trouble would mean I actually tried to look and find this thing. But I haven't".

He laughs and removes his reading glasses, putting his right thumb and forefinger to his chin, "What are you looking for?" He asks.

"I am looking for a masonry 5/16 drill bit." I respond.

He walks to the wall, pulls one down, and then says, "Wait, this other one might be a buck or two cheaper." And grabs the cheaper one.

"See how easy that is for you guys. I never could have found this thing." I tell him. "Thank you. You saved me about 45 minutes or arguing by ensuring I have the right drill bit."

He smiles and says, "No problem. Now you get out of here at don't be spending anymore money!"

A trip to Home Depot for a masonry drill bit $4.67
A good old boy reminding me not to spend too much money - priceless

Inspiration

2009-05-18T13:27:00.000-04:00

I have been eagerly seeking a new source of inspiration since I moved from the ‘social service’ aspect of healthcare and into finance. My previous career allowed me the opportunity to work with the less fortunate, something that after time became tireless as the number of those looking for freebies, often outweighed those that were taking advantage of free healthcare because they truly needed it; as in transitional help.

This past weekend on DateLine, I was inspiried by a woman who has devoted her life to fighting for women’s rights and maybe possibly, rights equal to a man in the country of Afghanistan. A feat some would say is an endless battle.

I was intrigued by the woman, not just for her crusade, but also because her motiviation was from a personal experience of being raped at a young age. What bothered her most about the opressed woman in the country is how often woman are raped and then in a excruciating mental way; punished by their male counterparts for being raped; punishment often resulting in death by beating, suggesting it was her actions which prompted a rapists sexual promiscuity. Disgust.

During her entire interview she was rock solid, even when challenged with the most difficult of questions (the most difficult Ann Curry can muster, which often times when its female interviewees can be tough). She did not waiver one bit. However, when Ann brought to this woman her source of motivation, and her 4 year old daughter, even a woman of her strength couldn’t resist the emotional overload.

As a victim of rape, I find great strength and inspiration in women who have the courage to celebrate their misfortune to the benefit of others. I celebrate this woman’s strength to stand up, own her past, declare her future and her daughter’s future, and fight to make a difference.

Maybe if I get involved in a rape victim group for young girls in Cleveland, I too can make a difference. This documentary on DateLine touched me so deeply, that I have found the strength to share in an open forum, that this too has happened to me. There is no greater feeling of self satisfaction that doing something for the greater good.

Click here to read or watch this inspiring story:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/30798316/

My Conservative Filled Weekend

2009-05-12T21:15:00.007-04:00

My weekend began with a 12 hour course for a conceal carry weapon permit. Although I had been thinking about taking this class, for no other than security reasons, I knew I would never take it unless my “American Dad” brother tagged along. You see, its not that I am intimidated by a class of men who drive pick up trucks with NRA stickers all about the window on the back of the cab, it’s that I was afraid that one of them might really annoy me and I’d shoot them. Can I trust myself with a gun?

Deciding to have a gun within reach at any given moment in which you feel your life might be in danger comes with a boatload of responsibility. I mean, you don’t want to go and shoot anyone for just no good reason, and you definitely do not want to shoot anyone in the back. Not to mention you have to take careful precautions that your weapon is not stolen. You see, that would be my luck, the gun is stolen and used in the robbery of a gas station and the attendant shot and killed. Thankfully, however, they got away with beef jerky and cheese puffs so it was worth it. I intend to collect my reward.

Aside from being in a class with 25 men, all of whom sported moustaches and 1 other woman who also sported a moustache, the room stunk and the instructor was from the NRA. I knew my day was going to be rocking!

The woman and man, who hosted the event in the wooded cabin, were likely the kind that kept shotguns above their fireplace. And this wasn’t to keep the gun warm in the winter; they really just believed that the gun looked nice over the fireplace. This decoration much better than family photos or a painting. But I will have to say, they did make a mean bad ass chili dog. I just wish I had a Bud Light too.

We started at 7am and were firing our guns by 9am. I was a bit skeptical of those around me.
You see, the 2 hours of instructional were not enough for me to feel safe around the others who sported large revolvers or semi automatics.

We shot from 20 feet away; our targets were 9 inch paper plates. I shot 50 rounds from a 40 caliber glock, and hit the plate 42 times. My nickname for the class was “Blondie” and I was invited to the front of the class several times to do demonstrations. The instructor was nice enough, but he tried to trick me and even tried to intimidate me once.

After our class on Saturday, I found myself watching, “Rendition”. This is a fantastic movie about the capture of an Egyptian traveling business man who is charged with being involved in the attempted murder of a well known interrogator and torturer in North Africa. The attempted murder conducted Jihad style by a young man sacrificing his body, the young man coincidentally linked to the interrogators daughter, an act of revenge as the interrogator killed the young man’s brother. The movie was the kind of movie that keeps you on the edge of your seat, and the CIA leadership was relentless in holding the man traveling responsible, but not because there was any solid evidence, but rather because the needed to assure the people from a foreign affairs perspective that the offender had been captured.

Sunday, I started my morning with, “Meet the Press” and found David Gregory and a handful of conservative analyst, give their opinion and feedback on the interviews of the President of Afghanistan and the President of Pakistan. I don’t dare type their names as I am certain the Federal spyware will catch their names on my blog and I will be shipped to Afghanistan to be held prisoner, beaten, possibly beheaded.

I have decided to obtain the permit for the CCW license. What I intend to do is to be sure I can protect myself in the event I am put in a situation that I am unable to deal with, without the threat of death to someone. I hope that I am never put into this position, but if I am, I will shoot and I will hit my target.

Happy Mother's Day

2009-05-08T08:43:00.004-04:00

It is finally Friday and it has been a crazy week indeed! My home which was once preoccupied by one, now has two; and when blessed with a visit from my niece and nephew, four; add nani and papa and it quickly becomes six! The house is filled with laughter and activity and nothing fills my heart more.

This evening is my spa evening. I am looking forward to tonight and the relaxation of highlights, cut, mani and pedi...and am excited to see how my hair comes out. Still today, I struggle with deciding whether to get just a trim or cutting my hair short to the chin. The bob cut would be easier to maintain and frame my face nicely, but I am afraid Ill regret it and miss the length I have now.

Tomorrow, my brother and I are attending a 12 hour course to earn a permit to carry a concealed weapon. I have wanted to get this permit so that when I am in the house alone, I feel more protected. The responsibility also comes with a lot of safety check features. So I have purchased a storage system in the home that will lock the gun. Ill store it a safe spot that is also easily accessible from my bed at night. I think its also time to install the home alarm system.

Sunday is Mother's Day. This is the day that we will honor our mothers and what they have meant to us. For some it will be church, maybe brunch, flowers, small gifts, or perhaps for those that are not able to celebrate in person, a phone call. For those who have said goodbye, a prayer to their mother who has passed, and her spirit risen. Whatever the circumstance, we will celebrate that our mothers gave us life, and brought us into the world, and each of us has a piece of her within us.

Our family will have mom over and cook out. The menu will be mom's favorite meal. Filet mignon, twice baked potatoes and asparagus. She will sip a glass of Kendall Jackson Chardonnay which is her favorite.

Whatever your weekend brings upon you...ENJOY! Happy Friday fellow bloggers, and have a splendid weekend.

The white rose picture is a gift to my mom. White rose is her favorite flower.

The Move

2009-05-07T10:26:00.001-04:00

So it was raining cats and dogs yesterday afternoon and all evening in Cleveland. I took delivery of a StairMaster shortly after 4pm. My brother was making his way from Little Rock, AR to North Ridgeville, OH.

He was supposed to arrive about 9pm. But 9pm turned into 10:45pm because of the weather. When he called to let me know he would be late, I could hear the tension in his voice.

After my StairMaster was delivered I changed the sheets in Jeff’s bedroom, dusted, vacuumed, lit a candle and added a few extra pillows for comfort. I also cleaned his bathroom, brought him fresh towels and added a few extra features in the bathroom I knew we would like. A stainless holder for his q-tips. A cup for his toothbrush. A soap dispenser for hand soap. Aveda lotion for his hands.

I went to the grocery store and filled my cart full. My normal quick trip turned into a full grocery shopping hour. Jeff will have his kids over often. Juice boxes, fresh fruits and vegetables, chicken, beef, milk, yogurt…and all the good healthy things that kids love to snack on. I stocked up so it doesn’t feel like we are running to the grocery store constantly.

When I came home, I emptied the groceries into the fridge, freezer and cupboards, ridding the fridge of any leftovers from his last stay.

After, I tested my StairMaster by taking it for a 20 minute spin. It felt really good to get sweaty; my calves, hips and thighs burned. Today my legs are tight. I can already tell I am going to love the convenience of a piece of cardio equipment in my home. I like when my body feels sore from a good workout. I sleep better and feel better in my skin. Must be the endorphins fueling my muscles.

Jeff pulled in with his truck and U-Haul full of his things. I could tell when he got out of the truck that this was tough for him. You see, the eight other times he has come home from an assigned training base, he had headed to his colonial home where his wife and children live. But this time was different. He was coming home to an uncertain future. A life change that would cause any man, even the strongest to feel sad. He’s is very tough on himself and takes a lot of the responsibility for the marriage not working, perhaps too much. But he’s not ready to talk about that.

I gave him a big hug when he got home. Welcomed him home. He was anxious to get the U-Hual unpacked and get settled.

“So do I just jump in and start grabbing stuff or do I wait for orders?” I asked, saluting him acknowledging his military rank. He visited Iraq four times, and deserves the rank.

He turned towards me, smiled wide and said, “Well wait for orders of course!” and chuckled.

So we started to unpack the back of his truck first. Lots of bags of clothes, endless flight suits and pairs of black boots, one by one going into his bedroom. Then his kitchen items, his office items, his gym room items, his bathroom items, his storage items. The house was becoming more full with each trip.

He was worried about bringing things into the house – most likely because my decorating style is very minimalist. He was being sensitive to the fact that I don’t like a lot of ‘stuff’ in my decor. I assured him his things in my home were fine, and that he was welcome to bring all his comforts into his new home.

“Jeff”, I said to him. “I want you to think of this as your home. There is no separation in what is mine and what is yours. Fill the place full with all the things that are familiar and make it your own.”

“I appreciate that.” He replied. “I just don’t want to bring a bunch of shit into your house.”

“Actually, I think its good for me to have a change of environment. I have gotten way to comfortable and set in my ways for such a young age.” I chuckled.

He replied in a joking matter, “Young? Is that what you think we are? Young?”

“Ok, get all of your shit out now.” I replied. The appropriate answer for him teasing me about my age! As if! We both laughed.

We unloaded his motorcycle. That was a feat indeed. There is me in my jeans, tennis shoes and white tshirt. Of course, this was a more of a ceremony than necessary. Can’t scratch it, can’t move it too hard, rock it easy, get it on the plank and roll it down safely, can’t let the speed mess us up nor can we let it stray from the narrow path of the plank and fall. Alright, maybe not more of a ceremony than necessary but since I do not receive the same sensitivity when picking out shoes, I can criticize.

I was so nervous that I didn’t end up helping because I was laughing too insanely out of control. You see, I have a really bad habit of laughing at inappropriate times when I am nervous. When I was a little girl, I would laugh and pull up my knee socks at the same time. Now I just laugh, because knee socks are no longer in fashion. At least not in public.

“Hard to believe we both have jobs and can take care of ourselves. I mean, we can’t even get a damn motorcycle out of a U-Haul.” I said.

“For real Angela! We can’t get it out because you aren’t helping. You are just standing there laughing. Get your ass over here and pull!” He was joking.

I stood there looking at him with a look making sure I was telling him there was no way in hell I would stand for that!

“Don’t give me that look.” he apologetically replied.

“Say your sorry.” I insisted.

“What, are we 10 years old?” He questioned.

“Well, if you had apologized when we were 10 years old, maybe I wouldn’t be asking you to apologize now” I said in a snotty manner, folding my arms over my chest and turning my head to the side. I was so proud of my comeback but it was so lame.

“Sorry.” He said.

“You’re not forgiven.” I replied.

Then we both laughed and finally got the damn motorcycle off the U-Haul, the final tribute to his move. We celebrated the end of the move and his welcome home by making nachos. Tostitos scoops with melted colby jack and salsa, and sipped diet dr. peppers (with cherry).

I arranged the furniture so the largest sitting chair, which is most comfy, sits directly in front of the tv, paired with a large round end table and lamp for him to do his paperwork. Its positioned it next to the fireplace and a window. I think he will like the comfy little space in the main living area that will be just for him. He nestled into that seat farily quickly, taking claim of it knowing full well I created the space for him. There was no need to acknowledge. I knew how much he appreciated it, as much as he knew how I appreciated him bringing home a dozen bottles of red wine!

Today he is with the kids, a treat for him indeed. Nothing brings him greater joy that being with his children. The juice boxes, snack packs and fruit will all have been enjoyed by those precious little treasures. And I assure you without any doubt, I will come home and there will be an American flag hanging on the front porch.

Welcome Home Jeff!

Welcome Home Mi Brosher

2009-05-06T12:08:00.000-04:00

Today, my older brother is moving in with me. Life circumstances have taken him in a new direction and as a result, we are ‘shacking up’ for the next year.

I have never officially lived with someone. I spent 4 months in the same apartment with an ex-boyfriend once. But that wasn’t the kind of living arrangement that one would think of when saying you have lived with someone. You see, he was addicted to cocaine and I was there to help support his recovery. I grew up so much in those few short months.

My brother has been slowing moving-in over the past 3 months. He travels a lot because of his work, so he’s spent a few weeks at my house already. His room is kind of set up. He needs some furniture, but his presence is enough that I feel a bit safer. I’ve tried to tend to his needs as best I can but he likes his privacy.

My brother is the social-lite of the century. He goes out often, has lots of friends and is always the life of the party. I am much more introverted that Jeff. I do not go out nearly as often, nor do I have as many friends as he does. This brings me much happiness as I am looking forward to being a part of his life more.

There is only a two year difference between Jeff and I. He will be turning 34, I will be turning 32. As a little girl, he teased me to tears often. I loved it.

I can remember fondly when my parents went out, and we had a babysitter, we would play pranks on the babysitter. There was a cubby space behind the coat closet at the front door. It was a pantry converted into a crawl space. It also had access to a sliding panel door between the main hallway and the kitchen. Jeff would tell the babysitter he had to go to the bathroom, pretend he was going upstairs, and sneak into the crawl space. He would bang on the wall, and move the sliding panel door and the babysitter would freak out. She had no idea where the noise was coming from or who was making the noise. I supported his evilness by telling the babysitter that it was just a known fact that we had a ghost in our house. I would caution the babysitter not to make the ghost mad, telling her it was the spirit of a young boy who was shot in our basement. The part about a young man being shot in our basement is true. But there was no ghost, or at least no ghost that I was aware of.

Another fond memory was how we used to play WWF wrestling. He would be Rowdy Rowdy Piper (he has red hair) I would be Hulk Hogan (I had blond hair – no female wrestlers in those days to admire). We would stuff pillows up our shirts and take position at either end of the room. We would run at each other full speed and knock into each other, the pillows throwing us back across the room upon impact. We would laugh hysterically, get up and do it again…over and over and over.

We also liked to play records on my dad’s record player. That was until I frisbee’d the Billy Joel record across the room at my brother when he teased me and the record shattered. Dad put a stop to our record listening when I made that mistake. That was the day I thought Billy Joel died. Turns out,he didn’t. But my brain was making some sort of weird connection that upon shattering his record, I had killed him.

Then of course, there was the time we played church. We were raised Catholic. Attending church each Sunday in our best clothes and attended parochial school where each room was crowned with a cross just above the entryway. The cross always had Jesus nailed to it, and blood dripping. I would usher myself quickly through the doorway, thinking the blood might drip on me. Jeff would always be the priest and I would be the nun. We would smoosh bread into a mini host, imprinting the cross and it and use red kool-aid for wine. We used our parents wedding bible to read scripture. Turns out the glass coffee table couldn’t support the impact of the bible and it shattered into a million pieces.

Then of course, there was the time the tree fell down and we tried to use the chainsaw to cut the tree and stack the wood before dad got home. It’s a wonder we are still alive.

Although I am very nervous about not having a lot of time to myself, I must say that I welcome my brother home with a lot of excitement and anticipation. One thing is for sure. My house will be hustling and bustling with activity…kids, friends, parties.

My brother earned the nickname “Krusty” in military flight school. To save him some face (for sure I will post pictures of his hilariousness this summer to embarrass the hell out of him), I won’t share with you how we got that name, but rest assured, it will be the “Summer of Krusty 2009”, making good on my #9 New Years Resolution no doubt.

My brother just called, to tell me how his drive from the south to the north is going. To give you an idea of his personality and sense of humor, he left me a 5 minute message, titled, “The Joy of Sirius Radio – Playboy Style”. I guess the playboy channel on Sirius Satellite radio comes highly recommended from my brother. This shortly after I realized last night that my brother set my TV to default to the Fox News network when I turn it on. You see, my political views sit a bit more left than my brother. Sigh, I do love it!

Wish me luck and wish me fun!

Congratulations King James

2009-05-05T09:30:00.003-04:00

Lebron James was named NBA’s, “Most Valuable Player” for the 2009 season.

Lebron joins the ranks of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (x6), Michael Jordan (x5), Kobe Bryant and Shaquille O’Neal, and joins at a ripe age.

My junior year of high school, my basketball team went to states. We won states by one point, a shot from the top of the key at the buzzer – no shit. It was insane. I still have the memorabilia…the bus ride into the little town of Avon Lake was a site to see as we drove down State Route 83. The experience of bringing our community together was one I will never forget.

Lebron, in true fashion, celebrated his award by visiting his high school alma-mater, St. Vincent – St. Mary in Akron, Ohio to share his honor and perhaps, provide hope to impressionable youngings who desire to be just like the “King”.

The city of Akron is just a short drive from Cleveland, as is where Lebron grew up. Lebron, among much skepticism and fear of fleeing to New York (which is where I think he will end up after bringing a championship to Cleveland) has remained loyal to the cities of Akron and Cleveland, both in a severe economic depression with much less to offer than the likes of New York or LA.

Today I say congratulations to Lebron, and thank you! Thank you for donating bicycles to children and local police forces; thank you for donating resources and time to clean up our parks and the flats; thank you for being an inspiration to youth; thank you for respecting your mother; and thank you for reminding the world that Cleveland does exist. Maybe, just maybe, Cleveland is not the “Mistake On The Lake”.

Real Housewives of Cleveland

2009-05-04T11:10:00.000-04:00

This past weekend, I got tied up watching the show, “Real Housewives of New York.”

This show is hilarious beyond any comprehension. Women with lots of money; some self made, some marriage made, some old money; and women with lots of time equals a whole lot of drama.

What I like most about this show however, is not the drama, but the fashion including make-up, jewelry, clothing and accessories. I especially took a liking to Bethenny who is single, successful, and desperately trying to find Mr. Right.

This show is like a reality “Sex In the City”; perhaps giving those of us who are single a bit more hope than our old HBO show, because its real life, not fiction.

Outside of being inspired as to how best start rebuilding my wardrobe, I have been motivated by the power of these women. Not power in the sense of influencing others, but power in the sense of themselves.

There is not one single thing a woman who believes in herself can not accomplish.

Spring Has Sprung – And It’s Here to Stay

2009-05-01T10:54:00.000-04:00

Spring has sprung in Cleveland and from the weather forecast it looks like it is here to stay. I relish these warms days in Cleveland because there are so few. Not to mention the sunshine! Oh how I love the sunshine!

My weekend is getting off to a great start. I’ve had a productive week, even considering I’ve only been in the office four days this week.

As a bonus, my car dealership called. Seems that when they re-certified my car, they did not complete the paperwork. They did the maintenance (or so they say) but forgot to complete the paperwork…so it was taken in for maintenance today as a precaution. This is a bonus because Ill be able to go another 12k before service. This will save a few bucks and the car will come back clean. I love to wash my car but since I have a full weekend, I'm looking forward to the extra time. I love this dealership, and a commercial spot may be in my future.

I had planned on sneaking away to Miami with my older brother for the weekend. Circumstances were such that it would have not been the best choice but I was tempted. Mom went in for minor knee surgery today and with the swine flu and all, its safe to say travel is not the best option. My lure to Miami was two fold, great weather and great company, but alas, plans have been cancelled. Perhaps another time soon. I was looking forward to his scent again, so clean, so manly, a bit musky.

Instead, Ill tinker around the house and visit mom and dad. The front door needs a second coat of paint, as do the shutters. My home needs landscaping attention (I have no idea what the hell I am paying for) but instead I feel the urge to go shopping and buy clothes. Intense workouts are a given. I will tend to the laundry, visit the cleaners, maybe even steam clean the carpets. Prepare the office for the desk delivery, wash the wood floors, maybe install the kitchen and bathroom cabinet hardware.

I may even pick up canvas and acrylic paint and attempt a piece for the bathroom. I was inspired by a fish painting last weekend. I’ve always been a fan of muted earth tones for interior décor; wondering how to best incorporate splashes of color into my home. I saw a few quirky fish pieces last weekend, that were loud with color. At first glance it was confusing, but as you looked closer it was soothing, almost a bit comical. I wanted to look at them longer to study them, but did not have the chance, so the inspiration was fleeting. Thinking of those paintings makes me laugh. Having the canvas and acrylic and the faint memory will determine if my creativity can flow. Lily likes fish and the guest bathroom has a beach theme. Sand dollars and shells from our trips to Emerald Isle are about…all hand picked by that curious little girl. Ill make the fish bright blue, black and white with a bright yellow fin. The last piece I was inspired by came from my brother and sister in laws home. A Pablo Neruda poem demonstrated as a bold art piece.

The farmers market at Crocker Park makes its debut this weekend. Fresh veggies, fruits and flowers will be abundant. The Park comes alive with color and the hustle and bustle of people. I think Ill make vegetable skewers on the grill, slather them with a tomato sauce, sprinkle them with cinnamon and add some white rice; pairing it with a pinot grigio.

Its going to be a good weekend, I can feel it.
Happy Friday fellow bloggers. Enjoy the weekend time with your special someone or yourself!

Committing One Of My Greatest Sins

2009-04-30T16:27:00.004-04:00

There are times in life when you commit a major sin; demonstrating conduct that is not becoming to the human race. Sometimes when you commit those sins, even though you know full well that you should not be, you are incapable of disciplining yourself to stop.

They are perhaps, the types of sins that give you the utmost pleasure and an equal amount of shame. The human psyche complex enough to give your conscious full permission to focus on the good and not the evil.

You stand there in a full length mirror, looking deep within yourself. Gesturing to the right and to the left as you have conversations with your angel-self and your devil-self sitting on your shoulder. A quick flick of your thumb and forefinger and your angel-self, adorning a halo and gold sandals, flies across the room, hitting the wall and falling dead to the ground. You have ushered your angel-self from your soul. “Who needs a conscious”, you chuckle to yourself.

Its only a matter of time that it will catch up with you. You begin to allow yourself to think about the consequences….but not long enough to truly realize or embrace. Its too hard to take it that far, because it feels too good. You give yourself full permission to continue, falling victim to the ‘wrongs’ you’ve had in life as motivation that you deserve it. Mother was right, two wrongs never make a right.

You walk around, living a secret. Most likely a sin or shame that you dare not share with another. Or if you do, its only with those that you know don’t really give a fuck about you, because they won’t pester you.

You catch glimpses of yourself in the mirror, you saw yourself as once beautiful but now what you see are the imperfections and ugliness. Its coming from within and exuding through your appearance. You scrutinize others to the same degree. When the hell did you become so judgemental?

You walk with an air of superiority because your insecurity is so great.

Any psychologist will tell you that a character representation that is prominent is typically a front to the complete opposite. Your subconscious knowing full well, but of course you are in denial. Overly Arrogant = Insecure. Gushing Love = Angry. Hyper Sensitive = Insensitive. Always Brilliant = Idiot. The only exception being Asshole = Asshole.

Your secret and sin finally become public, and the repercussions are greater than you anticipated. It is years before you fully realize the hurt you caused. Its only when you grow old enough to experience those life lessons that you realize its true impact.

Eventually, you find a way to forgive yourself, even though you were never forgiven. You wonder if the person will take their bad fortune to their grave, and you can only hope and pray that it is not something they think of during their last days, even though you know you will in your last days.

You carry on with life, trying to put together some sort of normalcy. You realize your purity was not stolen, and when given the chance you did not claim it back, but you surrendered and took it a step further.

I forgive myself and I forgive him. I hope the best for his wife and children.

The Case Of The Disappearing Liquids

2009-04-30T09:34:00.002-04:00

At work, we have a mystery and a case to crack. Small bottles of liquids continue to disappear. Here is the laundry list so far of what has vanished into thin air:

One bottle of eyeglass cleaner
Three bottles of hand lotion
Two bottles of aerosol spray
Infinite bottles of h2o
One bottle of electronics cleaner
Four bottles of alcohol
Two bottles of compressed air

The obvious suspect would be the evening crew who cleans our space. But since we live in a democracy, and you are innocent until proven guilty, we would be committing a crime to say that we know who the offender is without good evidence. Suspect and coincidence is not enough.

Some think we should report it to the management. I say lets make it known publicly that we have an issue, and give the person the opportunity to return the things or replace them, no questions asked. If nothing becomes of that, lets see if it stops. If then it continues, lets pass the investigative work onto the authorities. And of course, I would have to set up bait since some of these things that are disappearing are things that I have brought into the office. I take offense to their actions.

To that point, I will say that although these things do not have significant monetary value, its more of a nuisance than anything.

For instance, I’ve smudged my glasses and reach for my eyeglass cleaner spray and its not there. My hands feel dry, and the nicely scented cherry blossom lotion I purchased is no where to be found. And finally, I really do not want to smell the men in my hallway after they have used the bathroom. I love it when someone walks around spraying hairspray or body spray in a dramatic fashion, obviously sending a message to the hallway shitter to at least give some effort. Maybe try closing the door after you’ve done your business…all the way please!

If it doesn’t stop after plenty of fair warning, I will for sure plant a hand lotion bottle that will be a concoction of my own, mixing plain non-scented lotion and vinegar. A scent sure to delight only the twisted. Maybe when they steal that and use it on their hands they will realize that things are not always what they seem.

As for the offender sticking to bottles and liquids, these products would look inconspicuous on a cleaning cart….hmmmm…..

New Do

2009-04-29T08:46:00.004-04:00

For the past year, I have been trying to return my hair to my natural hair color. When I was a little girl, my hair was as white as could be. White, wispy and sometimes stuck straight up when my mom cut it into a short bob. I would dry my hair as a little girl by swinging on the swing set in the backyard. I loved to make "cherry bumps".

As I grew older, my hair became darker. Since I always secretly wanted to be a brunette, I relished in the fact that perhaps I would experience life as a blonde and as a brunette. Now we all know that blondes have more fun, but just as a hair cut can give the impression of your personality, so can the hair color. I remember vividly in 5th grade, my teacher Mrs. Burger, shouted out loud as the class was taking a test. She was a robust woman with a loud boisterous voice. The class had our noses to the desks, furiously filling in bubbles on the state exams. Mrs. Burger loud out a loud shriek. She exclaimed, "Angela, my dear. Your hair is turning dark!" I just looked at her. Not sure if it was a compliment or an insult, but I quickly concluded that it was a compliment, as at a young, ripe, impressionable age, I could not stomach an insult.

Blonde is fun, exciting, thrilling. Brunette is sexy, mysterious, seductive. Short haircuts can scream mom, or if done correctly they can be cute. Medium length hair or long hair either says 70's or sexy...all dependent upon the cut.

As I embarked upon my journey to return to my natural hair color, at the same time I gave up manicures and pedicures. I guess in a weird sort of way I was working to make my canvas blank, and rebuilding myself physically...and quite frankly I am totally sick of it.

I have wondered for the past year, as I have gotten fed up with my dirty dishwater blonde hair, limp roots and short manicured fingers and toes, when I would give in. But NO! I would not surrender to the temptation of vanity. I would defeat and find a way to feel absolutely beautiful without the need for any chemical or cosmetics! And to boot, the extra money each month was a treat. Mind you, highlight, cut, manicures and pedicures all come at a cost.

I've surrendered and scheduled myself a spa evening for Friday, May 8th. I am going to return to the Angela I once knew physically, the place where I feel most confident. I am going to remember how this past year of retreating to simplicity in my appearance, encouraged me to take a look within and realize that my beauty on the inside is really what matters, the outside is just a bonus. We all know it, we all say it, but the question of whether or not its truly what we demonstrate or conduct is another question. Ugliness comes in many forms, but the form that leaves the lasting impression is the kind of ugly that comes from within. I've been that ugly many times. I am beautiful on the inside...most times.

I have never thought that I would be approaching 32 (June 7th) as a single woman. I imagined I would be married, with a few kids and madly in love. I've been madly in love, but not the kind of love that sustains time. I've had the good fortune of having kids in my life, my niece and nephew and am reminded when I see them that I am not able to give up on my desire for an offspring of my own, ideally the product of love between two, but at a minimum...a part of me. But, as my choices in life have dictated; its just me. And since its just me, I am going to be the best me I can be. Inside, outside and all around.

Platinum blonde, short bob, big smile and wide green eyes. That does in fact suit me best physically. I may even throw in a mani and pedi!

A Celebration Fit For A Family

2009-04-28T19:42:00.013-04:00

My family is my single greatest source of strength. During my facial lawsuit, my mom, dad and brothers were always there to listen to me babble, weep, and find my way through a complex legal process. They never judged, criticized or gave me 'tough love'. They just listened and understood.

I have not ever been one to be able to express my emotional feelings. When I was younger, I used to write my mom and dad letters and put them in envelopes and leave them on their pillows.

I invited my family to a long weekend in Florida. My first choice was Marco Island, but it turns out we landed in Naples. We stayed at a beautiful resort in old downtown Naples. Walking distance to 5th Avenue restaurants, shopping and the beach.

My mom and I fly in late Wednesday evening. We arrived at Fort Myers shortly after 730pm and drove to Naples. After we deplaned, we stopped at the rental car check in to get our car. We walked to pick up the keys to the car and we were greeted by a young, cheesy boy by the name of Chris. We had rented an SUV so that we could fit our family in it. Chris did not seem to think that our SUV was large enough. So after showing us three different SUV models, all three coincidentally an upgrade, I assured him the Nissan Exterra would suit us just fine. When that was not the right answer, he then switched to try to upgrade us to a Lincoln Town Car. He was pressure selling. I began to laugh, after we moved onto the Town Car. I said, "Chris, listen, the Exterra is fine. Let's get this paperwork completed so we can get out of here."

But no...we were just beginning. Chris moved onto insurance. Now...call me crazy, but I've never been one to understand the purpose of rental car insurance. Perhaps its because I have a good driving record with no major accidents, or perhaps its the comfort that I have the same auto insurance that my great grandparents, grandparents and parents have, thus understanding we are fully covered and fully vested. No one in our family has ever had a need to file a major claim. So, basically, I'm protected. Chris tried to pressure sell my mom and I to getting car insurance. He told of us a story about a woman who drove out, totaled the car and ended up in the hospital with not only medical bills but Enterprise rental car bills because she did not get the rental car insurance and her insurance did not cover her.

I couldn't believe my ears. As Chris told his story, I could see the anxiety, worry and fear just build in my mother. I told my mother to sit in the car while I finished the paperwork. As she closed the door to the car, I looked Chris straight in the eyes.

I said, "Do you understand what you are doing here?"

His response, "What?".

I responded, "Chris, you are scaring my mother with your pressure sell techniques for me to buy auto insurance."

I continued, "Understand me here and now. I am not buying the auto insurance. I plan on bringing this car back just as I am taking it."

His response, "Well you can't predict what is going to happen. You could have an accident." I insisted, "You are being a real downer Chris. We are on vacation. No deal, now let's sign the paperwork so we can get out of here."

Chris then continues to ask me about my deductible amount and the name of my insurance agency.

My response, "My insurance is Coniglio. I am not telling you my deductible. If something happens, we can discuss the particulars. See you Monday."

As we drove off, he walked away shaking his head at us. Yea, I thought thinking to myself, you thought we looked like suckers when we walked up to that booth, but no deal. I guess his revenge was giving us the cherry red Nissan Xterra that you could spot 5 miles away. I am not a red car kind of girl. I like the least amount of attention possible on the road, because I have a lead foot.

We had a nice drive to Naples. When we arrived at the resort, we checked in and settled down. The room requests were well documented and the suite was perfect. Feather pillows, marina view, third floor, not near the elevator, extra towels and a balcony. The master suite which my mother and I shared was overlooking the marina and had an access to the balcony. The second bedroom was situated at the front of the unit, giving my younger brother and his wife privacy...perfect.

Mom and I woke up early Thursday. We made coffee and tea and sipped it while watching the boaters get ready to go out for the day. The marina police strolled through and visited the boaters. Saying hello and checking in to see how long they planned on being around. The resort had condos that were owned and came with a boat slip. Obviously Floridians escaping their hefty schedules and responsibilities by coming to this escape.

After we took the scenery in, we went to the grocery store and stocked up on beer, sparkling wine, bottled water, snacks and the fixings for cold cut sandwiches - the obvious and easy and necessary guy food. Then, onto the airport to pick up my older brother. Thursday night we dined at Tin City and took in the Gulf view. Munching on stone cold crab and hush puppies and sipping on cold beers.

Onto Friday. This morning, however, we had three of us. Breakfast and coffee on the balcony. A quick stop at the gym. A Friday trip to pick up my little brother and his wife, an afternoon at the 12th Avenue Pier Beach and dinner was delivered pizza from a nearby pizza joint called Dino's. Neapolitan pizzeria style pizza. Delicious! We rented the movie, Burn After Reading. I had already seen it, but my little brother had not. Knowing his sense of humor, I knew we would all enjoy watching it together because its so funny.

Saturday, we woke up early, had bagels, cream cheese, coffee, tea and orange juice on the balcony. After, we quickly retreated to the resort pool. My older brother and I went early and had energy massages. It had been so long since I had a massage and I forgot how good it feels. We met my mom and brother and sister in law at the pool. It had a large swimming pool, a waterfall, a slow moving river that you could float in innertubes on, a lap pool, and an adult only quiet zone pool. We all opted for the lounge chairs adjacent to the quiet zone pool. Many drinks and lunch later, 4pm quickly fell upon us, and we retreated back to the room to shower and get ready for a trip back into Fort Myers to see, Fiddler on the Roof, at the playhouse. A treat from mom which began by feasting on a boat of sushi (sashimi / nigiri )and a few extra surprises (don't care for the eel) http://sushithaitoo.com/sushi_thai_menu.pdf. Dinner and the play was fantastic! One of Topol's final performances. I still have the melody, "If I Were A Rich Man" in my head.

Sunday, I woke, lounged around, and jumped in the car about noon to take my brother back to the airport and then drive to Miami to visit a friend, my old neighborhood and visit Bobby to check on apartment availability. What I enjoyed most about this trip was seeing my friend. He gave me a tour of a beautiful new home he purchased on South Beach. He is in the fun phase of selecting furniture and designing his personal space. He has great taste. The place is amazing and will be stunning when his renovations are complete. I left with the scent of his aftershave on my tshirt, and it was a pleasant treat for a tough ride home. A two hour trip became three and a half hours after I75 closed due to fires in the Everglades. I had never seen so many gas stations that I refused to stop at to pee, because they were so shady.

Monday morning came quickly and before I knew it I was back at home.

What I have not been able to demonstrate in this post are the great conversations I had with my brothers, my sister in law and my mother. Some of the conversations quick and easy. Some of the conversations deep and involved, complex. There is no greater joy for me these days than to feel close to the people I love most, my family.

What a great way to start the spring season! To Mom, Jeff, Dave and Lisa...thank you for such a fantastic weekend. I love you all very much! Oh, also, turns out the rental car was returned just fine - no accidents. So take that Chris!

Refreshed and Renewed

2009-04-27T18:45:00.004-04:00

After a month of time off from my blog, I returned refreshed and renewed. Having just returned from a fabulous vacation in sunny Naples, Florida, I prepare to return to work tomorrow, with a better understanding of myself and the path I am going to take.

What I enjoy most about having time off is that you get to think about nothing but everything except work, and if you are lucky, you learn something about yourself.

What I learned about myself this past week is that I do not present to people the person who I think I am. Does this happen to you? Where you have moments, instances, perhaps even full up interactions when you understand how someone views you and looks at you, and you think to yourself, "Oh my god...thats not who I am?". Then you investigate inward and realize that its not them...its what you present.

Its often in life, I think, that we imagine ourselves to be someone and do not always present ourselves that way. Is it because we are trying to adapt to the other person? Is it because we become so set and comfortable in our ways that the change we know we take as a person is only mental?

Ive lived most of my life in the past 3 years in fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of being hurt. Fear of, I guess, understanding who I am.

As I return from vacation, I look forward, not only to a fantastic summer with my brothers and niece and nephew, but also a summer to settle into myself, and sculpt myself spiritually and socially.

PS - To my fellow bloggers, I also have a lot of blog reading to catch up on.

Going Down In a Blaze Of Glory

2009-03-27T11:47:00.005-04:00

One of the interesting things when living alone is that you have the luxury of doing whatever you want, whenever you want, with no one to criticize or comment. Emily, of course, my pet of 12 years has a thing or two to say when I play music too loud, but that’s only a mean look and a saunter to the deep abyss of the back corner of the closet (did I just make reference to my cat not coming out of the closet?)

One of the other interesting things when living alone, is that if something happens, you are left alone to take care of it. There have been several circumstances when I wished I was not the one left to take care of these tasks. Not just because I am not good at them, but to be quite frank, I don’t want to deal with them and its stuff a guy should do anyway.

Last winter, it was my furnace. Its only five years old, however a furnace filter placed upside down rather than right side up, not allowing proper air flow, was the reason for the motor burning out. Ouch, not cheap, and chilly for a few days. In a ironic and mocking twist, Home Depot was sold out of electric units.

This past summer, it was finding the best way to manage my garbage so as not to get maggots. I put the garbage out each week, but in the hottest times of the summer, I couldn’t avoid the little buggers. Using the garbage disposal as often as possible, rinsing out empty containers, and spraying the inside of the garbage can with a pesticide once a week did the trick. I also learned that maggots are the eggs of flies, and if you shut the lid on the garbage can all the way (sealed) that flies cant get in and then you wont get maggots. Duh. Those things are fucking disgusting. I can only imagine the humor my neighbors found in me putting my garbage can on the lawn and spraying it with a hose a quarter mile away because I was afraid the maggots would get on my skin and burrow into my soul.

This past fall, it was those damn spouts that attached to the end of your gutters to trail water off the roof and into the yard. I was getting heavy water in two spots, and I had to rig the gutter system to take the water further away from the foundation of the house. Turns out when you add footage to the spout of gutters, your best to use an epoxy to set them in place, otherwise, after a heavy wind storm, you’ll find them in several of your neighbors yards. How embarrassing? Again, I’m sure they found humor in my shameless walk between homes, picking up the 6 spouts that had taken flight.

Last night, it was a stupid mistake on my part that had my heart racing, and my jeans wet.

So the story goes...
I set the pot to boil some water. My stove is a flat top. I settled into the couch knowing it would take a few minutes before I could boil my pasta and several minutes later, I smelled a wretched scent that catapulted me from the couch and into the kitchen. As I turned around, I noticed flames from the stove top. As I raced to the area, I was thinking to myself, “Oh my god, I never picked up a fire extinguisher from Home Depot. What the fuck am I going to do.” It was a plastic food scale that had caught fire and I had turned on the wrong burner, not boiling the water, but cooking the scale. YIKES! I thought to myself “This will teach me to not keep a lot of shit on the stove.” The scale was on fire, and it was pretty good, I would say flames about 2 – 3 feet high. The hot gloves were an option, but I was afraid they would not suffice and protect my hands from the heat. So I grabbed a pair of tongs, grabbed a corner of the plastic scale, and flung it across the kitchen, hoping my basketball skills would come in handy and land that unit square into the kitchen sink. It did. I couldn’t help myself in adding humor to a situation I felt petrified in (I often joke when I am really upset about something.) “She shoots and she scores” I shouted out loud. Throwing my arms up as a referee would when a punter it successful. I then ran over to the faucet and turned on the water and doused the flaming scale out.

Then comes the remaining plastic bits, still in flames and smelling craptastic (word courtesy of Elle Michelle) so I took the extendable water spicket from my sink and shot it across the room. Success, yet again.

When the fire was out, in an ironic and mocking twist, the fire alarms began to sound.

Emily looked at me as if I was crazy. I swear she shook her head at me, and I stood there in the kitchen, at first proud of my fire woman like skills, thinking to myself, “Yeah, I could do it. I could be a fire fighter.”

Then suddenly realizing my jeans were wet thinking it was the water from the faucet, but realizing it wasn’t. I was so scared I peed myself. I then quickly changed my mind and thought to myself, “Yeah, maybe I wouldn’t be good at it.”

Let’s just say this morning rather than boiling tea in the tea kettle on the stove, I stuck with the microwave.

Those ladies of you out there that have a man to take care of this kind of shit for you, don't take it for granted. Repay with warm meals or sexual favors...because it blows to have to do it on your own (in a strange and non mocking twist, blow could be a pun relating to sexual favors).

Have a fantabuloso weekend readers...I'm headed to Chi town to celebrate a friend's birthday!

Shopping, tatoo (not me), wine and fondue, in that order than you very much.

You Must Have A Penis

2009-03-23T19:21:00.003-04:00

It's official. You must have a penis to appropriately install hanging blinds.

I've done three sets and have 8 more to go. I can't take it anymore.

I am having a drink instead.

Who Needs A Boyfriend When You Have Sleeping Pills

2009-03-19T10:30:00.001-04:00

Just recently I have been having trouble sleeping. This has never been a problem for me. I am not certain what is weighing on my subconscious that is causing this.

I have read a lot of material on how to calm the body and mind before sleep. And because of this, I have developed a routine before going to bed. I think of it as my special treat to myself after a hard days work and a good workout

It starts with dimming the lights in my home. Then I will run a hot bath, turn on lite music (usually something from the 50’s or 60’s which is why I need to find a record player and my favorite oldie hits on 45’s) and I light the bathroom with candles. I’ll add to the hot bath a few drops of a scented oil which aromatherapists suggest to soothe, relax and calm.
After soaking in the tub for 20 minutes, I will follow with my evening facial cleansing and repair routine. This routine has many layers of product to repair collagen, lighten age spots, repair sun damage and stop the aging. As each layer of gel, serum or cream is applied; each layer must dry completely before the next application. So in between application of these delicious layers, I will treat the body on my skin to lotion. Each limb, my breasts, my belly, my hips, my toushie.

Then I promptly boil water in the teapot to make calming tea, sipping slowly. No caffeine please as I do not want to defeat my intent.

Then I will adorn my temple with a heavenly frock, sometimes cotton, most times silk. In the summertime always linen.

Then I will take two sleeping pills, turn on the heating pad, turn off all the lights and music, blow out the candles, and lay in bed, being sure to strategically place the heating pad in a position on my pillow that allows my neck to be in proper alignment with my spine. I can feel the pressure from my neck and spine release.

Then the thoughts of the days past will run through my head, as well as what tomorrow has to bring. When I sense a bit of anxiety or urgency in something that I wish I would have handled better, I remind myself that what matters most; my relationships with my family and friends; is good. Then suddenly all seems right in the world and I can release.

I close my eyes and as the sleeping pills work their magic, I fall quickly into a deep sleep.

Just about the time I started taking these magical wonders, I’ve also begun to dream a lot. Dreams I can remember not only when I wake up, but also throughout the day. The dreams are sweet, tender, magical, sensual…and always involve a man from my past. However, the man is not how I remember him always. The dream is recurring, but the man is different each time. The dreams are about the man tending to my needs in the most sensitive and sweet manner, and I in return through his motivation. A touch on the face, a pinch of the cheek, a reminder of my beauty and innocence. He speaks to me almost in poetry form, self expressing our relationship past, present and our future friendship. I respond to him in similar poetic words, telling him what he has meant to me, and how he has shaped my development as a woman.
When I wake up, I feel refreshed and rejuvenated, and reminded that I am a product not only of my family and friends, but almost my lovers, my experiences, my good decisions and my bad decisions.

Truth be told, I think I would sleep best if I spend the evening with a man I loved and we made a mess of the sheets into the wee hours of the morning. What heating pad?

Are Strippers Struggling In This Economy?

2009-03-18T21:15:00.006-04:00

So, it would be fair to say that not a day goes by that we think of whether or not losing our job is a reality. We check the balances in our checking / savings accounts, laugh at our retirement funds, and know each moment, how many months we could survive given the worst possible circumstances.

I have thought of this more often recently as I work for a large local employer where lay-off's are a potential.

Because of this, I have strategized my approach at work. I am taking on a lot of work, offering support in new initiatives, and taking on more projects. Finding opportunities to show my value and be sure I represent as my best self. I've also tried to gain exposure to Execs who might recognize potential.

Anyways, this too brings me to the reality of what if it really did happen? What if I got a pink slip tomorrow, what would I do?

I am 31 years old and am completely self sufficient. With that, however, comes, the reality that I'd be on my financial own in the worst circumstances as well. Id be okay for a while, but I know I would get bored. And I hate being bored, there are few things as annoying.

Then my mind wanders to the usual...re-connect with my professional networking friends (I should do that now and not wait), call a recruiting / placement agency, beef up my resume, and deliver it in person to local companies. Then I think...well, what if that is not enough? What if they tell me I am qualified but they have no jobs. I mean, seriously, aren't like 80% of businesses on hiring freezes anyways.

Then, in true white trash fashion, I think "Ah ha! I'll just strip!" Its cash, its tax free (well not technically) and I could seriously work it so long as I preceded my evening naked personal self expression rendezvous with a half dozen shots of vodka.

Then I think, "Are strippers struggling in this economy?"

Uh oh.

All The Women (And Men) Throw Your Hands Up at Me

2009-03-17T20:32:00.000-04:00

You know those times in life when you feel like you are flying on cloud nine. When you revel in the fact that you have made a good decision, amongst all the bad decisions that we make in life. For a brief moment, you think… “Damn I am good!”
Tonight I had one of those nights.

It has been about six weeks since a car dealership and I have been negotiating the price of 2006 C230 with just fewer than 11k miles. To me, buying this car for me had nothing to do with the make or model, but the fact that I could do anything for myself that I wanted, and that I was capable of negotiating a bad ass price. Throw in German engineering and well, let’s just say I found my motivation.

Six weeks later, sticker price under Kelly Blue Book and an awesome trade in deal, I drove home tonight in that car for a few grand under $20k…a steal.

On my ride home, Michael, the gentleman whom I worked with, called me. Without even saying hello I said to him, “I can’t believe I got this car for this price.” His response, “Neither can I.” I knew I did well.

If you are in the Cleveland area and are looking for a Mercedes, go to Leikin Mercedes in Willoughby OH. Ask for Michael and tell him Angela sent you. I guarantee you will not be disappointed.

All the women, who are independent, throw your hands up at me!

Tell me your story.

Mother Goose to Snow White

2009-03-05T20:51:00.002-05:00

Birds of a feather flock together,
And so will pigs and swine;
Rats and mice will have their choice,
And so will I have mine.

Poly(ester) Is My Friend

2009-03-02T23:31:00.004-05:00

Perhaps it was the ten years of Catholic schooling or perhaps it is the reminder of my Grandma Z, I don't know for sure; but I have a crush on polyester.

I did not realize this until recently. It's been a long while since I have took inventory of my wardrobe. I've gone a year avoiding buying new clothes, an attempt to work towards a minimalist lifestyle.

I've always been very partial to cotton, linen, wool and silk. My addiction to bed linens has introduced me to the gamut of cotton thread counts. High cotton thread counts having a gleam and feel of almost silk.

Linen, so crisp and fresh in the spring and summer.

Wool, the classic standby for those cold winters.

As I went through my wardrobe I realized as I tossed old things in the donation bags to give away, that I continued to set aside the poly blends?

"What gives" I asked myself? They will stand the test of time no doubt but why not the beautiful wool slacks, or the silk camis, or the cotton tees that fit so nicely under a fitted jacket, the fact that I'm wearing cotton at work under the tailored blazer never having to be known?

I chuckled as I challenged myself to understand why. From the time I can remember attending school, I would prepare each school night by laying out my blue checkered polyester skirt, a white cotton blouse (perfectly pressed), and a polyester vest which normally ended up tied around my waist well before the 315pm bell. Next to that I lay cream colored wool knee high socks, saddle shoes, a headband, and my school bag, packed with my books and my homework.

Into high school, it was the same routine, only I mixed it up with crazy colored tights to show my individuality while hiding my pierced navel.

I have a black pair of slacks, size 6, perfect lenght. I've had them for at least five years. These are the poly blend slacks I turn to the mornings I've woken up late and need to rush to work. The front crease more like a permanent dent, one that can stand a five minute fluff in the dryer before I slide them on and pair it with a shell and a blazer and run out the door. If I spill coffee on them, a cotton tissue wipes it away it does not even absorb into the fabric, almost as if they have been sprayed with scotch guard. When I step out of the car and accidentally brush the car and get salt on the leg of the pant a simple slap on the pant and poof, the salt is gone.

As I thought about tossing them into the donation pile, simply because poly is not the most respected fabric, I quickly concluded that there would indeed be future mornings that I would regret that decision.

Its almost midnight and the clock will soon strike 5am. Who knows, maybe I'll slide on those poly blend slacks tomorrow morning. Nah, I'll go with the cream colored wool skirt suit since it will be chilly and my brown enzo pumps since there is no snow. This will look nice with a chocolate brown stocking and my grandmother's gold starburst pin on the lapel.

Although grade school and high school were a number of years ago I would hate to admit, there is a part of me that is still holding on.

Uncle Sam I Am…Concerned

2009-02-27T12:48:00.006-05:00

Nothing more pleasing than arriving home to find a slip in your mailbox saying you’ve missed a certified mail letter. Is it a coincidence that the slip is peach, close to the color of pink? Its common that something that has been sent certified is bad news…at least more often than it is good news in my experience. Couple that with the fact that the sender is the IRS, and well that equates to a restless evening.

I’ve always been a law abiding, tax paying, citizen. Ok well, for the most part. What in the world could it be, I thought to myself? Having received the pretty little slip well past 5pm, I had to wait out the night wondering what was in that envelope. To quench my curiosity I did the single most stupid thing which was google “certified letter irs” and what I read put me in a state of fear that can be described as paralyzing.

Collection efforts not responded to, garnished wages, failure to respond. Of course what I came upon were websites of attorneys (no offense to my south florida friends) looking to scare the living bejesus out of me and run to them for rescue, an assured initial payment of $3k - $5k. Let’s wait and see what it is I thought to myself. Don’t be so quick to judge how the attorneys represent themselves because I might need their help. It's just that I know it's not gonna be cheap to hire representation for a tax issue. I'll pay for great representation, but not good or mediocre representation, and I don't know any attorneys specializing in tax law.

The truth was, there were a million reasons you could have received a certified letter from the IRS, but chances were it was not good news. I contemplated the fact that perhaps it was not as bad as I thought. But no, I’ve never been lucky.

So I laid in bed last night. Toss and turned not only at the disturbing sound of the wind, but also the unknown in what lay in that envelope on Center Ridge Road. How weird I thought. This little bugger is going to keep me up all night and the sucker is less than a mile from my home sitting in some bin among a deep abyss of letters. Hope the letters for others are all good news.

I do not owe the IRS. I am current on all my filings. I’ve always waited well into March to fill to be sure I account for all my 1099’s. I’ve not been divorced. I’ve not smuggled money. I do not have a Swiss bank account. I know my financial situation inside and out and I could not come up with anything that I might have overlooked. After filtering through my tax returns dating back to 1998 and coming up empty handed, I could only wonder…What could it be?

This morning, I was up early, 430am. Preparing my green tea, masking my face, reading the local newspaper, trying to go through my normal routine and distract myself from thinking about that envelope. I would know in less than 4 hours what it contained.

As I pulled into the parking lot of the USPS office, I thought to myself, how bad could it be? Why am I letting the government scare tactics dictate my mood? The rainy grey day matched my solemn mood.

I scurried into the post office, reminding myself that the unknown would be discovered in less than 5 minutes, which turned out to be 15 minutes…of course! I was greeted, if that is what you want to call it, by Donna. An obvious tenured Federal employee…chipper as can be (chuckle).

I handed her my ID and the slip and said,

“I missed a delivery”.

She got the envelope, came back to the counter.

I said to her, “I didn’t sleep a wink last night because of this little guy.”

She laughed. “People get these all the time. It can’t be that bad, because you don’t have to sign for it. If you have to sign for it, then you owe money.” Think she has seen a few of these in her day?

She continues, “I did not file for 2007 and I received a notice that I was overpaid. They make mistakes all the time.”

Thinking to myself, I know this, but I don’t want the effing hassle. I’d rather not spent one iota of time on the government making an error.

“Thanks, you made me feel better.” I responded. I continued, “I made the mistake of googling what it could be last night and outside of feeling like I needed to go hire an attorney right away, I read horror stories that would make fantastic films. Trying not to get to far ahead of myself, but I am always prepared, and am horrible at dealing with the unexpected – I blame my dad’s genes for that.”

“Honey,” she said. “I live the unexpected.” She gave a wide grin. This time she made me laugh.

“Good luck” Donna said as I walked away.

I delicately opened the envelope as I walked to my car.

Good Karma…Good Karma...Good Karma…I thought to myself.
….And there it was…. 22, yes, I will repeat 22 pages of paperwork, notifying me that my taxes from 2002 were off by $5.08. I am owed a refund from the government of $5.08 which they are unwilling to pay because it’s past a 3 year limit on finding file errors. Oh, and if I want to appeal the decision, complete the paperwork and send it in, within the next 30 days. Congrats, time and money well spent. Somebody quick, call Obama and tell him the government is spending money frivolously.

I had to go back in and tell Donna, the USPS worker. Not only did I make her smile, but I made her down right laugh out loud…and a smoker’s laugh to boot. It couldn’t be more perfectly fitting.

“I told you,” she exclaimed.

“Yes, indeed Donna. Your words of encouragement were in fact, dead on!” I replied.

I continued, “I’d buy you lunch, but I don’t have 5 bucks on me.”

Are You Ever Really Afraid?

2009-02-27T00:58:00.006-05:00

So, have you ever really been afraid of something? I remember when I first moved into my home....I was used to living alone. There is only one time in my life that I lived with someone, and that certainly wasn't under circumstances of being roommates, it was more like, help me please.

Anyways, I have always been a bit introverted. I like my personal space, and needs lots of personal down time to recoup and recover from a busy day. A lot of noise overwhelms me. Babysitting my niece and nephew when they were babies just downright exhausted me.

I love my home because its my personal retreat. My place to recharge and get ready to face another day.

But, there are times, when living alone, in a home that doesn't offer the typical securities of a high rise building, can be downright frightening. Tonight is one of those nights.

I should be sleeping soundly in my bed, but rather, a storm is coming in. We are in the 50's so its a cold front for sure, bound to bring snow and the wind is whipping.

My master bedroom is on the southwest corner of the home. Weather here in Ohio moves in from the West and North of course from the Lake.

This southwest corner of my home takes a beating when its windy, and coincidentally, I was the genius who thought the forest lot situated directly behind me would be a beautiful serene view and offer privacy; which it does, but it also offers me the fear of god when its windy.

Branches fall and hit the windows and the side and back of the house.

There is this one tree situated just outside my master bedroom, that is dying and breaking apart. Three failed written attempts to the HOA to have it taken down and I'll be writing my fourth letter tomorrow.

It is nights like these, when I am genuinely scared. When the wind kicks my stomach drops, and I will lay here in my bed as long as I can take it, until I surrender to the wind and take refuge in the front bedroom which is on the opposite side of the house from where the wind does not come. The bed is not as comfortable and I will not sleep as sound.

Emily will saunter in and follow after me. Feeling inconvenienced that I moved because she is snuggled here beside me, warm and asleep.

For it is nights like these, that I do wish I had the feeling of safety lying beside me.

Gentleman, the single most beautiful gift you can give your special someone is the feeling of safety. Take good care of the woman in your life, and let her know that no matter what, she will always be safe with you.

Alright, got to go now. That front room is calling my name.

This, That and A Little Bit More

2009-02-26T21:33:00.006-05:00

Its Thursday and technically is a Tuesday for me. I came down with the flu this week and took two full days off from work. I am dehydrated beyond comprehension, but glad to be on my feet and finally feeling back to my old self. And work, oh god, I can't even go there. I'm so behind I will for sure be there all day Saturday.

It never ceases to fail. Put me on an airplane, and I am bound to get sick. I think I bring it on myself. Each person coughing, sniffling, wiping their nose with their bare hand, using the restroom too quick to have being able to wash their hands. I watch people do these things, or not do these things, too closely, and I swear this obsessing about cleanliness makes me sick.

When I travel, I always take Airborne, hand sanitizer and wash my hands constantly, and no matter what, I get sick. Must be that infected air just circulating through the plane. This is why I believe any final destination must be a place where it is at least 80 degrees during the day. Basking in the sun is a perfect way to ward off a cold or flu.

Which brings me to a thought I had the other day. I'll preface this comment by claiming its a significant thought, keeping in mind I am naturally blonde, and all though I can hold my own, I certainly have my moments. This thought came to me as a "Oh my god, that's it!" until I shared it with my mom and she was like, "Yeah, that's what a lot of people think".

Anywise, I figured out that its not the cold that bothers me as much as the snow. Rain, I love. But snow, I mean, after the first fall, its filthy and messy. In the winter, each pair of slacks needs to be taken to the dry cleaners each time you wear them, because the salt and snow soot gets on EVERYTHING. Add to this the fact that I love to wear black and it makes stepping out of the car more a single swift intentional movement that requires careful calculation of the distance of the pant leg to the car door. Snow is filthy. I also can't stand the fact that its near impossible to get outside. Sure, I see those MILF's out jogging in their full up winter gear, keeping it real even in the winter, but oh god girl, do you know what that is doing to your skin. Alternative, the gym...but its like so unbelievably packed. My only alternative, P90x - love you Tony.

So, that's my significant thought for the day. Snow totally sucks. It can snow for Christmas, and for New Year's that's cool... when the pretty little crystals fall upon the landscape during times of nostalgia. But after Jan 1 - Adios! After Feb 1 - Get the hell out of here. After Apr 1 - Fuck you.

I've got a long weekend in late April planned for Naples. Most definitely a trip to Miami, Marco, maybe even the Keys. All I know, is that I again will be escaping this hellish weather - well not exactly hell - more like hell frozen over.

Wild Wild West

2009-02-23T15:47:00.001-05:00

As I hope someday soon to be closer to warmer weather, Ill have to say that I always imagined Miami as my final destination. After being dragged to a Professional Bull Riding (PBR) show this weekend, the West maybe something to consider.

There are many types of sports out there. Some sports require a lot of physical aptitude and a little mental fortitude. Some require a lot of both.
When it comes to PBR, I think it is quite fair to say that aside from having steel nuts, it really only requires physical strength.

The fact that PBR may not require a lot of mental discipline does not deter me from the like of the sport. I find this surprising as I consider myself to be driven more mentally than physically. I was pleasantly surprised how much humor and excitement I felt from a misbehaving bull or rider who is likely to get a horn up his ass if he failed to spring to his feet quickly.

Maybe it is the simplicity of the sport in a complicated world? Maybe it was the smell of dirt? It was not the smell of shit, I could have passed on that. Then, as I sipped on my Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer, an appropriate and selective (ugh) ode to a sport whose initials are PBR, it dawned on me. I love a man in uniform and in this case…leather chaps. Wear them on a horse, on a Harley…whatev, its pretty hot.

Now truth be told I am a baseball fan. Football is not my thing; aside from the Superbowl and a well matched challenger for my home team (which unfortunately had no matched challengers this past season). The warm weather, night games, a beautiful landscape and ages old style uniforms are tied to a nostalgia, its personal origination unknown.

I do also like boxing.

I am not sure what it is about a man in a uniform. Perhaps it’s the attire that represents his passion, his calling, his duty. Whatever the reason I find when a man wears his uniform with pride and works to perform at his best, it’s an enjoyable scene.

Gitty Up.

How I Took My Credit Score from 580 to 800

2009-02-19T15:03:00.006-05:00

It was in the spring of 2003 that I realized that I had issues with my credit. In my twenties, I spent frivolously when I discovered that I could buy whatever I wanted by opening up a line of credit and charging it. What I did not understand was when I chose to do this was that I was going to have to pay a finance charge for having this money upfront. Yes, I was naive enough to actually believe they were giving me the money in advance at no cost.

At the time I began to open up lines of credit, I'm sure my credit was most healthy. I did not know what the score was, but I can only imagine it was strong, because I had college tuition loans paid in full and car loans paid off, both thanks to my generous parents.

When I began working, I had no good understanding of money. I spent money on whatever I wanted and when it ran out, I stopped spending until next pay day. Sometimes I would go a few days with just pennies in my account. Other times I would go 10 days with just $10. I had no concept.

And then it happened. I was standing at the Victoria’s Secret counter, and my card was declined. I could not buy the tango black lace panties and matching bra that I desired so badly. I had not opened up a single piece of mail that had been sent to my home when I started to receive the bills. My subconscious obviously working overtime in avoiding the inevitable because it was so much fun to eat out, drink out, be dressed to perfection with all the accessories, have a gym membership, a fab condo and all the furnishings to boot.

I still remember to this day, that feeling of embarrassment standing at that counter. I drove home, crying, knowing full well that I put myself in this situation and needed to get myself out.

I went home, pulled out the mail and opened every last single statement and jotted down the numbers on a piece of paper and added them up on the calculator on my cell phone. The number was astounding. It was not what I expected.

So then I began to research. Online, at the library, asking friends and family. How did credit work? How could I fix this? I learned about finance charges, revolving balance, credit limit, minimum payments, non revolving credit, APR, debt to income ratio, and FICO score among many other terms. I also learned of Experian, Equifax and Trans Union.

It took about five days for me to get the courage up to order my credit report and FICO score, and because I intended to fix my situation, I ordered a credit report and FICO score from all three agencies.

It took me a couple of days to filter through all the credit reports. My credit score ranged from 580-610 depending on the agency. My debt was deeper than what I was earning in a year.
That realization motivated me in ways that today I am grateful for it. I understood that value of working hard to earn money, the value of negotiating my worth to an employer, and the value of earning the things I had thought I was just deserved.

One by one I paid off those bills. Meticulously accounting for 3 years, each penny spent, each dollar earned. Sometimes Id fall off the bandwagon. I found I could restrain myself, just not as much as Id hoped. Rather than spending $1000 at Vickie's, I stopped at Starbucks more than once a week which was a violation of my self discipline. I would remind myself that this was an improvement not a failure to not be too hard on myself.

It has been over two years now that I have been debt free, aside, of course, from my mortgage which provides me a bit of tax relief. I have established a solid credit foundation by selecting a few reputable creditors, making purchases and them paying them off entirely. About mid way through my credit repair project, I pulled all credit reports again…my way to self motivate to achieving the credit I desired.

In these hard economic times, I encourage you to take advantage of the relief that the government is providing to improve your financial situation in a responsible way. Take fiscal responsibility for yourself and do not be a menace to society by overextending, or taking an adjustable mortgage rate that you know full well you will be unable to pay in the future…only to place these poor choices as tax burdens on others.

Use this time as an opportunity to wipe your slate clean and enjoy the freedom of life without the pressure of, “Can me or my family make it to next pay?” We may not all agree that the stimulus package is the right solution, but its here whether we like it or not.

From someone who has experienced debt and poor credit herself, I can promise you, the journey to debt and credit recovery will me humbling and rewarding. It’s empowering to know you can borrow, when absolutely necessary, get the most competitive rates and have no fear about the process.

To Audrey Jean

2009-02-18T10:12:00.002-05:00

I remember my grandmother fondly, even though I lost her when I was young. The mother to my father, she was a lady of simple needs, great persuasion in the most subtle way, modest and giving – to those in need and to her family.

She was short, light skin and blond, my build, complexion and hair color most definitely from her genes. Ovarian cancer was her fate.

I remember her teaching me how to care for myself. How to bathe, how to dress, how to sit like a lady. She used to make me oatmeal for breakfast. The place sitting complete with the bowl, a spoon, a vitamin, a glass of orange juice and two small creamer holders…one with milk and one with brown sugar. The delicious and appropriate toppings for steel cut oatmeal.

She always drove what I called a fancy car. A Cadillac, a Lincoln. The typical car for a sixty something grandmother who was fit, good looking and active in the community. Her car always smelled new. She used to say,

“There will be two things in life you will always have to pay for. A house and a car. And you should get a new car every two years before you have to start fixing things on it.”

She worked as a bookkeeper for local businesses and kept my grandfather and her financials in line. She was loved by her sons, cherished by her husband and respected by those whose lives she touched.

She died during the winter months. When this time of year comes by, I feel the overwhelming loss of her. Winter months are a strain on my parents, my father in particular, for it is these months that remind him of her slow death. Endless trips to the hospital and her pain.

I’ll stop by to visit her grave, drive past the house she once lived in on Hillard Blvd, and remembering how she would tuck me in at night when I’d sleep over. Ill stop by the perfume counter at the mall, and purchase Oscar De La Renta, the scent she always wore.

I miss you grandma. For it is now that I miss, not just your warm oatmeal, but your good advice. There are times when I feel lost and unfound.

Saints of God come to her soul
Come to meet her angels of the Lord
Receive her soul and present her to God the Most High
Now that she has passed from this life
May she live on in your presence

All my love goes to you today Audrey Jean.

Love The Space You're In

2009-02-18T09:41:00.004-05:00

Have you noticed how unbelievably well priced home furnishings are in today’s economy? Having brought a home about two years ago, I have steadily purchased things to make my space more ‘homey’.

The trick to adorning your personal space with furniture, art and collectibles is to be patient in your choices. It is quite costly, not to mention that you’ll need to feel the inspiration that something will work, rather than just go out and purchase a whole bunch of stuff. It takes time.

Case in point, my friend K, bought a home and felt the pressure to completely furnish it and fill its empty rooms. The end result with her quick purchases was paying interest on furniture, knick knacks and what nots, and ending up with a whole bunch of stuff that could not withstand her changing tastes. The likes of Pottery Barn and Crate & Barrel which are more appropriate for a few here and there to change the look through seasons, rather than the foundation of your canvas.

I am in need of a flat screen TV, a surround sound, a wine storage system, a nightstand and two large area rugs. I could as well use a foyer table. What I really want is a new watch, and a clock for my nightstand that I can stand looking at when I wake up; preferably this one: http://www.artdecocollection.com/1160.htm

If you prefer clean lines, muted earth tones and a variety of textures Ethan Allen and Herman Miller dealers are offering prices so reasonable, that if you pass it up, it could be considered a sin.

This 6 drawer dresser:
http://www.dwr.com/category/furniture/bedroom/matera-collection.do
which normally retails for $3600 was located through a dealer for $1800.

This chandelier:
http://www.ethanallen.com/product?productId=384&categoryId=8051
which normally retails for $3500 was located at my local store for $999.

6’ x 9’ all wool rugs solid print or subtle patterns for under $500
Stainless Steel, All Clad kitchen cookware sets for under $800
Name brand kitchen cutlery sets for a fraction of their typical resale
…and the list goes on.

It’s a great time to be furnishing a home. For those of you whom trust a interior designer to do the grunt work then consider yourself advised. When you receive your designers invoices…ask it to be line itemed, and be sure your are not paying full retail for the furnishings. Unless, of course, its something that you can not possibly live without.

Schizophrenic, Maybe So

2009-02-16T23:48:00.004-05:00

In news today, a South Florida blogger has been detained and admitted into a psychiatric hospital, after it was found he was blogging with himself incessantly by creating fictional characters that he conversed with daily.

After a brief interview with Staff Psychiatrist, Dr. Shumie, it was discovered that this blogger who was thought initially to have a serious mental illness, may in fact just be brilliant, similar to the movie character in 'A Beautiful Mind' . What he believes to be true is actually not, however, his writing and characters so entertaining no one could resist reading his blog.

"He is an avid writer." Dr. Shumie stated.
"Do not mistake him for a fool, but take him for who he is." Dr. Shumie defended.

In a brief interview with the blogger, he had but only one comment which many are trying to understand...

"Is it Shumie time yet?"

In a strange twist, the blogger continues to ask for mashed potatoes?

Happy Belated VDay To My Fav Valentines

2009-02-16T21:52:00.005-05:00

Always and Forever

2009-02-14T14:41:00.001-05:00

She was young when she realized she needed to free herself from the protection of her parents. She was working, loved her job and spending too much money and clothes and clubs and what nots. It was a fury of rage that motivated her to make the decision to rent her first apartment. She barely made enough to support her social happenings, and she worried about the sacrifices she must make to have her own space, but it would be worth it.

She dated a man whom she would later realize, fulfilled her in ways never known to be imaginable. He was sweet, sensitive, an attentive listener, knew what she liked and did not like, took care of her, embraced her family, and was willing to make their relationship the focus of their future. She had no idea how good he treated her until later relationships would prove that he was exceptional, not the norm.

She moved into the apartment. A one bedroom, which smelled of stale smoke, and its occupants more the single parent family type and older people, than people her age. But it was cheap. It was $350 a month. She could rent that space and still shop at Victoria’s Secret. So she took it.

Her parents were there to support, helping her move the hand me downs she had accumulated from friends and family when they heard of her choice to claim her independence. It would be a modest space. A pea green couch sectional, a full size bed and bed spring, with a mattress frame but no headboard and footboard. A ginormous dresser from the 70’s and a Kmart bookshelf which she adorned her 19’ TV.

J and she were madly in love. They were excited about the prospect of her new space because their sexual life was intense, active and explorative. They fantasized the weeks before the move about what their lives would be like. He was not going to move in, but they both knew that he would always be there. Knowing he would be at that apartment often gave her further strength in her fear of being alone…she knew he would be there whenever she needed him.

It was a few months she lived in that apartment before the first Valentine’s Day came around. J and she had simple plans. He was going to come over after work and school, she was going to get out of work early, make dinner and surprise him with a few treats. She left work at 3pm and went to the local grocery to pick up the fixing up a chicken breast dinner. J and A were lean, they ate healthy and only overindulged sexually.

She prepared the meal and left it in the stove. It was not what mattered most. What mattered most was her preparing herself for him. She wanted to take his breath away when she opened the door. She wanted him to forgo the dinner and move straight to dessert. She had brought herself a black silk thong, a black bra to match and a silk robe. Along with that she wore thigh high stocks, stiletto heels, red lipstick, curled her blonde locks and kept her eye makeup simple, just enough to make her eyes striking; showing off how green they were. She took a long hot shower, cleaning her canvas and preparing her body for the work of art she wanted to become for him. She covered every inch of her skin in his favorite lotion, it was sweet and it reminded him of her. He often liked it when her scent was left on him after a night of passion, him rushing to work and not having the time to take a shower, but the benefit being he could taste her and smell her the next day and call her to reminisce of the night past.

Her stomach was doing flip flops in anticipation of seeing his face when he opened the door. She knew he would be early; he could never help himself from wanting to see her. It was still early when she heard the rap on the door. The lights were off, the candles were burning, and the table was set. She took a final peek in the mirror, checking things front sideways and back, ensuring that every inch of her was just as she intended for him. She walked to the door, working to adjust her emotion to passion rather than showing the excitement that overcame her. She opened the door, their eyes met. He was standing there in his suit, a relatively expensive suit that he could made look like its worth a million bucks. He was holding red roses, and a box of chocolates, and he smelled like himself. He saw her, and couldn’t help himself. He walked in, took her by the waist and did not spend anytime presenting her with his gifts, but rather placed them on the foyer table…it was not to bother. He grabbed the back of her waist, pulled her close to him and tasted her, deeply. His hands floating over her skin. Whispering to her how beautiful she looked and how she made him feel. She melted in his arms, the passion overcoming her, and then the sweet surrender.

Happy Valentines Day J. My heart will always be with you.

You made me feel like a woman.

Love Potion

2009-02-14T12:34:00.002-05:00

She was a young girl, once in love. The promise of a commitment with its potential fully unrealized was her motivation. It is the anticipation of what’s to come that allows her to survive and have hope. When her heart was broken, she set herself feel to find her true self, and be dependent on nothing but the possibility of what future life she could have. She is free, she is happy and she has barley scratched the surface of her deepness.
Her heart is wide, her soul is deep, her mind challenged, her loins hungry. She will not divulge to one who is anything but her ideal and whom treats her as if she is the single most important thing is this crazed insane social world we call life.

For today, is another day, in which we are reminded that love is an emotion, a feeling, a reason to be vulnerable, to surrender, to give faith and trust…and if nurtured it will indeed give back.

May each of you be touched in the most special way today by someone you love. A mother, a father, a brother, a sister, a friend, a spouse, a lover…the day to recognize the person in your life who is always there for you, can embrace you and make you feel better, and that you can trust without any hesitation.

Happy Valentine’s Day

Today I am going to have the time of my life, in this glorious space I’ve chosen to be.

To J

2009-02-07T09:32:00.001-05:00

This morning I’m preparing myself for a wedding shower. What seems to be my twelfth wedding shower in two years. One of those wedding showers for my brilliant brother and his absolutely gorgeous and amazing now wife, the others for friends. Some friends I keep up with, some friends I have not seen but a few times in the past years, but the reunion and participation in something so fantastic in their life truly is a treat.

Today is the wedding shower for my friend J, and I could not be more happy to support her and spend this special day with her.

J and I go back to the age of nine. We have barely kept in touch over the years but each time we see each other we pick up right where we left off. Anticipating this shower, Ive taken a trip down memory trip with J. The drinks that accompany our conversation are the catalyst to our weeping childhood retreat, her typical choice margarita, mine vodka.

The memory I remember most is how she and I used to play on the “Slip ‘n Slide” in the summer. Both coming from very financially modest families, our imaginations were what inspired our activities. The “Slip ‘n Slide”, outside of the “Green Box” at the park around the corner, was about as good as it got and we did not feel slighted in the least bit.

We soaked up (pun intended) every bit of fun we could squeeze out of sliding on our bellies over the green grass and the occasional rock, rightly earning our bruises, in an attempt to stifle off the summer heat. This game included a running lead, a length equal to at least half the length of the slide. “Ready, Set, Go!” we would shout to each other. The first taking off, running as fast as we could, pumping our arms, gritting our teeth, speed was critical. Just as we approached the edge of that glorious yellow wonder, we’d launch from our toes, land on our belly, and take a wild ride all the way to the end. It was important, you know, to spread your arms out before you hit the end to stop yourself from going beyond the end. The result was worse than a rug burn from wrestling our brothers.

We would giggle in delight, meet at the foot of the slide, and turn to each other and say, “Nice to see you here. What a qa-winkie-dink.” And over and over and over, until we felt we would lose from our belly our Wonder white bread, Jif peanut butter and Smucker jelly sandwiches (hers grape, mine strawberry), which, oh by the way, we would add potato chips onto and then fake to mom that the bread was stale and crunchy. Chocolate milk to boot. It did not get any better than that.

Today J, I dedicate my post to you. I can’t wait to see your face when you open up my gift, a 9-cup food processor…and a “Slip ‘n Slide”. See you in the summer to test it out.

Playboy Much?

2009-02-04T17:08:00.003-05:00

When you were a kid, at what age did you begin to become aware of sexuality? When did you know that sex was something that existed, to be desired, to experience?

My father was an avid fan of Playboy. When we were kids, it wasn’t until I was 12 that I started to ask why a particular magazine in the mail came in a plastic cover that was black. I was on to my mother and fathers secrecy…I just didn’t know what it was.

My mom had the most amazing grand walk in closet. The closet was full of pretty colorful clothes, jewelry, handbags, scarfs, stockings, hats. It smelled like her perfume. A pretty musky scent. On the occasional opportunity I had to sneak into her closet and play dress up, I took full advantage. This normally required my mother and father to be invited to a wedding, a night out of the town with their friends, or a dinner date! I would convince the babysitter that my mom didn’t care if I tried on her clothes…played dress up. She didn’t really, but mom would scold me for being persistent with the babysitter rather than just obeying her.

So I would organize my mothers things. Fold her stockings nicely, try on a hat. I loved to try on her high heels. I used to pretend I was older, and of course sneak in a tube of lipstick and look at myself in the full mirror in the closet.

One time, I was fumbling around, and noticed the lower half of a small enclosed area went further back than I have ever noticed. Almost like into a secret attic area. I scrunched down and wiggled myself back there. Once I got through, the ceiling rose again and I could stand up. It was an attic, just behind the closet.

There were boxes everywhere. It was dark, smelled musty and kind of hot. I couldn’t find a light so I ran back to my bedroom and got my flashlight. The trusty flashlight my dad put in my room in case the lights ever went out. I knew exactly where it was if I was ever scared... and needed a night light.

I ran back excitedly to the attic area and flicked the on switch of the flashlight. I remember thinking briefly that it was boxes of money. I don’t know why, I just remember wondering how my mom and dad always had money. I had several friends whose parents couldn’t even swing a 5 dollar bill for taco bell for lunch. When I looked more closely, I realized they were boxes and boxes of books.

As I went through the books, I came across a variety of topics. Nursing books, law enforcement books, old cookbooks, fiction novels, dictionaries. Then I stumbled upon something interesting. A box filled with old magazines whose cover had pictures of naked ladies, and really pretty naked ladies. I opened up the book and could not believe my eyes. There were naked, and look like my mom naked, but their busts bigger, and the waists smaller.

I remember the feeling overcoming me excitement. Not in a sexual way, but in a girlie way. It was as if I knew that someday I would look like that, and I couldn’t wait. Ah ha, now I knew that those magazines were covered in that black plastic. I sat down, and read the magazine. The articles were weird. Things I didn’t understand but could tell there were funny things to adults. I liked most to read the stuff the girl who was in the centerfold wrote about herself…and they always had the most bubbly hand writing.

As I heard the babysitter coming up the stairs calling my name out wondering what I was doing upstairs in my moms closet for so long, I hustled to put the magazines back just so, turned off the flash light, hid it under a pile of stockings and pretended like I was trying on a hat.

“What are you doing in here” the babysitter asked.

“Nothing, just pretending like Im a big girl” I responded.

“But you already are a big girl” she said.

“But not a really big girl” I replied.

She laughed, grabbed my hand and took my downstairs and made me some popcorn. She was the coolest babysitter, Missy.

From that day forward, any and every opportunity I had to sneak into that closet and look at the pictures and read I took full advantage. My curiosity was overwhelming.

I Dedicate This Post To My Grade School Girls

2009-02-03T20:49:00.007-05:00

The song playing is what we sang in weekly choir. Friday morning mass was a treat.

This song is for you Katie.

Da Bears

2009-02-02T13:18:00.003-05:00

It was late summer of 2006. I was traveling quite frequently between Cleveland and Florida. My travels to Florida took me to Gainesville and Jacksonville to manage client contracts.

My friend, G who lives in Atlanta, normally spent a long weekend in the late summer with friends, deep in the woods. The forest was about 2 hours outside of Atlanta and, according to G, had spectualar campsites. No electricity, no running water…however a small river to bathe in.

He convinced me to go. Although I must admit I had a lot of anxiety about not having a blow dryer. I decided I would embrace the experience of connecting with nature, and “roughing it” the way our ancestors used to.

We would be heading to the campsite early Friday morning, with plans to arrive early Friday afternoon. Doing this would give us time to set up the tents, chairs, cookwear, fire pit, etc. and to hit the local grocery store to stock up on essentials for fireside cooking. You know, eggs, green peppers, onions, sausage, beer, and marshmallows.

We would spend Saturday hiking and mountain biking. Sunday we would again hike and then head out early enough to beat the rush of traffic moving back into Atlanta and spend Sunday and Monday recovering back in civilization. A hot shower and a full meal would be the top priority when arriving in Atlanta.

I drove from Jacksonville to Atlanta and arrived late Thursday night. The group of us rose early Saturday and filled the SUV’s with all the essentials and hit the road. A quick stop at StarBucks along the way.

The air was warm, the conversation great and the anticipation of doing nothing too mentally intense and challenging our bodies physically was discussed at length.

“Are there bears in these woods”, I stupidly asked.

“Of course”, G replied.

“So how do we protect ourselves from getting mauled?” I inquired.

“The bears will not come around us. We just need to be sure we don’t leave any food on the campsite and we have to be very careful to rinse down any pot or pan that we cook in. The key is to dispose or get rid of any food scent so as not to lure the bears to the campsite. They are more afriad of us than we are of them” S explained.

“Really? Did you hear about that group of joggers? Last jogger disappeared, only for the group later to discover she was snatched up by a bear. The article was talking about how the bear was probably hunting and seeing the last jogger as the weakest and the easist to catch. Scary stuff.” I rebuttaled. “They didn’t even know it happened until hours later.”

“A bear is not going to come onto our campsite. Besides, if it does and it looks like it might attack, Ill shoot it” M exclaimed.

“Yeah, lets not wait to see if its going to attack. If a bear comes on our campsite, just shoot it.” I demanded.
As we pulled into the small town, we talked about the simplicity of the lives of those that lived in that town. Catering to people like us to experience what they lived every day. We were humbled by their dedication to living the simple life, and their need for nothing too grandiose. Some of us, secretly jealous.

We drove up and down the hilly area, deep into the wooded area and far into a campsite. We pitched our tents at a campsite just along a river. The campsites next to us were a good distance away so privacy was not an issue. A few of us drove to the local mart and picked up our weekend supply of sustanance. As we drove back, I could not but again wonder, ok worry, about the bears. I could tell from how deep and thick the forest area was, and how expansive, that there were probably a plethora of bears. How would their curiosity not get the best of them?

“So, this bear thing” I again said.

M began laughing out loud. “Oh this again!”.

“Yes, I said. Im not buying that a bear wont come onto a campsite. Are you sure we don’t have to worry about it when we hit the sack? I mean, can’t we buy something that we can burn or put around our camp area that would deter a bear if he came around?” I inquired.

“We’ll get so drunk that we wont care if there is a bear on our campsite” M joked to try to make me feel better.

“Uh yeah right, then instead of shooting the bear, the idiot with the gun shoots a person. Real cool M. Sounds like a Dateline story to me” I said.

It was at this moment that I felt vulnerable. I mean, I knew these people well enough, but like a scary movie, who the hell knows what goes on back here in these areas. I freaked myself out.
When we arrived back at the campsite, I decided to grab my mountain bike and head out for a ride. I needed to blow off some steam and get my head back on track. I had myself so worked up over this bear that I was afraid that I wouldn’t enjoy the weekend.

We had a great Friday night. We cooked, we chowed, we drank beers, we talked, we listened to music, we discussed theory, philosophy, current events. The evening was long. Each person showed respect in allowing another to voice their opinion at length and we really dug deep into some life topics, rather than just scratching the surface. At about 3am, we all retreated to our tents, pairing up. As I stumbled into my tent, I jokingly shouted out to the other tents

“Hey M, you got that gun handy right”.

“Go to bed” M responded. “Ill protect us all if need be.”

I laid my head on the pillow, inhaled the fresh air deeply and slept like a baby.

The next day, I rose to the smell of coffee perculating on the smoldering fire.

“Good Morning” G said to me as I exited the tent.

“Good Morning”, I said as I stretched to the sky and again inhaled deeply. “My God is it gorgeous here”.

It was early enough that the fog in the forest was low. The temperature had dipped in the evening and the September heat had not rose yet to burn off the fog. Suns rays darting through the tall pine trees, the sound of the river rushing by, and birds chirping.

I took a quick dip in the river. Talk about a way to wake up! It was so frigid, every inch of my skin tightened as I entered the water. “Who needs a pour minimized mask at a spa when you’ve got this” I chuckled to myself.

As the others arose, we nibbled on eggs, sipped our coffee and prepared for our day of hiking and mountain biking.

After a physical day, we all headed back to our campsite about 4pm. Exhausted, covered in mud, our muscles aching, our minds free. We all again bathed, prepared our meal and began our evening fesitivties.

Chicken, cous cous and asparagus was the meal. M prepared the meal with great attention under my influence. We flavored the cous cous with rosemary and pine nuts. Again, another great evening of food, conversation and alcohol indulgence. This evening, however, we were heavily influenced by alcohol. It was near 4am when the last of us decided to settle in and rest. We did a quick once over of the campsite to be sure the garbage was in the dumpster, the pots and pans cleaned, the beer bottles disposed of and the picnic table and seating area watered down to rid of any food droppings.

I had closed my eyes for what seemed like only a minute.

“CRASH” was the noise I heard from just ouside my tent. The firepit was still slightly burning, so it gave off a amber glow. I sat straight up. The noice of the crash was familiar. It sounded like the cooler full of ice had been dumped over.

A loud grunting noise came from outside the tent. I knew what it was immediately. My body froze. My heart raced and I could hear it pounding in my ears. I lightly shook G awake and as she opened her eyes I covered my lips with my index fingering signaling her to keep quiet. She sat up. She looked at me and could tell I was frightened. She sat up and saw what I saw. The amber glow from the fire outlined the body of a bear, just outside our tent rummaging through our campsite.

There was a gentleman whose campsite was across from ours. He was very familiar with the campsite as he frequented the camp every weekend in the summer. He and a few good old boys spent their weekends at the campsite. I heard him from afar,

“Holy shit, look at that bear over there on that campsite!” He shouted.

Effing fantastic I thought to myself. He is an expert and even he is surprised. I could not hear the others in their tents and most imporatntly, M. He had the gun. Was he awake? Does he hear or see the bear? Will the bear attack? The bear is less than four or five feet from my tent. If the bears comes over to the tent, how do I respdon? Do I try to scare him? Do I play dead? Do I yell? Do I escape out the backside of the tent and run? Will that put others in danger? I had no idea what to do. I regretted that I did not read up on how to handle such a situation when my instincts had warned me that this was a possibility. Where the eff is my blackberry so I can google, “How to Scare A Bear”. I felt totally and completely helpless. Although I did not know what to do, what I did know for sure was that this would all be over soon, and I had to do the best that I could do and deal with it. Better to deal with it in confidence than in total fear I reminded myself. You’ll make a better decision if you tell yourself you can handle this!

The fear was paralyzing but I needed to do something. I wanted to see and know what I was up against. My hand shaking, I pulled the front flap of the tent, which was not zipped, to the side just a smidgen. What I saw was a large brown bear on the picnic table. I watched for what seemed like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes. He would smell a morsel on the table and use his large paws to try to pick up that morsel from the table and would sit back on his hind legs and lick his paws. When he sat back on his hind paws I would guess he was six feet tall, maybe even seven. He was massive. I knew that if he approached the tent, I would not be able to defend myself. But I watched him, his every move to anticpate what was next.

Hug A Jew

2009-02-01T13:23:00.004-05:00

Tomorrow celebrates the annual, “Hug A Jew" day.

A few Jews I’d like to send a hug to:

Sigmund Freud – I studied you intensely and I am in love with you. Psychoanalysis is a widely underappreciated mental health science.
Bugsy Siegel – You know you raped her, we know you raped her, she knew you raped her, you should not have done that. Your death is ironic. Rest in Peace, your life brought you none and you deserve peace.
Anna Freud – The children you helped thank you.
Albert Einstein – Ok, well I totally don’t get the physics but I love the theory.
Lisa Carver – Crazy bitch, you just need a hug.
Bob Dylan – Because your music moves me and touches my soul.
Joseph Brodsky – I read you naked.
Howard Schultz – I don’t care what you put it in, its grand and your campaigns to bring fresh water to those who don’t have it, is a good thing – Ive bought a million of those bottled waters, and yes, I recycled them.
Jerry Seinfeld – Yes I am a fan.
Neil Diamond – Sweet Caroline!
Jennifer Connelly – How do you do it? I always believe your character.
Selma Blair – You crack my shit up.
Paul Simon, Gene Simmons, Lisa Loeb, David Lee Roth, Linda McCartney, Taylor Dane, Jakob Dylan, Beck, Woody Allen, Mel Brooks.

And to my favorite Jew, whose name must remain unmentioned. For it is you I think of often. You are one of a few who touched me at a time in my life when I needed it most. Thank you, for being there. You gave a second chance.

Elle Michelle - you love him entirely, and I thank you for that. May you always be to each other what you are unable to be to yourselves.

Carrie Michelle – keep it real girl, you always have and you always will, you will prevail, you will defeat and its only the beginning for you!

Movie Night

2009-01-30T21:01:00.008-05:00

Burn After Reading and Flawless

Burn After Reading - cute, but weak plot. Although Ill have to give some serious props to Brad Pitt for his role is this one. I'm not typically a Brad Pitt fan...however he is the quint essential gym brat, and aced pretending (ok maybe not) that he had not one brain cell.

Stellar performance as always by Frances McDormand. I loved you in Fargo and I love you in this. Her dry sense of humor and desperate personality offers a balance to the bitchy, demanding, I just want to be f**cked right, Tilda Swinton. Honey, when you let him be in charge you ll have the "o" of your life. Frances, you are looking fantastic. No need for plastic surgery, keep it real my love.

George Clooney was creepy, nothing out of the ordinary.

And Malkovich...I am going to watch the movie again just so I can count how many times you say f*ck, and to see you again walk down the sidewalk in your boxers and robe. Your chubby legs that bow at the ankles are adorable! I noticed you have an ax, are you by chance heading south?

This is a good movie if you want something thats ridiculously silly, dry, but still has somewhat of a plot in tact. Unlike something thats just silly like Old School.

P.S. McDormand, I LOVE your laugh. Schwin!

Flawless - Demi Moore, set in the '60s. I love Demi Moore, as an actress. I wish I could give a review but the dvd was scratched and after 15 minutes of trying to get things back on track, I gave up. Damn!

Is It Drafty In Here?

2009-01-29T14:53:00.000-05:00

A junior in high school, she felt she had the world by the tail! She had transferred from an all girls Catholic school to the local public school. It was fall. She was able to join the volleyball team even though she transferred after the school year had begun. She liked the Catholic school, but didn’t get along with the girls. She liked to be around guys, not for the attention, but the comradery. Boys weren’t as fussy as girls, and although her looks were girlie, her personality was tomboy through and through.

When she transferred from the Catholic school to the public school, she learned what it meant to have a wardrobe. Up and to that point, she wore a school uniform from K-10th grade and on the weekends, it was jeans and a tshirt. She entered the school seeing that all the girls were so glamorous in their fancy clothes and fancy shoes. And so many layers. She loved it and embrace it!

On this specific day she choose black opaque tights, a one piece red checkered skirt jumpsuit and black boots. Under the jumper she wore a black long sleeved tshirt…she wasn’t going to surrender that quick. It was an edgy look. The jumper held the Catholic school girl look, but her boots were daring.
When she transferred, she got lots of attention. From boys, from girls, from teachers. She received an immediate respect because she came from a reputable school, with a competitive sporting club, and she was an A student.

She was not the kind of girl who stuck with one crowd. She had one good girlfriend, and moved in and out of different types of crowds. She craved the chase of something new, something different. Anything non ordinary was exceptional and interesting. She was motivated by the unknown.

For lunch breaks, she would take herself home. She liked the freedom of being able to leave school, they would NEVER allow it at the Catholic school, and she liked that she could come home and primp midday. She drove a 1982 Ford Ranger. A hand me down from her older brother. She loved that car because when she drove it, she would accelerate real fast, release the gas just before fourth gear, and the car would backfire. It always made people laugh and her too.

On this day, she finished her physics class, and went home for lunch period. She did her usual primping. Hair..check. Eye makeup…check. Lip gloss…check. Potty break…check. Once she finished, she slipped back on her boots, grabbed her bag, and jumped into her truck.

She drove back to the school and parked her car in the large parking lot. She hated her parking spot. It was so far out because she transferred after school started, and the walk to the building took forever. It at least took 10 minutes away from her lunch break. Damn, she thought.

She walked into the school, through Freshman Hall, through Sophomore Hall, through Junior Hall. Just as she reached Senior Hall the bell sounded. Classes began to filter into the main throughputs. She remembers a group of freshman boys walking behind her, giggling. She turned around and smiled at them. Young silly boys, she thought to herself. After walking a few more steps, her friend Anne darted across the hallway!

“A! Come here!” Anne shouted.

“What?” A responded. “I have to get to class.”

“Seriously, come here.” Anne now loudly whispered as she had made up ground to catch up to A.

“What!” “Whats wrong?” A inquired

“The back of your skirt is tucked into your tights and you can see your ass!” Anne apologetically said as she reached around behind A and pulled the skirt down around her bottom.

“Oh my god” A said. “I didn’t wear any underwear today” A explained.

“Yes, we know.” Anne responded

Now you know why A was so particular in putting on her morning undergarments in college.

Strip Tease - Well Almost

2009-01-28T20:17:00.002-05:00

She was a freshman in college. Attending a small liberal arts school, she was startled by the social pressure. A Catholic upbringing and schooling, she realized she had been protected from the world.

She chose not to rush. Hundreds of girls all competing for each other’s attention. Trying to pigeon hole themselves into a sorority that would define their personality, their character. She thought it was absolutely ludicrous. Besides, she grew up with two brothers, no sisters and one good girlfriend. She didn’t get girls.

She passed. Drowned herself in studies, Psychology. She attracted the intellectual type. Not the jocks, not the potheads, not the rockers, not the dorks.

As a result, she had more guy friends than girlfriends, surprise, surprise and spent much of her time in the basement of a mansion of a fraternity. The space was grand. Five separate rooms, a full bar, and a cubby in the corner that had a killer sound system, and a plethora of cd’s.

She came to know the boys very well. They were like brothers to her.

“Why aren’t you dating?” “What do you like?” they would ask

“I don’t know yet” she responded. “I’m figuring it out”

Her sense of style was simple. She wore worn jeans, t-shirts, Vans, little jewelry, too much eye makeup and had naked lips. The only thing she thought about when getting dressed in the morning, was her undergarments. Her panties and bra always matched, and were usually black.

One Friday evening, she celebrated the end of a week of classes and she normally did. A 40 ounce of Old E (which she could never finish or even get to half of) and a water bong. No more, no less.

The evening felt different. The guys were hanging out, but everyone was good, happy. No drama, no broken hearts…the mood was free. It was a good night, we were not having any house parties, and it was just the group us. My friend Colleen came over. We hung out, hunkered down in that little cubby, blasted Madonna, sipped our 40’s and smoked, and smoked, and smoked.

Madonna’s "Justify My Love came on. She jumped up.

“I love this song” she exclaimed

“Why?” Colleen asked

“Because it’s sexy and passionate and sultry” she said

“I need to dance” she demanded

“Then dance…be free” Colleen said.

She dimmed the lights, grabbed a chair, and placed it in the center of the room. Her body and soul and mind absorbed the beat of the song. She placed herself on the chair, slipped off her Vans, her jeans, the t-shirt and untied her hair...and she danced.

“I’m free” she whispered to herself.

Impressions

2009-01-27T13:48:00.004-05:00

….as she retreated to her humble abode, she reflected on the day past.

“How monotonous.” she thought to herself.

Day in and day out there is very little variation and few challenges.

She seeks to find excitement, creating, if only for a moment, a distraction in the form of a fantasy where she finds contentment in the idea of something greater. Its not a lifestyle, but rather her sense of self, and application to society. She’s come to the realization that she must quit fantasizing and pursue her dreams, her fantasies. Her courage comes from her past experiences, her bravery comes from her hope.

She recalls an evening in her pre teen years. Just as always, she went about her day at school. She was a good student. She listened attentively, absorbed what was being taught, and applied herself in her studies. It was at an early age that she felt the sting of monotony. Go to school, participate in after school activities. For during this season it was volleyball. She arrived home by car pool, walked into a home bustling with mom and dad activites, hurridely preparing a meal for their three children, watching the days events on the six oclock news, planning the rest of the evening. Dinner, homework, bath, tv, and then bed.

She was twelve. Bright eyed, eager for what the world had to offer her, exceling in whatever she participated. Most of those things were decided for her. A blonde blunt bob framed her pudgy face. Her cheeks rosy, eyes green, smile wide and toothy, her build athletic. She did have two brothers you know, and she could wrestle them both.

“Dad” she says to her father.

“Yes” her father replies.

“Is this what life is?” she inquires

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“I mean, is this what life is. Go to school or work, come home, eat, go to bed. And do it all over the next day. Is this what people do?” she disappointingly asks.

He laughs, not at her, but at the question. This life is so natural to him the question is silly. He is a man of great pride. Constant and stable are two words that define him. Things are black and white, right or wrong, good or bad.

“Well yes. That is just what life is. What else do you want?” he responded. His answer was honest. Something she’d later come to understand and respect.

The fear absorbed her. It was not what she was wanting to hear. It was not what she believed she could be. It was not her ideal. But she was too young, too innocent and too naïve to know any better. And her life experiences had not afforded her the opportunity, up and to that point, to know any better.

“It is just not what it seems it should be.” she said to herself.

She finished dinner, completed her homework, took a bath, watched tv and went to bed. As she layed her head on the pillow, she counted the sqaures on the collectables adoring her tall dresser. The walls were painted a pale purple, so the only shapes to count in the room were figurines, furniture was sparse. She started to count, one, two, three, four, five – counting the sides, counting the tops and bottoms. She would count the shapes until all angles had been accounted for. She would always end on an even number, because life was to be in order. And then, when she finished, she count all over again, just to be sure she had counted right.

Then she closed her eyes, feel asleep, and woke up the next day and went on with life as it was intended to be.

45 Day Countdown

2009-01-25T21:09:00.007-05:00

In approxiamately 45 days, something in my life that has been weighing heavy on my mind will be over.

In 45 days, I will know the outcome of a difficult legal process that has restricted me from being emotionally and mentally free.

In 45 days, I will be contemplating the appropriate time to put my house on the market.

In 45 days, I will be walking away from a courthouse and into a four hour massage, mentally reviewing the events of my life past up and to this point.

In 45 days, I will be redefining my sense of self.

In 45 days, I will forgive myself for anything in my past that I wished I could change, and embrace these things for what they are, the experiences that have made me Audrey.

In 45 days, I will committ myself to me and be free!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens

2009-01-24T21:17:00.006-05:00

My four year old niece, is the single greatest blessing in my life. Today, L and I spent the day together. L and I are like peanut butter and jelly (grape). Her innocence and the thought of knowing how easily she is impressed upon, challenge me to be my best self. I love her, in all possible ways, and am grateful that I am able to be a part of her life and she a part of mine. We had the best day today...and while I was with her, unknowingly, I took mental note of all the things that just made my heart sing! While driving home, I went through the days events with and wanted to share them...and blog about them so I could remember them.

L gets scared when she wakes up - so Ill lay on the bed with her and take a nap with her so that when she wakes up - Im there. That cute little groggy face when she wakes up, looking so distress and then the look a calm that overcomes her when she knows shes not alone. I love that feeling of safety that I give her.

L is proud when she poops, and wants you to see what a good job she did.

L and I like to hang her hanging princess castle from the ceiling. We grab all the knitted blankets we can find, a few dollies, two flashlights, a dollhouse and a boat load of polly pockets are we are good for at least two hours. If you add a few juice boxes and a ziplock of fish crackers, forget about it...

L and I can play without any toys...we share each others wild imagination

L and I make horsies from brooms

L is convinced that sugar is a part of the food pyramid - it turns out bread is actually a protein

L likes to wear her jammies all day long - because they are long, like a princy dress and the nightgown has a picture of all the disney princesses including Snow White, Belle, Beauty Shop, Cinderella, Tinkerbell, Jasmine, Ariel, Aurora, and Mulan

When L wakes up, she smells like sleep. Its her natural scent and one Ill always remember. L is all girl.

L has some pretty bad ass dance moves, including a 70's disco point and hip move that is like no other

L kisses by grabbing your face with her two hands, squeezing your cheeks together so your lips squish and then making fish lips with her lips and smack dab, pow right on the kisser!

L's favorite blanky is the one with the really stinky corner...the one shes gotten all stinky by sucking on - dont you DARE try to wash this blanky

L likes to play beauty shop after her baths

L does not like to put her hair up in a pony or a braid - she likes it down and kind of tucked behind her ears

L furrows her brow and squishes her nose when she is overly worried about her little brother - or when she acts like a big girl and shares her toys with him - either one of those things is painful to her but she knows she is a big girl now

No Effing Way

2009-01-23T20:48:00.003-05:00

Can I Get A Witness

2009-01-23T09:28:00.002-05:00

Its upper 30's in Cleveland today, and it feels like a heat wave. The snow is melting, the sun is shining. If you close your eyes and face the sunshine, you can almost hear the waves of the Atlantic.

Its a quick reminder that spring will be here soon. The birds will be chirping, restaurants washing down their outdoor patios, the smell of grass, people exercising outside, washing their cars, pulling their yards together. It may be a few more months away, but today is a reminder that we are closer than we are far. Thank fucking god.

My favorite thing to do when the weather breaks, is to hit the metroparks in my running shoes and follow the trails. When I finish, my body is caked with mud. Its my motivation to buy new running shoes. T - if your home, we'll do it together and hit Second Sole after.

Whats your favorite thing to do when the weather breaks?

Celebrating Love In Miami

2009-01-22T11:13:00.004-05:00

My flight is booked.
My bags are soon to be packed.
My heart is fluttering.

Im going to Miami to celebrate Valentine's Day.

Hmmm...think Ill start my weekend with a mojito at my favorite restaurant on Espanola Way and for sure sport a red number on the beach.

Delish!

2009-01-22T08:58:00.005-05:00

Ladies, I saw the most beautiful ass I have seen in a long time while walking from the parking garage to my office this morning.

He was wearing jeans, traditional. Not baggy, not dark washed, not tight. Just right. And let me tell you how those cotton wonders just hugged his adorable little tooshie. Not to forget to mention he walked like a bad ass, and has no idea which makes it even better.

We chatted for a few. Goes to John Marshall, and helps out in the legal department. I asked him how he gets away with wearing jeans. His answer, "I can get away with a lot." My response, "I bet you can. You keep wearing those jeans and you'll be just fine." He blushed madly.

Ah yes, what a fantastic morning treat....

Moment of Clarity

2009-01-19T22:46:00.003-05:00

Have you ever had a moment of clarity? A moment in time where everything in your life that seemed so confusing suddenly becomes clear? A moment where the things that bother you most, suddenly dont bother you anymore, and the only thing that has changed is that you have not allowed it to be in the forefront of your mind?

I just had a moment like that.

I am taking my life...by the balls.

How To Spot A Redneck

2009-01-19T18:50:00.004-05:00

How to Spot a Redneck in Ohio (observations from this weekend)

A Redneck turns on his fog lights where there is no fog. Coincidentally its also a truck.

A Redneck drives a truck whose tires are worth more than the vehicle itself.

A Redneck still has dirt on his tires, even when we have had 12 inches of snow.

A Redneck buys aftershave at Drug Mart - and it comes in an aerosol spray can.

A Redneck fills his grocery cart with Red Baron pizzas and Stouffers dinners. A rich Redneck treats himself with the Hungry Man meals.

A Redneck wears stone washed jeans and the right pocket has the outline of his wallet.

How do you spot a Redneck?

Who Am I?

2009-01-18T11:06:00.004-05:00

This blog has become to me more of a personal diary than anything else, and I love it for that. I realized last night, that my life and myself are really not who I thought I would be or see myself at 30 something.

I came to this realization about a year ago and committed myself to make some substantial changes, which I still intend to do and have started. Those included, where I lived, my relationships with my family members, and my relationships with my closest friends.

There are many things about me, even the people who are closest to me, that people don't know. Its as if I have retreated for about five years, slipping into a self exploration phase of my life to determine what it is I want, and who I am. This included simplifying my life.

This simplification began by saying goodbye once and for all to a very complicated relationship, one that no matter how I supported, I could not fix. And one that I felt I supported long enough to give him the opportunity at a life, but he could not prevail and I could not sustain. Another example of this simplification was to rid of any personal belongings that reminded me of a time in my life that I was ready to let go of. And also to rid of any personal belongings that were not a necessity, or something that I did not ABSOLUTELY totally love.

In my apartment in Miami, well technically it was my second apartment, was when this phase of 'feng shui'ing my life' began. My first year in Miami I spent 6 months living in the Marriott on Biscayne Bay. I can even begin to tell you how horribly I ate while living in that hotel. I started work typically at 5am and finished around 8pm or 9pm and would grab something to eat and crash. This went on for 6 months.

Then I moved into a beautiful high rise apartment building. Although I was not living alone. I moved in with a friend who came to me while living at the Marriott and disclosed that he had a serious drug addiction. Someone whom I thought I knew really well, only to find that he had been keeping this addiction from me for upwards of three years. His commitment to become clean motivated me to reside in his residence and support his journey. Three parties (all of which I ended up packing an overnight bag and getting a room at the Marriott so as not to dishonor my father) and one arrest later, he ended up back in his hometown, and I ended up on the apartment search.

I was scared. I really did not know which way was up or down. My head felt like it was spinning at a million miles an hour and rather on focusing on me, my head was on work. So I decided one Saturday, that I would focus on me. I looked at a few places and knew I wanted some place quaint, safe, clean, and affordable. I landed at this great place at 69th and Biscayne, bayside. A simple 8 story building, with tiny units, a gated entrance, and open lot parking area, a pool and a view of the bay and South Beach. It was a 450 square foot efficiency. I lived in that efficiency for a year, and had a bed, a TV, and an ironing board. I did not feel the need to furnish it with junk or stuff. I lived my life as a minimalist. I stopped buying clothes and shoes. I didn't buy any home furnishings.

I filled my life at that time with experiences rather than things. I learned to challenge myself to drive to places that I never would have probably gone if I did not get the opportunity to go to Florida. Key West, Marco Island, West Palm, to name just a few. I tried every kind of food I could get my hands on. I took myself to Azul to try some of Miami's finest cuisine or sometimes hit the local Cuban food prep area to get pork, rice, beans and plantains. My favorite place was this really sketchy bar / restaurant on Biscayne just up the street from my place that had the most amazing margaritas and tacos. I would stop early because at night there was some strange shit going on in there.

I survived a hurricane. Ran an office with 30 employees, and even learned a little about the legal system.

After I moved home, I kept on this journey of self exploration, continuing to live my life as a minimalist and defining myself, as I continue to do now.

I have not bought a new pair of shoes in over a year.
I have not bought a new piece of clothing in over a year and a half.
I own two pairs of jeans.
My favorite piece of clothing is a brown wool cardigan, that would make most women my age feel embarrassed for me (no I don't wear it out).
I enjoy wearing flat ballet shoes more than heels because they are more comfortable and better for my spine.
I am shy.
I listen more than I talk.
I have an opinion but do not always share it (this may seem ordinary to some of you but in my family and circle of friends its appalling).
I am in love with a man because of his intelligence and the way I have seen him treat people, and I really don't know him that well.
I have not made love in over two years.
I have not kissed someone in over a year.
I am self conscience about my face being touched since I was burned.
I want to be taken care of in the traditional sense. I always will work, but in all other sense, I want a relationship in which a man takes the lead and I persuade him in my lady like way when he is moving in the wrong direction.
I no longer like to be in charge.
I am most comfortable when I know I am safe.

I arose from bed this morning, my head a little groggy. My mind is not clear but I can tell I am on a mental journey of some kind. This post is not clean writing, but nonetheless, I am where I am in my head and this is what it is....

I do need that cup of French roast PRONTO!

How About A Little Pasta?

2009-01-17T15:32:00.003-05:00

You know that great feeling you get when you lazily prep a meal and it turns out to be absolutely fantastic! I just prepared a meal like that.

I love Saturdays. I sleep in, get up whenever I feel like it, usually after spending a few more minutes in bed just as I think its time to get up...because I can. I also drink coffee all morning and into the late afternoon and then prepare myself a late lunch / early dinner.

I like the feeling of letting my appetite build until I can stand it anymore. The great thing about this, is that you normally dont have to think about what you feel like eating, because you get hungry enough that you know exactly what you want. And I knew I wanted PASTA!

So I started by heating some eeoo, tossed in some chopped shallots and garlic. I let the onions get a little more than translucent and the garlic just a titch brown. I know this means its a bit overcooked, but I think the flavor is more abundant when the onion and garlic is seared a little. Then I tossed in a fresh diced plum tomato and a heap of chopped fresh spinach. Let that cook for about 3 minutes, and added a dash of chicken stock to give it a little flavor and to release the flavor stuck to the pan. This little bit of broth also allowed the spinach to wilt nicely. Then I tossed in some whole wheat spaghetti pasta, added some fresh basil and a shake, ok, two shakes of Parmesan cheese and VOILA!

Grabbed my pasta tongs and filled a deep white bowl with that yumminess and chowed.

Not pretentious, took only about 20 minutes to prepare and tasted so fresh!

Ill have to keep this one jotted down for those days I need something, quick, fresh and tasty.

Next time, I will add some prosciutto.

Tundra

2009-01-16T09:29:00.001-05:00

The temperature this morning in Cleveland is -7 degrees and dropping.

Bitter Cold / Listen Better

2009-01-15T10:55:00.006-05:00

Last night, it took me almost three hours to get home. I left downtown Cleveland shortly after 5pm. It took me one hour to get from 90th street to 32nd street by way of Carnegie. Interstate 90, which normally takes 25 minutes to get home, took about an hour and twenty. And then just as I saw freedom, my home exit, the exit ramp was covered in ice, closed and I was forced to go down 3 further exit ramps and backtrack home.

Many schools are closed today, as the temperature dips into single digits, and with the wind chill, well below zero. Driving conditions are dangerous, temperatures are dangerous and the only retreat is to hunker down and work hard to avoid the gloomy inevitable drive home tonight.

Mental note to self...pee before you leave work because if you don't, you'll regret it.

Oh how I wish my weekend plans included sun, sand and surf...Sigh...

Breakfast
1 cup orange juice
1 cup coffee with soy milk
Vitamin D
Fish Oil
Multi Vitamin
Baby Aspirin

Lunch
chicken salad, made fresh with organic chicken low fat mayo, Dijon mustard, green onions, celery, dill, salt and pepper laid on a bed or organic lettuce and carrot matchsticks coupled with a hard boiled egg (non caged / natural feed)
water

Dinner
whole wheat pasta tossed with red bell pepper, yellow bell pepper, zuchinni, green onion, tomatoe, red wine vingar, eeoo, sesame seeds, feta cheese, a few chunks of cubed chicken breast and italian seasonings
whole wheat english muffin with natural low fat peanut butter
water

WorkOut
Legs and Back
Yoga

I think the combination of cardio and resistance training is starting to take effect. I am really hungry today. I started to munch on my breakfast at 10am. I think as I continue I will find that I am hungry in the morning and need to eat. I've had trouble finding my appetite in the morning but understand the importance of eating. The one day I did eat breakfast in the morning, I was not so hungry at night. That is helpful because I don't like to lay in bed with a grumbling belly. Its like I need to retrain my body from eating as much in the afternoon and evenings to eating smaller meals all day long. But, you see, the trouble is I can not force it. I know if I force it, this will just become another attempt. I am listening to what my body is telling me. It is telling me what it needs, how hard I can push it, and how it wants to be taken care of if I just listen to it.

An interesting self observation, yesterday afternoon I was really thirsty. I kept telling myself to get some water but kept moving with my daily frantic pace. Meetings, Analysis, Reports, Queries, Presentations...there is always so much to be done and so many people to connect with and communicate with that I often don't stop to meet my own needs. When I did get a few minutes to get the glass of water, I told myself tea would be better because it has antioxidants. Then I later questioned...why would you not just have the water? Why are you challenging what your body is telling you it needs. So I listen to it, but must be mindful that I can't be too busy to hear what it is saying to me.

Get In Shape Girl

2009-01-12T23:09:00.005-05:00

So, good news, I didnt puke. Bad news, I look like Im three months prego because my stomach muscles are so bulged that my fat on my belly is sticking out like some bad episode of National Geographic. Ok, I know that wasnt cool. I do volunteer and cook for the homeless though so I get a free pass. It was the only way to help you visualize what my belly looks like, and feels. I actually put on a pair of sweats, pulled them down real low, put on a wife beater stuck out my stomach so it looked like I had a beer gut, and pretended like I was some drunk fat dude trying to pick up a chick. Am I the only one who does comedy routines in my full length mirror? Seeing my body like that is the only motivation I need.

Cardio and Ab Ripper tonight. Although it was more like...a pathetic attempt to lift my sore legs and sore arms and sore core in the air and 5 fit and supper chipper buff LA bodies smiled at me. I mo fo'd Tony the whole way. Ever notice how when you are physically sore and someone is trying to be bubbly - its REALLY annoying? I had to mute him. He's all like, "Oh yeah isnt this fun" and "Feel the burn?" and "Yeah, thats th way we like it...to the extreme." and "Thats the X Factor!"

Ive got an "x" for you Tony. Only it involves sticking up my two middle fingers and crossing them. Yeah, thats right. I paid your ass $150 bucks for this?

Im waiting for the fat to start burning off. Patience Audrey, patience. Its something I lack, significantly.

So how are your "Get Fit" New Years Resolutions coming along?

Does anyone know where I can get a pair of leg warmers? I watched Flash Dance this weekend and am dying to wear leg warmers when I work out!

On The Menu

2009-01-12T12:50:00.004-05:00

Breakfast
1 cup orange juice
1 cup green tea
1 cup coffee
Vitamin D
Fish Oil
Multi Vitamin
Baby Asprin

I need to start eating breakfast to jump start my metabolism but I cant muster the appetite. Got to work on this to keep my body efficient.

Lunch
4 oz salmon
1 cup asparagus
1/4 cup wild rice
all tossed in a low sodium chix broth and white wine satueed in shallots, capers and spiced with dill
(Wish I could have a glass of Chardonnay with this lunch. It would pair nicely.)
water

Snack
string cheese
handful of raw almonds

Dinner
3 chicken tender breasts satueed with green onion, mushrooms, carrots and garlic and chix broth
romaine lettuce salad tossed in eeoo, red wine vinegar, splash of sweet pickle juice and dash of italian seasonings (this is a family favorite and from my aunts mother)
wild rice

Snack
bowl of shredded wheat with soy milk
WorkOut today: Cardio and Ab Ripper

On a side note, because I am a natural born sleeper, it is a most rare occurence in which something will motivate me out of my comfy bed before dawn.

These include:

A) A fire in my home OR
B) Ive been up all night having insane wild physical sex and I need to hydrate (ok so this only happened with one relationship in my life but I can pretend like its a common occurence)...anything else can wait.

Last night, at 2am I woke up so unbelievably hungry I cheated and had a bowl of fruit loops. Yes, processed sugar, coloring...the worst kind of slip up.

Turns out I forgot to raid my cereal cabient when feng shuing my kitchen of all the evil that likes to take residence in my belly, hips or ass.

After the bowl, I threw the box in the garbage can.
On a positive note, I drank it with soy milk. Yes, Rump, I know...but its organic soy. And my endocrinologist agrees with your opinion (ok I took it as my opinion) of processed soy, but prefers me to stay on the organic soy to keep my estrogen levels up. Breasts are still sore.

On The Menu

2009-01-11T19:10:00.007-05:00

Breakfast:
1 cup green tea
1 cup orange juice
coffee
3 egg white omelet with mushrooms
Vitamin D
Fish Oil
Multi Vitamin
Baby Asprin

Lunch:
10 carrot sticks
hummos
1 pita
romaine tossed in balsamic and eeoo

Dinner:
green / red cabbage coleslaw
lean pork
soba noodles
coffee

Busy day. Just getting ready to pop in today's P90x routine. Today is Core Synergistics. After that, Im going to try to sneak in some of the Leg / Back routine. My ass feels jiggly.

Just finished Core Synergistics and lost my cookies. This program is really tough. I have not eaten since 4pm and I still lost dinner. I have never been worked this hard in my life. Even at triple sessions volleyball camp in college. Time for a hot soak. Thanks Tony Horton, you helped me achieve a resistance level Ive never experienced and it has not even been a week.

On another side note, Ive switched to organic. Ive been eating organic and mainly veggies, fruits, lean meats in the past few days. Its weird, I feel as if my sense of smell is enhanced. Maybe that is because I stink after my intense workouts and just notice it more. Ive also noticed that I have a thicker mucus draining from my nasal towards my throat. This is really gross but when I catch it and discharge it, it seems likes it been up there for a while. My body is starting to do things Ive never experienced before. I feel like its healing itself. Sorry for too much info but this blog has become more of a diary so deal with it.

Snow Snow Go Away Part II

2009-01-10T14:50:00.003-05:00

Nine inches and counting. Ive kept up with shoveling.

P90x

2009-01-10T14:18:00.009-05:00

Tony Horton can kiss my ass. P90x is extreme. Today I did Shoulders and Arms. Still have to do Ab Ripper. I was going to add Cardio today to get my heart rate up, and hope I can achieve that goal. Shoulders and Arms was killer. I did it with 8 lb dumbbells and wished I had 10 lb for some of the shoulder exercises. Im naturally strong in my upper body thanks to my dad. The day is good.

Breakfast:
1 cup green tea
2 cups french coffee with splash of organic milk
1 cup fresh squeezed orange juice
Vitamin D
Fish Oil
Mutil Vitamin
Baby Asprin

Lunch:
skipped it

Dinner:
Edamame
Black Beans
Sugar Snap Peas
Carrots

all steamed...over a small serving of chinese rice noodles...tossed in a peanut soy sauce, bottled and organic
water water water

Today for P90x, because I was snowed in, I did Arms and Shoulders, Ab Ripper and Cardio. Also watched Legs and Back...because I was curious, but no way I could even attempt.

Hot bath soak and now a trip to the grocery store. Im out of several items Ill need to cook my lunches this week.

I noticed my ass looks different. The fat is still there, but its lifted. So now its like effing JLO, but bigger. The fat burning will kick in...I hope.

Release Me

2009-01-10T12:04:00.007-05:00

The benefit of having so much effing snow, that you cant get your car out of the driveway, (good thing its going to slow down and melt tomorrow!) is that you have PLENTY of time to do shit that you would not otherwise do.

Today, I am celebrating by doing things for myself.

I started with making myself an authentic cup of french coffee. The annoyance of a weak cup of coffee is a non necessity. In the workplace, when you have an admin making the pot, you can only remind them each time they accidentally make a strong pot how much you like it. Although youd suspect they would get it, and make a strong pot each time, turns out some others like it weak so the admin does her job well by rotating. Strong sometimes, middle of the road others, and on the off occassion the consultant stops by...piss coffee. When you make coffee at home, you have the pleasure of making it just how you like it. Thats the way uh huh, uh huh, I like it, uh huh, uh huh.

My brother, while visiting me on his break from training, practiced restraint by not riding me for my automatic coffee making and coffee choice. Im so proud of him. A year ago, he would have ranted about how my coffee selection sucks. I didnt even share my secret with him. That I was waiting for my delivery from Williams Sonoma of the Bodum French Coffee Press! Miami introduced me to the strong cup of joe through cuban coffee. A little too strong and sweet for my preference, but somewhere inbetween was just right. French it was.

Today I made my first cup of french coffee. Whole, roasted, organic french coffee beans, ground fresh. Thanks to Heinens and Breville. I boiled the water in a tea pot. I prepared the french press by scooping three large rounded tablespoons of that course ground yumminess into the deep abyss of the skinny french press.

"Hello" I said as I raised the scoop to my nose, inhaling deeply.

"Goodbye" I said as I released it to the bottom of the press. When the course grinds landed at the bottom, they settled nicely, making a faint whisper sounds, almost as if they were saying..."We're home!".

The tea pot trumpeted! "Glory Be!"

I poured the steaming hot water into the french press. The grinds broke out into chorus..."Hallelujah" swimming in their hot bath.

I waited four minutes, which seemed like four hours. Impatiently allowing the grinds to brew...or stew? I lided the press and pressed down on the plunger. That simple act was so satisfying. I plunged it slow, not wanting to disturb the peace the ground has found. Not wanting to hurry the release of flavors. When the plunger reached the bottom, I poured a cup of french coffee into my New York mug. Its as close to France as Ive gotten. Topped it off with a splash of organic milk to cool it, and took my first sip.

Mi brosher, you were right. Freedom coffee is so much tastier than Folgers. Cant wait to make you a cup. Bodum, why the hell are you located in Denmark?

Effing fantastic!

Snow Snow Go Away

2009-01-10T09:39:00.003-05:00

Six inches and counting. Do you believe I have an appointment this morning that requires me to cross town.
When I'm done, I am going to P90x my ass off today.

Cleveland or Miami?

2009-01-08T17:13:00.007-05:00

Mind Over Mood

2009-01-07T09:07:00.010-05:00

I had a shitty day yesterday. Ive noticed that rather than disciplining myself to take on a fresh start this morning, Ive carried yesterdays bad day into this morning. It woke me up at 4am...I should have grabbed it by the balls then.

I vow, at this moment, I will not allow yesterday to spill over into today. Today is a new day. So I will release from the minor annoyances this morning that I have allowed to piss me off WAY too much and laugh.

Mental note...dont start work at 6am, I do much better starting at 7am.

So here goes, got to get it off my chest:

Weak coffee - why bother? If its not a robust "Cup of Joe", Id rather not.

Listen Please - Dont ask a question if you dont want an answer. Particularly those of you who ask for an opinion and then dont wait for a response. My opinion is not your opinion, and without a good debate or really good cause, facts or evidence...you will not change my opinion.

Microsoft Access "In Null" disregard criteria. I know two negatives make a positive but you still piss me off.

My Budget - No I did not really spend $750 in December on dining out did I? My subconcious knew it, now the number affirms. Mental note to self, do your monthly budget on the last day of the month so that you start the new month knowing what you need to focus on. Mantra..."Its a means to an end...and the end is in sight, and the end is warm, beautiful, and me at my best. I will be proud when I make this accomplishment!"

Cleveland Plain Dealer - Dude, deliver it by 5am. 530am is not early enough. Are you really going to make me stop everyday at the gas station?

Heels - I love you Etienne Aigner...but why have I recently noticed the mini square rubber caps at the base of the heel keep falling off. I hate the inconsistent click of one heel with a rubber and one heel without.

Breakfast:
1 cup soy milk
1 cup green tea
Fish Oil
Vitamin D
Multi-Vitamin
Baby Asprin

Lunch
Turkey breast on multi grain bread, mustard, lettuce, tomatoe
apple
water

Snack
handful raw almonds
water

Dinner
1 baked organic chicken breast marinated in organic eeoo italian dressing
asparagus
1/2 cup cous cous
water

1200 Calories a Day

2009-01-06T12:15:00.010-05:00

As a fellow blogger now knows, I subscribe to About.com. Of all the diet mediums out there, I find this site to be very informative and scientific in their approach to the management of health, diet and nutrition.

About.com educated me to understanding that food is really all about providing energy for your body. Energy in which you expend. Your height, activity level, genetic disposition, area in which you live, excitability factor, etc all play a role in your bodys need for daily caloric intake.

For everyone, there is a mathematicl equation that can help you determine the calorie intake that would:
A) sustain your current weigh
B) gain weight and
C) lose weight

(If youd like to determine yours, go to About.com)

It is true, that no matter what your circumstance a normal, relatively healthy adult will undoubtedly lose weight by restricting themselves to 1200 calories a day. Its my "go to" diet when I know I've strayed too far and need to realign and be reminded that my food is energy and necessity, not an indulgence.

Now dont get me wrong, you must treat your body too along the way (once a week) which is the motivation to be discplined at most times.

I expect my P90x workout to arrive on the 9th. In preparation for the workout, I began today restricting my daily caloric intake to 1200 calories.

To keep me disciplined, I am going to log my food intake and measure the fat / calories / carbs / protein / and sugar each day.

In 60 days, I will post a picture of my body in the bikini I will be sporting on South Beach this March, in celebration of St. Patty's Day.

Tuesday January 6th

Breakfast:
1 cup of green tea (antioxidants)
1 cup of silk soy milk (protein and estrogen)
1000 mg Fish Oil
400 ie Vitamin D
Multi-vitamin
Baby Asprin

Lunch:
15 baby carrots (beta carotene, vitamin a)
6 oz nonfat yogurt (calcium)
handful of baked chips (fiber)
water

Dinner:
3 pieces tuna sashimi
3 pieces yellowtail sashimi
3 pieces salmon sashimi...your welcome Sushi Rock
2 cups spinach salad with teaspoon eeoo and dash of balsamic
water

Mom

2009-01-05T20:40:00.009-05:00

Mare Bear, Bachelor is on DVR. The season begins.
He outed most of the train wrecks, but missed one.
DeAnna is back to eff with his head.
I dont know if I can stomach this year.

Why I Love My Mother

Tonight, when I left my parents house after a quick bite and catch up...I drove home. My mother, when she said goodbye, goes through her normal list of things that she says when she says goodbye. Watch your back, use a condom (ok well she hasnt said that in years because she knows better), love you, and tonight the added, careful not to fall getting out of the tub. My mom is the best. She was totally and completely serious.

For those of you who do not know my mother, you might think this is a sick joke, but she was being totally sincere.

Love you mom.

No EarMuffs Please

2009-01-05T08:12:00.003-05:00

There is nothing more sexy that a man who is...manly. A man who is not to metrosexual. A man who has a strong stature. A masculine demeanor. An appetite. An opinion. One whom has the ability to show insecurity in the safeguard of his favorite girl. One who occassionally just stuffs cash in his pockets. One whose body envelopes a womans. Hands that are soft but strong. The list could go on but my day is full, so this post will be brief. A man striking the balance between masculinity and sincerity so as not to seem feminine is a difficult balance. It is demonstrated by their choice of words, attitute, resilience, response to a strained situation, shoes, clothing, meal choices, etc.

This is a balance that that some men get, and others dont, or dont care to try. For those of you who do get it, or for those of you who are trying (is there anything more sexy than a guy who has an 'image' of who he wants to be but needs his womans help?) I have a small piece of advice.

Under no circumstances, none whatsoever, should a man ever wear earmuffs.

I realize that your mother bundled you up when it was cold, but any amount of masculinity can not offset that small wardrobe malfunction. Buy a scarf, a grey wool one, try a houndstooths print if you dare. But under no circumstances whatsoever, should you buy earmuffs. If you are in fact a runner, and you need to keep your ears warm, there are plenty of hood options with popular brand athletic wear. Just please...for the love of woman...do not wear earmuffs.

To the guy in the parking garage this morning who sported his long wool coat and slacks, leather casual shoes and earmuffs...dude really? Although I cant appreciate your choice of ear protection, I can appreciate you for your blog inspiration this morning.

Is it a coincidence the word "muff" is part of that noun?

Beach Body

2009-01-04T17:28:00.001-05:00

January 11th:
P90X challenge begins

When You Wish Upon A Star

2009-01-02T07:45:00.009-05:00

Have you ever experienced a dream so real, when you awake you think it might have really happened? My subconcious worked overtime last night.

There is a man whose path I have crossed and Ive come to know over the years. It would not be fair to say I know him well, as weve barely scratched the surface. I challenge myself to explore the possibility it is the mysteriousness that keeps my interest.

But in fact, I find my attraction is simply that when we connect, I learn something about him, and with each thing I learn, I like him more. I know I can trust him, he has been there in my time of need. He makes a bold statement with just a few words, and has no time for pettiness.

It is too true after each conversation I learn something about myself and I like what I learn. Quite simply, I like the person I am when I talk with him or am with him.

There is so much to be said, but I often have trouble finding the words...even in type. So today, I share what I am able to articulate. My appreciation for this gentleman in my life, no matter the distance between us.

The dream was passionate. His body scent, the feel of his skin, his hands at my decolletage, his whispering in my ear...and the conversation after. The passion motivating enough to want to spend some time, pay attention to the details and make a fuss.

There are at least two theories that exist in companionship:
One theory, you must become your best self before you committ to love.
Another theory, you find your best self by committing to love.

I do hope, that I am always searching for my best self.

It Will Be The Summer of Krusty in 2009

2009-01-01T01:45:00.001-05:00

New Years Resolutions

1. I resolve to never tell my mother that she is wrong. She really is right all the time.

2. I resolve to have a conversation with my father each week that involves more than "How are you?".

3. I resolve to call my little brother more. He is so wise beyond his years and I learn from him.

4. I resolve to make people laugh more.

5. I resolve to restore my confidence in love.

6. I resolve to take Emily to the vet on time, every time. Its so hard to feed her those pills.

7. I resolve to stick to my monthly dining out budget. Sorry Sushi Rock.

8. I resolve to continue to be debt free. Its a means to an end, no matter how good a weekly mani/pedi sounds.

9. I resolve to having a "Summer of Krusty" in 2009.

10. I resolve to finding a place I can call home, that feels like Ive come home.

Free Falling

2008-12-29T21:58:00.001-05:00

Someone near and dear to my heart is going through a personal struggle these days. The kind of personal struggle when you realize the person whom you fell in love with once, is no longer the person you love.

Being a part of this individuals journey has caused me to reconnect with the idea of a relationship...something I have not played a part in for years. This is my choice and my journey, but this persons circumstance has required me to revisit a similar time in my life.

If you ask one the defintion of love, chances are you will get a variety of responses. Its a relative question. To some its as simple as someone who can provide. To another, it may be someone who always puts them first. To another, it may be someone who makes them feel complete. But what I find to be the most interesting part of feeling love, is that it is forever evolving and changing. I see the challenge of a relationship not to be the love. This emotion will only exist if you sustain the connection. The challenge in a relationship is to stay emotionally, spiritually, physically and intellectually connected often enough and deep enough to recognize each others shifts / changes / interests...this simple act, although very challenging when you can easily fall victim to the day to day humdrum of life, I believe to be the most important piece in sustaining love. You must recognize that people constantly grow and change, and staying connected through that journey allows you to grow and change together and sustain the love.

Love to me is an appreciation for another, not for just who they are, but who they have been and who they will become. Some of this may be good and some of this may be bad, but in the end, youve taken on a piece of someone and given up a piece of yourself.

This person is my life will find their way no doubt, because they are chasing their dream, keeping priorities in check but not allowing what they know to be their personal growth be stifled by the idea that..."This is just the way life is."

As Ive hunkered into my deep personal self these past few years, to protect myself from potentially being hurt I feel refreshed and revived by visiting my past through my friends journey.

Tonight as I lay my head on my pillow, and turn on Tom Petty, and ask him to remind me to be free, I make myself a vow... Like a wake drifting past a boat at sea, I will leave the past behind.

To A New Year, A New Beginning, A New Sense of Self...I am free.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GGmEPj7ofJY

Tampa, West Palm or Fort Lauderdale

2008-12-27T08:28:00.000-05:00

This morning I wake up in Cleveland hoping that the way I was feeling last night would improve and not get worse.

Mother Nature has bestowed upon this great city of Cleveland some interesting weather the past few weeks. We started with temps in the 20's -30's, dipped to 5 - 10, then fell below zero as winds from the north dropped the temp with wind chills into the negative teens, then back up to 50 and here this morning we settled into
30's. Lovely.

Outside of the minor annoyance that getting dressed in the morning requires the routine of watching the morning weather report, there too is the annoyance of the ailments that come along with quickly changing temps. When I parked in a garage at work that was adjacent to my building, I did not require myself to watch the weather. I could wear whatever and quickly rush into the building with a light sweater and not feel the winter effects. Now that my office has moved and the parking garage is several blocks away and a 15 minute walk through downtown, I must be more meticulous in my morning routine. Do I wear my feather down water resistant coat, or a long wool one? Do I need dorn the cap and gloves, or can I sneak by with just a scarf?

I felt the cold begin to settle into my chest on Wednesday. "Good thing I got that flu shot" I thought to myself. I quickly incorporated a zinc mineral supplement to try to chase it away. I should have been mindful enough to also steer clear of the germ cesspool at my gym, but I just love the way my body feels after 45 minutes on the stair master. Vitamin C and fever reducer completed my morning cold cocktail. Then one at noon and one just before bed. The little bugger came on strong yesterday afternoon at work, and today, its full blown. I lounge here in my bed, equipped with my laptop, my house phone, my warm cuddly cat, sore throat lozenges, liquids, and the makings of my cold cocktail standing at attention on my nightstand ready for duty, and contemplate my scheduled 4am flight tomorrow to visit my favorite destination, Marco Island.

All the books in my office have been read. Santa didnt bring my any new ones this year. So today I will scour the Internet for interesting material that can captivate the audience of one.

For this...this very scenario...challenges me to be mindful of my choice to return home to Cleveland after living in weather bliss is Miami. I can expect my mother to come over this morning. She will care for me like when I was a child. She will make a fuss by looking at each bottle and assessing my standards for personal care of this cold. She will critique as if Ive got it all wrong, but add only a warm bowl of chicken noodle soup. She will act as if she realiged my entire routine, and I will allow her to know that the only thing that will have made me feel better today was her taking care of me. This is an experience that is hard to surrender. This simple act of kindness and love reminds me of why Im here. My niece too will be over later today, checking in on her Auntie. Her four year old proper insisting she will feed my kitty for me, and then ask where I have hidden the cookie jar. My goodness her sweet tooth! My nephew, his two year old proper will adorn me by blowing me a kiss, a good and snotty kiss, most likely the origination of my cold. My older brother will force me to get out of bed to "fight if off". I can always count on him to challenge me. My younger brother will phone from Chicago, most likely thinking Im near my death as that is how my mother will portray it..."man that sucks" is what he will say. And my response will be, "not as bad and working in that f'ing lab 15 hours a day...but oh right, youll have a PHD. Did I tell you how amazing that is." He'll laugh with embarrassement and pride. Ill think to myself, he got the brains and the looks! His heart is so kind.

Today will be a good day. I will be reminded of this amazing family I have in my life, and tomorrow jet set, cold and all to South Florida and revisit Audrey's passions. The best things in my life experiences within two days.

There is a third experience that Id like to supplement, but time will have to tell the fate of that desire. It requires me to be patient, open minded, and creative. I love that way it makes me feel whether Im close or far.

When Im vacationing in Marco Island, Ill revisit my desire to move to Florida. Asking myself, Tampa, West Palm or Fort Lauderdale

Bad Date #3 Excuse Me Occifer

2008-12-04T10:34:00.001-05:00

Websters Dictionary defines the police as:
1: archaic: GOVERN
2: to control, regulate, or keep in order by use of police
3: to make clean and put in order
4 a: to supervise the operation, execution, or administration of to prevent or detect and prosecute violations of rules and regulations b: to exercise such supervision over the policies and activities of
5: to perform the functions of a police force in or over

Bad Date #3 A COP

Now we all know that there is such thing as a “Good Cop” and a “Bad Cop”. I share this story with you with much emotional vested interest as my father has been in the law enforcement industry for over 30 years.

“Bad Cops” take advantage of their power and abuse it.
“Good Cops” see their role as an opportunity to contribute to the great good of a society.

The role of a police office is to “Serve and Protect” and what better way than to take an unfortunate situation, and give someone an opportunity and challenge them to improve themselves. Its a psychological approach to get through to someone who has given up on themselves and it requires time and patience. Innately, no one is evil. Going through life with the ability to not become jaded by ones experiences is hard enough. Imagine if you were exposed to that daily.

I never really understood my father’s stern demeanor or constant persistance in challenging me to shoot for the stars. As I grew up, I learned that was because he only wanted what was best for me. The thought of me becoming what he saw daily was enough motivation to push push push me to be my ultimate self.

My dad is a “Good Cop”…no, a “Great Cop”. He has shared with me stories about indivuals that he has helped along the way.

There is one story in particular about a adolescent boy who became heavily involved in drugs. My dad and the boy’s father worked in collaboration to help him. He called my father two weeks ago to share with him that he had completed college and was starting a career.

Bad Date #3 was a lunch date with a “Bad Cop”. I was young, this date was 10 plus years ago (my gosh I hate to admit that), but it resonates in my life experiences because it helped me to better understand my father. The particulars of the date are not worth sharing in detail, because it is not funny nor something to be rehashed. I find it scary that those who have the power to make a positive impact choose to abuse it. My dates psychological approach to getting to know someone was controlling (surprise surprise) and his understanding of a womans role in a relationship was comparable to the driving leader of the Holocaust’s opinion of his opponenets (I dare not type or say his name). There is no life form, culture, religion, gender, etc. that is not to be considered equal.

He wowed me with a lunch date and suggested the minestrone soup because…ya know…as women age its hard to keep their figure.
Add to that he likes back massages and meals cooked by 6pm.

I am a fan of Russian Vodka, but not Russian brides. I do hope that when Bad Date #3 realizes that his only route of finding a woman who will serve him like that without providing anything in return is through a bride service…And I hope that when that woman is caught, she meets a “Great Cop” who can help her find her way.

SHE’S BACK – THAT BAD ASS VICKIE

2008-12-03T16:06:00.000-05:00

Today we step away, momentarily, from the week of Bad Date blogging to celebrate the lingerie industry.

Tune into CBS this evening at 10pm to watch the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show.

Us divas know that, even in these hard economic times, a silk thong and black lace bra will never be replaced with grandma panties and a sports bra.

How fitting (pun intended) to celebrate the beautiful goddesses that grace this planet by putting them in the sexiest lingerie known…and letting them parade up and down a catwalk.

These woman have looks, bodies, and brains, and have marketed their beauty into sensational careers. Their presentation is intoxicating and personifies the power a woman posseses when she is physically at her best. This will drive a woman emotionally, mentally and intellectually.

Filet mignon…who needs ‘em?
Sitting on the couch all night and watching tv…not for me!
Getting lazy and not shaving where no one can see…hell no!

Executive Moms or Stay At Home Moms who think this is degrading to women…get real! If you’d lose the 10 pounds you’ve been bitching about for the last 2 years, you’d be happier and probably get laid a whole hell of a lot more. And when did being top dog at your company and being able to throw the best 1st birthday party ever become more important than being a woman?

Marisa, Alessandra, Karolina and Heidi you rock! Thank you for setting the bar so high. You inspire me daily to go to the gym, drink green tea instead of coffee, and slather oil on my skin every morning.

I’ll be toasting my glass of Red Zinfandel to you this evening. I’ll probably have the “7 Deadly Zins” and committ a few sins of my own!

Bad Date #2 What Is A Deuce?

2008-12-02T11:59:00.000-05:00

Websters Dictionary defines a Deuce as:
1 a (1): the face of a die that bears two spots
(2): a playing card bearing an index number two b: a throw of the dice yielding two points2: a tie in tennis after each side has scored 40 requiring two consecutive points by one side to win
(3) [obsolete English deuce bad luck] a: devil , dickens —used chiefly as a mild oath b: something notable of its kind

What transpired in 2008 during a fall day was more of a quandry...not a deuce. Although a deuce was involved, it was not used in its literal sense...or any webster sense.

BAD DATE #2 DEUCE BIGALOW

I should have been tipped off that a blind date was not the key to finding true love, after Bad Date #1. You know the old saying about first time shame on you, second time shame on me. Perhaps it is my hope that true love does exist, or perhaps my confidence in humanity that a second try couldnt hurt...but rather, Bad Date #2 led me to the realization that blind dates are intended for the blind...and are not a deuce (being used as websters definition "something notable of its kind").

A friend of a friend of a friend of a friend said there was this guy I just HAD to meet. Liz, the mother of three beautiful boys and a woman with an amazing husband,spoke of this guy she worked with. She was fair. Told me she didnt know that much about him, but he was smart, handsome, personable so how bad could it be. I shared my story about Bad Date #1, sharing how that blind date didnt go so well, but, we both agreed it would be worth a shot....maybe it could even be a deuce.

Fastforward to the evening of the first date. I again, arrange to meet my blind date at my specific location feeling safe with the protection of my bartender friend. I arrive 15 minutes early this time. Thinking to myself...I can always disguise who I am an not admit Im me. Not that I would really do that, you know, pretend Im not me if I am meeting someone. But the thought that I could if I was desperate was comforting.

I dressed casually. Dark jeans, black top, black heels, simple pearls. Decided to wear my hair up so I looked cute...and not sultry. Took it easy on the makeup and gloss, spritzed on some herbal spray and headed out the door.

Although I was very much looking forward to my date, I was even more looking forward to a new plate I read a review about. They were pairing a tilapia with an almond coating and pan searing it! Yum! I think I was more excited to try that fish than I was about my date.

I arrived at the restaurant, took a seat at the bar, caught up with my bartender friend, ordered a glass of noir.

Enter through the door, my date.

A handsome man, tall, well built, nice smile...cut off khaki shorts, black socks and tevos. A real "Sex in the City" fashion moment for this guy. I chuckled inside...and thought to myself..."A pair of nice jeans and a button down wouldn't have killed you would it"? But being that I grew up with two brothers, I did not shame him for his lackluster appearance. I kept an open mind.

We had a drink, were seated, ordered our meal and started casual conversation. He was nice enough, kind in talking about people. Not very worldly though. He ordered a beer and then quickly ordered another and then another and then another. He was 6 beers in before the entrees arrived. He munched on his bread as if it was his last meal before being sentenced to death. As the beer went down, his confidence grew, and his true character was shown.

Now, please understand before I begin to give you the particulars, that its not that I am judging these people for their life decisions or mistakes...mind you, I have made several bad decisions myself and would never judge.

My beef is...when did it become okay to divulge so much in such a short period of time. I mean, isn't the fun of dating slowly getting to know someone? To develop their trust and confidence and then share? Why so much in such a little period of time? Can you really get to know someone when they fastforward through their entire lives? I mean...20 or 30 years into your life, youve got a lot of shit to share! And quite frankly, I dont want to hear all it until we've decided to get to know each other a little better. First dates are reserved for showing someone you are socially aware and capable.

Anyways...I digress.

After 6 beers he began to feel all warm and fuzzy and I learned about his previous marriage, which oh by the way feel apart because he did not manage his money well, and his dog which Im pretty sure he is in love with. I thought to myself...perhaps that half a million dollar house, Porsche, boat and four wheeler you were bragging about were not a good idea...and oh also, by the way....I am not cool with letting your dog hump your leg because he needs a little lovins too.

What? I find myself asking that a lot. What?

It went on and on and on and I can only wonder why we was so oblivious not to pick up on the look of horror that I had on my face. Yeah...he's definitely receptive and will pick up on my needs.

After I said a few million..."uh huh's"..."oh my's"...and "are you serious's"...dinner arrived.

Alas, my great escape of tilapia rolled in almonds has arrived. Ill just tune him out , eat up, enjoy and get the hell out of here.

Just as the entrees arrived...my date sat back, made a loud grunting noise, and put his hand on his belly. I dropped my fork and knive, raised my eyebrows and began to get up and said, "Are you alright?". He was so dramatic I really thought I was going to have a bad situation on my hands.

His response..."I've got to go drop a deuce!".

What?

Webster failed to mention a "deuce", could mean shit. As in..."Dropping a deuce" meaning "Taking a shit". And here all along I thought that "Dropping the kids off at the swimming pool" was the politically correct way of expressing that urge.

I never did get to try that tilapia....

Bad Date #1 - Nothing Is As Important as a Symmetrical Face

2008-11-30T23:34:00.001-05:00

Websters Dictionary defines Symmetry as:
1: balanced proportions ; also : beauty of form arising from balanced proportions

When you studied geometry in high school, you probably first heard this word. The word lends, in my opinion, to a mathematical origin. How this word became an active word in the dating scene, Ill never know. But I will tell you who knows...

Bad Date #1 THE POLITICIAN WANNABE

It was March 2006. I was fully committed to the reality that I would be purchasing a home.
My real estate agent connected me with a lender. I did my homework, reputable company and he was well versed in the biz. He and I worked out the mortgage details and through the several conversations we had Ill admit there was a little spark...some witty banter. Enough to get my attention.

After the business deal was done, he asked me out. I was a bit surprised that he did not preface the invite, with something like...now I know I probably shouldn't, or...please dont think this is weird...or something along the lines of suggesting he wouldnt want to take advantage of our "chance" meeting through a business transaction, but I thought Id give him the benefit of the doubt.

Fast forward to the evening of the first date. The evening of the date, I was feeling good. He and I were planning on meeting for some appetizers and a drink and at local small venue. A place I secure as my "first date" location because its my neighborhood place and the bartender will pretend like he doesn't know me...and watch out for me! Yes girls, you know what Im talking about.

So, I walk into the restaurant and I see a guy sitting at the bar by himself, his back to me, I quickly start to size him up and think...oh shit...and then he turns. My bartender friend makes eye contact with me as the guy turns to me and I can tell by the horror on his face that this is not going to be good. He steps up from the bar chair and yells "Oh my God, you are absolutely gorgeous". What, I don't even know you?

Mind you this is a small quaint place. Quiet. He grabs my hands and continues to size me up and down, making sure to stop just about tit height and taking a few extra seconds to get a good look. What...creep?

My hands went limp in his and I was like..."Oh, well gosh thanks. I dont think the people on the other side of the restaurant heard you." He totally missed the joke and that fact that he completely embarrassed me (mental note, he doesnt listen) and then he proceeds to say...
"Your face is so symmetrical". What?

The events following that statement included conversation about his ex wife, his most recent girlfriend and his amazing career that has allowed him to make tons of money. What...this is a first date right? Then it really took a bad turn, he was talking about how difficult his divorce was and began to cry at the bar.

Top the evening off with him walking me out of the restaurant to my car, and telling me he is using his body to shield me from reporters that he suspects are following him because he is looking to become a politician. What?

How it ended...I thanked him for his time. Told him I appreciated his help with my mortgage, but told him our professional relationship was the extent I was willing to go.

His response..."No please dont tell me that. Ive had a great time tonight...and your face, its just so symmetrical".

What? What does that even mean?

A Week Of Bad Dates

2008-11-30T23:22:00.000-05:00

As the dawn breaks on a new day and a new week, I find inspiration for my new blog this week in humor.

Each day this week, I will post a blog entry detailing the events of 5...yes count them, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 bad dates (suddenly Im thinking of Sesame Street and the Count).

The names and places of these events will be changed to protect the idiotic.

I share these stories with you as a tribute to single women who, like me, continue to "put themselves out there", amidst the moronic, egotistical, oblivious and tasteless men who have the audacity to date when they have failed to mature beyond their adolescent years.

To my guy friends who do have something to offer including RB, JS, DC, JC, JB and BG you can vowge for me. I certainly do not want to get a reputation for being a man hater!

Come on ladies, tell me about your bad date.

Creating My Personal Space

2008-11-30T19:28:00.000-05:00

I bought a home a year and a half ago. What a liberating experience for a single woman. I promised myself that no matter what life served me, I would find a place to call "home" by the time I was thirty. My twenties served me my fair share of bullshit, and at 29 I realized it was time to come home to Cleveland and make good on my personal promise. So it begun, the search for a canvas that I could paint and call home.

My home is small, three bedroom / two bath...no basement. Its a ranch with vaulted ceilings and an open floor plan. Luckily I am situated on a horseshoe street, and I pride myself on the fact that for a mere $100 a month, I do not have to mow, mulch, shovel, plow, water...I dont have to do anything to the landspace. I often wonder how soon it will be that Ill be looking for acreage.

I lived in my home for several months just taking it in. I slept on a mattress that was placed on the floor and took very little furniture or belongings from my past. Id like to try to be elegant and say I feng shui'd...but it was more like a complete overhaul. When I opened that storage unit that I crammed every personal belonging of mine that I couldn't fit into my one of eleven different living spaces through my twenties, I sighed out loud. How overwhelming. My entire past was staring at me. No way...so I loaded a truck and threw all the shit away.

After several months of appreciating my new "minimalist" approach, I started to find my inspiration for the place. I chose to take natural landspaces and incorporate them into the different rooms. I wanted my home to be a subtle representation of traveling through different landspaces.

The dining area, the family room and the kitchen are all open and accessible to each other. They are positioned in a triangle in relationship to each other...much like the ideal kitchen floor plan for appliances.

My home is decorated and furnished in neutral tones. I started with creams, beiges, light greens and have slowly incorporated blues...and will eventually incorporate yellow and terra cotta.
I think of my home as a journey through landspaces.

The family area is "beachy".
The dining area represents the sea.
My bedroom represents a mountain retreat.
The kitchen represents the desert.

Welcome to my blog, Simple Sophistication.

I introduce you to my blog by telling you of my journey in developing my personal space, as a representation of my committment to myself at 30 years old that I was going to take a simple approach to my life decisions...a reason well substantiated after endless bad decisions.