40 Days Till 40 (Day 26)

YOU COMPLETE ME

Here we are at Day 26 of my Countdown and I am finding it difficult to narrow down about which particular topic I should write.  There was so much good in the day!  Today was a day of possibility, friendship and appreciation.  This is a blessed position in which to be.

I spent time today with several different friends.  I felt invigorated by their warmth, humor, support and, quite frankly, their belief in me.

It’s funny, isn’t it?  We all know the value of self-love (a phrase which makes me giggle, mostly because it sounds masturbatory, even when it isn’t in reference to such things), yet for some reason it is so much easier to believe our worth when others appreciate it.  We need to know that we are not alone, that there are others who know what we are going through, wanting us to excel and succeed.  We all need cheerleaders (besides ourselves), no matter what the self-help books say.  No matter how strong I strive to be or what I am able to survive or accomplish, it is still nice to have validation from an outside source.  Someone (not just in my head) to say, yes, you are on the right track, good job.

And no, I don’t believe that makes me less of a person or implies I am weak.  Rather, this appreciation is a reward, a bonus prize if you will.  Congratulations!  You’ve won a brand new car!  And, man, I could really use a new car.

On a completely different subject (because, after all, a lot did happen today), there are two things I’ve always wanted to do:  own a retail store and/or run my own theater company.  Both of these may become a very tangible reality in the near future.   

Of course, I’ve also always wanted to be a librarian, but if these two things come into fruition, that one will have to wait.  Maybe when I turn 50…

In the meantime, we shall see where life takes me.  I may be wandering, but, hey, all who wander are not lost (Thanks, Tolkein).  Besides, who ever said my path was a straight line?  How can it be when I am striving to create my own future? 

Hold my hand.  We’ll make it to the future together.  One hopes.   

Until tomorrow, Lovelies…..

40 Days Till 40 (Day 25)

I WANT TO GO TO THERE

I woke up insanely early this morning.  While the rest of the world slept, I decided to go on Pinterest to look at, ahem, a ”few” pictures.  Five and a half hours later (which still only clocked me at around 10am), I had seen hundreds, if not thousands, of pictures.

For my 40^th birthday, I have vowed to go to Ireland at some point during the year.  As a result, the bulk of the pinned pictures were of various crumbling castles, rolling, green hills and charming cottages.  Looking at my board, one might think that I was obsessed with living a life worthy of Harry Potter…or a fairy (Neither which sounds too terrible, actually).

The more pictures I examined, the more I realized I haven’t traveled nearly enough.  True, I feel I’ve been more places outside of the US than I have inside of it (a luxury afforded me during middle school when my family moved to Indonesia for my stepfather’s job), but I want to see more.  I want to do more.  I want to meet more people and experience their ways of life.  Now, I just need the funds.  Lol.

Something else I noticed as I was going through all of these pictures was how changed some of the landscapes were becoming in certain cities.  Cities rich with history and architecture hundreds of years old are dotted with signs of progress:  Neon signs, modern storefronts and, one of the more bizarre additions, Ferris wheels. 

I am not sure why the sudden influx in Ferris wheels?  There are pictures of them in England, Japan, Scotland and more. Some of these structures are temporary but others are most definitely permanent.

In reading about the Millennium Wheel (a.k.a. The London Eye), the idea behind its creation was that it would be like the Eiffel Tower in France, allowing the general public, no matter their social economic status or age to view the city from a bird’s eye view. While I think the idea is pretty cool (and I do love Ferris wheels), I still find it strange…as if we are building these structures to signal life from other planets.  Are they targets?  Pieces of a giant spaceship?  An invitation to some interplanetary fun?

But I digress. 

All alien conspiracy theories aside, change happens, whether we want it to or not, right?  Can’t stop progress!  I just need to get to some of these places before they change too much.  Or I do. 

Until tomorrow, Lovelies….


*Written 1/28/14

40 Days Till 40 (Day 24)

PETER PAN COMPLEX

I was talking to my lovely, yet feisty stage manager and friend on the phone today.  When she called to ask me a question about the show, I had been staring at my bills, wondering how to best pay down my credit.  I have saved some money since the divorce, but I’ve had to delve into it more than once in order to simply survive.  I had earmarked that money to hopefully take a vacation later in the year.  Unfortunately, responsibility calls. 

Man, I hate growing up. 

As I was whining about this to my friend, she simply reminded me that sometimes it is just what we have to do.  So here I am 16 days until my 40^th birthday, thinking about “growing up”. 

In the last few years, I feel I’ve done a lot of “growing up”, yet I am not always sure what this means.  Does it mean handling the bills?  Check.  Cooking dinner?  Check.  Cleaning the house?  Uh, sometimes check. 

Or maybe it’s surviving emotional turmoil. I am really working to move on, move past, and move up in my life.  I do what needs to get done, even if I don’t want to.  Frankly, most times I don’t want to.  Does this mean that I am (shudder) an adult?  Gasp. 

And yet I still have emotional outbursts and am sensitive to disappointment.  I don’t want to deal with change.  I want someone to take care of me and to make sure that I am fed, clothed and sleeping well.  And I certainly don’t want to pay the bills anymore.  Or balance a f*cking checking account. 

Nope, that’s it.  I won’t grow up!  I won’t.  I won’t.  I won’t. 

Sigh. 

But that isn’t realistic, is it?  So instead I moved money from my savings, allotting it to pay off some credit cards possessing higher APR’s.  By doing this it should enable me to make back at the end of the year what I am spending to do this now.  In theory, I will have saved the money on credit card payments, thereby lowering my cost of living.

Next up, tackling the remainder of my student loans. 

Yup, growing up sucks. 

Until tomorrow, Lovelies….

PS If any of you are having growing pains, check out this awesome video on adult tantrums.  YES!

*Written 1/27/14

40 Days Till 40 (Day 23)

SLEEPLESS NIGHTS...AND SMELLY FISH

Man, I have been having some weird dreams lately.  I don’t know if they are brought on by stress, something I ate, too much creativity, physical inactivity or something else?  I’ve mentioned before that I have issues sleeping.  This is worse at certain times of the month, when the dreams are particularly scary or violent and I cannot seem to stay asleep for more than a few hours at a time.  Sometimes, though, it has nothing to do with hormones.  My restless sleep just is—and my dreams increase in weirdness.

Last night I dreamt that I was trying to release a fish back into its pond.  I have never been fishing before, so I didn’t know how to get the hook out of its mouth.  There were other fish too, but I wasn’t concerned about them.  A guy I dated a while ago was in the dream as well.  He kept trying to prevent me from releasing the poor fish, yanking it back out of the water.  I started getting more distraught, concerned that the fish was injured or would die.

Whenever I have a dream that seems fraught with symbolism, I like to look up the meaning.  Sometimes the interpretation of the symbolism makes sense.  Today it did not. 

Dreaming of a fish can mean anything from ideas and emotions to pregnancy (Let’s be honest though, unless it was Immaculate Conception, we can totally rule that last one out.).   Fish are generally considered lucky. Multiple fish can represent “plenty of fish in the sea”. 

The presence of an ex usually means unresolved emotions in a relationship (either about that particular ex or in a current one).  Since I am done with that ex and I am not currently in a relationship, I can probably rule that one out too. 

So then I start trying to think literally and it comes to me:  A friend of mine had contacted me a few days ago to tell me she was recently messaged (on “Plenty of Fish”, natch) by someone I had dated (yes, the one in the dream).  Apparently, he didn’t say much in the message other than a greeting, but the fact that he even did that really annoyed me.  No, not because of jealousy, but because he recently got married.   WHAT a wanker. 

My personal history with him aside (we were such a wrong fit), I am bothered that he, as a married man, was on a dating website at all.  Yes, some people use PoF for finding friends, but platonic is not generally a word to describe those friends (And yes, I do speak from experience.  Online dating hater and recipient of some awesome penis pics, remember?).  Plus, I felt sorry that my friend (who is pretty freaking awesome) hadn’t been contacted by an unattached someone. 

Don’t worry, I won’t get too ranty here, but let’s suffice it to say that cheating is a big no-no for me.  It is possible that the guy and his wife have an “open” marriage, but I doubt it. 

Jesus, I may never date again.  Lol. 

Until tomorrow, Lovelies….

Written 1/26/14

40 Days Till 40 (Day 22)

SHAME, SHAME, WE KNOW YOUR NAME

A very kindhearted and lovely friend of mine posted on her Facebook page today that she was both saddened by and tired of all of the “shaming” she sees online.  She pleaded that we need to stop it, vowing instead to post only positive, innocuous comments (“I love cake!”) when she sees something that is upsetting or with which she disagrees.  I liked this idea, but of course it got me thinking.

Traditionally, “shaming” is defined as  “to cause to feel shame” or “to drive, force, etc., through shame.”  Lately, however, shaming has become about public humiliation, strangers (and sometimes acquaintances or family) feeling that it is OK to bash someone online, whether through photos, memes or comments.  Our communication skills—and compassion—have suffered. 

I was recently accused of “shaming” (although not online) by someone with whom I worked in a leadership position.  This really upset me both because I work really hard to be diplomatic and motivational, even in the direst circumstances, and because the person who said it was someone with whom I’d had problems.  I liked her, but she wasn’t the most tactful person, a habit that had previously caused great upset in our organization.

I wondered then (and frankly still wonder) what was her implied definition of “shaming”?  Was it calling to light an issue for which responsibility and action needed to be taken? To me, “shaming” is belittling, bullying and manipulating.  I didn’t call anyone names or intentionally insult them.  Was I being accused of shaming for telling people (including her) to do their jobs or to take ownership of their situation when they weren’t doing so otherwise? 

Or was she just saying it because she herself was insecure and didn’t like being told what to do? 

Either way, I am not with that organization anymore.  There were other factors leading up to that decision, but her comment was the last straw.  Since the divorce, I have learned that I do not do well with passive aggressive, disrespectful or unappreciative behavior and seeing a comment like that in a mass email did not sit well with me.  I have many other, much more positive projects on which I’d rather focus my time and energy. 

I will leave you with one last thought on shaming, however:  Can we really shame others if they don’t feel shame—or that they’ve done anything wrong? 

I’m rubber and you’re glue.  Whatever you say, bounces off me and sticks to you.  Lol.  

Until tomorrow, Lovelies….

*In case you’re still wondering:  “Shame” is defined as “the painful feeling arising from the consciousness of something dishonorable, improper, ridiculous, etc., done by oneself or another.”  Written 1/25/14.

40 Days Till 40 (Day 21)

THE LITTLE THINGS AGAIN (A.K.A. E.T. ROCKS!)

Over halfway in to this writing project and I have made a discovery:  it’s forcing me to take more notice of the little things.  While I’ve always enjoyed them, I hope that now I am learning to appreciate them.  That’s a good way to start a new decade, don’t you think?  Plus they give me something about which to write (as evidenced by the fact that this is the third blog entry of this ilk). 

I’ve always tried to be a “Big Picture” gal, but sometimes the details would make me nuts.  It’s why I could never be on Project Runway…it’d take me too long to finish a garment (I have a tendency to rip apart almost as many seams as I sew, if not more).  I’d be the last contestant leaving the workroom, fretting about the perfection of each and every stitch.  Even when I make my daughter’s Halloween costume, I still only see the flaws and they sometimes greatly upset me. 

Some people really don’t understand this.  My mind is always trying to figure out how to improve, how to create efficiency, how to establish a sense accomplishment.  Perhaps this didn’t work during my marriage, but it seems to be helping in my divorce—even if it’s taking me longer than others to figure it out.

Which brings me back to my original point:  life is messy.  There is sometimes no rhyme nor reason.  Sometimes we have to appreciate the “little joys” that make up our day and not worry about the “perfection” of them.

It may be silly, but one of my "little joys" of the day was winning a stuffed E.T. doll in a "claw" game on the second try.  It only cost $2 and it made me so happy.  That doll took me back to my childhood.  I was only 8 (the same age my daughter is now) when the movie came out and, oh, how I loved that wrinkly little alien.  So much so, in fact, I used to carry around a stuffed E.T. around in a blanket and sing to him.  I think I still have my original E.T. doll in storage (sharing a container with my Wicket the Ewok plush).  

But what made me even happier to win this E.T.?  When my daughter saw the doll sitting in the car, she yelled, "It's E.T.!" and started making him do a little dance (Because we all need to dance like a crazy E.T. doll sometimes.).

With that said, may your days be filled with "little joys”—in the best sense of the words, of course.   

Until tomorrow, Lovelies…. 

Written 1/24/14

40 Days Till 40 (Day 20)

COMPLETELY UN-BEAR-ABLE

Normally I wait until the end of the day to write my blog entry (which explains why I often don’t post it until the following day), but I heard something so horrifying that I had to write about it immediately:

My daughter informed me this morning that she owns twelve Build-A-Bears.  That’s right, TWELVE.   Holy crap on a crutch.  

For those of you who are not well versed in the unholiness that are Build-A-Bears, they are over priced stuffed animals marketed with à la carte clothing and accessories.  The starting rate for just the animal is usually between $15-$25.  Of course, it’s near impossible to get out of the store for that price.  Once one adds in the clothing, shoes, hats, sunglasses, purses, etc., each Build-A-Bear can easily cost more like $50-$75.  Minimum. 

Just to clarify, I did not purchase these twelve stuffed devils.  One she received when she was born (a present from my aunt).  Another she received from a kindly friend (who had come into some money and likes to spoil my daughter mercilessly).  A third (a special Girl Scouts Bear) she got at a Build-A-Bear birthday party for one of the girls in her Girl Scouts Troop.  Of the remaining nine, I have purchased only two:  One is a Build-A-Bear knock off (purchased on vacation for $10 TOTAL) that my daughter had to stuff herself, the other is a Halloween-themed cat in a witch costume which she received in lieu of several weeks of allowance (I lucked out and only had to pay $38 for the beast. She named it Hermione.).

Who then, purchased the seven other fluffy little heathens?  You can thank her dear old dad for that one.

I have not seen all of these fur-beasts (my daughter wisely keeps most of them at her father’s), but I knew something was amiss when we went into the Build-A-Bear store last October and the staff knew her by name.  Apparently she has been conning her father into purchasing a new Build-A-Bear (with all its accoutrements) every couple of months.  Her reason?  “Well, I got good grades on my report card.” (Or it’s probably just, “Pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaasssseee?”) Wrap him in plastic and jam a stick up his ass, folks.  Daddy has been SUCKERED. 

Look, I am not one to deny my daughter gifts.  I have a tendency to buy her way too many DVDs, but I A) don’t usually buy them full price (Hello, $5 bin at Walmart and Big Lots), B) purchase them with the idea that we will watch them together and C) set limits on how many she will receive (i.e. making her wait for her birthday or Christmas).  I am not saying that this makes me the better parent, but I just don’t want my child to be a spoiled brat.  I mean, I could see buying her a Build-A-Bear at the end of the school year, but every single quarter?  Seriously?  Come on now!  

And let’s be honest…While I know I couldn’t afford to buy her that many Build-A-Bears even if I wanted to, in truth, I really don’t want to.  Of course I am happy that she is successful in school, but I want her to get good grades because it is expected of her (and because she can), not because I lavish her with an expensive gift.  The same goes for doing chores.  

This, unfortunately, is a constant battle with her.  I feel that I am always the parent who says no. 

So, not surprisingly, when she said to me, “Hey, I got good grades.  Can we go to Build-A-Bear?” I replied, “Nice try.  I would rather spend my money on stuff for us to do together.”

So there.  Lol. 

Until tomorrow, Lovelies….

*Written 1/23/14

40 Days Till 40 (Day 19)

CHARGE!  AND THEN RE-CHARGE

My phone battery has been having trouble keeping its charge.  Even though I plug in the phone on a semi-regular basis, the phone’s energy will be zapped by the end of the day, sometimes even in a few hours.  I am not using it any more (or any less) than usual, so I am not entirely sure what is causing this problem? 

Personally, I feel kind of the same way.  Some days, I find it more difficult to recharge.  Typically, I can handle only getting a few hours of sleep (6-8 at the most usually works for me), but lately it seems that my sleep is more restless than not, perhaps due to the weird dreams that often plague me.

This morning, a friend of mine sent me a text at around 6:45am.  This is not something that I would normally be annoyed by as I am often up well before that time.  Today, however, I was in the throes of a frantic sleep.  When her text came through, I was dreaming about blowing up balloon bouquets (Damn!  Where are the purple balloons?) and being propositioned by a married man.  I blurrily answered the text—and promptly fell asleep for another hour.  Or I tried to, anyway.  By the time my alarm went off, I had clocked almost 10-11 hours of sleep.  Granted, they weren’t consecutive, being fragmented by bouts of wakefulness and odd dreams, but that is A LOT for me.  Clearly something is going on that is draining my battery. 

Perhaps it is a mad-dash schedule (even though I am on work hiatus, that doesn’t mean I am any less busy)?   Or maybe it’s lack of “real” exercise?  Too little protein maybe?  Gah.  Whatever it is, I clearly have to find a way to retain my charge.

Until tomorrow, Lovelies….

*Written 1/22/14.

40 Days Till 40 (Day 18)

SUGAR BYE HONEY PUNCH

If you’ve been following my blog, you may remember that I have attempted online dating twice since the divorce.  Neither time was anything short of a debacle.  As a result, I have not been tempted to try again in months (nor am I tempted now).  I have happily resigned myself to the fact that the only communication I will have will generally be with people I already know—or at least have already met. 

So when I got a text from someone I’d only communicated with via a dating website, I am sure you can imagine my reaction.  I had only ever given him my Google number (because a girl has got to protect herself), but when he got weird, I cut off all further communication with him.  No emails, texts, nothing. 

What would prompt such drastic measures, you ask?

In short, the dude asked me for money.  Apparently he had a psycho ex-wife (another red flag) who had taken his kid to Germany.  He needed the money to go to Germany to get his son back.  Remember, I had never met this guy in person.  Needless to say, my answer was, “Uh, no.” 

“It’s only $700, not a million, honey.”

It may as well have been a million.  Like I have $700 just sitting around?  Hi, single mom here.  Yes, I have financial assistance from the ex, but that doesn’t mean there’s any extra (and there certainly wasn’t at that time).

He was horribly offended, insisting that I could help, but just didn’t want to.  Apparently that makes me a horrible person.

I told him, “And we’re done here.”

And we were.  I had no interest in pursuing communication—especially with someone who didn’t understand my situation and therefore thought I was awful for not putting his needs first. 

So then he texts me, out of the blue, after several months, “How you doing, honey?” 

Wait, what?  Honey, indeed.  Hmph. 

A friend of mine recently told me that I need to visualize positive male energy surrounding me and it will come to me.  Apparently I didn’t do that very well.  Or maybe it’s opposite day? 

Hmmmmmmm.

Until tomorrow, Lovelies….

*Written 1/21/14.

40 Days Till 40 (Day 17)

BETTER OFF IN THE ATTIC

As I am sitting in front of the computer (having one of those days when I am unable to formulate what it is I’d like to write), I am watching the Lifetime Channel film, Flowers in the Attic.  I’ve never read the book, but know enough of the story to understand what the film would be about.  One of the first thoughts I have while watching (besides “Why on Earth does Heather Graham still have an acting career?”) is, “Whoa, I guess I am a better mother than I thought.”

I know that all mothers doubt their abilities at times.  My self-doubt tends to flare up with the seemingly most innocuous things.  Like when we are having a lazy morning and my daughter chooses to eat Cheez-its for breakfast. Or when I’ve had to remind her seven times in one day that, yes, she absolutely must brush her teeth every day (but then she’ll brush them three times a day when she happens to read in an American Girl book that she should). Or when my daughter is yelling at me about not wanting to do the simplest chore and I want to wring her neck.

Today’s task was pulling out and trying on all of the clothes hanging in her closet so we could determine what to wear for a photo shoot (as well as to phase out ill-fitting garments).  We are talking only about 8-10 dresses.  Seriously, I sometimes go through that many outfits just planning for my day, but oh how she carried on.  I am sure the neighbors thought I was forcing her to do some bizarre nudist ritual.

“MOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMM!  CAN I PLEEEEEEEEAAAAASE PUT MY PAJAMAS BACK ON!?!?  I DON’T WANT TO BE NAKED!  PLEASE STOP MAKING ME TRY ON CLOTHES!” 

It was enough to make me want to go into full-on “Mommie Dearest” mode (“I buy you all these beautiful dresses!!!”).  Sheesh.

For anyone who knows my daughter, I am sure they would agree that, even at 8, she is definitely her own person.  Sometimes this is not necessarily a good thing.  I have worked hard to raise to raise an independent, secure individual, but I readily admit that she exhausts me sometimes.  I mean, come on, she is not yet a teenager, yet we are already having arguments about what to wear?

Well, at least I haven’t locked her in an attic and forced her to fend for herself.  We’ll leave that to V.C. Andrews books and Lifetime movies. 

Until tomorrow, Lovelies….  

Written 1/20/14

40 Days Till 40 (Day 16)

THE BUSINESS OF SHOW

“I woke up Sunday morning and looked up at the wall. 

The Beetles and the Bedbugs were having a game of ball. 

The score was 6 to nothing.  The Beetles were ahead. 

Then the Bedbugs hit a homerun and knocked me out of bed.” 

Actually I woke up with a raging migraine.  Or maybe a tension headache is more appropriate, since it was most likely caused by a late night, vigorous dancing and dehydration. 

Unfortunately, the headache didn’t get any better later in the day, yet by late afternoon it was more figurative than literal. 

It’s been a rough couple of days for the show I am directing.  An actor dropped out due to a life crisis.  Still another was let go for not showing up to rehearsals.  If you’re keeping count, that’s now three actors we’ve lost.  Male actors.  Frankly, it’s not giving me a lot of faith in the commitment level of men.  Ha. 

It is not uncommon for productions to be plagued with issues.  It’s the nature of the beast  (Don’t believe me?  Just watch Smash.   Lol.).  To be involved in show business, sometimes one has to just let go, wait and see what happens.  After all, the show must go on. 

I have to say, though, THANK GOODNESS for my amazing stage manager.  A feisty redhead, this girl has been my rock.  She has gone well above and beyond her job both by assisting with various aspects of the production and by happily doing whatever I ask of her, without complaint. She is creative, thoughtful, communicative, kind…  And she is often the first one to deal with actors’ issues.  That, right there, makes her invaluable.

And she said she couldn’t wait to be mentioned in my blog, so that makes her awesome  (There you go, my redheaded friend.  How’s that float your boat?)!

I leave you now with a line I heard as I was writing this:

“Sometimes you just have to dance to the music that’s given to you.”

—Sealy Booth, Bones, Episode 236

Until tomorrow, Lovelies....

40 Days Till 40 (Day 15)

SWEET BIRD OF YOUTH

Tonight I attended a fundraiser for The Vagina Monologues, ironically held at a local gay bar.  While not homosexual, I usually prefer to go dancing at gay clubs, finding them to be a lot less intimidating.  I had never been to this particular bar, typically going to the other gay bar in town (when, in fact, I do go out.  You know, twice a year.). 

What I noticed about this bar was that the clientele was not only predominantly female (although that could have been because of the “burlesque” show scheduled as entertainment), but also very young.  Because the event was 18 and over, there were many people under the age of 21.  Not the case with the bar I normally attend, which usually features a more 50/50 or predominantly male crowd and is definitely twenty-one and over. 

Let’s be honest, here…I haven’t hung out in an 18 and over club since I was around that age.  I mean, seriously, I am over twice the age of most of these, well, girls.   And I certainly don’t prefer to frequent locations where teenagers gather willingly en masse.  As a result, I found that being surrounded by them grated my nerves.  They were just so full of angst and hormones and drama….

I happened to walk in on a trio of underagers having an argument in the bathroom.  One of them was worried that she was going to be left in the club.

“Ohmigawd, we are TOTALLY not going to leave you here, but, like, I have things to do!”  Her girlfriend said this as she was trying to yank her thigh high fishnets up over her hips and under her hot pants.

Yup, I am officially old.  But then, I knew that when I wanted to leave before midnight.

Ah well.  Until tomorrow, Lovelies….

*For the date of 1/18/14, but written in the wee hours of 1/19/14, since my day didn’t technically end until 1:30am (when my coach turned back into a pumpkin).

40 Days Till 40 (Day 14)

MORE ABOUT THE LITTLE THINGS

I am almost halfway through my self-motivated challenge to write a blog entry every day until my birthday.  Already I am finding that some days it is easier to write than on others.  Sometimes no clear idea seems to come to me, but I feel I must write something.  It reminds me of when I was a kid and I would just write in my diary, “Nothing much happened today.  Sorry.”

Of course that isn’t always true, is it?  After all, we wake up and right there, that’s a bonus.  What I was most likely writing in my childhood diary, therefore, was that I just didn’t have time to chronicle my day.  Or maybe it was just a day like the one before and therefore didn’t warrant being chronicled?

In truth, today was certainly not boring—nor was it just like yesterday.  Were there any occurrences of the monumental sort?  Perhaps not, but still, a day alive is a day to be celebrated, isn't it?

At the risk of sounding like a “Lady Who Lunches” (because that is so not the case), I had lunch with one of favorite people in Reno.  Originally meeting through our shared interest in Roller Derby, we have been friends for almost 8 years.  A sassy, intense, fireball of a woman, she makes me laugh—and also seems to value my leadership, intelligence and creativity.  Although a social outing, we were also meeting to discuss a future creative venture.  Irons in the fire, people.  Gotta keep ‘em burning. 

And speaking of irons in the fire…

This year marks my third production of The Vagina Monologues and my third doing a monologue called “My Angry Vagina”.  I love this monologue, perhaps because it amuses me to have people introduce me as “the angry V” (although that probably limits my ability to ever date again.  Ha.).  I also quite enjoy the camaraderie that happens as we work to raise awareness for women’s issues.

I went to a rehearsal tonight and, even though I wasn’t feeling my personal best (still a bit run down from yesterday’s potential allergic reaction), it was a really fun rehearsal.  We have got some really dynamic ladies in this cast!

So that was my day.  Not monumental, perhaps, but remember, I’m trying to enjoy the little things.  Like getting my new issue of Entertainment Weekly and seeing Benedict Cumberbatch on the cover.  Oh yeah. 

Until tomorrow, Lovelies….

Written 1/17/14; Posted 1/18/14 after being attacked by a need to have dreams of Sherlock Holmes.  

40 Days Till 40 (Day 13)

NO SUSHI FOR YOU!

Today I went to lunch with a friend for sushi.  Sushi is not one of those things I grew up enjoying.  I’ve never eaten a lot of fish and therefore tend to only eat the rolls that have crab or shrimp (or vegetables) in them—mostly because those are the ones that are also fully cooked.  I have had other types of sushi (once with another friend who ordered for me and did me the courtesy of not telling me what any of it was), but generally don’t venture out too much when I order it for myself.  I do, however, enjoy the artistry and skill of the sushi chefs and the sometimes pervy names (the Lulu Hand Roll?  You go, Lulu!).  I also appreciate the freshness of the rolls (Fast Food, indeed) and the stickiness of the rice.  I even like the different sauces that are sometimes drizzled over the rolls and sitting at the sushi bar, rubbing elbows with people who are much more familiar with ordering sushi than I am. 

In Reno, we have the luxury of “all-you-can-eat sushi”.  Not being a sushi connoisseur, I have only heard that this is not the case in all sushi restaurants.  Either way, all-you-can-eat sushi is a gastronomic treat—which usually ends with me having eaten WAY too much.  It is, however, fun to try a variety of rolls.  Just make sure you eat them all or the waitresses and/or sushi chefs will frown upon you mercilessly.  Much better to do all-you-can-eat sushi with a hungry friend so that he or she can eat the ones you don’t like.  Ha. 

But I am rambling.  For those of you already familiar with the joys of sushi, you have no need of my effusive review.  Rather the point of the story was to reveal something strange about my sushi outing. 

After lunch with my friend, I found that I was inordinately tired.  Nothing too unusual, considering the richness of the sushi and the amount I ingested (WAY too much, remember).  But then, the roof of my mouth started to itch and swell, my sinuses started getting stuffy, I felt itchy…

HOLY CRAP!  AM I ALLERGIC TO SUSHI?!? 

I have eaten at this restaurant before (and, in fact, eaten sushi at other locations before) and I have never had this reaction.  I don’t have any food allergies that I know of, so this was something new.  How long are these symptoms going to last?  I just got over being sick, now I have this to deal with?!  Good grief.

I am not looking forward to starting a new decade of my life with food allergies.  Yes, I can avoid sushi, but what was it?  The tempura batter?  The cucumbers?  The avocado?  The rice?  The shrimp?  The crab?  The soy sauce?  The seaweed?  Gah. 

I am hoping that an antihistamine will help alleviate the symptoms.  Thus far it hasn’t helped too much.  Plus I am afraid to go to sleep since another friend of mine told me, “Make sure you sleep with your head elevated.”

Me:  “So I don’t die?”

Her:  “Well, yeah, uh, your throat might close up…”

Dear God. 

Until tomorrow, Lovelies…. I hope.  

*Written 1/16/14.  Posted 1/17/14, so now you know I lived.  

40 Days Till 40 (Day 12)

NEXT STOP ON THE CRAZY TRAIN

One of my most inspirational and amazing friends posted an article on her Facebook page today about finding love after divorce.  The article chronicles one woman’s journey through the rocky terrain of her life post break-up.  Obviously, this struck a cord with me. 

The author speaks of the changes she went through, changes which, in three short years, rendered her virtually unrecognizable to herself.  As many of my previous blog posts will attest, I clearly identify with the idea of not being the same person since the divorce.  I am absolutely not the same.  Sometimes I feel much more introverted.  Sometimes I am less confident.   I am not always sure about my decisions (past, present and future) and I spend much more time in relative “hermitude” than I had in the past.  It is harder for me to recharge because I’ve spent so much time and effort trying to work through everything (or trying to be OK with life in its current state).  I’ve had to learn to live alone—and to raise a child at the same time.  Why wouldn’t I have changed?  

Or maybe I am just sloughing off who I’d become in the marriage and realizing my true self?  Hmmmmmm. 

But back to the article:  I’ve already worked through some of the tasks and life stages the author lists, but there are still more to go.  So many things are still "in progress".  Who knows, perhaps they always will be?  After all, how can one ever really know what the future holds?  I certainly didn’t when I was married 14 years ago.  What I am living now was definitely not how I saw my life turning out.  

Or apparently how anyone else did either. 

When I was in high school I was voted “Most Likely to be Elizabeth Taylor”…and it wasn’t because of her acting career.  For some reason people were under the impression that I would marry and divorce several times.  Funny that one, considering I’d only ever wanted to marry once (and no, there will definitely not be any Richard Burton re-marriage scenario here).  I knew then that I didn’t want to repeat the marital history of my parents (married and divorced at a young age).  I thought I’d be married forever.  Two kids, picket fence, happy happy joy joy. 

In reality, I really didn’t like living in suburbia.  I have one child (who has enough sass for two).  I have no husband and may or may not ever marry another.  I struggle every day to find inner peace and to create my place in life (and, as you know, to clean my apartment.  Ha.).  I am who I am--even as I am creating who I want to be.

Oh yeah, and this journey I’m on?  It ain’t over.  I’m simply at a station on this crazy train of life. 

Until tomorrow, Lovelies….

*Written 1/15/14 (Day 12).  The article to which I refer may be found here:  

http://www.elephantjournal.com/2013/09/a-guide-to-finding-love-after-divorce/

40 Days Till 40 (Day 11)

IT'S THE CHEESE

We’ve all heard the phrase, “Sometimes it’s the little things”.  Maybe it’s a certain smell, or a smile on a loved one’s face, or a flower growing out of the dirt.  These are things that can jog a memory—or create one.  We can revel in them and enjoy them, because, after all, it is the combination of little things that help fuel our happiness and feed our souls. 

Today, one of those little things was cheese.  Or more specifically, cheese on a plate (which was on a table at my friend’s house). 

It probably won’t surprise you, what with me having Midwestern roots and a penchant for comfort food, that I love cheese.  All varieties, really, even a good, stinky cheese now and again.  Because I live walking distance from a Trader Joe’s, I tend to have random varieties of cheese in my fridge at all times.  So when one of my friends (who, in some ways, is like the little sister I never had) and I decided that an afternoon of movies were in order, I grabbed my cheese, crackers and culinary accoutrements and off I went to her house.

She was surprised when I showed up with a bagful of snacks (including two different flavors of ice cream).  Amused, even.  Because we’d never done a potluck together, she’d never experienced my tendency to over-bring (again, Midwestern roots, remember).

Somehow, though, I felt the occasion called for it.

This was no ordinary movie-watching afternoon.  Oh no, this was my first time visiting the new apartment of a wonderful friend. We don’t often get to hang out—and I don’t often get to share my love of cheese. This was an opportunity to lounge on the couch, snuggling her extremely sheddy love bug of a cat, and to share some of my favorite films and snacks with someone I love like a sister.

Plus the cheeses (a sharp cheddar with chocolate, a stilton with cranberries, a double crème brie, an Irish Dubliner sharp white cheddar and a spreadable pub cheese with horseradish) were awesome.

Yup, it’s definitely the little things.  May you take time to enjoy them too. 

Until tomorrow, Lovelies….

**Another little thing was apparently SLEEP as I fell asleep before posting this.  Nothing like waking up the next day with one’s laptop open, all the lights on and sitting up in bed.  This is for Day 11 (1/14/14).

40 Days Till 40 (Day 10)

...AND STILL CLEANING

Today has been relatively uneventful—well, that is, other than spending an hour on hold with the health insurance company, realizing that pink shirts don’t necessarily look good with pink hair and getting offered some freelance work. 

Oh yeah, and attempting to clean up the apartment.  Joy.

I tend to tidy the apartment while my daughter is at her father’s (as she is this week), generally because I a) prefer to spend time with her when she’s here and b) it’s just easier to do without her.  Sometimes, though, there just never seems to be enough time to take care of everything that needs to be done.  In reality, it is probably just my own malaise and avoidance that prevents me from completing the tasks.   

Unfortunately, this seems to be rubbing off on my daughter.  She told me the other day that she refuses to clean her room because she doesn’t mind living in a messy apartment.  This obviously is not quite what a mother wants to hear.  This also leads to many arguments about the necessities of putting away her toys when she is done playing with them and her clothes after they’ve been washed--if only so I don't have to climb over them when I tuck her into bed.  

Which means of course that I must lead by example (Damn!).  Although I do partake in various systematic purgings, I admit it is, and has always been, a constant battle with clutter.  Just today I threw out ten grocery bags full of ephemera.  Seriously, where does all this crap come from?!  I think it must multiply in the middle of the night.  Like gremlins, but without the water.

So here I am, almost 40, and I am STILL trying to figure out how to clean my room.  Man, it’d be so much easier if I were Mary Poppins.  I could snap and it’d be a game, my belongings marching into their rightful places.  Sigh. 

But no, I’ve got to do it the old fashioned way…and hire a maid.  Ha. 

And so, I'll keep working on it, I guess.

Until tomorrow, Lovelies….