On Second Thought...

It's Official...I Have Moved!

2007-07-12T08:32:00.000-04:00

I've been two-timing you guys for a couple of weeks now. I 've had a hard time saying goodbye to Blogger. But it's official. I've moved to Wordpress.

I'll keep this blog up, for old time's sake. But I am here, here and here. Please update your blogrolls.

See ya on the other side!!!

Lex

If I called this post what I want to, I'd have the Secret Service breathing in my farts...

2007-07-02T23:21:00.000-04:00

If my single, most trusted, most intimate confidante were to pull me aside and ask me to confide in him/her my deepest darkest secret; that one thing I am most miserably ashamed of; that one choice that I regret for its having revealed how astoundingly low I’d sunken, how inconceivably far from sanity I’d traversed, it would be this. On November 7, 2000, I voted for George W. Bush.

I know. If you want to run away and delete me from your blogroll I completely understand. But, if there is an ounce of grace in your heart, forgive me and read on. I’m back on my meds.

I started drafting this post with the intention of espousing the notion that Black Christian voters are perhaps the most schizophrenic voting block in America, but I'll talk about that later. Today I'm just disgusted. He is an embarrassment to himself, to humankind. He's a renegade, gangster, corrupt, do-whatever-the-fuck-he-feels-like-doing outlaw.

I don't even have the energy to discuss the war. It breaks my heart. It's ridiculous. But this Libby shit?!?! Why doesn't he just drop his pants and moon the justice system?

Can January 2009 GET HERE ALEADY!!!

Real Quick...'cause I'm at work...

2007-06-29T11:48:00.000-04:00

I'm flirting with the idea of moving to WordPress. Please go over and check out the place and let me know what you think. All 3 blogs are under construction, so bear with me if you're not in my blogroll yet.

Also, if you are already using WordPress, tell me why you love it. Why is it better. I've had a hard time navigating my way through, but I'm learning pretty quickly.

On Second Thought...
Fine Tuning
Unpacking Faith

Adjustment without Improvement

2007-06-20T21:44:00.000-04:00

I have less than one year before my 35th birthday. I have promised myself that when I turn 35 I will be in the best shape of my life. This week I've given the phrase "the best shape of my life" a second thought.

There was time when I thought being in shape meant being able to fit into any size 4 on the rack. I quickly learned that, for me, that was really called being anorexic. Then, I decided that being in shape meant maintaining a size 6, and throwing up my french fries and double cheeseburger and shake if I happened to slip up to an 8. That was really called being bulimic, despite the benefits of gaining amazing control of my gag reflex. Being in shape was about a number: my weight, my jeans size, how many miles I could run in a week, how many times I could run the stairs in the stadium, how many laps I swam. I was/am no athlete. I was what Debbie calls skinny fat. I was a petite woman who ate like my heart was my worst enemy and I was duty bound to kill it with fast food, sugary sweets and the absence of all things that grow from the ground, except for when I'd go through one of my health nut cycles.

Over the years I have had periods of extreme conscientiousness about what I eat. Like most things with me, my enthusiasm about eating better has ebbed and flowed. I'm about to turn 35. I'm out of wiggle room. The choices I make about what I do to my body now will make or break how I grow old. I prefer to do so gracefully without preventable diseases. I have to make changes now.

I started reading Toni Morrison's, The Bluest Eye, this week. I was only a few pages in when I came upon this sentence.

I learned much later to worship her, just as I learned to delight in cleanliness, knowing, even as I learned, that the change was adjustment without improvement.

The context of that statement isn't as important as the italicized phrase. Those six words hit me like a ton of bricks. It struck me as antithetical to all I hope to be accomplishing along this journey of personal growth. I've made changes in my life. Many, many changes at many different times. I am smack in the middle of one of the most significant seasons of change I've ever experienced, even more significant than the time period that birthed this blog. I don't want to look back at this time as a period of adjustment without improvement. I want to be better. I want to be a better friend, a better daughter, a better sister, cousin, niece, aunt and granddaughter. I want to be a better employee, a better citizen, a better companion, student, coworker. I want to be a better stranger. I want to be a better me. Different is not good enough. I want to be better.

When it comes to living a healthy lifestyle, I've made adjustments many times. I will make many more. But I've begun to make improvements. It's time for me to start eating like an adult. I have a great independent organic market less than 2 miles from my house. I have no excuses. I walked up and down the aisles this evening amazed by how many choices their are for eating well. I've decided that my grocery list will be comprised of items from two lists. The SuperFoods list is the priority. The World's Healthiest Foods list will round out the rest. Now, since I'm about improvement and not just adjustment here, I've tried it out for over a week. I haven't starved to death. I've eaten foods I love. I've eaten often (seems like all day long) to boost my metabolism. I've felt better than I have in a long time. I've dropped 5 pounds, just like that. And I haven't worked out once. Yet. I even went to Happy Hour last night and ordered an avocado and tomato salad and quinoa tabbouleh (and 2 blood orange margaritas). I never missed a chip or buffalo wing. It was lovely, I tell you.

I was in Whole Foods with Katrice last week and, as you may have read on her blog (which I won't link because there are nut cases among us), and we ran into Dick Gregory. I was doing my first big shopping spree from the Super Foods list, and I took this as a prophetic endorsement that I am somehow on the right track (why? because I'm corny like that!) I was tickled to see him, and while I am not going raw foodist (yet), he still inspired me to do better than I've been doing.

I'll probably continue the discussion of how this whole change is going on Fine Tuning, my pathetic chronicle of my weight loss efforts. But it was important enough today, for me to mention it here. I'm done adjusting for the sake of adjusting. It's time to get better, healthier.

Today when I think of being in shape I think of the whole person. Not just what I eat or if I work out. There's so much more to fitness. The mind, body and spirit are connected and interdependent. And as much as I've chosen to rid my body of unnecessary hormones, preservatives and toxins, I'm diligently plugging away at those things that clutter and preoccupy my mind and weigh upon my spirit. You'll hear about more of it here. Even if it gets political and politically incorrect.

Stay tuned.

Wanna Hang Out?

2007-06-16T03:05:00.001-04:00

You guys are cool! Jali's latest post has me thinking about how many interesting folks I've met since I've been blogging. Some of you blog as yourselves, others as a persona, but either way, I feel like I've gotten to know you other bloggers a little more post by post. I talk about you all the time. If you've written something that I think is interesting, it may come up in conversation in my real life. I feel like this forum has stretched me and put me in contact with people I wouldn't normally associate with, for whatever reason. That is amazing and invaluable to me. It's been a fascinating voyage through the market place of ideas. I've discovered tremendous diversity among those of you on my blogroll and those of you who comment here. I'm glad I "know" each of you.

With all the mushy stuff said, who's down for a Blogger Meet-Up? I would love to meet some of you guys who don't mind blowing your anonymity and hanging out with some other people with way too much time on their hands. What do you say? If you're interested, I'll organize it. Just email me at lex dot blogger at gmail dot com. I'm in the DC area, but that doesn't mean the Meet-up has to be here. I'll travel. Maybe we can find some cool spot central to the responders. Let me tell you now, if you've never commented here before, I don't know you. I will ignore your email, so don't bother. This isn't an invitation for crazy stalker shit. Got it?

Let's hang out and have drinks or something.

Holla!

Birthday Present

2007-06-14T21:51:00.001-04:00

Here's my one and only birthday present. Parents ROCK!!

I'm so excited. It will take a whole year for me to learn all the features.

I'm SO Going Back!!

2007-06-12T19:19:00.000-04:00

Hello there!! I am back and fully detoxed. Yeah. That was fun. You know, I never understood why folks chose to get wasted to the point of suffering the next day. I still don't, except that it's funny to read what you wrote the next day. My body is starting to love me again. I've been all organic and water and fresh produce to her for the last 2 days. I owe her. Big time.

Puerto Rico was great!! There was perpetual salsa in the air. There was so much sabor in everything: the way people walked, the cadence of their speech, the music (of course) and the food. I am completely enamored of Borinquen. There were brown people everywhere. Beautiful brown people. Thick brown people. I felt so at home not to be among folks who are afraid to eat. There was lots of enjoying of life going on on that little island paradise and I am so going back. I don't know why I'm so drawn to Latin America, but it's in my soul somehow. I felt so at home. Many of the sentiments were similar to my feelings in Argentina (though, not too many brown people there -- story soon to follow). I loved every moment I was there, even when I was working like a slave on my birthday and sh*tting my brains out 2 days later. (TMI? Meh, too late.)

The food was awesome. My first stab at mofongo was horrid, but I quickly learned that it was because I chose the first restaurant poorly. The rice and peas were off the CHAIN!! Yum, yum all the way around. I don't think I ever had room for dessert. I can't think of one sweet thing I ate...except for my birthday cake, which was delectable. And the fruit, dear God. I'll show pics later. (I'm sorry. I'm just lazy right now.)

The best part was the inter-generational social circle: the dance floor. I was so amazed to see 18 year olds and 65 year olds dancing salsa side by side. Each night there was a different salsa band at the hotel. The locals come to the hotels to dance, especially towards the end of the week and the weekend. Salsa crosses generational lines like nothing I've ever seen. Sure there was a viejo verde or two, but for the most part, it was just a love for the music. Everyone felt it. Everyone dances it. Everyone. I was in heaven.

I'm back to the real world now and longing to go back. I have a call in to a travel agent to schedule a group trip back there for the end of November. It would be so much fun with the folks I love. I hope we get a good group to go. Email me if you're interested. I think there's an email addy for me in the profile. If not make it all public in the comments.

I'm making lentils and sausage (chicken sausage) for dinner and I'm starving. I hope it's done, because I am certainly ready to eat.

Have a good night all and, if you haven't eaten yet, buen provecho!

Chau.

Ugh!!

2007-06-08T20:33:00.000-04:00

It´s my party and I´ll ....

2007-06-08T01:56:00.000-04:00

June 6th was the floor. No. June 6th was my birthday. It sucked monkey butt. I worked until 12:40 am, so it wasn't even my birthday anymore. But no matter. Bacardi 151 is the Shit. I'm sorry. disclaimer. don't let your kids read this. I might say bad things. Bacardi 151 has that effect.

I'm in Puerto Rico. My cousin came with me. She keeps buying me drinks for my 2 day old birthday that I can't resist. She keeps saying "Pito Mojado" as her demonstration of her Spanish. She means "Piso Mojado" which means wet floor. But she keeps saying wet dick. I am laughing my ass off every time the men try to correct her and you know what that means. yes. I've peed on myself. twice. I'ts ok though. the laundry is across the hall.

Did I mention Bacardi 151? I didn't know what the number meant. It means....the BOMB!!!

I am sofaKing drunk and so is my cousin. she's taking pictures of herself with her camera on an ipod. no. a tripod. She knows how to say dios mio and hace calor. She wants to know how to say I want to give you a ...wet dick. She's so drunk.

OMG. you should have seen these folks descend upon the food we served at this conference today. I have never seen anything like it in my life. folks took 2 bags of M&M's and Skittles and Hagen Daaz like it was contraband. They smuggled that shit like they were starving. I've never seen anything like it in my life ... and never laughed so hard in a professional setting. It was hilarious.

I lvoe Puerto Rico. I am sooooo coming back. I danced my ass off tonight, and I have pics, but my camera, UPS cable...no USB cable and camera are too far away from each other for me to show you.

Everybody who wished me a happy birthday yesterday...thank you!!!! I love you. If you don't read my blog, you don't know I thanked you. Too bad. So sad. Read my itshay!!

My mom called me today. June 7th. She pushed vagina and still missed it!!! She'd be morified that I told you that. She wants to be the perfect mom. Cuz lost a toenail dancing tonight.

I was surprised how many people called me. It was great. I'm loved. Yay!! And I got emails too. You know who you are. Thank you and SMOOCHES!!!!

She just said, "Food and TV are my sex". That's a real serious problem. I might need to leave the hotel room for a night or two. That's sad.

OK. I soo can't do this anymore.

I'll post pics when I'm less...um....f****D up!! It's my birthday and I'll be drunk if I want to. I have to work in the am at 6. Puerto Ricans can make the HELL out of a drink. Do you hear me??? They know how to do it down here. I'm having so much fun.

I danced my bootie off tonight. Did I tell you that already?

Hey, you know who, I lost count on my rum and Coke's tonight too. But I took a cab. Learn from the master. 151 Baby!!!

I'm going to bed. I have to work and act like a grown up tomorrow.

Let's not mention the fact that the man who signs my checks was sitting right next to me as I declared how fu**ed up I am. I love this job.

Bye now. Mañana.

Paz.

Dude!!! My Whole Blogger Thingy is in Español

2007-06-05T18:41:00.000-04:00

¡Chévere! Bienvenidos a la primera edición de On Second Thought... de Puerto Rico.

OK. So that says welcome to the first edition of On Second Thought... from Puerto Rico. But I'm sure you figured that out. If you didn't, catch up. Or you'll be out of a job before too long.

I'm working way too hard in Borinquen, mis queridos. Have a look around the place:

Here's what I see right outside my patio door:

And here is evidence that I work WAY too hard:

My dad sent me a text message today asking if I get paid to vacation. Hey! This is no vacation. This is hard labor, I tell you. I'm sweating over here.

Hey! They were teaching a salsa lesson in the lobby. On 2!!! Sooo mambo and Soooo hot! I hope I don't keel over from all the work I'm doing.

Gotta run. Time to check out the nightlife! (um, then back to the grind?)

Oh, Marion!

2007-06-04T18:55:00.001-04:00

Woman drives her car through a crowd at a street festival in DC.
Woman is held without bond pending Grand Jury hearing.
Woman said she had been smoking crack all day prior to the incident.
Woman is employed as a temporary receptionist in former DC mayor, Marion Barry's office.
Marion Barry will cancel contract with temp agency, accusing them of negligent screening.

I think the temp agency, at best, is adept at matching personnel with appropriate employers; at worst, has a great sense of humor.

Washcloths....and Argentina

2007-06-03T18:01:00.000-04:00

Debbie posted a couple of days ago about proper cleansing of the nether regions. It made me think about one of my first experiences of culture shock when I lived in Argentina. I think I've mentioned here that I lived on exchange in Mendoza, Argentina during my senior year of high school, but I haven't talked about it much. I have lots of stories from that time that I'd love to share. Many things in the last couple of weeks have made me think about her (and long to go back for a visit.) Not the least of which was my friend Kwesi's birthday lunch at this place. A gaucho is a gaucho--Brazil, Argentina or Uruguay. And this food was the same as every asado I ever ate. I so miss that place.

But first, the nether regions. I thought everyone used washcloths. Everyone I knew growing up used them. They were in every house I ever spent the night. They were in every hotel room I ever visited. I thought it was universal thing. I'm not one of those travelers who carries everything but the kitchen sink when I'm away. I don't take my own towels and washcloths (or other things I think are ridiculous to pack, like Lysol). Anyway, in January 1991 I packed for a year in Argentina. I was 90lbs. over the Aerolinas Argentina's weight limit, but I still packed no washcloths.

It was long trip. I left around 4pm I think and I got to Mendoza the next afternoon. My first host family was strange (more stories to come) but I chalked most of the quirks up to cultural differences. We had dinner the first night. My host mom showed me my room. I started to put my things away and I was ready to shower. I went into the bathroom, took my clothes off, sat on the toilet and stared at the "other" toilet next to me, trying to figure out why it had a shower shooting up. I turned the knobs and sprayed water all over the bathroom and myself. I couldn't turn the water off so I jumped from the normal toilet and sat on the other one. Water shot up my butt. It was a bidet. Neat.

I was ready to take the rest of my shower and I noticed that my host mom had given me a towel and a huge monster sponge--like the ones you used at school to wash the chalkboards on the days you'd stay after school to volunteer to help out because the girls in the regular class were waiting to jump you outside because they didn't like you because you were in the gifted and talented class. Yeah, that sponge. I thought it was weird that everyone had their very own sponge to clean out the tub when they were done, but hey, some people have different standards of cleanliness. To each his own. It's not bad. It's not wrong. It's just DIIIIFERENT. Yaddah, yaddah. I still needed a washcloth.

I wrapped myself up in the towel and poked my head out of the door to ask for a washcloth. How the hell do you say washcloth in Spanish? I did the best I could to explain it and she looked at me like I was speaking Tigrinya. Then she came in the bathroom and picked up the chalkboard sponge and nodded. Did she expect me to wash my nether regions with that? Apparently she did. I learned to wash with my hands that night. And the first words I said to mom on my first $5 per minute phone call were: Send me washcloths!!!

So tell me people? Do you wash with a cloth, sponge, loofa, hands, the soap bar, exfoliating gloves, oven mitts or something more exotic? Was it always that way? What did your mom use when she bathed you? Are washcloths an American thing? An east coast thing? A black vs. white thing? What do you think?

Sooooooo Tired!

2007-05-23T21:48:00.000-04:00

Hi! I miss you guys. I'm soooooo sleepy these days. No energy for blogging. This new job/schedule is kicking my butt. I've gone from sleeping until 9am to get to work at 10 to getting up at 6am to leave the house by 7 to get to work by 8:30. I still get home at almost 7...and that's on the days I leave on time.

When I'm on site, like now (in Utah), every day is about 12 hours. Yawwwwnnnn!!! I'm enjoying it, I just pass out before 10pm. Strange territory for a night owl.

I'm trying so hard to stay awake through the Idol Finale. I'm supposed to go have drinks to schmooze with my team in an hour or so. Did I mention Yawwwwwnnnnn!!!!?

Comfy bed is calling me.

Leeeeeexxxxiiii.

Hear it?

Blogging from the Library Sucks

2007-05-14T19:42:00.000-04:00

I'm still laptopless. I'm trying to catch up on all of your blogs from the library in the evenings. It's not going too well. I should be getting a laptop to use for work, so that should make web access during travels much easier, but I still need my own deal-e-o so I can get back to downloading music to my Zune...and blogging...and compulsively checking my email. You know, the three things personal computers were designed for. Oh, and let's not forget the daily newspaper crossword puzzles. OK, my secret's out. I'm a dork. This is how I spend my free time. I should be doing laundry and the dishes from this weekend, but no, I need my fix.

None of this would have been a problem at my old job. I seemed to find limitless time in my schedule to catch up on things I didn't get done the previous night (during the 6 hours I was online from home). But now I've got all this work to do. What's up with that?!?!? Just kidding. I'm no slacker. I like the new job, even despite the Murphy's Law day I had today.

I've only driven to the office three times: interview, first day (one week ago) and today. I took the same route the first 2 times and had way more time than I needed. Commute took about 45 minutes, including finding parking (another post, but wait for that one!). This morning I took a new route. It was supposed to be shorter. It took 1 hour and 10 minutes after I found parking. So, I got to work about 10 minutes late (@ 8:40). As I went upstairs to my cubicle I noticed there was a meeting going on downstairs, but I paid it no attention. I got to my desk, tried to see if my new login was set up while I was on travel, put my lunch in the fridge, noticed that no one else was upstairs, checked my email and saw a meeting invitation from the PRESIDENT of the company for an all staff meeting (um, yeah--the one I walked right by and ignored) that he sent out on WEDNESDAY. I walked into the meeting at 8:53, just in time to hear the #2 boss remind the staff that work hours are from 8:30-5:30!! Yeah! Of all days to be the new kid who didn't know how to check email remotely (and didn't consider that I'd actually have emails after 1 day on the job). I was in Idaho all last week. I had no clue there was a meeting today. Even if I had, I didn't expect the "short cut" to 25 minutes longer than the regular route. I'm taking the train tomorrow.

I need to run so that I can read a few of your blogs before they start flashing the lights in the library.

Toodles!

I Have Issues...

2007-05-08T20:30:00.000-04:00

So, I'm in Idaho. That's where my lovely new job has sent me on my first assignment. Everyone has made jokes about potatoes. I have given everyone who's mentioned them the confused puppy look. My thoughts went instantly to white supremacists, skinheads and underground nuclear warheads. That would have been a fun game of word association.

Well, with hate crimes on the brain, I sit next to an Arab gentleman on the airplane. He is reading the Koran. My first thoughts, honestly...ashamedly: "Oh f*cking-sh*t! For the love of God!" (I know those 2 sentiments don't exactly go together, but it's that kind of day.) I have never claimed to have lived 34 years in this racist society and gotten by unscathed. As embarrassed as I was, I was also scared beyond belief. Then, he kept staring at me. I was watching him in my peripheral vision. He would snap his head forward every time I would turn to see what the hell he wanted. This didn't make me any more at ease. I'd also start plotting the perfect position to curl into so that I'd feel the least amount of pain when we crashed to my death each time we hit pockets of unbelievable turbulence. My pessimism is on full blast today.

While I was waiting for the hotel shuttle at the airport, I thought about all of the horrible things I could be falsely accused of out here and how no one would believe me and then I'd have to call the Boise police, which was certain not to go well for the black girl, so I'd just keep quite and succumb to whatever injustice befell me just to avoid making waves. It doesn't help that all day I've been reading Toni Morrison's Song of Solomon which revisits life in America for blacks in the 1st half of the 20th century. Sigh.

From the plane I send the following text message: "Oh man! I'm the only person with bigot of color up on this plane. I feel like I'm going to a Klan Rally. Pray for me!" Freudian slip: bigot was supposed to be a bit. Who's the bigot, right?

It has been a very sobering day. Fear is powerful. Today I have experienced how easily it becomes a lens that distorts. I see how difficult it can be to convince someone looking through that lens that they aren't seeing what they think they are seeing. The truth is that everyone in Idaho has been as friendly as anyone anywhere else. (And much more friendly than what I encountered in Minnesota.)

I've only met one person from Idaho in my life. I was teamed up with him in a small group and I made the same assumption about him that I made about everyone else in this state, that he'd hate me. He was such a nice guy. We hung out that weekend I spent in Seattle a year and a half ago. We actually had a chance to talk about the assumptions we made about each other and how glad we were (and embarrassed) to find out that our assumptions were wrong. I realized that my assumption that he'd hate me only served to justify my prejudice towards him. I wish I'd remembered that earlier today. It would have been a much better flight.

OK, there you have it. I suck sometimes too. Prejudice is funky, from anybody. Even me.

Peace.

Moving On...

2007-05-03T11:33:00.000-04:00

Today is my last day at my current job which means it's also my last day with a laptop until I buy my own. So, I may be gone for a week or two until I can get my own, or at least get my PC up and running.

Any suggestions on a new laptop purchase???

Have fun out there in cyberspace without me. I may have to camp out at the library.

Getting My Groove On

2007-04-29T13:54:00.000-04:00

I've been bitten anew by the salsa bug. I haven't danced regularly in years, but I went out Friday night and now it's all I want to do with my weekends. I'm about to go spend 3.5 hours in classes and then dance the rest of the night away. I'm obsessed. I even bought proper dance shoes yesterday.

I'm finally going to bite the bullet and start taking salsa on2 classes, New York-style salsa. I mostly dance Cuban-style salsa, Rueda de Casino.

I'm so out of shape, but hey, a girl has to start somewhere. Today I'll be dancing at a dance studio as opposed to a club so, at least I won't reek of smoke afterwards. That was the gross part of Friday night. I can stand the smoke in isolation at times, but smoke on top of me being sweaty and contributing my own funk is more than I can handle.

OK. Here's a little demonstration for your viewing pleasure.

Samudaya

2007-04-26T20:51:00.000-04:00

Buddhists believe that the key to ending suffering is letting go of all desire or craving. That's a sizable leap on my part from the 1st to the 3rd of the Four Nobel Truths, but an interesting idea to explore nonetheless.

In my lifetime I have experienced considerable fluctuation in my ability and willingness to want. I used to be terrified to want. I remember doing everything in my power to quench desire at every turn. I'd deny it. I'd distract myself. I'd accept pitiful substitutions for the true object of my passion. Either way, I avoided desire like the plague. Acknowledging my desires was tantamount to numerating my miseries. I was so unhappy in so many areas of my life that the exercise of thinking about what I wanted out of life produced more despair, as reality only made those desires seem less and less attainable. During this point in my life I would have agreed that desire was the source of my suffering.

Right now I am about to start a new job. I am about to be divorced. I about to be in a much better financial situation than I've been in my entire adult life. I am on the brink of realizing what I fantasized about during my despair, starting over. It's a very exciting place to be. I expect to meet new people, travel to new places, experience the things I ached to experience when I thought I never would. I am equipped with a much better understanding of who I am, what I like, what I despise, what I stand for and what I won't. I am happy. I am unmistakably, palpably happy. And yet, I'm still haunted by longing.

I feel like there's a difference between expectation and longing. The latter requires more vulnerability. Does that seem strange? Are those two words synonymous to anyone else? They aren't to me. I expect things to change for the better in my world. But I feel like naming my longings (or identifying them) reminds me of emptiness, reminds me of the voids. I guess the bitter reality is that the objects of all desire are transient or impermanent, no matter how we cut it. I can't hold on to pleasure. It will slip through my fingers eventually. I can't hold on to people or relationships. They change and die. I can't hold on to things or money. Stock markets crash. But there are things in this life that I want and I feel like sometimes my "enjoy it while it lasts" attitude is the same as trying to deny longing. It seems rooted somehow in despair. I'm trying to figure out how to turn that around. I'm trying to figure out how to want what I want, expect to have it at some point and acknowledge and accept that I may not always have it--all at the same time.

One of the things I've longed for most is the freedom to be my own person. I feel like I am living that freedom more and more everyday. I've found community among those who aren't threatened by or judgmental of my exercise of that freedom. Those probably seem like "givens" to most people, but remember I was a pastor's wife. I lived under palpable scrutiny. I was constantly reminded that every inhalation and fart of mine had life changing implications in the lives of others in my community. It's frightening to think about having had that much perceived power over other individuals. It's frightening to consider the ill effects it has had. It's amazing to be free of that kind of community. This kind of freedom is something I've longed for years. Is it too transient? Temporal? Impermanent? I sure hope not.

Anyway, this has been a long, convoluted way of saying that I am very, very happy with my life right now and I hope it just gets better from here. I want love, happiness, fulfillment, security, companionship and peace. And mind-blowing sex. Can't a girl have it all?

Loving this Song Right Now

2007-04-24T13:24:00.000-04:00

Watch and Listen:

Read:

lyrics - Jennifer Lopez Lyrics

Summary in Translation:

Dude! You messed up and wrecked our home so bad, it's not even worth my time to hate you. Moving on!

By the way, yesterday was the second anniversary of me finally having enough and walking out of my marriage for good. I am so over the pain and the bitterness. I'm happier than ever and am so ready to get this divorce finalized so I can move on with my life.

¿Qué hiciste? Me perdiste para siempre.

Tagged...And I Stole the Formatting Too.

2007-04-21T01:12:00.000-04:00

Alphabet Scoop Meme
~courtesy of Macarena

Available or single: Invoking the 5th Amendment on this one.
Best friend: I can't pick. I have great friends. I love them all.
Cake or pie: Cake! Pie crust is disgusting.
Drink of choice: Dry red wine.
Essential item: Baby oil gel.
Favorite color: Blue.
Gummi Bears or Worms: Bears
Hometown: Washington, DC.
Indulgence: DSW.
January or February: February has better sales.
Kids: Other people's.
Life is incomplete without: Intimacy.
Marriage date: Been there. Done that. Burnt the T-shirt. Cursed be November 2oth.
Number of siblings: One.
Oranges or apples: Oranges.
Phobias/fears: Miscarriage. Incarceration.
Quote, favorite: Temptation resisted is pleasure lost.
Reasons to smile: See B, spring is back, new job, chocolate
Season: Fall.
Tag three: Katrice, Let's Pretend, Black Jack Bauer.
Unknown fact about me: I've never seen The Godfather.
Vegetarian or oppressor of animals: Must you put it like that? Oppressor.
Worst habit: Walking out of my clothes and leaving them on the bathroom floor or sporadic flossing.
X-rays or ultrasounds: Ultrasounds...but the full bladder part sucks.
Your favorite foods: Free.
Zodiac: Gemini.

On Imus and Stuff I was Trying to Avoid

2007-04-13T11:39:00.000-04:00

Once upon at time there was this guy named Don Imus. He said stupid racist and sexist things on the air about the Rutgers University women's basketball team. He is a dick head. He got fired for being a racist, sexist, dick head. End of story.

Wait, no, not the end of the story.

Suddenly, all of the black people in the land started turning on themselves and blaming themselves for Imus's comments. Now, these black people were a bit deluded. They thought they were talking about other black people. But somewhere along the line, after 1964, they forgot how to be one people. They forgot that pointing the finger at "them" was also pointing the finger at themselves. So sad. So very sad indeed.

You see, after Imus, the S.R.D.H., said what he said, black people across the land started emailing each other and going on tv and radio talk shows talking about how they really did Imus to themselves. They blamed their music, their ghettos, their Ebonics, their limited access to the best education in the country for people like Imus, the S.R.D.H. saying racist stuff like that. They discussed reasons why they shouldn't be outraged about Imus, when there are misogynistic messages in their own music. It's as though the powers that be sprinkled pixie dust among them and confused them and now they can't distinguish between the cause and the effect. It's a sad state for these people.

They have forgotten who controls the music industry, who controls the images they see of themselves on tv, in the media and on the silver screen. They have forgotten the role racism has historically played in the creation of their ghettos and how survival has caused many of them to forgo many of the luxuries and comforts others of them enjoy. It's as if the lot of them has been brainwashed. They no longer think like the generation before them who knew that their survival as a people required unity and fighting for the collective. Instead, it seems like something akin to Stockholm syndrome is running amok in the land.

Is there hope for the people? Will those in the fringes who see the dastardly scheme at work learn how to communicate the need to stop the self-hating infighting? Will the people stop spending so much time being disgusted with one another and take back the spirit that embodied King and those of his time? Will the Cosby's in the land offer solutions to the problems, instead of constant criticism? Or will they all turn completely individualistic and identify with "pull yourself up by your bootstraps, all by your damn self" ideology of ...well, you know who the villains in land are. No need to utter their name.

Stay tuned for the next event that causes black people to convince each other that they shouldn't express outrage about racism merely because there are problems at home.

Clothing Conundrum

2007-04-10T16:46:00.000-04:00

I SO need a makeover. I need someone to ambush me on the street and say, "Hell NO!! This is not working."

I used to be such a cute dresser. Never mind that I was a cute little size 6 at the time, and mom was paying for my clothing habit. Fat and poverty has gotten in my way worse than you can imagine. I am not one of those people who can "get by" on bargain stuff. I have champagne taste and Pabst Blue Ribbon pockets. I'm not high maintence, I just don't look good in clothes that aren't quality clothes. Which means that I haven't looked good in a long, long time.

I am seeing the light at the end of the tunnel about this poverty issue. I have 2 job offers on the table...well, one and a half. Either job will make a significant impact on my financial situation. I wasn't looking for this. I didn't apply for either job, yet here they are. It's one of those things where life lets you know it's time to make a move. You know, when the pieces never would have come together had you forced them. I feel like a sigh of relief is just around the corner. But, I'm so used to being broke, I don't know how to think any other way.

I have a dinner for work Thursday night. I need to shop for something to wear. Now, granted I'm not in my new tax bracket just yet, but I'm conflicted about what I should buy. My head says: clearance rack, Marshall's, Sears (clearance rack). My splurger says: OK, Macy's clearance rack or Ann Taylor Loft clearance rack. My fat ass says: Buy a quality outfit that fits you well and looks nice! I don't speak that third language just yet. I need to buy a book.

So, here's my pitch. SIGN me up for What Not to Wear!! We can start with my black jeans. I will gladly throw away every stitch of clothing I own to start over and look like a professional. I wear jeans and flip flops to work everyday. I keep a suit on the door in case I need it. I own 2 suits that fit me. I need some serious wardrobe help. I need a stylist. I need a makeover.

I Really Need Dog in My Life

2007-04-07T11:57:00.000-04:00

Heartinsanfrancisco has posted about animal totems. It is a fascinating post. It is particularly fascinating for me to read at a time in my life when I am contemplating how others understand the inter-relatedness of all life. I believe we are all connected in some way and that animals can't be simply dismissed as food and pets who don't get go to heaven when they die. I can tell you of many an animal that deserves a spot much more than I do.

I mentioned in my slightly manic previous post about wanting a dog. I have always had a pet, every moment of my life, except for the last 2 years. When we were children, if a dog died one night, we'd have a new puppy by the time we were home from school the next day. Either a stray would adopt us and we'd keep it, or we'd go to the pound for a new one. There were plenty of times when there were multiple dogs or a dog and a couple of cats. I'm not much of a cat person when it comes to having my very own. I'm just not drawn to them in that way, but I love them. I loved Spanky and Darla.

When I was born we had Frenchie. She was part Great Dane and part Boxer. She was the sweetest dog except for times I'd be playing in the yard and a stranger walked by. I was her pup. No one was allowed near me who she didn't know and trust. Frenchie was poisoned one afternoon. My next door neighbor's house was burglarized that night. We believe they were connected.

After Frenchie we got Fella. He was 1 or 2 years old when we adopted him. He was part Shepherd and part Collie. He was tan and white with long Collie hair. He was the dog of most of my childhood. He was with us from the time I was about 6 until 16. When we moved from the city to the suburbs my parents took him to the pound and had him put to sleep. I thought for the longest time that they were just evil and uppity and didn't want a dog in their new house. The truth is that Fella had cancer and was dying and my parents could bring themselves to tell me. I cried for years when I thought of him. I talked about him every time I'd see a dog. Everyone has heard about Fella. He appeared in my dreams for at least 10 years. The dreams would be so real I would wake up and expect him to be at the foot of my bed. I would be wide awake and swear I could hear his tags clinking on his collar. I fully expected to turn around and see him again one day. I never have.

We had Duchess, a long-haired chihuahua, Sheba, an sooner, Spanky, Champ, and 8 of Sheba's puppies as well as the others. There was one other black dog that followed me home, but he didn't stay very long. I don't remember his name.

When I graduated from college, my parents bought me Samson, my Yorkie baby. He went with me into my marriage and died 5 months (or a year and 5 months, I can't remember) before I left. I had to put him down because it was killing me to watch him suffer from an enlarged heart. If I could have chosen who in the house would get put down, it wouldn't have been Samson. We had another Yorkie too, Rudy. I lost him in the custody battle. He's still with his dad, as far as I know.

So, on April 23rd, I will officially reach my second anniversary of doglessness--oh, and of leaving my marriage. Yay! I ache for a dog. Ache. Isn't it funny that I don't ache for a man? I will adjust to life without I companion whose socks I may see on my floor, but I cannot adjust to life without a dog. I really don't want to move again, but I may have to since I can't have a dog in my current apartment. It is just that serious. This is worse than my fleeting hankering to have a child.

Anyway, Heart offered one view of animal presence in one's life. I found it fascinating and have taken the quiz below to see what my animal totem is. Check it:

What is your Inner Spirit Totem Animal?

The WolfYou are protected by the great spirit of the Wolf; a stalwart seeker of truth and justice and adament hunter of those who oppress and depress. You value truth and honor above all else, protector of the innocent and defender of the weak. Your quote: "All that is gold does not glitter; not all those that wander are lost"
Take this quiz!

Quizilla |
Join

| Make A Quiz | More Quizzes | Grab Code

So, I did some more research to see the difference between a dog totem and a wolf totem (as Heart has so aptly instructed that these animals are not the same.)

Dog totem: Faithfulness and Protection

The Dog is a symbol of the small becoming the great. People with this totem have great spirit and a great ability to love. It takes a lot to break a dog spirit.People with a Dog totem are usually helping others or serving humanity in some way. Dog medicine embodies the loving gentleness of best friend and the fierce energy of protector.

You will have a deep understanding and compassion of human shortcomings. Study the quality of the breed of dog that has entered your life: is it a hunter, a protector, a companion, playful? Each of these qualities will give you insight into the qualities needed for your own life. A Dog totem is a great spirit booster.

Wolf totem: Intuition, Learning, Spirit

This totem brings faithfulness, inner strength and intuition when he enters our lives. But he also brings learning to live with one's self. The wolf teaches us to learn about our inner self and to find our inner power and strength. But to achieve this, we must take risks and face our deepest fears. A wolf totem demands sincerity. This totem demands a lot of us but gives us much in return; a spirit helper that is always there to help and gives us extraordinary powers of endurance.

He reminds us to listen to our inner thoughts and trust our insights. They remind us not to waste resources and to learn how to avoid trouble and confrontations. People with Wolf totems have the capacity to make quick and firm emotional attachments. Trust your insights about these attachments. Wolf will guide you. Take control of your life with Wolf’s help and do so with harmony and discipline.

I think it's so interesting how all of creation interacts with one another and how often we miss it. Wolf and Dog each say so much about who I am and what matters most to me. The timing is uncanny. I am contemplating a significant career shift. I am reminded today of what matters most to me.

The strangest things happen to me when I'm facing a major decision. I'll tell you more about this in a couple of days.

I'm In the Silliest Mood Ever - UPDATED

2007-04-06T16:26:00.000-04:00

I am in the craziest mood today. I'm sitting in my office today wondering how to convince my boss to let the office go home early. I want to try, "Boss, they crucified my Lord today." I would enhance it by singing Were You There When they Crucified My Lord. But, she'd probably burst out laughing at me, as I wouldn't be able to do it with a straight face. I didn't even know it was Easter until a couple of days ago. I'm so out of the loop.

I have also decided that it's time for me to get a puppy. I need a dog in my life. At first I couldn't afford one, but things are a changin' in the "Lex is perpetually broke" department. Stay tuned for that one down the pike. I do want a doggie though, and my apartment doesn't allow them. I don't want to move again, so I'm thinking of telling the rental office he's my guide dog. Katrice doesn't think they'll buy a seeing-eye-yorkie. Stupid rental office people!

Katrice has an cubicle mate that talks to her incessantly and she can't bring herself to tell him to shut the fuck up. So I told him for her today. We were IMing and I typed: SHUT UP, "DUDE" over and over again in our IM window as large and red as possible (I used his name), so if he turned around his nosy ass would see it. Katrice tried to keep typing to make my messages scroll. I think I won. Too bad he didn't see it.

The subject matter of my work is rape. All day, everyday. Not a good combination with me in the mood I'm in. I have had some of the most politically incorrect laughs of all times in my office today. FemeNazi's everywhere would have my head. I even laughed uncontrollably when telling the story of the mentally retarded victim who said she tried to kill herself by putting her hands around her own neck and squeezing "really, really hard". F**k off and don't tell me how inappropriate that was. I already know and it was still funny as hell. It still is!!

Some client keeps faxing us the same documents she's already sent us 15 COPIES of. The damn fax machine won't stop ringing. Our intern is freaking out and all I can do is laugh at her. People are so pushy when they want to get an attorney.

I am so broke this week that I keep waiting for a merchant to confiscate my debit card. Like everything else today, I'll find that freaking hilarious too. I wonder if they'll shred it on the spot.

There goes the damn fax again!!! Hahahahahahahahaha!!!

The cleaning lady just came in and told us that we're the only ones left in the building. Everyone else is gone.

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

The office phone just rang. The paralegal yells, "Not it!!" I answer the phone and the person has the wrong number. They ask for "Mrs. Davis". I said there's no Davis here. She asked, "Is your mom or dad home?" WTF???? Do I sound FIVE????

My nephew and Katrice and Kwesi's kids tease me about being in one of these silly moods. They always say, "It's the wine." But, it's never when I've been drinking wine or anything else for that matter. It's just me being me. I promise you I did not avail myself of Austin Grill's happy hour that starts at 2pm. That was last Friday.

The paralegal is singing. She is so damn tone deaf she makes Sanjaya sound like Elton John. Can someone type SHUT THE F**K UP, TIFF in my IM window. Pretty, please.

I really need a pitch for getting us sprung. I have spring fever so bad. Never mind that it's snowing today. SNOW for Easter. What's that Al Gore was talking about??

I had dinner with my cousin last night. It was so much fun. One day we'll (me and you my blog buddy) have to chat about me and gay men. I'm a magnet for them and I can't figure out why.

Done now. Going to shop for Yorkie guide dog. Peace.

And Happy Easter!!! (If I'm still allowed to say that after all of my irreverence.)

UPDATE: So, paralegal just announced that she has to pee. Intern tells her that we do have bathrooms down the hall. I suggest that we think of alternatives. How many different places have you peed? I used to pee over the side of the bathtub if someone was using the one and only toilet we had in our house. Or I'd pee in the sink next to the washing machine. I called that the "downstairs bathroom" as our washroom was in the basement. Anybody ever peed outside and end up peeing in your shoe? Or on the back of your waistband? I have.

Where have you peed?

Dancing a Jig

2007-03-31T17:30:00.000-04:00

Have you ever been to a pentecostal/holiness church? You know, the ones where there's singing and clapping and everyone plays an instrument, even if it's just slapping their thigh to the beat of the music. This is a glorious moment to behold. A song starts. The choir and congregation sing. Everyone's clapping and keeping time. Someone starts dancing a high-stepping dance with fanciful footwork. The clapping people start to move around the dancing person and clap more to encourage them. Others may join in and then the music starts getting faster and faster. The clapping and dancing adjusts to the tempo of the music. Some people are swaying their hands in the air. Some doing basic steps and others much more complicated syncopations. Some are shouting out things. Occasionally, a couple of people may lock arms and dance around in a circle. Sometimes a group of people will join hands and do their high-energy, high-stepping, fanciful footwork dance together. It's amazing to behold. They look like they're having such a good time.

Last night I went to an Irish bar, with my Irish co-worker. She does Irish dance. There was this great band playing Celtic rock music. When the music started people started to clap. One or two women started jumping up and down to the music. They were joined by others who were dancing while others clapped and did fanciful footwork. There were basic steps and the good ones added all of these creative syncopations. They'd dance in circles and pairs would lock arms and spin their jig around and around. Sometimes a group of people would join hand sand do their high-energy, high-stepping, fanciful footwork dance together. They start at one tempo and then get faster and faster. Everyone looked like they were having such a good time. They had consumed copious amounts of beer.

I used to go to a Pentecostal church a long time ago.

I like beer.

Where do you think this guy is?

PS. I must learn to clap on the beat. Pentecostals clap on the and.

Shameless Plug Update: This post is kind of related to my latest on Unpacking Faith. Just in case you're interested.

Better Late than Never

2007-03-29T20:19:00.000-04:00

I am always amazed and humbled that any of you bother to read my ramblings. I started this blog because I had lost faith in the sacredness of my personal journals. I figured, if one person was so curious about what was running back and forth in my little brain, why not share it with the world (as if anyone would care). I sent an email to a few friends and family when I started and I half expected that 1 or 2 of them would read beyond my first post. It's unbelievable that I've actually met new people who have been amazing, kind, provocative and engaged in the conversations I've initiated here. Thank you to all of you who read, though I'm not always sure why you do.

One of my favorite bloggers of all time is Heartinsanfrancisco. She is an amazing storyteller. She's has a compelling story to tell and I wait with bated breath for the next installment that peels back yet another layer to reveal the beautiful soul she is and how she got to be that way. She's adorable and funny and quite honestly, one of the wisest women I "know". I so value her perspective on life's issues and my comments wouldn't be the same without her voice. She has bestowed among me the Thinking Blogger Award, and thereby tagged me with the following meme:

1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think,
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme,
3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote (here is an alternative silver version if gold doesn't fit your blog).

Now, since I've waited so long to actually do this, all of the untagged bloggers I would have picked have been picked. I don't have 5 now, so don't follow my example should you choose to play.

Without further ado, my picks to be Thinking Blogger Award recipients:

1. Green Apple Martini - Her Love Thursdays always remind me of what really matters in this crazy life.

2. Greens 'n Cornbread - He's a new find for me, but oh so provocative.

Check them out, will ya?

List Guy vs. Heart and Soul Guy

2007-03-27T20:40:00.000-04:00

I've been contemplating motherhood. I go in and out of really wanting to be a mother. I attribute much of my vacillation (in this and many other matters) to my being a Gemini. I may really feel like I want something one day, and be totally repulsed by the same thing the next day. It can be quite frustrating to the person trying to figure me out. I figure if I go in and out of wanting to be a mom right now, it might not bode very well if I really do have another person for whom I must be responsible 24-7-365. I've come to a compromise: I'd probably be a better step-mother than mother.

No. Seriously. Think about it. It's really a pretty good gig. I don't mean "baby mama drama" step-parenting, but responsible step-parenting where all the adults involved are normal and, at the very least, respect each other and want what's best for the children. I'd have no stretch marks (well, no additional stretch marks) or hemorrhoids, but snuggles and someone to cheer for at baseball games. I think it could be pretty nice. Contemplating step-parenting has helped me to realize that what I say I want "on paper" and what I really want in my soul are in conflict with one another. This is a red flag for me. It's a warning sign that I'm not being honest with myself about some things. Or that I'm afraid of something.

Life's circumstances have thrown me into this independent woman role. I don't think that's a bad thing. I had a lot of growing up to do in many, many ways. Being on my own, without a parent or husband to lean on, has forced me to be responsible in areas I got away with being a slacker before. I appreciate that. I feel like I've learned how to be an adult: to take the good with the bad, to be resourceful, to get on despite disappointment, to plan and to accomplish goals. I am finally at a place where I am certain that I will be OK in this world all by myself. I don't want to be alone forever, but I don't for a second feel like my life will somehow end if I find myself without someone to share forever with. There are some really amazing pluses to living alone and being unattached. I get to indulge selfishness. It really is all about me because, well, there is nobody else to consider. I like that most days. And then, there are the other days...

I have an idea of the kind of person I'd like to share my days and nights with, but he is two. There's the "List" guy and there's the "Heart and Soul" guy. List Guy is comprised of attributes, accomplishments, achievements, demographics. I think my List Guy is a big fat lie. There are things on my list that I say I want, yet, I don't find myself drawn to the guy of the list...or maybe he's not drawn to me. The ListGuy isn't really in my world. I don't run into him in my work. He's not the friend of my friends. He's not they one who catches my eye on the Metro. It may be that I've never met a List Guy. Maybe I'm not in the right circles to meet him. Who knows? But then there's Heart and Soul Guy. Heart and Soul Guy is rough around the edges. He's naughty in ways List Guy would never consider. He's honest and doesn't put on airs. His honesty reveals things that absolutely wouldn't make the list, but somehow I don't care. He is, after all, honest.

List Guy will make the parents happy. List Guy would make dad comfortable. List Guy would get nods of approval and thumbs up from the friends. List Guy would bore me to tears, I think, after a while. List Guy makes me wonder whether he's too good to be true. List Guy makes me feel skeptical, makes me always wonder if there's something beneath the surface that I'm missing. List Guy feels like an effort to avoid ending up with Ex again. I really think that's what the list boils down to. Somehow my little brain computes that if List Guy hits all these points on paper (that just happen to be everything Ex wasn't) all will be well with the world. I never wanted Ex to be perfect. Just honest.

Heart and Soul Guy is risky but fun. He follows his passions and is not conventional. Heart and Soul Guy lives outside the box and creates his own drum beat by which to walk. Heart and Soul Guy sees my vulnerabilities. He knows what he wants in the world and goes after it. Heart and Soul Guy knows what it means to be a man. Heart and Soul Guy appreciates that I am a woman. He knows there's a difference. Heart and Soul Guy doesn't take advantage of my giving, nurturing nature. He cherishes it and makes me feel safe as I give. Heart and Soul Guy sees beyond the tough, independent facade. He knows I don't need or want to be taken care of. He's OK not taking care of me. Heart and Soul Guy connects with me on level that can't easily be put into words. He gets me. I get him. I can't make Heart and Soul Guy make sense to everyone, but I feel no need to make excuses for him. He possesses a "rightness" that I will just know when I've found it.

List Guy ignites no fire in my heart (or loins) when I think of him. He's safe. He appeals to my need for security. He appeals to the ideas of normalcy I've internalized. He's really quite cookie-cutter to be honest. List Guy doesn't have kids (hence, no baby mama drama). Heart and Soul Guy's loving fatherhood captivates me and stirs my soul. Heart and Soul Guy is very little of what is on the list, maybe a few things, but he makes me laugh. We never run out of things to talk about.

It's really quite simple, you'd think. Fuck the list.

I'm not at a place where there's room for either guy in my life, but I really find myself wondering what I'm looking for when that time comes. I know too many people living miserable lives that look great on paper. I don't want that life. I want to be true to me, not to what looks good to anyone else. And I don't want to give in to my fears. List Guy answers all of the things I'm afraid of. There's no apparent risk with him. That is so unrealistic, but it's so hard to break away from the idea that if he is just these few things...I can avoid more pain and heartache.

As much as I know I can't build a life to protect me from pain, I struggle to recognize when I'm building a fortress. Sometimes I see it immediately. Other times it takes a bit longer to see.

In my heart and soul I want to love passionately and freely. I want to be completely vulnerable. I want to connect on a spiritual level. In my heart and soul I want to laugh until I pee. I want to admire beauty and character. I want to have the time of my life. I want to taste life and see it in his eyes. I want to feel alive. I want to know palpable goodness. I want to risk letting down my guard for these things. I want to be able to risk opening myself to experience all of this, even if it means it ends in disappointment. I will have risked. I will have lived. I will have loved. It will have been good.

More March Madness

2007-03-24T12:13:00.000-04:00

The Sweet 16 has confirmed some things for me about watching basketball:

1. I don't need to watch the game. I just need to watch the score. I have gotten just as much of a thrill from watching CBS.com's live scoreboard as I have watching the actual games. I'm such a "bottom line" person. But I don't want to know just the final score, I want to know who's down or when the come back, etc.

2. The last 4 minutes of the game are the only one's that matter. Can I tell you how many of these games have been tied with less than 4 minutes to go. It's like it all starts over and the other 36 minutes didn't count.

I have probably just disqualified myself as a true fan. I enjoy the stakes more than the game, I think.

I am more than a little excited about the game Georgetown STOLE last night. But I'll take it!!

I'll Shut Up about AI One Day...

2007-03-22T12:29:00.000-04:00

What is this foolishness?

That would explain it, huh?

Happy Birthday, Tricie

2007-03-21T00:01:00.000-04:00

Today is Katrice's birthday!!! Happy Birthday, Sugar. Go over there and wish her goodness. Wait! Read the rest of what I have to say about her and then go. OK? OK!

Katrice and I are friends against all odds. She grew up with my Ex. I met her and her husband, Kwesi just before they got married and for the most part, they were Ex's friends who I just saw from time to time. We were both young couples in ministry, so church and related functions caused our paths to cross from time to time. We hung out as couples a handful of times. But for the most part we only really saw one either when one of us was preaching at the other's church.

Katrice isn't much of a socialite. She exists happily among a small circle of immediate family and very few close friends. She'd rather be with the teenagers in her life than with the huddle of soccer moms who make her want to scream. So, since I am the consummate extrovert, and she the consummate introvert, it would stand to reason that we wouldn't really hit it off of friends. But that wasn't really the case.

It's almost eerie, but there has always been a bond with us that we couldn't exactly put a finger on. When we would see each other, we knew we were kindred spirits and that there was something we were supposed to do together. We never talked on the phone or hung out just the two of us, but this inkling would be renewed whenever we were together. This went on for the better part of 10 years.

During the last couple of years of my marriage we started to see each other more and declared as couples that we really needed to spend more time together. I never could have imagined then how right we were about that. I never could have imagined the reason. Until one day at Fuddrucker's.

One of the reasons I felt that we needed to hang out more was that I was beginning to drown as a pastor's wife. I felt like I was expected to be there for the world, but then there was no one for me to talk to when I needed an ear. I knew I was nearing a breaking point that afternoon the 4 of us had lunch at Fuddrucker's. The guys were chatting at the table about a problematic minister on staff at our church. Kwesi couldn't understand Ex's rationale for not disciplining him. Katrice and I walked away from the table to get dessert and the dam that had been holding back the truth that was killing me burst open. I spilled my guts to Katrice right at the cookie counter at Fuddrucker's. I told her everything that was going on in my marriage and how miserable I was and how totally helpless I felt. She had the most comforting words of assurance for me, "I've been there. You need to talk to Kwesi. You're not alone."

That was the beginning of what has come to be one of the most precious friendships of a lifetime. I love this woman like she were my flesh and blood. She has been there for me as I agonized over detail after detail of past abuse and betrayal. She's listened to me cry, complain, curse and scream. She was patient through all 4 of my cycles of trying to leave my marriage. She has given me a place to sleep many, many nights. She's fed me, prayed for me and prayed with me. She's stood right beside me while I've considered if I still believe in God. She's been patient as I've walked through the process. She's listened to my rants. She knows all of my dirt. And if I can't say this of any other soul in this universe, I can say with confidence that she has never judged me. Not once. Even when she's disagreed with me. She has been the truest of friends.

She has no idea how powerful her strength of character has been for me. She's been my rock when she didn't even know I needed her to be. She's an absolute angel and I love her to pieces.

I admire the wife and mother she is. I'm telling you, this woman needs to write a book. She and Kwesi have survived in a marriage against all odds. And believe me, it's not just holding it together for the sake of holding it together. I can spot a fake a mile away. They have loved each other well in the face of every possible obstacle. I am so proud of them. Her relationship with her kids is something to behold. To have half her patience and firmness. She's mastered striking the balance between the two. Her kids are the wonderful products of the beauty and character of their parents.

And the girl can cook! I don't mean "yeah it's pretty good, I can tolerate it" cook. I mean "bitch slap yo' mama" cook. I am always good for a hot meal when I don't feel like making it myself.

Today's her 33rd birthday. I love her. Go show her some love too.

Happy Birthday, Sis!!

On Being Thirtysomething

2007-03-19T14:59:00.000-04:00

Last week I was contemplating writing a post, “What Being Almost 34 and Childless Means to Me”. I was really emotional (guess why?) and feeling like life was passing me by, and that I’d wasted too much time in a stupid marriage, and that now I had to pay the childless-in-a-nursing-home-all-alone-with-no-one-to-visit price for it all. I’m feeling better today, so this post has taken shape differently, thankfully.

Today Katrice and I were IMing about the feelings of coming into our own that our thirties have brought us. We’re doing simultaneous posts about our experiences with 30+, so check her post out too.

I think the most refreshing sentiment of 30ness is finally feeling comfortable in my own skin. I think I felt like a 14 year old way longer than I should have. Because of my past, I have lived a life of shame, feeling like I wasn’t good enough and “shape-shifting” (as Katrice puts it) to be acceptable to other people. I turn 34 in June and now that I have walked around in these 30 year old shoes for a while, I can say with confidence and relief that I am so glad that shit is behind me.

In my teens and early twenties I struggled with an eating disorder. I married at 25 and realized very early on that I was miserable. I felt trapped because being married to a pastor meant that so many eyes were examining my life that wouldn’t have been if the circumstances were different. I felt like I needed to be a certain way to live up to the expectations people had of me, yet I tried so hard to maintain an air of confidence and aloofness with respect to others’ opinions of me. As my marriage worsened, I internalized his infidelity. It re-opened wounds that screamed that I wasn’t good enough. I felt that I’d lost control of my life’s direction, my identity, my sexuality, my sense of self.

Today, I’m heavier and happier than I’ve ever been. I look in the mirror and am stricken by beauty, though reminded that I’d be healthier if I lost some weight. I’m learning to dress for the size I am and to appreciate the beauty and appeal of the new curves. I’ve still got it and I don’t give a damn who thinks otherwise.

I peruse my bookshelf and once again it reflects my myriad interests and passions as opposed to the one dominating topic I felt I was allowed to read about during my marriage—the church. I feel free to explore other ways of thinking. Free to appreciate perspectives that are the polar opposite of mine. I feel comfortable existing with others that are very different from me. I feel comfortable wondering if we’re really that different at all.

I feel like I own my sexuality for the first time in my life. What happens to my body is no longer anyone else’s decision. It’s mine and mine alone and I love that I know I possess that freedom. I love the freedom to choose who is a part of my life. I love the freedom to walk away, the freedom to draw near. I love the freedom to long for more or to choose to be satisfied for now. I love that rules don’t govern my life as much as that which I’ve internalized as truth. I love that I am driven by a sense of what is right for me. I love that I don’t give a shit if someone calls that relativism. I love that I trust myself to make decisions about what I believe, about what is truth. I love that I value honesty above all else. I love that it is such a central element of me.

I love that my honesty has driven some out of my life. There is no other way for me to live. I am who I am, take me or leave me. I couldn’t have said that 5 years ago. I needed to be so much more, so much better, so much “other” than who I am. I love that my honesty means that I won’t lie to you to make you feel better. I won’t let you think you’re treating me just fine when you’re not. I won’t pretend everything is OK, even if I’m not ready to talk about it yet. I love that I’m not afraid to address problems. I love that I’m not afraid to decide when I’m ready to address them.

At work, my co-workers think I’m nuts for some of the things I say to my boss. She can fire me. I’m well aware of that. But I won’t sell my honesty, my truth-to-self for this job or any job. I am an open book and I hope to continue to live that way.

There are things which, while I’m not dishonest about, I just don’t mention on this blog because I can’t at the moment. That burns me to my core because it feels so contrary to where I want to be in this moment. I hope this time passes quickly. There’s so much more of me I want to write about.

And since I’m being honest, I am very concerned that my last ova will flow out of me one day soon, without a happy little sperm-daddy to turn it into a baby. My thirties are flying by and making my head spin. I am open to alternative parenting options, but I’m afraid to raise a child alone. I am conflicted because I so enjoy the freedom that many of my friends with kids envy. But I would hate to miss out on the joy of motherhood. I have quite a few male friends with children. I enjoy observing fatherhood. It would not be ideal for me to mother without having the shared experience of admiring loving fatherhood in action.

So, while there are still things I long for and hope to be, my thirties have ushered me into an appreciation of self that has made all the shit of the past well worth it.

Thirty rocks, Ladies. Don’t be afraid. Embrace.

It's March Madenss Time

2007-03-15T21:09:00.000-04:00

The finest season of American sports is upon us--March Madness. I love the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament better than any sporting event in the history of life. It takes me back to Cole Field House at the University of Maryland when the Terps well, sucked, but it didn't matter. They were my sucky Terps. And they still are. Fear the Turtle, I tell you . Fear. Him.

Before I was a Terp I was a Hoyas fan. I have 3 versions of my brackets. My fantasy version has Maryland and Georgetown in the finals with the Terps cutting down the nets. A girl can dream. Leave me alone. Besides, I secretly take pleasure, oddly, in those nut cases setting bonfires in the middle of Rt. 1 to the chagrin of the College Park police.

At the moment, Duke is struggling against Virginia Commonwealth (why can't they just be Virginia STATE like all the rest of the states, minus the other commonwealths?). Anyway, nothing will make me happier than a Duke upset. I despise Duke and North Carolina. I'm a Terp. This hatred is required. I won't even consider either school for law school for this very reason. Yes. It is that serious.

In other news, I went to the doctor for a follow up on my lump. He was pleased that it had gone down considerably and he assured me that it is nothing to worry about. He told me that he'd refer me to a surgeon if I wanted a second opinion. I told him I trust him. I am relieved. Thank you all for your concern and support. Those antibiotics made me sick the whole time I was on them. Yuk. My stomach still isn't completely right, but it's a small price to pay to save the tatas.

I've had a lot on my mind lately. Mainly stuff about what I'm going to do with myself when all the T's are crossed and I's dotted with respect to wrapping up my past life. I feel like I'm in a fog, but I'll write about that more in a separate post. I'll probably start with, "What Being Almost 34 and Childless Means to Me". Should be a hoot. I can't write it tonight because I already have a cold and I'm down to one roll of toilet paper. So, no crying for me tonight. I need the last roll for cold snot and potty, not cry snot and potty. Cry snot is SO much worse than cold snot. So that post will come later. After I buy the good facial tissue with lotion in it.

This Duke game is a nail biter. Tied at 70 with 3:40 left to go. DIE, Blue Devils. DIE. Even if you do screw up my brackets. It's worth it to see you go DOWN!!

Nite, all. Got basketball to watch.

Whacking Your Boss and Boredom Producing Reading

2007-03-12T19:53:00.000-04:00

I have thoroughly entertained myself this evening with this little game. I am a sick one. Go on and play. You know you want to.

~~~~~~~~~~~

On another note, I was so pleased to come home this evening and open my blinds to sunlight!!! I feel like we're slowly emerging from the doldrums of winter. I even wore flip flops today. Partly because I'm tempting "walking pneumonia", but mostly because I needed to wear pumps today and I didn't want to be uncomfortable all day unnecessarily.

I have a rule on socks. April 1st - October 1st there shall be none. I'm pushing it this year, I know. It's going to be back in the 30s next weekend. I'll enjoy it while it lasts.

~~~~~~~~~~~

I went bra shopping last week. Right before being disappointed by the fact that Victoria's Secret doesn't have the next size up (read: my size) I noticed how unbalanced I looked in the mirror. Upon further examination I noticed a golf ball sized mass under my left arm that I'd never seen before. My shopping spree came to an abrupt end. I went to the doctor the next day. He is trying a course of antibiotics first in the event that it's an infection from shaving or a reaction from deodorant. If it doesn't diminish, more tests. I was supposed to call him after three days. I've got 2 days left (out of 10) on the antibiotics and I'm afraid there hasn't been much of a change. Maybe a slight change, but I'm not sure if it's really gone down, or if I've just gotten used to it. It has me pretty worried when I think about it. So I try not to think about. I know, great plan--ignore it and hope it goes away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I bought tons of produce this weekend. Spring makes me want to eat lots of fresh produce. Or maybe I'm trying to stock pile anti-carcinogenic foods.

This post is boring me to sleep. I hope it's nothing. I hope it goes away. I don't want to deal with this.

Can Somebody say, "LOSER!"? - UPDATED

2007-03-08T14:12:00.000-05:00

I hate not having anything to write about.

Can I tell you what I did last night? I came home, heated and ate leftovers, watched Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy, American Idol and SVU re-runs until I fell asleep. I have SUCH a life. Don't be jealous.

OK, I did something else too. I obsessively called and voted for my 6 AI girls like a maniac. I have a system. I try my top 2 first (Melinda and Lakisha) to make sure their lines are busy. That tells me everyone else is voting for them, so I can get around to them when the lines clear (usually around 10:15pm). Then I go and try the ones I think everyone is going to forget about since they put the powerhouses last usually (Jordin and Sabrina). I voted a hundred times for these 2. Their lines were not that busy at all. I needed to boost their numbers. I want them to stay around. Then I had a toss up with my bottom two (Gina and Stephanie), so I tried Gina first. He line stayed busy. No one was voting for Stephanie, so I padded her votes too. I did make sure I got at least one vote in for Gina. I like her. She adds variety to the ladies' vibe. I don't think there have been that many female rockers. I like her a lot, maybe more than Stephanie. But I still think Steph belongs in the Top 6. Around 10:15 I got my votes in for my diva's Melinda and Lakisha. We'll see how things go tonight.

I know you can't contain your envy of my wild and crazy single life. Stop hatin'!!

And we won't even talk about how many SVU re-runs I can watch in a night.

RESULTS UPDATE:
I may be pathetic, but America is DEAF!!!! There is NO way in HELL that Sabrina and Sundance should have gone home and left SANJAYA and HALEY in the Top 12. Are you freaking KIDDING me???? Two words: singing competition. They can't SING people. And the two that went home can BLOW. VOTE people.

2nd Post in an Hour

2007-03-01T15:02:00.000-05:00

Can someone please explain to me why I just went into the ladies room at work to be greeted by a woman looking up at me from her "hovering" position over the toilet. Yes, ass all up in the air.

What is so hard about closing the stall door?

Sense Memory

2007-03-01T14:16:00.000-05:00

Sense memory is a funny thing. I remember learning to evoke it in an acting class in 10th grade. Funny how a scent, a taste, a sound, a song can take you back to a time and a place with full detail and full emotion. I had a couple of such experiences this week.

February 22rd marked the 1 month anniversary of totaling my car. It was also the day I finally bought a new one. Sitting in the car dealership, writing the date over and over again on all the papers I signed brought back all the fear I felt when I knew the accident was going to happen and that there was absolutely nothing I could do to prevent it.

February 23rd marked the anniversary of the death of the love of my life. I had had a crush on Sean since I was a little girl. He was 2 and a half years older (read: off limits by any reasonable parents' standards) and we went to the same church. I was finally allowed to date him officially when I turned 15. We got caught making out by the soda machine in the church basement long before then. We dated until my freshman year of college. At the beginning of freshman year I was "influenced" by the student Christian organization that my boyfriend wasn't "Christian" enough, that I was "unequally yoked", so I, like a dummy, broke up with him. It turned out to be a technical break up as we continued to see each other when he was home for breaks. We were in college in different states. I remember we had plans to get together during spring break 1993, but before he got home I got the call from his grandmother. Sean had been killed, shot in the head while he sat in his car, on the way home for spring break.

I have never cried about anyone's death. This one broke my heart. I cried on the 23rd when I realized the date. We were young and in love. I am so sure, in retrospect, that I would have married him and had his children had he lived. In September of the very same year I started dating Ex. Maybe, just maybe there's a connection. I'm still very close to his sister and brother. They treat me like family. They treated Ex like family. I'm so sure they would have been my family had Sean not been killed.

OK, this story is not so depressing. In the line of sense memory, the other day I heard Anita Baker's song, Sweet Love. It takes me back to a very funny memory. His name was Jared. He was my boyfriend in 8th grade (we were the same age, so it was allowed by the 'rents, besides my dad and his dad were Boy Scouts together). He was the flame that wouldn't die after the break-up 8th grade summer and well into college years. We weren't together, but you couldn't have told us that when we were together. (OK, I just went back and changed his name to protect his identity. He may be married to someone who may take exception to our college years.) But the memory has nothing to do with all that...just with our one particular day.

We decided one afternoon, hanging out at my house in the summer, that since all of the rest of our friends were having sex, we should too. We turned on mood music. Anita Baker. I distinctly remember the pain of our unsuccessful attempts whenever I hear the song Sweet Love. We gave up after 2 or 3 tries and decided to just go outside and ride our bikes. Ah, young love. I die laughing every time I hear that song.

Certain smells get me too. I associate them with certain people. It's usually a very good thing. The smell of Hennessy, weed and Curve for men is intoxicating. Reminds me of very, very good times.

What takes you back?

Catz Meme

2007-02-21T23:39:00.000-05:00

A quiz!! I love quizzes. Crankster tagged me with this quiz meme. Here goes:

1. A song?
"And I Am Telling You", Jennifer Holliday, Jennifer Hudson
(and tonight on Idol Lakisha Jones, a home-girl from up the street, rocked it like she wrote it)

2. An 80's rock album?
um??? How about Phil Collins, "Face Value" or Run-D.M..C, "Raising Hell"
(there goes my A+)

3. A singer?
Jill Scott

4. A man?
Dan Rather
(Man, I miss him. Did anybody else stay up and listen to all of his little sayings during the Florida-Bush-Chad mess? He was hilarious.)

5. A woman?
Granny

6. A writer?
Alice Walker

7. A book?
The Secret Life of Bees

8. A word?
palabra

9. A movie?
A Beautiful Mind

10. A wise statement?
Don't drive on ice.

11. A colour?
Blue

12. A flower?
Alstroemeria

13. A fictional character?
Neo

14. A name?
Tyler Perry

15. A guitarist?
India.Arie

16. A guitar?
Mine-- in the corner collecting dust (acoustic electric)

17. An Age?
of Reason

18. A famous Historical character?
Czar Nicholas II

19. A flavour?
Madagascar bourbon vanilla

20. A meal?
Golden Grahams and skim milk

21. A country?
Eritrea

22. A city?
Asmara

23. A monument?
Washington, DC Martin Luther King, Jr. National Memorial

I have no idea why this is called Catz Meme, but it is. Jump in if you want to take it. Leave me a comment so I'll know you've done it.

My Vagina, My Girl

2007-02-19T00:25:00.001-05:00

February 14th was V-Day. No, not Valentine's Day, that's bullshit. Click the link.

I am a bad feminist in that this weekend I saw the Vagina Monologues for the first (and second) time. I'm way too old to be a Vagina Monologue virgin. But I'm glad I had it twice in one weekend.

I loved both shows. I left each performance feeling secure that I am very comfortable with my own vagina. She's my girl. I love her. I'm good to her. She's good to me. I was going to write an ode to my vagina, but y'all don't need to know all that.

I remember a friend of mine told me that she and her husband went to see the show and they left early because it was "too much". I was waiting for what could possibly have been too much for, um, married people. Reminds me of a conversation I had with friends last week.

We were talking about some woman not having (my first words) the balls to do something. I said it without hesitation, despite the fact that their kids were in the next room. Then, in an effort to be gender specific (although anatomically inaccurate) I corrected my statement by saying that she did not have the clit to do whatever it was I was babbling about. I'm crass. I've warned you about that before. I guess ovaries would have been the corresponding gonads, but that's not the point.

Everyone was comfortable with me saying balls around the kids, but clit stirred up uneasiness. What's up with that? Why can we talk (colloquially or otherwise) about the male genitalia, but mentioning the female's is taboo? Now, granted, I'm not the one to teach anybody's child about their own anatomy, but socially why can we yell balls, balls, balls all day long, but be considered vulgar to mention vaginas or their respective parts? We have so far to go.

But, for the sake of gender equality, here is the message on the T-shirt I bought this weekend.

Front:

VAGINA

Back:

Pussycat. Pooki. Twat. Powderbox. Derriere. Poochi. Poopie. Peepe. Poopelu. Poonani. Pal. Piche. Toadie. Dee Dee. Nishi. Dignity. Money Box. Coochie Snorcher. Cooter. Labbe. Gladys Seagelman. VA. Wee Wee. Horsespot. Nappy Dugout. Mongo. Pajama. Fannyboo. Mushmellow. Ghoulie. Possible. Tamale. Tottita. Connie. Mimi. Split Knish. Schmende.
The Vagina Monologues
Georgetown University
"Until the Violence Stops"

I think I'll wear it to the next kid's birthday party I'm invited to.

No? Well, can I at least pass out the chocolate vagina lollipops I bought?

On a serious note. This movement is about ending violence against women in all its forms. Gender inequality is the root of all of the atrocities that are committed against my sisters worldwide. It is the root of what is happening right now, this second, as you read this, to hundreds of women and girls--mothers, grandmothers and their daughters-- in conflict zones around the globe. It is a tool of war and it is a story the media won't tell. The violence doesn't end when our troops come home.

It's happening on college campuses, in high schools, next door, maybe even in the next bedroom. Violence against women is everywhere. You can't escape it if you desire eyes to see.

So I urge you to contemplate whatever resistance this post may have instigated in you. What's so hard about challenging deep seated notions for the sake of equality and peace?

I bid you peace.

I Just Had the Strangest Dream...

2007-02-17T07:44:00.000-05:00

I was dying. I was emaciated and frail. I had withered to skin and bones and I was in bed, dozing in and out. I was afraid. Afraid that each doze would be my last and that I'd never see my family again. My family was there, all of them, mom, dad, aunts, uncles, cousins, brother and sister-in-law. The aunt and uncle that already died were not. Granny was there. Healthy as ever, she was there out-living me.

I was in her house, in her bed. The headboard was against a different wall, but I was in her bed in my pink and white Asian motif pajamas. I was more certain than I'd ever been of anything in my life. I was going to die. My death was imminent. Everyone around me knew it too, and though people were sad, they were busy doing what my family would have been doing at a gathering at Granny's--talking, watching TV, a few were outside and we were waiting for the stragglers. This time they were my brother and his wife.

I must have been in this state for quite some time. I was lucid, but very weak. Somehow, today I had a burst of energy. I wanted to get up. I felt like eating. I ate and planned to go back to sleep. Instead of sleeping I felt myself getting stronger. I got up out of the bed and walked around and talked to people. I remember talking briefly to my mom and dad who were sad, but not nearly as destroyed as I would have expected them to be watching their baby girl slip away from them. I was comforted by that.

My brother and his wife arrived and I told them that we needed to talk. They were trying to get money together for some big project. I told them to sell something of mine and that I wanted them to have the money and to use it towards their project. It was a huge sum of money. They assured me that they would use the money the way I would want them to. I felt so much love as my brother brushed my hair back from my face. He had so much sadness in his eyes. I love him so much.

As I regained strength I decided that I wanted to help make dinner. I went to the kitchen and I started making rolls from scratch. I moved very slowly, but everyone was patient. I'm sure they had to be the worst rolls ever, but I made them. I wanted to make them for my family one last time. I imagine that we all ate dinner, but then scene skips to us gathering around my bed.

I was feeling much better at this point, a little life had returned to my face and body. Everyone gathered around me for a family photo.

I felt overwhelming sadness. I loved these people so much and the thought of leaving them was tearing me apart. It tears me apart now. I'm sobbing as I type this. I thought about all the fights, all the tension, unfairness and mistreatment. I thought about all that has gone unsaid. It made me very sad to know that I was leaving with what I felt was so little resolution. I begged them to be good to each other.

I woke up. I couldn't bear to stay sleep another minute. I was certain that if I did I would know what it feels like to die in your sleep. I'm not ready to know that.

New Love

2007-02-16T00:48:00.000-05:00

My heart is defended by a wall the best armies cannot penetrate.

Tonight my heart was stolen.

I have a new love.

I was warmed, soothed and satisfied.

It was love at first taste.

Honey Lemon Sake

Amen.

I Think I Hate Winter...

2007-02-15T12:03:00.000-05:00

I used to be such a fan.

This year she has totaled my car. Made me seem like the whiney wimp in the office since I won't drive in the ice (or snow, truth be told). And she just held my crappy rental car captive in my parking space, perched atop a mound of ice as if it were playing King of the Mountain.

I'm moving to a warmer climate. Look for me in Dallas, or thereabouts!!!!

I know I'm a dinosaur, but...

2007-02-14T17:01:00.000-05:00

text messaging is for~

making sure there' s nothing else you need to pick up at the grocery store
letting you know I made it in safely
calling someone's attention to the funny thing in the room you can't otherwise point out
GPS in a crowd
just saying "hi", once in a while
cheating on a test
"writing" down a phone number or directions when you're driving
news updates

text messaging is not for~

serious conversations
bringing up a topic that is difficult to discuss
propositioning for sex
or anything else you don't have the balls to say out loud

Oh and Happy Valentine's Day.

Snow Days

2007-02-13T21:49:00.000-05:00

the essentials~

1 dozen 3 flavored cake-like donuts. Hostess are the best, but grab whichever ones are left after the crazies ransack the grocery store. One year I walked 1.5 miles in 2 feet of snow to get them. They're that essential. The plain ones are mine. You guys can fight over the powdered and cinnamon ones.
Good hot chocolate fixings: good cocoa powder, good vanilla extract, good chocolate chips.
Blankie
Remote
Cereal and milk
Cheese and bread for grilled cheese sandwiches
Soup/stew/chili ingredients

That's what I need to make a snow day perfect. What about you?

Some Whining for You

2007-02-10T16:46:00.000-05:00

Buying another car has taken over my life. I am exhausted, frustrated, humiliated and well informed about every make and model of car on the road today. Car dealers, salesman and finance managers are evil, nosy, self-righteous demon spawn. I am resolved to pay cash for a car from a private seller. It's the only way for me to preserve any modicum of self-respect and dignity.

I won't go into all of the details here, but suffice it to say that my unresolved marital problem leaves me dangling by the balls at Ex's mercy. I want this to be over and behind me but no matter how separated I am, this week has proven, it ain't over 'til it's over. I want it to be over. I am so sick of being judged by this one little number that, in so many, many, many ways is out of my control for the moment. If one more person looks at me like I'm stupid (or insinuates that I am) for gaining my freedom at the cost of my credit I will scream. If I have to explain to one more person why I would move out of the martial home instead of kicking his ass out, I will gauge out their eyeballs and hawk spit on their pea-sized brain. I picked my battles. I couldn't control remaining separated for the requisite period of time if he moved out (assuming that somehow I could have forced that). He could always move back any time he wanted to. There is not a law in my state to prevent him. I moved so that I could control how separated we remained. That left him in our house with a mortgage in my name. I could only hope that keeping a roof over his own head would motivate him to pay the mortgage. He hasn't been as motivated as I'd hoped. But then again, he has nothing to lose. He's not on the loan. So much for not going into the details.

I try to remind myself that this will all be over soon. I have a hell of a hole to dig myself out of, but at least I will be at a place where no more damage can be done. It feels like it's taking an eternity to get to that place. I long for that place.

This week has been a miserable reminder of my past misery. It's more than ripping off a scab. The scab was healed. It was re-opening a scar. I don't particularly fancy apathy, I think it's counter productive, but I feel like I'm very close. I'm numb in many ways. I'm exhausted of wishing I knew then what I know now. I want 1993-2005 to be a distant memory. But it keeps resurfacing in the most insidious ways. This week, in the form of loan officers. Fuck loan officers. It's a matter of principle. I will not spend my money to bring the mortgage current on a house he's living in. I'm not going to put a roof over my head and his too. If I do it once, I'll be doing it until the house is sold (or however we resolve this shit in the divorce). Call me stubborn, but this is where I draw the line. Would it make things easier on me to just pay it? Probably in the short run. But it will be more of the same "saving his ass" shit I did for 12 years. I stopped doing that in April 2005. I'm not going back to it now.

I know there's a car out there I can afford to buy outright. It may take a while to find it, but I'll keep looking. Car dealers are evil, crafty, bait and switch pariah. I've never known another industry to be so deceptive and predatory. I hate it with an unspeakable passion. I hate being bounced around from one person to another. I hate the crabs in the barrel who are each protecting their own interests (at the customer's expense). Thank God for craigslist. Oh, wait, that's a filthy beast all its own too, huh? I'll take my chances.

A final appeal. Anybody's granny too sick to drive her 3 year old Honda? Does she wanna sell it for $1500 below KBB??? Anybody???? Hello????

I'll be watching my Sex and the City DVDs if you find a seller. Don't worry about interrupting me.

English, please.

2007-02-05T18:44:00.000-05:00

"But that is something else entirely."

English for: "But that's a whole 'nother issue."

English. Speak it.

Brrrrrrrrrr!!!!!

2007-02-05T13:29:00.000-05:00

it is 20 degreees right now. it is -46546 with tht wind chill. i can't type becausw there's no heat in my office and I have gloves on!!! that's right--no heat. today. the coldest day of the year. i WANNA GO home!

My Stripper Name is Cherry

2007-02-04T22:53:00.000-05:00

Disclaimer: If you are a prude or otherwise judgmental of fun, skip this post.

I have a new found respect for exotic dancers. Oooooooooouuuuch !!! My forearms hurt. My knees hurt. My muscles that pull your shoulders down and back hurt. I woke up a walking ball of pain this morning. My hat is off to the ladies who do this for a living. One hour of pole dancing has nearly killed me. I've taken months off from the gym and gone back like gangbusters. That produces soreness, but that soreness is not worthy to be compared to what I feel today. You go girls!!! They are athletes, for sure.

Girls' night was a riot, as usual. Six of us took a private pole dancing class at a pole dancing fitness center and came back to my place for drinks and dinner. Our instructor Lindsey, stripper name Frankie, wore 6 inch heels and worked the crap out of that pole. She flipped upside down, spun and flipped, and supported her body weight with one arm. It was amazing. My cousins were pretty amazing too. The youngest climbed that pole like a little monkey. A couple of them mastered that spin you see in the picture. I was sure that if I tried to take both of my feet off the ground at the same time it would surely spell disaster. Surprisingly I survived a few spins and things, but climbing that pole was out of the question. My hands still ache from the accident, so there was no attempting to try to support all of my weight with them. You have to have most of your skin exposed to stick to the pole. That's the trick. Lindsey said, "the big-boned dancers can do amazing things because they have more surface area to stick to the pole." [crickets]

No. I need you to pause and take that in. I had to. Was she offering that bit of information for the benefit of everyone in the room? Hmmm? Was that just FYI or was I being accused of being "big-boned"? Let me tell all of America something. This ain't BONE, ok??? I didn't take any super-duper calcium tablets to increase bone mass. I don't have a rare disorder that causes my bones to continue to grow though adulthood. I ate. A lot. And got FAT. This is fat, not big bones. Chubby, full-figured, plus-sized, voluptuous--those are euphemisms for fat. Big-boned is ridiculous. Don't call me big-boned, Frankie, ok? According to her, if I were naked I would have stuck to that pole like a ...

So, wanna know what I learned in How to Make More Money with what Yo' Mamma Gave You 101? We covered quite a bit in one hour: stripper stance, stripper walk, hip roll, snake, trace, booty clap, self-play, G-string play, peek-a-boo, the $10 shot, fireman spin and a couple other spins whose names escape me right now. I think I was most surprised to realize that all these individual moves had their very own specialized name. My favorite was how not to give yourself a wedgie with G-string play. Don't you already have a wedgie?

Once again I have concluded that I am in the wrong line of work. And I wasn't alone. First, let me tell you about this bunch. We are no slouches. We're all smart women. Of the 6 of us there are 2 M.A.s, 1 four classes away from an M.A., 1 MD candidate, 1 PsyD candidate, 1 J.D. candidate, 5 Bachelors in different disciplines (truth be told, I can't remember everyone's) and one in the making. The J.D. to be/B.S. Electrical Engineering says, after 3/4 of a pitcher of Pussy Poppers, "I just wanna be a video ho. I got to get out of my line of work. The stress just don't pay off. I need to be a video ho and work one day a week and then I can go home and be with my baby. That's where I need to be, with her. It's not a sin, right? It's the men that are sinning? Oh, is it a sin to tempt men?" Ah, it's always fun for at least one other person in the room to have had more to drink than you did. I can't even remember all of the laughs. But there were tons.

Let me just say this, every friend, if you're really a friend, will take her girlfriend for at least one lesson as a bachelorette party gift. It's a must. Have you ever done something, or been afraid to do something in the bedroom for fear that you will look stupid and be laughed at? Well, this class is for you. It's the best positive reinforcement that, no ,what you're doing is right, in fact, you can even afford to kick it up a notch. The booty clap was the most perfected skill of the evening. You can't get the full effect with clothes on, so most of us will practice bare in privacy. Most of us. Some preferred to share with the group.

Once again, girls night did not disappoint. There was minor concern for whose DNA we may have brought home from the poles. But that tiny detail aside it was fun. I have the class schedule if anybody wants it. I'm going back.

For Discussion: Where is "booty"? In the front or in the back? (Before you answer consider the phrases "booty clap" and "get some booty".)

Quacks, Crack and Booty (I guess)

2007-02-02T01:20:00.000-05:00

Last post too much of a downer for you? No problem, I've got lighter issues to discuss as well. Where to begin? Where to begin?

OK, the chiropractor. Talk about the best gig in town to rake in the dough!! I can't go into the details of my personal experiences, as insurance companies still have checks to write and all, but let's speak hypothetically, shall we? Let's say someone gets into a car accident in the ice and should be dead, but actually lives to tell the story. I know it's a stretch, but stick with me. She feels a little shaken up, but not too bad, but is warned that the next couple of days can be awful. She decides to see a chiropractor. And the gig begins.

First visit: one hour lesson on dealing with insurance companies, complete with referrals to personal injury lawyers, explanation of your personal injury coverage (so you know when they'll stop paying him), a detailed explanation of when your health insurance can kick in and pay for treatment (when you complain of something new that wasn't part of the accident), with x-rays of how your neck is jacked the hell up and probably was before the accident and is likely to cause problems in the future (remembering to emphasize that health insurance only pays for treatment while in the symptomatic phase); and 10 minutes on the hydro-massage bed.

Second visit: explanation of exactly what is wrong with your jacked up neck and how to fix it (should it ever cause pain in the future [wink, wink]) , hydro-massage bed and first adjustment. First adjustment? Yes, lay on table face down. Table bends and flaps. Chiroquackter pulls something to make the lower part of the bed snap down (to adjust your hips that aren't level). Chiroquackter shows you his hand toys that make noise and buzz. He pokes the pokey one around your neck and shoulders and rubs the rubby one that vibrates around your neck and shoulders. Done. I'll see you 3 times next week.

So, said hypothetical patient feels great. It was a 15 minute procedure where she was massaged, rubbed, vibrated and poked....and no happy ending!!!! What gives??? She was compelled to ask the Quacksician's Assistant how much each session costs so that she can determine when to yell, "CURED!!" $105.00. OK, if hypothetical insurance covers $2500, that means 21 more sessions to go!

I believe in what chiropractors do...it's just got to be the easiest money in town. I am SO in the wrong field.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Next, the rental car "pick-up". I rented a car on Tuesday. I took it back on Friday because I was flying out to Santa Monica Saturday morning. No need in wasting the insurance company's money with a car sitting in front of my house right? WRONG!

I went back this morning to get the car and despite my conversations the day before with the insurance adjuster, there was no record of the new claim ticket for the rental today. A couple of phone calls and there's assurance that the company will pick up the tab, but adjuster is in the meeting. Charge the client and we'll sort it out later. Well, um, no. I was just on business in L.A. for 5 days. I expend first and then I'm reimbursed. There was nothing left in the well for the Enterprise. Are you sure? Can't we "swipe your card for $50?" Um, no. I know when I'm broke thank you. I didn't cause this accident. I'm not paying for the rental. Somebody needs to fix this. Manager steps in. Says do the deal with no $ from me. Great. Right? Wrong.

Let me back up. The car rental guy is Thadeus. He's a very tall, very Southern, very thickly accented, Black, church-boy. Any guesses on which one, singular identifier is the pejorative here? He was there the first time I rented and he was there this morning. He flirted the first time. I was rude. He said something about the Lord and I rolled my eyes. He tried to sell me a car, since mine was totaled, and I said, "Do I look like I'm in the mood for a sales pitch?" He asked me if I go to church. WTH? I said no and that I'm divorcing the pastor. He asked me if I was married to him. [crickets] I told him that that's usually how divorces work. I was not in a good mood and certainly not in the mood to be picked up by T.D. Jakes' little brother. It was not a good encounter. Thadeus was not there when I returned the car and he wasn't there this morning. At first.

He came in and lit up like somebody had given him a word from the Lord that today was the day for his BREAK-through or something. I waved. The "I have no money" conversation ensued with Mr. Thadeus. Picking up where I left off, now we go to the car. He puts me in a dirty, salt and bird shit covered orange Kia Rio. What the hell is a Kia Rio? Of course I look at him like he's a nutcase and here's what he says to me, "See, my people. That's just like my people. Come to rent a car with no money to put down and you want to complain about what you get." OK, look M-Fer, YOUR people may have a reputation for ignorant shit. I don't know who YOUR people are. I am apparently not one of whoever you are referring to. I am a customer. It shouldn't matter who is paying the bill. I didn't wake up this morning and decide that I'd try to go pull one over on Enterprise. I got crashed into by another motorist. I have no car. I probably would have chosen for the facts to be different. Regardless of how you're being paid for my business, you are being paid for my business. Why do I get the shit car?

I needed to go to work, but I told him that I'd call later to confirm that the insurance company had handled business and to let him know that I'd be back to get a clean, decent car when the do. I called this afternoon. Things weren't corrected yet. THEN Mr. Thadeus proceeds to ask me what I'm doing this weekend. I laughed because he couldn't possibly be thinking of asking me out. I said I had a Girl's Night on Saturday and that SuperBowl plans were up in the air. "So that means Sunday is free?" I 'bout died, but managed to say, "I can discuss my social calendar with you when you get me out of the shit car that shakes at 50mph." UM? HELLO????? Are you kidding me? What's worse is that he has all of my personal contact information on that dang application form. He will be one out of a job brotha' if I hear from him. Trust.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lastly, Girl's Night. My cousins and I are taking a private group pole dancing lesson on Saturday and then coming back to my house for drinks and dinner, courtesy of C., the least likely of any of us to plan something like this...or so we thought. I can't wait. It's going to be a blast. Chiroquackter be damned! He might actually need to work for his money on Monday. I'm in charge of the drinks. Hmmmm??? We all share the same Irish sir name. We're going pole dancing. What should we drink? I decided on Red-Headed Sluts and Pussy Poppers. They all like those pansy, sweet, girly drinks. Plus, couldn't find better names for the occasion. Can't wait to tell that story.

That's it for tonight lovelies.

Besos!

Cancer and Other Awful Stuff

2007-02-01T22:13:00.000-05:00

I've been at a loss for things to write about lately, but tonight a post on Fyrchk's blog inspired me. You need to go and read and support her efforts to support finding a cure for cancer. I admire her for what she's doing with her blog, and since I have yet to contribute to her cause (and thereby get to take over her blog for a day) I will say my cancer piece here. I'm working on the duckets.

In short, it scares the shit out of me. Cancers that effect only women scare me more, for the obvious reason--because I'm a woman, and because I know women's health research is not adequately funded. KBear told a story on Fyrchk's blog that is reminiscent of so many women's stories I've heard. There's something wrong in the G-Y-N realm and doctors have no clue what it is or how to fix it, so they put band-aids (read: hormones) on cancers (probably literally as well) and hope for the best. I know so much of medicine is trial and error, but I think women's health gets the short end of this stick. I know women who have been on oral contraceptives for 10 and 15 YEARS, not because they are wanting to prevent pregnancy, because they won't stop bleeding without them. I'm sorry. That doesn't sound like FIXED to me. I digress.

Cancer has wreaked havoc upon my family in the last couple of years. I lost my aunt S. (dad's sister) and my aunt D. (mom's sister-in-law) within a year of each other. Both were in their 50's. Both died of lung cancer. Both were life-long smokers. I've noticed that people tend to put disclaimer's on their loved one's cancers. They often point out when the sufferer's own choices weren't contributory to their cancer. I have mixed feelings about this. While I'm glad that the cancer wasn't the person's "fault", so what if it was. It's still horrible suffering and agonizing to watch. And whether people made unhealthy choices or not, no one deserves the horrors of dying from cancer. I don't know, maybe it's just me.

But, considering that my aunts died of cancer that quite likely was preventable, I'm a HUGE anti-smoking person. I don't mean to offend anyone who smokes, and I certainly don't judge smokers (both of my parents smoked for more than 40 years each and it took at least 10 for them to quit for good) I really, really, really urge them to consider giving it up. My auntie had a burn in her back in the shape of a lung from the radiation. It ain't pretty people.

I celebrate as my state, county by county, goes smoke-free in bars and restaurants. Yes, I've considered what it means to business, but I enjoy these establishments and I don't want to develop respiratory problems because of smoking within them. I grew up on second-hand smoke. Now I have a choice about it and I choose to avoid it whenever I can. DC just went smoke-free last month. Whooo-hoooo!!!

So, I'm not putting a disclaimer on my aunts' cancers. They were smokers. That likely killed them. I miss them terribly and on their behalf I join Fyrchk and her supporters: FUCK CANCER!

I know that I make choices everyday that contribute to my risk factors for all kinds of horrible stuff. I'm usually more mindful of this after I have swallowed, but I'm working on it. (OK, if you did a double take on that last sentence...that's not what I meant.) I know that my being over-weight sets me up for all kinds of problems. My health is my main motivation to make changes in this area. I just get so side-tracked when it tastes so good. Does that mean I deserve to die of diabetes related complications? I don't think so. And it would suck if I did, as much as it would suck for the person who ate healthily and exercised and died of the same illness. Right?

I know that many of you readers have lost loved ones to one of these illnesses I've mentioned. I have thought of you as I've typed each of these words. I shutter at the thought of my parents getting older and of the reality that we'll all die of something. I'd prefer to go peacefully in my sleep.

These are my loved ones and those of my friends who've died of awful illnesses and whose deaths have touched my life. There's one person here who I never met, but she's touched my life through her daughter time and time again.

Sharon E., Dene E.,Toby E., Arleva E., Mickey F., Sharon M., Mark M.

Please add to the list and, if you can, support the fight for cures.

American Cancer Society
American Heart Association
American Diabetes Association
American Foundation for AIDS Research
The Women's Health Foundation

ISO Estate Sale: Cheap Car

2007-01-25T17:18:00.000-05:00

Thanks everyone for all of the well wishes!! I'm doing better. I'm achy and my neck is my enemy at the moment. But there's no room to complain. I'm just happy to be alive.

I got the official word today. I have to buy a new car. Anybody know an old lady who wants to sell her 2 year old Honda that she only drove to the grocery store and back, with 2500 miles on it, for $7000? If you find her let me know. I'll buy it in a heartbeat. I really want to buy a bucket and drive it until the wheels fall off, but I just checked the safety ratings on the car I totaled. It pays to buy a good car and not just a cheap one. I was surprised by how safe my baby was. Best in the industry for front impact. Go figure. It sucks that I have to start a brand new car note. But I'm alive with a cut finger. I'm not complaining.

Here are some of my favorite comments this week:

Well that's ONE way to get a clean car! Damn. I told you I'd wash it for you.

I know you didn't feel like working this week, but dang!

[zzzzzzz! zzzzzzzzzzz!]

Yes, snoring. I called a certain someone from the emergency room to tell him/her about the accident and s/he fell asleep on me. Classic! To be fair, s/he had just taken meds that knock you out. S/he feels guilty. I thought it was funny. It was priceless!

Now I need to get on to the business of going back to Cali. I leave for Santa Monica on Saturday. I love my job sometimes. No complaints from me for the free trips. The conference starts on Monday, but of course we had to build in a weekend in L.A. I'll bet you anything it snows! Then I'm gonna be pissed. Well, not so much since I don't have to drive in it.

When did "not so much" become the new catch phrase? I think it belongs in the same category as "hot". That would be the say it again and I'll scream category. The thing is, as much as I hate it, I catch myself saying it--like 3 sentences ago.

I'm off to eat leftovers. There's been zero cooking for me this week.

Toodles.

How was YOUR Monday?

2007-01-23T13:03:00.000-05:00

So, where's Lex been? Let's see. Yesterday she totaled her car 50 minutes after signing a new car insurance policy.

I let the car insurance lapse on my car for a while because I'm, well, broke. It came down to a toss up between rent and insurance after the forced move in August. I took a gamble. But it snowed Sunday in the DC area and after a very scary drive home from a dinner at my mom's place I knew I needed to fix that situation right away. I was looking for insurance companies online and I found an agent close to my house. I called to see if I could find out what time they opened Monday morning. The agent answered. It was midnight. He was at home. He said it was no problem because he was up anyway? {confused puppy dog face} I asked if he was sure and said I could call back in the morning, but he insisted so he worked up a quote for me, prepared my paperwork and told me to come in and sign the papers on the way to work in the morning.

I went in. I signed. He was great. I asked when the policy was effective. He laughed and wrote 9:16 am at the top of my policy. He joked that I have no idea how many people leave his office and total their cars 2o minutes later. I said, "No way!"

Well, WAY!!!

At 9:56 am I was going full speed (60 mph) on I-695. I am one lane over from the slow lane. As I approach the Liberty Road on ramp I see a black sports car lose control as he's getting ready to merge into the slow lane and go into a tail spin. His donuts spun right out into the traffic, right in front of me. RIGHT in front of me. I heard myself laughing at my insurance agent. There was nothing I could do. I knew I was going to plow into him...and plow into him I did. After the impact I felt my hands clenched on the steering wheel and I waited for the rest of the cars to slam into me. No other cars slammed into me. I smelled smoke and I peeled my eyes open. The smoke was coming from the air bag. Both airbags deployed. My face hurt. I was terrified to look into the rear view mirror. I was wet. There were wet pools all over my coat. I thought it was strange that my blood smelled like coffee. Oh, it was coffee. My nose hurt. I looked in the mirror. There was something running down my face. Tears. Heather ran over and asked if I was ok. She was on the phone with emergency dispatch describing everything including my state. She knew better than I did. I got out of my car and got into hers because she said my car was smoking. My knees hurt. But I could walk without pain. Good news.

I sat in her car. Police and an ambulance came. I went to the hospital. Everybody got all in a tissy when I told them I was going full speed and my airbags deployed. I cut my finger. I may have a small hairline break in my nose. I got a band-aid and a prescription for Motrin for inflammation and Flexeril for muscle relaxing. I went to the lot to get my computer out of the car. When I walked into the driveway I looked at my car and I saw the engine. All the silver stuff that used to be in front of it and around it was gone. I got my stuff out my car and signed some papers so that the other guy's insurance company could handle it. The other guy came in. He was fine. I was glad. He apologized. He was given a citation for the incident. He took responsibility for the crash although it was caused by the ice...but tell an insurance company that.

I was hungry. Daddy took me to Fuddrucker's. I almost fell asleep in my burger. Flexeril is nice. I came home. I went to sleep.

I'm stiff today and my nose hurts a little more. If you could see my car you'd understand how grateful I am to be alive.

I don't ever want to drive again, but I will, this afternoon when I pick up the rental. I won't ever drive in bad weather again, even if it costs me my job. My life is worth more. This is the 3rd accident I've had because someone else lost control in the ice. This is the 2nd such accident I've had trying to get to work in the ice. Never. Again.

I am blessed.

Idol 6--Yes, Here We Go Again

2007-01-16T20:54:00.000-05:00

OH, GOOD LORD IN HEAVEN !!!! Why oh why do I watch American Idol every season? We're less than one hour into Season 6 and I'm already shouting at my TV, "Shut the f*ck up, already!"

Why do I take pleasure in hearing people make total fools of themselves? See, I KNOW I can't sing. Why don't they?

Who's Coming to Dinner?

2007-01-16T17:45:00.000-05:00

I like food. All kinds of food. That should be no surprise to anyone who has read this blog for a while or watched me walk out of a room. My ass tells it all. I like good food. Great food.

I haven't had the fortune of sharing my love of all things edible with many people who share my diversified palate. It gets quite frustrating after a while. Anyone whose list of "what I don't eat" is longer than the list of "foods I love" is an absolute annoyance to me. Ex didn't eat mushrooms, Asian food, pizza, shellfish (I'll be fair, he claimed allergy), Brussels sprouts, nuts IN food or bananas. WTH?? Can you imagine how boooooring meal planning was with all these stupid restrictions?

I now keep a running list of which of my friends won't eat what. I hate that I have to do this, but I know so many picky eaters that I just know to ask up front. No mushrooms for this one, no sundried tomatoes for this one (OK who doesn't like sundried tomatoes?), no seafood here, no asparagus there, no pork for this one, add red meat to that for the next, and my personal favorite--no chicken on the bone. Oh, and no onions. I have a friend who doesn't eat onions...or mac and cheese. Ah! Don't all great meals start with onions and garlic? Oh, and I can't forget no raisins or cherries ;). It can make planning a dinner party really difficult. Maybe it's not hard for the average Jane who is going to offer a few staples that please everybody. Never mind the fact that it's the same spread they've had at every party they've been to since you actually had to cook Chex Mix. I'm no such Jane.

Here are a couple of things I keep on hand (or have on hand at the moment) that many people find objectionable: figs, dates, artichokes, sundried tomatoes, brie, every kind of nut you can think of, asparagus, anchovies, chopped clams, cremini mushrooms, shrimp, olives (black and green), all kinds of beans and chilis, and capers. I know at least one person who will turn his/her nose up to each of these. I love these foods, people. It's so hard to cook without them, to cook around them. This is great stuff!! These items are almost always in my house and I cook with them all the time. I've even mastered chopping onions so small that the onion non-eater doesn't notice.

Me? I'll try anything once. Yes, I've eaten things I don't like, but I think adults' lists of foods they hate should be much shorter than the list of foods they enjoy. Maybe I'm coo-coo?

I had a conversation with my class of adult English as a Second Language students about foods and nutrition. We talked about foods that are customary in each of their countries. My student from Central African Republic eats elephant, rhinoceros and monkey (says the palm is the best part). The student from Chad eats grasshoppers. Loves and misses them. Apparently grasshoppers are enjoyed in some parts of Algeria, Burkina Faso and Congo too. [Pausing for anyone who needs to to take a glance at a world map and catch up.] Some Haitians eat cat. And in Tanzania they drink cow blood. Now, while I said I had a diversified palate, I'm neither a vampire nor a cannibal. And yes, for me, eating monkey borders on cannibalism. (I'm not a full-fledged Darwinist, but you've got to admit that you've seem some folks whose appearance alone makes a damn good argument for man having evolved from ape.) I have however eaten chocolate covered ants and rattlesnake. And I ate blood sausage in Argentina, but it was cooked. So that doesn't count towards vampirism.

I'm not saying that we should make every meal time a Fear Factor event, but come on? What has a Brussels sprout ever done to anybody?

Is there anything I absolutely won't eat? Yes, of course. Cauliflower. It reminds me of when your body is trying to fight off strep and white blood cells collect on the back of your throat in little clusters. I'll pass. Every time.

What about you? What should I absolutely NOT serve if I invite you to dinner?

Fiddling around in the Dark

2007-01-10T23:37:00.000-05:00

I really need a life. I have spent my entire evening deleting and replacing elements of my template html to see what things do. I was tired of my blog looking like your standard Blogger 1 of 10, but I'm not satisfied yet.

I got rid of the Christmas balls in the header, but I can't figure out how to get a header I like better. All of the pre-fab ones I've found aren't wide enough. I don't have Photoshop, in which I understand you can easily make your own header, and I'm not willing to buy one. So this is what we have for the moment.

I can't figure out how to make the hunter green go away. So, we're stuck with that for now too. I kinda like the mayhem.

I am such a freaking dork.

As much as I claim I need a life, I quite enjoyed myself this evening. This has been fun. I don't know what I've learned except that I'm not nearly as afraid to FUBAR my blog as I thought I was. I took huge risks tonight. You can't imagine. When I say I had NO idea what I was doing...I mean NO idea.

I even created an account on del.icio.us. Can I tell you have haven't the foggiest idea what that is. I thought it would give me free blog headers since I got to it via my google search for "headers blogger". Maybe someone can explain it to me. And while you're at it, tell me about technorati. I signed up for that to, but my little button never appeared and I've actually forgotten all about it until this moment.

I think this is my learning style: fiddling around in the dark until I find the light switch.

Cards, Games and Dashikis (Updated)

2007-01-09T20:00:00.000-05:00

I have just discovered Yahoo! Games. As if I needed something else to contribute to my internet addiction. It's not that I never knew it was there, but I never bothered to really check it out....well, except for one exceptionally pitiful night when Katrice, Kwesi and I all sat in the same room, each with a laptop, trying to set up an online game of spades. It was pretty pathetic since I have at least 4 decks of cards I can put my hands on in an instant.

I played Spades last night. I wish the world would figure out how much better Bid Whist is than Spades and catch up. There's no Whist on Yahoo! I play a bunch of card games, but Whist is my favorite to date. I have just started to play Poker and it is fun beyond belief in a very different way. The betting adds a dimension to the game that catapults it to another level all its own. I love it so far--but then again, I'm playing with someone else's pennies. I could never play any game for real money. Although I'm a little loose on the spending tip, I could never, ever bring myself to throw the cash away like that. (And anyone who says, "but think of the money you could win," needs to get a sponsor in GA.)

I'm a card fanatic. I grew up sitting on my parents knees while they drank beer and played cards at their card parties. All gatherings of my parents' friends turned into card parties. I love card parties. I want to have card parties. I need my friends to get on board. I wrote a post a long time ago about Bid Whist and the only groups of people I could find who played were my grandmother's age. OK, maybe my parent's age, but old. I have, however, discovered another cohort that is resurrecting Bid Whist, the recently paroled. Apparently the old heads are teaching the young bucks in prison. I could invite a bunch of these guys over for Guinness and Whist. They're easy enough to find. No? Well then learn how to play and come play with me so that I'm not forced to host a Cell Block C party!!

My cousins know how to play, as does my brother and a couple of friends. The only person who's as obsessed as I am (who actually learned to play in the slammer-lol) has an overly crowded schedule and keeps promising me that we'll get a card party going. I'm waiting...[taps foot impatiently]. My passive aggression means nothing. He stopped reading my blog a year ago...too busy. What the hell are you people so busy doing???? There are cards to be played?

This is worse than a chocolate jones on the first day of my period. I really want to play cards. I want a group that's competitive, but not overly aggressive. I want a couple of tables going, some beer, snacks and laughter. NO SMOKING though. That was the least favorite part of mom and dad's parties. There is this one pic of my brother (at about 4) passed the hell out because he took a glass of straight gin to the head, thinking it was H20...or so the story goes. Ah, drinking folks' beers while they weren't paying attention, now THAT was the best part of the card parties.

These parties are also the reason for my appreciation of music by, say, Earth, Wind and Fire, Ohio Players, Commodores, Kool and the Gang, the Isley Brothers and the like. I think I even remember mommy with an afro. I wanted her dashikis so bad. She gave them to Goodwill before she realized I had plans for them. I was heartbroken. Heartbroken, I tell you. The ones they have today just aren't the same. Close, but no cigar.

I'm realizing as I write this that I am morphing into my parents. So is my brother. My parents have recorded the Young and the Restless, As the World Turns and the Bold and the Beautiful every single day since there have been VCRs. They sit, mom in the recliner, Dad on the love seat, every night and eat dinner while watching their "stories" until they each pass out and dad wakes them up at 2am to go to bed. Every night. Guess who's TiVoing Y&R?? Hell, no. Not me. But my brother and the wife. It's really, really sad. I expect to see Jack, Jill, Katherine, Victor and Nikki at my family reunions. THAT's how much these characters were a part of my upbringing. Mom used to spend my $5/MINUTE phone calls from Argentina telling me about Y&R. Who cares? They'll be doing the same thing in a year when I'm back in the States. Relax. And they were, of course.

I also love board games. Except Scrabble. I love Boggle, I hate Scrabble. I've concluded that my decoding abilities far out-shine my encoding abilities and so I'll leave Scrabble to the otherly inclined. I really, really hate it for some reason. I must say I hate Taboo now. It's done. Over. Dead. Kill it. Find a new game, please. PLEASE. Good Jeezus. I get so sick of getting dirty looks when I guess "Jack-in-the-Beanstalk" from so much as an inhalation. I know them all. The game has been on the market for 20 years. We ALL know them all. Please, if you host a game night...buy another game. I'm I the only person who knows dorks who host game nights??

Well call me one and all and let me know when you're coming over for the card party. I'll even print out cheat sheets for everyone who needs them (everyone needs one for Bid Whist until you learn the bids, don't feel bad). Come from Jersey, Denver, San Francisco and Indianapolis. There's beer and ginger ale for all. And no Taboo.

I WANNA PLAY!!!!!!!

Edit: All this excitement had me jumble Jack and the Beanstalk with Jack-in-the-Box, but you knew what I meant.

Junkie Udate: OMG! Yahoo! Games has Trivial Pursuit!!!!!!

I'm Running out of Titles for Posts That are Just Babbling

2007-01-05T01:10:00.000-05:00

I have spent my vacation doing just about absolutely nothing. It has been glorious.

I hung out with friends a couple of days, but I've only left the house once in the last two days--to go to the gym for an hour. I made Katrice and Kwesi's Christmas gifts. I'm so sorry they had to wait, but there was no way for me to get it all done in time. I'm glad they were patient. I switched to the new blogger. I've cooked a couple of meals and taken out the trash. I got my Zune to play through my home stereo and that's about it. Good times.

Today is my dad's birthday. Happy Birthday, Papi! It's also my cousin's birthday. Happy Birthday, T!! It probably sucks for her that her birthday is shared with an old man. We're having a party for dad at my brother's house tomorrow. We're supposed to bring a game and a funny story about my dad. I like the cannabis belt buckle story. We'll see though. There are so many with that guy. He's so cute. Does anybody have any new board games that are fun? I'm so sick of Taboo.

I got really angry and frustrated earlier tonight. Here's my rant if you care.

I'm watching Oprah's show on nastiness in people's houses. It's gross. I'm not a germophobe by far, but this is grossing me out. They just said that dropping a carrot in your toilet would be better than eating a carrot out of your kitchen sink. Something about the toilet being flushed all the time. You're supposed to use a germicide and a brush with chlorine and water. Dishrags must be cleaned with bleach, same for sponges and air dry everything. No one should use a sponge for more than a month. OK, WHO uses a kitchen sponge for more than a month? Really?

I wish I had something creative and focused to write about tonight, but I only have energy for randomness. Vacation makes me sooooo lazy. I had all these plans that involved getting up early, the gym and studying for the LSAT. Um. I like sleeping past noon much better. It's coming to an end, so I have to milk it while I can. This is the first vacation I've taken that didn't involve moving. When I was off last month, my brother sprang a new house on me.

I think we don't take enough time to just chill out, right Heart? I was planning to take myself on a date to Border's the other night, but my internet addiction won out. I am such a dork but that would be a fabulous date, if you ask me. Buy me coffee and sit me in a bookstore so we can chat it up and read and chat it up some more. I'm a dork. I know.

If you read this blog with any frequency, you may think I'm a little schizo with respect to my relationship with coffee. I used to think it broke me out in hives. I've had it a few times over the holidays with no trouble. I'm fully convinced now that my hives are a function of stress. Maybe coffee triggers it when I'm stressed, but coffee alone doesn't seem to be doing it. Thank you all for all of your concern.

I'm waiting patiently to be stroked by Fresh. I know it's pathetic, but I want my turn already. I got the short end of ABC order. Not as bad as Lozo though. He's dead last.

I'm going to shut up now because I'm not saying anything worth saying...except that Dark Damien's diatribe is hilarious. You should read this on Wednesdays if you don't already.

I'm out.

Peace.

I Switched...Successfully, I Think

2007-01-04T00:52:00.000-05:00

I switched to the new blogger today. I was terrified that some typical Bloggerness would go down and I'd lose everything, but it looks like I've safely crossed over.

Now my head hurts because I copied and pasted all 143 posts on this blog into Word before the switch. I just rolled the dice with the other 2 blogs.

I'm going to rest my eyes now.

8 Goals for the New Year

2007-01-02T14:05:00.000-05:00

At 4 am when I was lurking around on all of my blog pals' blogs, I had all these ideas of what to write about today. Now, I gots nothin'. Should have just stayed up. Some of my most honest stuff comes out with sleep deprivation.

So, it's the new year. I've been thinking of some goals for this year, no resolutions. I suck at sticking to things. So here are a few of them, along with some anecdotal stuff so that you get why it matters to me at all. If I bore you to tears, come back at 4:30 am, I'm bound to have better stuff to say then.

Oh, before I tell you my goals...My girlfriend A and I have had some rough years in similar ways recently. At the end of each year we came up with a cheesy slogan to sum up that year. Here are a couple, along with our projection for 2007.

Can't Take No More in 2004
Got out Alive in 2005
Trying to Pick up the Sticks in 2006
A Little Taste of Heaven in 2007

OK, now some stuff I hope to accomplish in 2007:

Join a book club. My brother and sister-in-law kicked this idea around with me yesterday. We've decided that our brains are going to turn to mashed potatoes without deliberate stimulation. So, I think we're going to do a book club. My brother is not big into fiction, so we're going to alternate fiction and non-fiction. I need a list of suggestions for either. Tell me if you have ideas. I want to read Freakonomics for some reason. Has anybody read this? Any thoughts?
Return to my life's trajectory pre-Ex. This is a pretty pathetic story, but it occurred to me yesterday and I cried. I was a junior in college. No, let me back up. I remember being 16 and having tremendous frustrations about my church. I remember feeling like a revolutionary, like things needed to change, like I was the one to effect such change. So I left my church. (Yeah, revolutionary, right?) Then I became Pentecostal. That wasn't revolutionary, just stupid. By junior year of college, I had realized how stupid it was. Met Ex. He directed a youth ministry. It was pretty radical at the time. I liked that. I like him. It connected with my revolutionary spirit with regard to this church business. Big let down...it was more of the same old church mess all mixed up with Pentecostal mess. But, somehow it or he was enough for me to do a complete about face with regard to my life's plans. I was walking across campus early one morning to my Constitutional Law class. I passed in front of McKeldin Library and the big bronze statue of Testudo, our mascot. I rubbed his nose for luck, I think. At that precise moment I made a terrible decision that has cost me a lot of time and heartache. I decided that if I were going to be the wife of a minister, there was no time for me to focus on law school. And, since it "obviously" wasn't in the cards for me to go to law school, there was certainly no point in suffering through con law. I turned left, went to the Mitchell building and withdrew from the class. This was the day I lost my identity in his. I stopped defining myself in terms of me, always in terms of him: Ex's girlfriend; Ex's wife; Ex's assistant pastor. Ex's backbone and puppet-master, some would argue, but still in terms of him. I look back on that decision and I'm sad about it. It hurt to be able to pinpoint so clearly the day I chose to die and live in the shadow of a man. But, as much as I thought I'd feel overwhelming regret about it, I don't. I'm studying for the LSAT. I work at a law firm. My boss (Harvard Law) is super supportive of me going to law school and thinks I'd make a great lawyer. I was worried for a while that my decision to think about going to law school was just the next thing on Lexi's endless and always changing list of things she starts and never finishes. But as I reflect on how I got off track in the first place, I'm more confident than ever that I'm doing the right thing. The right thing for me, for a change. So, send me your neurons as I study for the LSAT, please. I'm not confident enough to take it in February, but I hope to be ready by June.
Get this damned divorce finalized already. Maryland makes is so hard. There are so many hoops to jump through. At first I didn't want to mention anything here about it, for fear that my plans will get back to him somehow (you know--dodging service of process or something). But now I don't care. The papers are coming dammit. Sign them and let's get this over with, will ya? I wish you all the best in your future endeavors, by the way.
Lose 57.2 pounds. I'm gonna do this. Check in on me on Fine Tuning from time to time. I can't believe I've told the world how much I weigh, but hey, I've told you much worse on this blog. Who cares?
Release the resentment I have towards "church goers". I've decided that my angst is not with Christians so much as it is the group of "church goers" who check their brains at the doors of the church, yet think they've got it all figured out because "the pastor said" or because "the Bible said". Those are the ones who make me want to scream. I've done some pinpointing of the issues I'm frustrated with and I'll elaborate on that on Unpacking Faith. Suffice it to say that I'm going to go to church Sunday to see if I can make it through the whole service without wanting to scream or pull out my hair. Just an experiment. No resolutions, goals or promises about going back to church. I just need to test the waters to see where I am.
Spend more time with my family. I really love those folks. But I put them through hell over the last couple of years as I went on a tirade, digging up and exposing family secrets. As much as I needed to know the truth about some things (and tell the truth about some things) my timing might not have been ideal for everyone else involved. Regardless of how everybody feels about me at the moment, I love them more as a result of the whole shebang. I had good times with mom and dad last year. The year before I didn't want to see them. (You know therapy makes you hate your parents for a least a good year.) I love them all so much and although I let many, many cats out of bags and bones out of closets I feel much better around them all. I love you guys. I feel like you finally know me and that's all that matters, to me at least.
Make more money and manage it better. This is an ongoing struggle, but I hope to get better with this this year. My boss initiated the raise conversation, but my Exec. Dir. is out on maternity leave. We'll see what happens when everyone's back in the office. The holidays wrecked any progress I'd made in money management. Good thing there were 3 checks in December. Hey, it's a goal. Get off my back.
Get re-acquainted with good music. This little number will help. It will also help me watch less TV. I'm also open to suggestions on this one. Andy sent me You Sexy Thing by Hot Chocolate. Everyone must have that song in his/her collection. Aw, I think this is "our" song. [blush, blush]

So that's it for me for this year. Nothing too unattainable. I don't think there's any place where I'm "being to0 hard on myself" as I've been told I am, often. Maybe you see things differently. Let me know.

I'll remember the funny stories later. I haven't been awake long enough yet.

2006 Closeout (UPDATED with Spoiler)

2006-12-30T13:36:00.000-05:00

I have the next 9 days off. What a way to bring in the New Year. I get to relax, reflect and do only the things I want to do for the next week and a weekend. It doesn't get much better than this.

I've had a lot going on as this year has drawn to a close. Until last night, my place looked like a cyclone hit it. Every dish in my house was dirty, there were bowls of dried batter, cake frosting and God knows what else. It was gross and too big of a job for me to tackle, so I ignored it all week long.

I knew I wanted to start vacation with a clean slate this morning so last night I demonstrated the ultimate, utter laziness imaginable. I hired Katrice's kids to clean it for me. Man, what kids will do for money. They agreed to help me before they saw the actual project. I fully expected them to bow out once they cast their eyes upon my scuzz, but despite their repulsion, they wanted the cash. Let me tell you, that was the best $40 I've ever spent in my life. My kitchen sparkles today. What's better is that since they handled the kitchen, I got to clean up the rest of the apartment. It feels like home again, not like Santa's bakeshop gone amuck. I feel like I have a nice soothing place to relax and enjoy my vacation.

Now, speaking of vacation. I'm going to try to take time to breathe, relax, reflect on this past year and set some goals for next year. I'll start back in the gym since the holidays have done what they do to my routine and regimen. I'll try to spend time with myself a little more and get a little more settled within on a couple of issues that are still more unsettling for me than I'm comfortable with. More on those as I reflect. You might have to check Unpacking Faith though, since some of those issues are particular to that journey I'm chronicling over there.

I've got some Christmas pics, as promised. A few of my favorite things. All food.

Turnip greens. OK, I'm not the biggest fan of turnip greens, I prefer collards or kale, but these are great as long as I don't have to eat the turnips. It's funny how you usually can't get kids to eat veggies, but sit a black kid down in front of some greens and see what happens.

Rice. We're a rice and gravy family. Not mashed potatoes. I've tried a couple of times to slip some taters on the table, but somebody always brings the rice. It goes with the brisket and gravy that my uncle makes. A couple of us (the kids) have sat at granny's feet long enough to make a decent brisket. But Uncle Ed's rocks.

Do you know what these are? Hint: there's a vinegar bottle to the left of the bowl and to the right you can see the red top of the hot sauce bottle. Any guesses?

SPOILER: Click for the answer.

Here's the whole spread.

And here's Ed's brisket.

This is my plate. My fork is pointing to what is left of my first helping of the stuff you're supposed to be trying to identify.

And this is the shot NO one is supposed to take. Ever. A fat girl eating.

I'll spare you all my plumber shot. My brother took a picture of me opening gifts on Christmas Eve. Apparently with as much ass as I have, it's completely insensitive to draft. It seems he sat right behind me and took the pic. I never knew he was there, but it was baaaaaaaad. Let's just say there's something to be said for granny panties. I better pick up a few.

So, 20 smooches to whoever gets Name That Pic right. And, one question in the interest of diversity. Do other people take pictures of food (and caskets) or is that just a black folk thing?

I have really enjoyed meeting all of you wonderful people this year. And as 2006 comes to a close I wish you all joy, peace, love and the abundant richness of all that means the most to you in the coming year.

Peace.

Christmas Rocked!!

2006-12-27T11:52:00.000-05:00

Hey all. First, WHEW!!! I had a wonderful Christmas. But let me tell you, I ran around like a crazy lady down to the last second. I realized that my gift idea would be quite an undertaking, but man I sure underestimated how much time I needed.

My kitchen still looks like a cyclone hit it. And I have so much sweet goodness left over it’s not funny. I think I’m having a thing at my place on Thursday or Friday night. Maybe both. Come, one and all. Eat, drink … and listen to my new tunes!!! I got this for Christmas. Santa was so good and generous this year. I felt so much love it wasn’t even funny. Last Christmas I was so cynical and frustrated and bitter and angry and bitchy. This year was light years away from that. My family is so weird and quirky, but I love those peeps to pieces.

Do you know what my brother and sister-in-law are trying to make me believe? They said that last year I told them that I got the short end of the stick in the gift giving deal with them because they are three (including my wonderfully adorable nephew) and I am only one. They gave me a gift from the fam last year, while I bought them individual gifts. Now, mind you, their gift was freaking exactly what I wanted and I have used the hell out of it (since it is so perfect) and will continue to use it forever. But, c’mon guys? Do you believe I said that?? I honestly don’t remember saying it, and I would own up to it if I did. But, I can’t discount the possibility that I just forgot this one. I know I can be obnoxious at times, but c’mon. Cut me some slack. Please tell me I didn’t say that (out loud)! ;)

Granny was thrilled that we all obeyed and came to dinner at her house (well, except for my brother). Dinner was delish, as usual. I have a pic for you if someone [nudge, nudge] would send it to me. I can’t explain dinner without the photo. So look for it. I have a couple of other photos too, if someone else would go ahead and send them, as promised [nudge, nudge, freaking elbow blow to the rib cage]. You’ll get to see all of my fun from the party on Friday to Christmas Eve gift opening to Christmas dinner, but must have pics first. Sorry. But this is not my fault. I do have one pic, but I refuse to post it in isolation. It needs others to buffer it.

OK, funniest story of Christmas. We’re at my apartment Christmas Eve, opening presents. This goes against all I love about Christmas morning, but there was just no way to get us all in the room that day, so, we did the next best thing. Here’s the scene: mom, dad, brother and sister-in-law, femfriend 1, femfriend2 and manfriend, and their two kids-- 11yoB, 9yoG. We’re all packed in my living room, a couple of us nice and happily filled with spiked sorrel. We’re opening presents. I got a stereo that I asked for (actually I got 2 of them, but that’s another story) and 11yoB is putting it together for me. He is seated almost directly in front of my linen closet working away. He needs 3 AA batteries. No problem. There are AA batteries in the bottom drawer inside the linen closet. I go to closet, open drawer and start searching for batteries. Well, there is also a bag of personal goodies in same drawer. I had taken them out of the drawer under the bed because femfriend1’s 3 and 4 yo girls are sleeping in there. Wouldn’t want them to go exploring, right? As I’m searching for batteries, the bag lights up and starts vibrating. Yup, lights up. Who knew? 11yoB is so close to me I could flick my hair and smack him. I grab the batteries, slam the drawer shut and hand them to him. I’m standing there going, I know damn well he hears that, and I wonder what the hell I’m going to say when he asks what that noise is. My brother who is sitting on the far side of the room sees my face and instantly busts out laughing and leans into his wife to tell her (his assumption) that I took the batteries OUT of the device to give him for the stereo. Oh how I wish I were so smart.

So, drawer still vibrating and lit up (because it’s a plastic caddy in a dark closet), I go back to try to turn things off. Damn it if I don’t hit the FASTER and ROTATE buttons on the dang thing, so now it’s louder and spinning around. I’m about to pee on myself, because you know how I get when I can’t laugh out loud. And so to avoid wetting them right in front of everyone, I grab the bag, hug it to my chest and run into the bathroom to shut the dang things off. I laughed so hard and so loud I know my guests thought I was nuts. I shoved the bag under the bathroom sink and just hoped nobody ran out of toilet paper. I will scar a child for life, do you hear me?? I’m the best reason, all by myself, for not having children. And, it’s not so much that I had the goods that would scar the kids, it’s that I can’t handle the situation any better than to laugh my ass off. I’m skill-less in the “protecting your child’s innocence” department. 9 and 11yo are pretty used to my potty mouth, but this was too much.

Other holiday goodness: I watched Akeelah and the Bee last night and I cried my eyeballs out. I LOVE that movie. It was so empowering. We can learn so much from kids, I tell you. I was so moved by how the pure genuine innocence of the hearts of children crumbled race and class walls that adults build to keep us divided. It was so beautiful. It spoke to the strength and challenges of community. At first I thought it would propel me into a full-blown celebration of Kwanzaa (an idea I’ve been kicking around for a couple of days), but true to form for Lexi, the picture was so much bigger. I’m all for the Black community unifying and valuing each other more than we do, but the bigger picture requires all people to unify and engage with our community as a whole, in all of our diversity. I loved this movie and I will watch it a million times more. See it if you haven’t.

I leave you with a quote from the film, which is but one of its myriad messages:

"Our worst fear is not that we are inadequate, our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'who am I to be so brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?' Actually, who are we not to be? You are a child of God: Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There is nothing enlightening about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us. It is not just in some of us, it is in everyone and as we let our own light shine we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
~Marianne Williamson

(widely mis-attributed to Nelson Mandela )

How was your Christmas?

omgomgomgomg

2006-12-22T11:11:00.000-05:00

iamrunningaroundlikeachickenwithmyheadcutoff,
tryingtogetbakingdoneintheeveningsandthatissonotworkingout.
i'mgettingfurtherbehindandnowivolunteeredtohostaninformal
dinneratmyplaceonchristmaseve.whatthehellwasithinking?
andwhat'sworstisthatveryfewofyouguysarebloggingthesedays,
soidon'thavemyusualdiversiontoaidinmyprocrastination.
thanksalotguys.gottarun.bye.

Doing What I Do Best

2006-12-19T20:02:00.000-05:00

Warning: Compulsives, beware. This post desperately needs an edit. But I'm off to bake cookies. Deal.

I'm procrastinating. I should be baking now if I'm ever going to be done by Christmas. I've finished chocolate chip cookies (with and without pecans), oatmeal scotchies (nuts and not), pistachio lime cookies, a couple of oreo cheesecakes and... that's it for now. I think I'm up to about 50 dozen, I think. Maybe less. I ate a couple.
I upgraded my Firefox. I now get red lines to let me know I've misspelled words, even in Blogger. Yay.
Charlie Brown Christmas is on. I hate all of these shows: Rulolf, Frosty, Great Pumpkin. All of them. I don't think they're so bad. I've just seen them all and I never want to see them again. Kids are so screwed if they get stuck with me as a mom. Poor things.
I hate my bank. Either debit cards are Satan, or my bank gets a kick out of stealing money from me. To make a long story short, I spent all of the money in my checking account shopping for baking stuff Friday night. I deposited 2 checks at the ATM Saturday night. The bank "held" the money from the deposit and therefore drew overdraft fees for 5 of my Friday night purchase. They only want to refund 2 of them. They stole $90 from me for no reason. Who has $90 to throw down the drain at Christmas time? Fuckers! I hate them. I want to change banks, but only after the D. I want a clean slate. Note to self: ONLY use the DEBIT function. Choosing CREDIT costs you money because your credit union gets its jollies off of stealing your money in $28 increments.
I've been at my job now for a little over a year. It's time to ask for a raise. I've never, ever done this in my life. The last time my boss and I discussed my utter inability to live off of my current salary without working a second job, she informed me that I'm at the top of my pay scale, and that an increase would put me into the same range as the attorney's salary. That sounds like the attorney's problem to me. Right? What does it have to do with me that the attorney agreed to work for chickenshit? I know we're a non-profit and all. But hello????
All bets are off on the fitness business. I was hoping to make a major milestone in the whole weight loss arena. But, my house is filled with sweet, yummy goodness. And I haven't been to the gym in 2 weeks. I'm too busy getting fat. I'll fix it in January. I know I suck. You can say so.
My dad wanted to share a Bible verse with me that mattered to him last week. I had to resist the impulse to knock the Bible out of his hand. Hmmm? This could be an issue, huh? I'm not really surprised by my impulse. Just putting in public for all of you to witness my depravity. Hell, here I come.
Speaking of going to hell...I don't do old people. I attribute this solely and completely to utter selfishness. I am annoyed by how slowly they tell a story, get to the point, speak, re-tell the same story you just heard, re-get to the same point they just got to and...you get my point. If nothing else secures my place in hell, I'm sure this does. What are they keeping me from as the drag on and on and on torturing me with their incessant, dawdling chatter? Nothing. Just something else I'd rather be doing. Translation: selfishness. I really need help.
My Granny is 88 (or 89, she and the 1920 census disagree). I love her. I don't spend nearly as much time with her as I should. Truth be told, I don't spend any time with her. She called to make sure I'd be there for Christmas. Of course I'll be there, since you called personally. What am I supposed to say, "nah, I'll catch you next year?" I don't think so. The Granny part had little to do with me going to hell except that she is old. I don't feel about her as I do for old people generally, but something keeps me away. She tells funny stories. I'll miss her dearly if she passes. I better get this together. I have a friend who could spend all day sitting and talking to her grandmother. I admire her. I'm too selfish. What a lovely Christmas thought.
Charlie Brown is still invading my television. Why don't the adults say words? That's how I feel when old people are talking to me. I mean, that's what it sounds like after about 3.67 minutes.
I really need to be in the kitchen.
I've been blogging for a whole year now. Sometimes I feel more introspective than others. I've enjoyed those moments, but I really like these posts when I just tell you what I really think.
I'm going to a Christmas party on the 23rd. I'm really looking forward to it. I'm so glad not to be spending the days leading up to Christmas organizing my church's annual dinner for the homeless. We took hot meals to the streets of DC every single Christmas morning of my marriage. It stopped being selfless and admirable after year 3 because after that I bitched and moaned about it the whole time. Hell. I know. My new addy.
I saw my dad the other day and he goes, "Lexi, you look a lot less stressed that you have the past couple of months. Are you getting some?" You've really gotta love my parents! I guess I left the door open for that with the whole "blowing the mechanic" thing. I guess I'm not "daddy's little girl" anymore.
My parents asked me for a Christmas wish list this year. First time since I was a kid. I decided to be cheeky. Since they asked what I wanted, I told them. I used to hold back when my parents asked me about needing money or wanting stuff. But I stuck it to them this year. They can always laugh at me and call me nuts. I asked for the Zune Mp3 player. My dad is so cute. He tries to keep up with the times (although he still says 'bumpin'') but he has not clue what an mp3 player is. He finally broke down and asked. Notice that none of the descriptions of them on line bother to mention what it exactly is. He's so cute.
I hate cheesecake. I don't really know when this happened, because it hasn't always been this way. But there's nothing appealing about it for me anymore. It actually repulses me a little. I guess that's a good thing. Now if I could only develop a repulsion to all else but carrots and hay I'd be in business.
I will make at least one batch of dough tonight. I will make at least one batch of dough tonight. I will get up off of my fat ass and make at least one batch of dough tonight.
My mom just called me to tell me that one of her friend's sister died. I said I was sorry. My mom gets so worked up when people die. What else am I supposed to say? I knew her, but not like that. I think it was more of an FYI call. Do you know how many of her friends I've killed and resurrected. I can never remember who's dead and who's alive. Scary thought that half your parents' friends have died.
My intern's cousin's 8 month old baby died Saturday. Now that got to me.
I watched this guy beat the living crap out of his girlfriend while she was driving her car today. I know that he was her boyfriend because that's what the cop (who I called) told me after he finished investigating the incident. The guy told me to mind my fucking business. Naturally. I'm sorry, America. If you ever see a man pounding me in the face, ever, PLEASE call the police if you're (like me) too scared to intervene yourself. This girl didn't want to press charges. No surprise to me, but at least the punk had to walk home. Asshole. And at least she has an incident report should she ever need to build a case against the jerk in the future. She was thankful. I hope she gets away from him safely, for good. Would you have called the police?
I don't want to end on that note, but I'm all out of ideas. I've unloaded all of my random thoughts on you.

What a boring post. I'll find my mo-jo again. Really.

Going to the Chapel and We're Gonna Get Married....

2006-12-14T00:29:00.000-05:00

OK, now that the cat is out of the bag (see comments from post below) I can fill you all in on the 15 reasons why I’m going to marry Andy of From the Outside and have his children.

He’s white. Yeah, that’s right. I said it. I’m not sure what kind of sandals he wears, but he’s close enough to my Birkenstock Man for government work. Do you guys remember when I swore off brothers? Problem solved.
He cooks. Now, what women alive wouldn’t jump at the chance to get hitched to a man who knows his way around the kitchen? At least I know that on the nights I just don’t feel like cooking, I’m not sentenced to take-out, necessarily. Back off, Ladies. He's MINE.
He has super-high metabolism. And I hope like hell I catch it.
He’s handy. Honey-do list, here we go. He’s already been broken in by the women in his office. And even if he’s not really broken in, he already blogged about how to get whatever I want out of him (something about asking as opposed to "bitching, moaning and complaining"). So, hey, I know the secret. No, wait, that's carrot cake.
He’s an IT guy. Look, I know women who have actually dated guys with no email address. YES. In 2006. So, rather than getting stuck with one of those losers, I thought I better cash in on this catch. Besides, he can tweak the hell out of my blog. Oooooh BABY!!!
He gets women. He has acquired the keenest sense of how the world revolves (read: around US!). So, yeah. Can’t pass that up.
He’s so intelligent. There’s so much I stand to learn from the depths of his infinite wisdom.
And, in that infinite wisdom, he knows who to suck up to. That's right! No matter who gets the short end of the stick, this guy's gonna keep bringing home the bacon. Cut-throat, save your ass, sink your friends...just keep bringin' home that check. I'll buy the Chapstick.
He is secure in his place in the universe. There's nothing like a man who gets that women are, in fact, the superior gender. Eureka! I'm telling you, he needs to teach classes!!
He's a rock star! Show me one woman who doesn't love a bass player. Didn't think so.
He's loaded. OK, so my sequencing doesn't accurately reflect my priorities. Shoot me.
He knows what to do with the feather. Didn't thinkI'd leave that one out, did you?
He knows that life is really about the little things. Whoa. That one was geniune. How'd that get in there?
He appreciates fine poetry. Girls, stand in line to have him recite this one to you. Whew. I know. Here, you can use my paper fan.
And finally, despite the fact that he only scored a B- on an 8th grade math test and probably won't be the one to help the kids with their homework, he's still got lessons to pass on to the youngins!! I think I'll even chance reproduction.

Now, I know the haters are lining up to spew their venom in my direction. Back off!! Hate, though you might, this one is mine. Isn't he dreamy?

Dare me, do you?

Keep the NERD Comments to Yourself

2006-12-12T22:15:00.000-05:00

You Passed 8th Grade Math

Congratulations, you got 10/10 correct!

Could You Pass 8th Grade Math?

I'm sorry, I must update my language to keep up with my nephew. It's "Geek Squad" these days. Not "nerd". Sorry.

Now, if the LSAT were only that easy!

More Holiday Stuff

2006-12-05T21:31:00.000-05:00

I stole this from Confessions of a Geeky Blogger.. Since it's about my favorite subject at this most wonderful time of the year, I've decided to do my own.

Holiday MeMe:

1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate? I like both of them to be around. They're just supposed to be there. But I really am not a fan of egg nog. It's too thick and sweet for me. If there's enough booze, I tolerate it, but I don't like drinks that go down thick. Same for hot chocolate. I need it to be the real kind that you use real cocoa powder in and cook on the stove...and again, not too thick and sweet. I'm much more a hot spiced cider chick...or hot buttered rum!!

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree? As a kid he just sat them under the tree, until we started to get older and the number of gifts dwindled tremendously. Then he started to wrap them to add some excitement I guess. When I play Santa, I always wrap. I LOVE wrapping presents.

3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? Depends on my mood. I really love crazy bright colored lights, half flashing, one strand not, all confusing so that when you sit and look at the tree you have to try to figure out what's going to blink next (or not). I've tried to do the all white Target style tree....Yawn!!!

4. Do you hang mistletoe? I will this year! Hehe.

5. When do you put your decorations up? Ummm? When I buy them. I would have had them up by now if I had remembered to claim them in the separation, but since I'm starting from scratch...it'll go up this weekend.

6. What is your favorite holiday dish? Ambrosia. My family is the only one I know that makes it right. Must have nuts, must have marichino cherries, must not have marshmallows or canned mandarin oranges. Yuk!!

7. Favorite Holiday memory as a child: Climbing into mom and dad's bed to wake them up and beg to go downstairs to see what Santa brought. I did this last when I was 24.

8.When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? *sigh* I never believed in Santa. But I'm trying to correct my waywardness in my adult years.

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? Nope. We did this once or twice, but I don't like it. Torn wrapping paper goes with jammies!!

10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree? Color. Color. Color. I want a crazy tree this year. No theme stuffiness.

11. Snow! Love it or Dread it? Love It :)

12. Can you ice skate? Yep. Now, can I stop? Hmmm?

13. Do you remember your favorite gift? Nope. I love gifts. Doesn't matter what. I'm easy to please.

14. What's the most important thing about the Holidays for you? Giving to the people I love.

15. What is your favorite holiday dessert? Carrot cake and Thumbprints and chocolate chip cookies.

16. What is your favorite holiday tradition? Sleigh bells that my uncle used to ring right before handing out gifts. This will be our second Christmas without him.

17. What tops your tree? Angel. She used to twinkle. Mommy said I would twinkle too if I had that big tree up my skirt. I never knew what she meant. I do now!! [wink wink]. Don't you just love her? I need to tell more Gerri stories here.

18. Which do you prefer giving or Receiving? Giving ;) And not just at Christmastime either. Whaaat????

19. What is your favorite Christmas Song? These are the Special Times. I prefer the Celine Dion version, but this is the one I found:

20. Candy Canes! Yuck or Yum? Yum!!! But the rainbow-cherry ones are the bestest.

My Most Embarrassing Moment

2006-12-04T20:41:00.000-05:00

I went to a private party Saturday night at a popular club here in D.C. When you walked into the main room there were about 3 stairs to walk down to get onto the dance floor and into the main bar area. On the way down the tip of my left boot got caught in my right pant leg. When I tripped my arms went straight out to the sides and I just knew I was about to make an unforgettable entrance into this party. But I saved it. I have no idea how, but I did. There were so many people there and everyone would have been able to see my flying leap down the stairs had someone gracious and powerful not spared me what was working up to being the most embarrassing moment of my life.

But since I didn't get a new most embarrassing moment, I'll tell you about the reigning one. I used to be a part of a youth ministry that actually did some pretty good things in the community. We organized a clothing drive at RFK Stadium (the real home of the Redskins) on Saturday afternoon. It was a pretty big deal. A local radio station came out and broadcast from the event. Many of the people in the community came out and got some really nice things for absolutely free. (I can't tell you how hard it was to resist setting a couple of designer outfits with the tags still on aside for myself. I resisted. For the most part.)

Anyway, my job was to secure the venue. To do so I needed to meet with the head of the facilities department to request a permit to have the events on the grounds. The meeting had been scheduled for weeks and this was the most significant "meeting" I had ever really had in my 21 or so years. It was in the heat of July, so I was careful to pick the right outfit and make sure my hair was just right and everything else in place before I left. My bangs were not cooperating, so I threw one roller in them to make sure that by the time of the meeting every hair fell just perfectly.

I got to the stadium and met with Mr. Brown. Everything went splendidly. He was very supportive of our event and gladly passed me a contract to sign. We hammered out all of the details regarding times, power supply, permits, etc. He was a really nice guy. We joked about quite a few things (I can't remember what now) and then he walked me to my car. I was supposed to call him back with one detail I couldn't answer during the meeting, so I assured him that I'd get back to him before close of business.

I got in the car and breathed a sigh of relief, because this event all hinged on this permit. This guy could make or break our event and it was up to me to convince him to let these kids to put on their "do-gooder" production in the stadium parking lot. I managed and I was both proud and relieved. When I got home I ran upstairs to my bedroom and picked up the phone to call my boyfriend at the time (ministry director and yes, the ex) to tell him the good news. While I was talking to him something in the mirror caught my eye. Something about my reflection that was just not right. In fact, it was yellow. Bright yellow. A bright yellow HAIR ROLLER. The damn roller was still in my hair. I had completely forgotten to take it out so that the bangs could fall just right. I wanted to die!!!!

What was worse was that I still needed to call Mr. Brown back. I think he called me before I could get up the nerve to call him. We settled whatever the remaining issue was and.... oh, I remember what we were joking about now... We were joking about him wanting to meet a representative from our organization face to face because he has had too many "ghetto" events and he wasn't looking forward to another one. Well, when we finished our business I asked him how and why he didn't bother to mention that I had a FREAKING ROLLER in my hair, especially with all the conversation about ghetto-ness!! He laughed and said that he thought it was cute. I did not!! I'm so glad he had a sense of humor, but I was mortified.

I've yet to top that one.

Wanna share embarrassing moments?

What's Your Sign?

2006-11-28T19:18:00.000-05:00

I have not had anything interesting to talk about recently. The problem isn't a dearth of ideas actually. It's that I can't really write about the stuff that's been on my mind. Get your filthy minds out of the gutter! I don't want to write about that. But I am avoiding a particular topic for the moment because I have to. It's times like this that make me wish this blog was anonymous.

So, I have to figure out how to think past the stuff that is really preoccupying my thoughts.

Oh, here's a subject: the Zodiac.

Hey, Girl. What's your sign?

I have recently become a little smitten with astrology. I'm still not sure what I really think about it all. For the majority of my life I was conditioned that astrology was akin to the Antichrist, that it was occultic. I was taught that I had to renounce my "spiritual ties" that were formed with "the dark side" as a result of merely reading my horoscope even once ever in life. I think I probably even got olive oil on my forehead over this one. Geez!! I can't believe I used to be that kind of Christian. It would be terribly hilarious to me if it weren't so ridiculous and so ridiculously prevalent. *Sigh*

Anyway, I'm really amazed by how squarely "on the head" the descriptions of Gemini hit it. I have read so much that is me to a T. [Long pause............ my ADD took me to google to find out where "to a T" came from. Nobody knows for sure, bottom line. Now on with the post.......] Sometimes the descriptions are even more accurate than I could have written myself, and I tend to be at the very least as introspective as the average bear.

I receive daily horoscope emails. What? Shut up! Your mama's pathetic!! [sticks out tongue] For about five or six days a couple of weeks ago, those things were so on it I had to forward them to a friend for an objective opinion. It was absolutely freaky. The horoscopes are the least intriguing part of the entire discipline. I'm much more amazed by how spot on the descriptions of each sign seem to be for me and for so many people I know. Of course there are many exceptions, but not enough to disqualify it for me just yet. There's something to. I may never put my finger on it, but there's something there. I may have to chalk it up to one of the many mysteries of the universe, but it's intriguing nonetheless.

So, do you know anything about astrology? What's your sign? Have you ever researched what astrologers say about your sign? Is it accurate? Close? Way off?

Never read about yourself and want to? Go here. I'm sure there are probably better sites. Let me know if you have one, but this will get you started.

Oh, and then there's the whole deal with compatibility and sexuality in this astrological light. Hmmm?

What do you guys think?

Let's Get Cookin'

2006-11-21T16:52:00.000-05:00

I'm sure everyone has probably decided what they're cooking for Thursday, or at least how they're getting out of cooking. Congratulations and good eats! I'm making 2 kinds of cranberry sauce. One is pretty traditional, the other is spicy and involves port and pecans. It's a creation all my own. I'll let you know if I'm the only one who eats it. But, believe it or not, I'm on to Christmas.

Remember I said that I was going to give baked goods for gifts this year? Well, I went out yesterday just to peruse the retail world to see what non-food goodies caught my eye for the people I love the most. I've come to the conclusion, once again, that I love people way more than my bank account can support. So, I'm back to the baking idea. I hadn't abandoned it; I just thought that maybe I could throw in a few extras. Well, no! I can't.

So, off to Cakes Plus to pick up my special holiday kitchen essentials. I bought the cutest miniature tart pans and 6 inch spring-form cake pans. I also bought mini muffin tins and loaf pans and the best gift containers that can be kept and used over and over again. I had a blast and I'm going to have so much fun baking. I love to cook for people I love. I spent quite a bit of money, but it didn't come close to 1/3 of the price of just ONE of the gifts I'd love to be able to give this year. [Sigh] One year money will be no object for me at Christmastime. One day.

Anyways, do you want to know what I've decided on so far? I'll tell you, but first let me warn you...I don't like most things traditional and expected. So, no Christmas symbol shaped cut outs, no gingerbread men, and no boring sugar cookies. I'm sorry. If you were hoping to get any of those, please let me direct you to the refrigerated section of your local grocer. I'll bet you'll find what you need.

On to the list...

Cranberry-Orange Muffins (requested)
Italian Fig Cookies
Pistachio Lime Cookies
Dark Chocolate Chipotle Cookies (for a friend who loves that sweet/spicy combination, like me!)
Pecan-Praline Lace Cookies
Chocolate Hazelnut Tartlettes
Jam Thumbprints (because they're my favorites)
Nestle Tollhouse Chocolate Chip Cookies (because they're Santa's favorites)
Oatmeal Butterscotch Cookies (with and without pecans) (because they kick ass)
Mixed Fruit Tartlettes (I thought somebody requested these, and I think I know who, but I didn't see her comment at the old post. Maybe I'm imagining it. Speak up if you asked for this, otherwise somebody's gonna get them and be like, what the..?)
Oreo Cheesecake (requested)
The BEST Carrot Cake in the World (Nobody requested this, but it's the best, so somebody's gotta eat it. Besides, I've got to use that cute little pan for something.)

So that's what I'm thinking of so far. Not too many folks took me up on my solicitation of requests, so I hope you like what other people requested. Here's your last chance to either chime in on these, or let me know what else you like.

What do you think?

I'm excited to start. I might need to try out my tartlette pans with something extra for Thursday. We'll see.

Top 20 Things I Hate

2006-11-16T13:20:00.000-05:00

I think people are often most easily defined by what they hate. I know that's a negative way to view the world, but it's true. What you hate tells me so much more about you than what you love. If you love cats, that's great, but you might love dogs too. If you tell me you HATE cats, I know where you stand...and since you're being so emphatic, if you hated dogs, you would have told me that too, in the same breath.

So, here's 20 tidbits about me. 20 things I HATE:

20. Funerals: There's no need for dead bodies to be on display. None. I think this is archaic and stupid. I hate the idea. I always have. I tolerate it for people I love, but no. We've evolved.

19. My period: No explanation needed.

18. Being manipulated: I need people to just shoot straight from the hip with me. I don't have time for mind games. Say, "I'm a selfish bastard and I just want this to go MY way!" I'll say it to YOU.

17. Missing the VERY beginning of a movie: This makes me so mad I want to spit nails. Then, I'm so pissed at whoever made me miss it, that I miss the next 10 minutes thinking of how much I hate them, and the next 20 trying to figure what the hell's going on. Movies must be seen from the opening credits. Otherwise, I don't want to watch. Period.

16. Cartoon Network: Hate it. Not even the old "good" cartoons are anything I want to see in my adult life. Ever. I don't even want the happy, fighting, ninja, shape-shifter, squarepants images flickering in the background while I'm doing something more...adult!

15. Men who come up BEHIND you to dance: WTF? I didn't grow up going to clubs and the like. I only go out dancing on occasion, and that's usually salsa. I like dancing where people are facing each other, where there's a lead and a follower. I don't like having crotch rubbed on my ass. (Not unless I asked you to.)

14. Chocolate and mint together: Who in the world thought this was a good idea??? The smells combined make me want to wretch. Yuk!! Somehow I brought myself to try a Thin Mint, you know, the Girl Scout cookie. It wasn't too bad. But Andes Candies and York Peppermint Patties are down the toilet with mint chocolate-chip ice cream.

13. Bugs: Duh?

12. Booger-eating (or snot-licking): Nothing will make me snatch your kid up quicker. This is disgusting. I have no tolerance for it. I will throw up in your child's lap. Trust. I can't even discuss adults who do it.

11. Crusty, cracked heels: Because there's NO reason for it. None.

10. Black and white TV and movies: Again, evolution.

9. Entitlement: In all its forms. I hate it in the corporate board room...I hate it among the indignant in social services offices.

8. Sunny Delight:Orange-milk!! Yuk. And the red is Blood-milk. Gross!

7. Hospital smell: See the thing about hospitals is that I can't help fixating on exactly what that combination of smells is comprised of. Is it blood, urine and tuna casserole? Is it feces, vomitus and chicken noodle soup? What is it?

6. Frilly head bands on bald baby girls: Look, your baby has no hair. The head band is to hold the hair (which your baby lacks) out of baby's face. It looks stupid. We know she's a girl by the matching dress that came with the head band. Lose it.

5. Asian mushrooms: I know most mushrooms are probably Asian, but I specifically mean the ones that look like little penis heads, pictured above.

4. House and Techno music: Just shoot me now and plan my body-less funeral...that you're all welcome to skip, by the way.

3. Liquid Medicine: I almost threw up in my lap on the way to work this morning because remnants of my liquid vitamin were still on my top lip. When I caught a whiff I got hot, started salivating profusely. I think I swallowed 97 times in 2 minutes to keep from throwing up down my shirt. What do women do when they have morning sickness? Drive in after they finish wretching?

2. Star Trek: Not even as background noise. I will awaken from the persistent vegetative state I've been in for 10 years to turn off Star Trek.

1. Assholes who mistreat other people: That just wraps up so much in a nutshell. I hate people who violate, abuse, take advantage of, manipulate, harass or are just generally mean to others. It's just wrong.

So, what about you? Make this a meme if you like. I won't tag anyone in particular, except Andy, but if you do post your top 20 or 5 or whatever, link back here so that we can all read them.

Have a great day!

Awake....Thinking of Christmas

2006-11-14T01:18:00.000-05:00

I have joined the ranks of my most beloved insomniacs.

I planned to start going to the gym at 5:30am this week, but I can't fall asleep. I fell asleep at 3am yesterday, so the gym was out and I'm wide awake now at 1 am. I need to sleep so that I can get up early, but my body's not making the switch!!! I may just have to stay up all night so that I conk out at 9:30pm tomorrow to get on my new schedule.

Christmas shopping! I've been browsing Amazon.com tonight for good buys on gifts. I'm not in the mood for Black Friday or any day thereafter. But, I'm so amazingly frugal, that I can't bear that I know I can buy some of the gifts I have my eyes on for cheaper if I just go search out the bargain.

I'm off all next week. I'm going to buy my very first, very own Christmas tree. I'm really excited. There's no compromise. I get to buy what I want and I don't have to take anybody else into consideration... But then, there's Christmas morning. I have never, ever, ever awaken in an empty house on Christmas Day. I climbed into my mom and dad's bed to wake them up so that we could go downstairs and open presents every year of my life until I was 24!!! What am I going to do? I can't wake up alone in my apartment on Christmas morning. That's not going to work. I may have to go home and wake up with Mommy and Daddy like I did last year (except I was living there last year).

Tell me about your holiday doings? Do you shop early? Are you done? Waiting until Christmas eve? Don't do Christmas? Bah, Humbug? Open gifts on 24th pm? 25th am? Read The Night Before Christmas? Luke 2? Egg nog? Hot buttered rum? Cider? Secret Santa? Buy for the whole family? I want to hear it all. So tell me already!

Here are some things I expect to see every Christmas morning.

My folks always make a huge fruit basket, always while we're sleeping, always with a pineapple in the middle, all kinds of nuts, tangerines and Christmas candies...especially red and green peanut M&Ms, the house favorite. And there's always, always a poinsettia. Even with the dogs. That's a myth.

More questions: Did you believe in Santa? Do you still? Was he taboo? A sin? Satan? Do you let your kids have Santa? My friend's 4 year old still calls him "the boy". She has no idea who he is. Not because my friend is withholding him...she's just trying to buy as much time as she possibly can. I think the cat's outta the bag this year...at least if I have anything to do with it.

Latkes!! I associate those with Christmas too, although I know they're Jewish, so that's just wrong. I love them. This came from celebrating all of the winter holidays with my students when I taught 1st and 2nd grade. I love all the traditions. Anybody know how to play Dradle? What about the words to the song?

Cannabis

2006-11-09T14:15:00.000-05:00

When I was in 5th grade we had a subsitute teacher named Mr. Cannabis. Now, I can't tell you if that's how he spelled his name or not, but I do remember that that was his name. I also remember that none of us ever noticed that at the time.

...Like my dad. He was walking around sporting this brand new belt he'd bought himself. He was proud of the great buy (like 5 bucks or something), but the buckle was a big ol' weed leaf!! Straight cannabis! My dad is an HR director for a swanky retirement community, people!! Here went our conversation:

Dad, do you know what that is on your belt buckle?

Huh? I don't know. I just needed a new belt, so I bought this one.

Dad, it's weed!! (Doubling over laughing at this point as I realize he really has no clue.)

Oh, well, I didn't know.

Obviously. I need you to get another belt. You can't be walking around with weed on your belt.

I then took him to my laptop and Google Imaged "cannabis" so that he could see for himself. He seemed like he still needed convincing.

Fast forward to Monday...

I went to meet him at his job for lunch. He has 200 employees where he works, many of them are young...and know what the hell weed is when they see it. I looked down at his belt buckle and there was a hole where the weed emblem used to screw in.

So, I see you got rid of the weed leaf?

Yeah, all the young kids were comin' up to me, giving me five and winking at me, going, "Yeah, Mr. F."

I'm glad you got rid of it.

Mental note: Daddy needs a belt for Christmas.

Nothing Important

2006-11-08T20:35:00.001-05:00

So, today...

1. I am so glad so many people went to the polls Tuesday. I don't care about the results (at least not in a way I want to talk about here) but I'm glad so many Americans participated. Yay, Us!!

2. I'm breaking out in hives again. At first I thought I had connected it to stress, but now I'm thinking it's the combination of stress and caffeine that does me in. Coffee is evil. Drink green tea! The hives were so bad I scratched my left butt cheek raw and have skin peeling from it. TMI, I know. But I need you to feel my pain.

3. I really like red wine. I wasn't much of a connoisseur before, but I'm getting better at picking good ones. I bought the $19 Chianti at this St. Louis hotel, because it's the cheapest. I'd rather drink communion wine, I think. Bottoms up, though!

4. www.dictionary.com is my friend. Spell check in Blogger sucks butt.

5. I want to click my heals 3 times and make my hotel bed teleport to my apartment. I wish it were home...I wish it were home....I wish it were home.

6. I'm studying for the LSAT. I take it in February. I think I finally know what I want to be when I grow up.

7. I am feeling a lot better recently about where I am in figuring out my whole faith thingy. Check out Unpacking Faith for updates. Shameless plug, I know, for my other neglected blog.

8. I have met some really great people this year in Blogdom. I used to think people with "computer friends" were whacko. Maybe they are. Maybe I am!

9. The holidays are coming! Yay! I don't really know what I'm so excited about. There's bound to be family drama where one person, or several, will avoid the gathering because someone else, or some issue, will be present. I think I've done the best job of pissing off the fam this year. Maybe I should be the one to sit it out. Meh, probably not. Why is it that I enjoy the holidays again?

10. Anybody have any exceptional cookie recipes? I've got the Toll House one. Thanks.

11. I'm not feeling St. Louis. What's with all the grillz? I thought I was in the ATL or something. The funny thing is one of these dudes with a grill brought me my wine last night and had a completely intelligent conversation with me about wine. Why did he have to have gold on all 8 of his teeth?

Let's Vote Already

2006-11-05T21:50:00.000-05:00

I am so sick of campaign commercials. I can't wait for Tuesday at 8pm when the polls are closed finally, and the results start to roll in.

I am absolutely addicted to historical turning points. I watched the news for 3 days when September 11th happened; stayed up all night long to watch the Dubya Florida mess; and although I will be in St. Louis the night the election results roll in (and therefore unable to catch things from my local news perspective) I will still be glued to the tube to see how things turn out.

But I'm tired of the campaigning already.

Everyone's going to vote on Tuesday, right?

Writer's Block....Help!!! I WILL BE UPDATING FREQUENTLY

2006-11-02T10:56:00.000-05:00

All of my brain power is going towards mulling over a really, really difficult decision. I'm not feeling funny, witty or even sarcastic or cynical. That SUCKS!!! I feel like I'm being pulled in a hundred different directions, trying to make ends meet and that's sucking too.

So, would you help me lighten it up a bit? I'm sure I have something Lexish to say about something, but I'm at a loss. Prime the pump for me, eh? Suggest things in my comments for me to sound off about. Or otherwise, just tell me something funny to lighten up my mood. I'm doing too many grown-up things right now. And that's no fun!!

UPDATES:

Christina has shaken me out of my funk already. Read her comment to this post.

Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to add the ideas that are suggested here in the post so that you don't kill yourself reading through the comments.

Ladies, (or guys) what do you think about dating younger men? I mean really younger ones? I've been thinking about this as I approach that 38-40 something prime time we're supposed to go through? Thoughts? Any anecdotes on what happens to a woman's labido at that magical time?

Self-Psychoanalytical Crapola

2006-10-30T12:44:00.000-05:00

It’s really difficult for me to realize how out of control I am while I’m out of control. Once I regain control and have settled down a bit, it becomes very apparent, even scary.

This is more on my battle with controlling my weight. I have had some very encouraging, long awaited success in this area over the last month. I even started another blog, Fine Tuning, without letting most of you know, to document my progress. I feel so much better and better about myself, partly because I’m losing weight, but mostly because I feel like I’m regaining some control over this part of my life.

I think lots of people are emotional eaters. I know I tend to eat to distract myself from other things that really probably should have my attention. I eat when I feel like there’s nothing I can do about a situation. I eat socially to lift my spirits. I eat brownies and the like for comfort. I love good food, but it’s more than that. Food makes me feel better and just like anything else we use to make ourselves feel better, it can get out of control.

When my trainer first suggested limiting my calories to 1500 a day I told her she was crazy. I’d starve to death. I didn’t even try it. I just decided that there was no way I could do that and that I’d have to find another way to lose weight. I started working out without changing what I was eating, to no avail. Since October 9^th I’ve been counting calories on The Daily Plate and not really working out at all. I want to work out, but I’ve been crazy busy since I picked up the second job teaching. I’ve lost 5.6 pounds so far.

I’m realizing how totally out of control I was. I had no will power and quite frankly I didn’t even want it. I wanted to eat to comfort myself, so I didn’t really want to have the ability to resist what I was using to make myself feel better. Now that I can look at food I’d love to eat and make a rational assessment of whether or not it’s a good idea, I feel accomplished. I feel like the pendulum is starting to settle in the middle. I’ll explain.

I gained a lot of weight in my marriage, about 50 pounds over 6.5 years. I gained and lost in that period, but when I left I was just about 50 pounds heavier than when I married. Since I left I gained another 22 pounds, in 18 months. This just occurred to me this very moment. I’ve really been using food to cope with this whole separation/divorce thing without really realizing it. After I reached a certain weight, I just stopped paying attention. I chose to be in denial because I didn’t want to realize what I was doing.

So, the pendulum. A pendulum swings from one extreme to the other and then settles in the middle. While I feel like leaving my marriage and making some choices about healing some relationships while letting others go has been taking control over important areas of my life, the pendulum had swung to the other extreme with regards to how I’m coping with the stress of this divorce. I feel like it’s settling a bit now. I’m acknowledging how stressed I am and doing things to help with that, and I feel like now I can stop depending on food to help with this. I hate these self-psychoanalytical posts, but it helps me see myself better.

Are there still areas of my life I am not happy about? Yep. Are there still things I’m doing to avoid some emotions or fears that may be lurking just beneath the surface? Almost certainly. Are there areas in my life where I’m just wildin’ out because I can? Yep. Is that a reactionary symptom to all of the constraints on the other end of the pendulum (read: the church)? Yep.

And I know this, man!

Penance

2006-10-27T13:59:00.000-04:00

To everyone I have ever interrupted, loud talked or talked over…

To everyone to whom I’ve ever come off as if I absolutely know it all…

To everyone whose conversations I have butted into uninvited…

To everyone upon whom I’ve tried to impose my whack-ass views as if they were truth…

To everyone who has considered me an absolute annoying ass for any other reason…

I am so incredibly sorry.

Please forgive me. Tell me how many "Hail Mary’s" and "Our Father’s" I must say to absolve myself. How much chicken blood must I drink? How many candles must I light? Poor people must I feed?

Tell me. I’ll do it. I’ll do anything to be delivered of the HELL I am enduring in my office with this new attorney.

If this is Karma, reaping what I’ve sown, divine punishment of some other kind, please let me know what I must do to FIX IT so that the retribution ends!

Please!!!

Finally Got Some Sleep

2006-10-26T10:12:00.000-04:00

Ah. I haven't been able to post all week. That's just not like me. This week has been a shock to my system. I usually work from 10-6, but this week I've had early morning meetings, usually requiring me to leave the house before 7:30, and my whole schedule is thrown off.

I'm a night owl, so it's really hard for me to go to sleep before Letterman. (Funny, I don't even watch him that much, but it kinda marks time, ya know?) So, I end up staying awake until 12 or 1 and needing to be up by 6:45 at the latest. I am NOT one of those people who can function on 5 or 6 hours of sleep, not anymore. I need a full 8 and 10 is even better!

I got a good night's sleep last night 11:30-9am. I'm set for my day.

Tell me about you? Are you a morning person? A night owl? How much sleep do you need at night? (and, include your age, because that makes such a difference, I'm convinced.)

More later I hope. Since I'm awake now and can think...

Stress-Free Weekend

2006-10-22T12:31:00.000-04:00

Friday at 6pm I declared the weekend my Stress-Free, Non-Crisis, Non-Drama weekend. I vowed that if anyone called me and wanted to talk about any crisis, anything dysfunctional, broken or stressful I would ask them to leave me a voicemail and I'll address it on Monday. Yes, I was at another one of those points where I realized that the stress my work, combined with the stress of my life was becoming a lethal concoction and I needed a big old reprieve. I got it.

I called a friend after work Friday, and I could tell by her tone that this was gearing to be one of those conversations. I informed her of the reprieve before she got started. She understands my need for a break, but I could hear the underlying pout. Oh well? There's always Monday. Isn't it funny how if you neglect someone's "crisis" for a couple of days, when you come back to it they seem to realize how non-crisis it really was?

So, you wanna know how badly I needed this break? I had my massage appointment Saturday at noon. The massage therapist was, well...Moses (so much for my burning hunk of love rubbing me down), but he was great. His name is Tom. His specialty is intense massage to correct problem areas. He used a method called myofascial release. Since I identified my neck and shoulders as a problem area, this is what we focused on in this session. So, no, not the relaxing soothing, I'm gonna fall asleep massage I was expecting, but good in a different way.

First of all, Tom politely informed me that he has rarely had the opportunity to work on anyone with as much tension as I have in my neck and shoulders. Super!! I'm a special case stress bag. He worked on my neck and shoulders for about 45 minutes of the hour and after all of that stretching and pressure, the muscles in the right side released, but those buggers on the left side, that's causing all the problems and the headaches, wouldn't let go. He suggested that often this type of tension is emotional, but the good thing is that I'm young and trying to learn how to release this stuff now. Let me tell you, if I didn't realize anything else from this session, I surely get how stress will kill you. It sets up shop in your body and does a number on it. I'm more committed than ever to reducing the stress in my life and taking care of my body.

He also asked me if I dragged one foot when I walked. I hadn't really thought about it, but when he mentioned it, I recalled that I always get "flip-flop drag" on the right side, not the left. Well, that's because my right hip is 2 whole inches lower than the left!!! Again, it's muscular as well, tension on the left side. That's where ex used to sleep. I wonder if that's what this left side deal is all about? Anyway, we'll start working on that in the next session and spend some time trying to get this left shoulder to release. I felt great afterwards and I swear my shoulders are at least 2 inches further from my ears than they were that morning.

It was such a beautiful fall day in MD yesterday that I decided I wanted to be outside. There's a trail near my house that is 4.5 miles to this lake in a neighboring town. Last Saturday I walked to the lake with a friend and then his wife came to pick us up on the other end. Yesterday I went with my sister-in-law and we walked back as well. Yep. 9 miles yesterday. I feel it today, but it's not too bad. It helped me decompress some more and it was so beautiful and crisp outside. This jump-stared my fitness program big time. LOL.

The rest of my day yesterday, after a loooooong hot shower, was spent in my most favorite way: in my apartment naked. Doesn't get much better than that. And yes, I did buy more baby oil gel, so I'm smooth again too.

I slept until noon today. A couple of trips to the bathroom assured me that yes, indeed, I hiked 9 miles yesterday. I used the excuse that sleep helps muscles repair themselves to stay in the bed longer. It was glorious.

Not yet sure what today holds. It's another glorious, beautiful crisp autumn day. I should probably take my warm clothes out of the storage closet.

Methinks Operation Stress-Free Weekend has been a success!!

...But I'm Soft!!!

2006-10-18T10:34:00.000-04:00

I don't want to take a shower today. No, I'm not reverting to when I was 9 and would just sit on the side of the tub and make swishy noises like I was bathing. I have a dilemma.

I like soft, silky skin. And I love steaming hot showers. The two are not compatible, unless I use my silky skin guarantee-er: Johnson and Johnson's Baby Oil Gel (Lavender). After a shower I moisturize my entire body with the gel and THEN dry off. It's the perfect way to stay silky and moisturized all day long.

Well, I'm out!! I've been out for about a week and I've been using alternatives that just aren't as good. I've added liquid baby oil to lotion. Plain lotion just does NOT do it. Ever. I've used my organic almond oil. And even in combination with my non-drying peppermint castille soap, it's not the same.

I didn't shower yesterday either. I just squatted in the tub with the removable shower head and took care of the important places. OK. Ho bath! Call it what you wanna. But my skin is still soft.

I need to go to the store today for more gel. I hate itchy dry skin and it's inevitably what I'll have if I wash this two day build-up of natural oils off of my skin today.

But I smell fine. Really, I do.

Unabridged

2006-10-16T17:34:00.000-04:00

This is a long long post, but it's probably the most transparent I've been on this blog. Grab a beer or read the next blog.

I started this blog because it was a place for me to get thoughts out of my head into a place where I can process them, hopefully with other people. A lot was happening and changing in my life and I am still very much sifting my way through the rubble of the life I used to know. I am slowly but surely coming into awareness of me and I feel like much of the past is healing, or that I’m at least making progress toward that end.

I have written about random pieces of that process, but I have avoided, in different ways (sarcasm, cynicism, ambiguity, etc.), much of what I’ve been trying to work on, what I am working on, and what I yet continue to avoid. I am often worried that since many people who know me read this, I should not say what is really on my mind. I can’t continue to live my life (or blog) based on others’ opinions of me. So, here’s more of a peek into my world:

I realized that my marriage was coming to an end in February of 2003. On Valentine’s Day morning (around 6:30am), my husband walked into our house with no explanation of why he hadn’t come home the night before. He was annoyed by my questions about his whereabouts. He showered, got dressed and left again to run his errands for the day. I knew it needed to end. This had been going on for far too long: the lies, the unexplained absences, the missing money. I kept quiet about it for so many reasons, the biggest of them—his church.

My husband was also my pastor. We had a small, independent, non-denominational church. He started the church 2 years before we married, and once we were married I was ordained as the assistant pastor. This church was his baby. He worked full-time as a truck driver, so for the 1st 2 years of our marriage he was out of town a lot. Much of the responsibility of the church fell on my shoulders. I loved much of what I did. But there came a point when I would lie in bed at night and fantasize about what it would be like to have my life back—what it would be like to not have this church.

We would kick the idea around between the two of us at different points of frustration. Church is a co-dependent's amusement park. There’s always someone to fulfill your need to be needed. We would get overwhelmed at different times, but most of the time I just wanted it to all go away. Besides, I had other problems, my husband’s integrity.

It bothered me that his integrity affected his work at church, but that was secondary to me. First and foremost, he made a vow to me. A vow I knew he was breaking, on so many levels.

I had become, in many respects, quite indispensable in the church. Many congregants remained members, despite their frustrations with him, because of me. This is not self-aggrandizement. That’s not my style. I make this comment purely based on the responses I would get when I would ask people why they continued to come to our church if they had so many problems with him.

I buried my problems in theirs. I threw myself into planning retreats, seminars, bible studies and small groups to address the needs of these people. Inevitably, from time to time, my own misery would leak through my façade, but for the most part, I sacrificed myself and my wellness for everyone else(else’s).

I knew that if I were to leave my marriage a few things would be true:

1. I’d need support.
2. I’d need therapy.
3. The congregation would leave.
4. I’d have to be willing to tell myself the truth, the whole truth about my life up to the very present moment.

It was a difficult journey, but with the help of a handful of great friends, a great therapist and some really hard emotional work and millions and millions of tears I got strong enough to leave. I went back after a week or two.

After more planning, growing, healing and realizing that things weren’t going to change, no matter how much he told me they would, I left for good. I’ve been gone 18 months. I’m hoping the divorce will be final soon.

Between February 2003 and today I’ve had to face some funky stuff about myself and my past. I knew that the day I walked into the therapist’s office was the day I would have to tell myself the truth about being sexually abused as a child, about how that played out in my teen years and my early adult years, about those things in my childhood that factored into that abuse and about how all of these wonderful things led me to deciding to marry when and who I did. I’m an all or nothing kinda gal, so I knew I wasn’t paying for therapy to shuck and jive. It was showtime.

Showtime was painful. It made me angry, really angry, with a lot of people in my life. I have moved past a lot of that anger. I’m over being angry at him. I’m over being angry at my parents. I’m over being angry at my abusers. I’m working on my relationship with my parents. I am willing to be amicable about this divorce and the abusers are where they belong, in the past. But there’s one area that is still painfully raw and incensed—the church and anyone associated with it.

I feel like when I decided to leave I had mixed levels of support. That was to be expected. What I didn’t expect was the degree to which I was still expected to be involved with taking care of the parishioners while my little world was falling apart.
I’ve been criticized harshly by some people I considered to be dear friends for failing them when I decided to leave my marriage. My understanding of their frustration is that they didn’t seem to understand why leaving him meant that I effectively ended my relationship with them as well.

I’ve gone back and forth about feeling guilty about this, but ultimately here’s where I am. I gave them 9 years of my life while I was slowly dying inside. I poured all I had into them, because I didn’t give myself permission to address my own needs. Convinced that that would have been selfish, I bled and almost died. Leaving my marriage and the church was the most loving thing I’d done for myself in my adult life. I feel like I’ve cut myself free of something that was, directly or indirectly, sucking the life blood from me.

Now, that has meant that I’ve missed weddings, baby showers, housewarmings and the like because I just do not want to be reminded of the past. I don’t want to try to find a new context for these friendships, since I have moved beyond the person they knew me as. I don’t want to explain myself. I really don’t want to answer the, “So, where are you going to church now” question; or worse explain why I’m not and why that’s not likely in the near future.

I have maintained a friend or two who stay connected with this group, but I am not there yet. I don’t know if I ever will be.

I can look back over the last 3 years and see so many places I’ve healed and grown. I have hope that my feelings about church (in general) and this church and these people in people will soon find their place in my rearview mirror. But I am so not there yet.

I may have to just send flowers and a card to a dear friend who lost her brother Friday. Before I started writing this, I thought that was selfish of me. If it’s all I can do, it’s all I can do. I’ve done what others thought I should do for too much of my life. I’m sorry I can’t be there. But, if I can’t be there and be present, I shouldn’t be there. I’m done lying to myself.

My New Bedfellow

2006-10-13T22:27:00.000-04:00

Meet GOSA FAST, the ergonomic pillow from IKEA. It is my new lover. It held me gently, pefectly cradling my neck as I slept like a baby last night. It was such a contrast with the sleepless, painful night I had the night before.

Who knew the perfect pillow could bring an end to suffering? Everyone needs one. It's the perfect bedfellow, for only $17.99.

I'm wondering if this neck pain is muscular or a pinched nerve. It tends to come back towards the end of the day, when I've been sitting at my computer for hours.

Well, tonight I will again sleep with my new lover. I've found a keeper.

My Book Nook

2006-10-12T23:07:00.000-04:00

aka: The Lex Café

This is the most coveted seat in my little apartment. See how bare my walls are? Must fix that. Soon.

My Hap Happiest Season of All

2006-10-12T17:52:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow is Friday! The weekend cometh. Yay!!

Weeks seem to fly by these days. October's half gone folks. I feel like I just said this about September. It's going to be the holidays in no time.

I love the holidays. I love cooking and eating with the people you love. I swear, for me, it's one of life's greatest pleasures.

I'm thinking of giving baked goods as gifts again this year. I haven't done it in ages. I would love to shop and find the perfect gift for everyone I love, but who has money for that? I certainly don't. And, since my home and my kitchen are my favorite spots on the planet at the moment, I'm thinking I'll spend some time there. I'll throw all of my love into my tiny delectable creations.

I'll use the book nook in my little apartment to cuddle up and do some recipe searching over the next couple of months. If you've got a preference (and are presumptuous enough to think I'd give you a holiday gift) let me know what you'd like. I'll take requests.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...la, la, la, la, la.

Oh shut up! Halloween will be over before you blink.

Doctor, Doctor!

2006-10-10T17:28:00.000-04:00

So, today I got a new doctor and I love him. Thanks, Fresh, for the idea.

I made the appointment for the massage. I also called and found a new PCP just next door to work. I thought I’d get another quack since I’m refusing to move out of a 3 mile radius from work, but I lucked out. He actually took my health history, took a urine sample, scheduled blood work, “checked” everything – eyes, arms, legs, neck. He asked about everything under the sun, including my ideas about pharmaceuticals. He wasn’t opposed to my opposition to them. His nurse even did an EKG and a lung function test.

After my very thorough examination, he concluded that my headaches are almost definitely tension headaches brought on my stress. (Stress? Me?) He offered to write me a prescription and when I scrunched up my face he suggested doubling up on my OTC pain relievers when I need them, plenty of water and exercise to relieve some of the stress.

He asked me about smoking and drinking. He’s Nigerian, so I didn’t understand when he asked me if I just drink wine or if I drink the hard stuff. When I was clear on what he was asking I laughed and said, “Let’s just say I like variety.” He laughed and didn’t look at me like I was crazy. Now, he does have a severe stuttering problem an he has a hard time making eye contact, but I like him over all.

We went back to his office to discuss my weight. He has a weight loss clinic, so I had asked about it. He shared his philosophy of using pharmaceuticals to get chronic cases under control quickly. We discussed my weight and where I should be ideally. Asked me about my eating habits and helped me commit to small changes (less carbs, more fruits and veggies and lots of water before and after meals). He encouraged more consistency with my exercise regimen and said to let him know how I’m doing in a month. If there’s no change with these changes, then he’ll start talking to me about other options.

When we were done he asked if I had anything else I wanted to discuss with him, any other concerns. I told him no. He reviewed my EKG, lung function test and urinalysis with me. Said they were all fine. We’d get the blood work done on Thursday.

Now, THAT’s what health insurance buys!!

My Visit to the Doctor

2006-10-09T16:08:00.000-04:00

I am really beginning to lose confidence in western medicine. I just got back from the doctor’s office and I’ve concluded that one of two things must be true. Either doctors routinely take shots in the dark when it comes down to figuring out what the hell is wrong with you and then try to steer you in the direction of the pharmaceuticals that are being peddled by the reps that just left the office in suits, in order to secure whatever perks are offered for prescribing their product, or poor people get the worst of the worst doctors, period.

I’ve had this new health insurance for about a year now. I’ve only seen my gyn. Didn’t have a need for the primary until today. I woke up with what I’m sure is good old fashioned pink eye, and since I spent the better part of last night wondering why this headache I’ve had for 3 weeks (since I was sick that time) has not really gone away, I thought maybe today was the day to go to the doctor. I picked this PCP for one reason and one reason only. I can walk out of my door from work, walk 15 steps and walk into the doctor’s office. Let me suggest, this is NOT the way to pick a physician.

It turns out that I’ve picked a walk-in clinic as my primary. There were a million people in the office by 10:00am, screaming babies, adults, elderly individuals. I swear I even saw a parrot in a cage waiting to be seen. OK, maybe not, but still, you can imagine the scene. Every last patient, besides me, was speaking Spanish to the Spanish-speaking staff. I have never in my life seen people dish out such large sums of cash at a doctor’s office before, so I’m assuming many of these patients didn’t have health insurance.

The chatter in the waiting room (since I do speak Spanish) was about the routinely infinite wait at the office and about how although patients start lining up at 10, the doctor doesn’t come in until 1pm; about how referrals are processed too slowly and someone could die waiting to be seen by a specialist, etc.

I left after I signed in and came back to the office. I told the medical assistant to call me when they got close to my name on the list. I felt like I was taking advantage of some kind of privilege by doing this, but I did it anyway, because I would have gone crazy waiting until 2:30 (when I was finally seen) in that zoo.

When I finally saw the doctor, I couldn’t understand half of what she said. Her accent did not suggest that she was Latina at all, though. Rather, she pronounced her w’s like v’s and such. After I told her about my eye and my headaches she shrugged her shoulders a few times and said:

Doc: I don’t know. Could be anything. Do you take pain medicine?

Me: Yes, Motrin.

Doc: Does pain go a-vay?

Me: Yes, but it always comes back and it’s unusual for me to have headaches.

Doc: Any history of migraine?

Me: Yes. I had migraines when I was 12 to about 15. I’ve never had one since.

Doc: But these are not the same, huh?

Me: No. These start in this one spot (indicate location) in the back of my neck and goes up along the left side of my head. It’s always the same. Always in the same spot and it hasn’t gone away for any significant period of time in three weeks.

Doc: Any congestion? Any (motions pen from nose down the side of her neck)?

Me: (Guessing she is pantomiming post-nasal drip) No. No post-nasal drip.

Doc: Could be neurological. Could be muscular…tension. Could be anyshing. Vat would you like?

Me: What would I like?

Doc: Do you vant referral? Do you vant pain meds or anti-inflammatories? I can vrite prescription for something time released. Ven you take Motrin does it go avay?

Me: Yes, but it comes back.

Doc: So, it’s steady?

Me: Yes.

Doc: Vell, it’s really up to you. Vat do you want me to do?

Me: If pain killers are the only answer, I can keep doing what I’ve been doing. I have a family history of brain tumors. I have no idea if that’s hereditary and basically I just want to know if I should be concerned about these headaches or should I make an appointment for a 60-minute massage/reflexology session?

Doc: There are so many kinds of brain tumor. I see vy you are concerned? I can make a referral to a neurologist.

Me: Is there any reason to think I need to see a neurologist?

Doc: You can have MRI or CAT scan. You might as well see what’s going on. Most neurological problems come from inflammation. We can treat inflammation. But could be anyshing.

Well, I ended up with a prescription for eye drops, a blood work order and a referral to a neurologist.

I filled the prescription for the eye drops and I think I’m about to make an appointment for that massage.

No one asked me about my medical history although this was my first time at this doctor’s office. No one weighed me or took my blood pressure or temperature. No one asked me about family history. I brought that up myself. She didn’t ask about allergies or problems with sinuses. There were no forms that asked for this information. And I’m off to have my head irradiated?

I take pharmaceuticals as an absolute last resort. This headache has kicked my butt to the point of taking about 6 doses of Motrin in the past 3 weeks. This experience today bothers me a bit.

What do you guys think? Massage/Reflexology or MRI?

Tagged Again: The Book Meme

2006-10-07T01:52:00.000-04:00

~Macarena~ tagged me to do The Book Meme. I wanted to ignore her, but since I'd seen it elsewhere before and already started my answers, I've complied.

I'm really looking for new stuff to read...so prepare to be tagged!

1. ONE BOOK THAT CHANGED YOUR LIFE?

Too Be Told, Dan Allender

2. ONE BOOK YOU HAVE READ MORE THAN ONCE?

MacBeth, William Shakespeare

3. ONE BOOK YOU WOULD WANT ON A DESERT ISLAND?

The Oxford Anthology of English Literature The whole shebang, not just Volume 2...That's just the only pic that looks like the one on my bookshelf.

4. ONE BOOK THAT MADE YOU LAUGH?

Dirty Girls Social Club by Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez.

I think this was the first time I laughed out loud in public while reading. I was in the airport waiting for my flight, doubled over laughing and crying. Now, I must say that when I leaned over and read what I was laughing at to the ex, he wasn't as amused. But you can't go by him.

5. ONE BOOK THAT MADE YOU CRY?

The Wounded Heart, Dan Allender

6. ONE BOOK YOU WISH YOU HAD WRITTEN?

Longing to Tell: Black Women Talk about Sexuality and Intimacy, Tricia Rose

I wish I could have experienced collecting all of these stories. I would have loved to meet these women and have the privilege of connecting with them in this area that we so rarely speak candidly about, especially in our communities.

7. ONE BOOK YOU WISH HAD NEVER BEEN WRITTEN?

All the pink books in Christian bookstores.

8. ONE BOOK YOU ARE CURRENTLY READING?

Letter to a Christian Nation, Sam Harris

9. ONE BOOK YOU HAVE BEEN MEANING TO READ?

The Notebook, Nicholas Sparks

10. ONE BOOK YOU'RE GLAD YOU OWN?

The Complete Idiot's Guide to Tantric Sex, Dr. Judith Kuriansky

11. ONE MUST READ ALOUD?

Fox in Socks, Dr. Seuss - Do it now!

Now my victims: Katrice, Kwesi, KMF, Freshairlover, Heartinsanfracisco, Andy

And I hereby give my solem oath that I shall never tag you twice!!

Everyone else is tagged by association. Feel free to just give any responses you'd like in my comments.

A Needed Change of Pace

2006-10-07T00:40:00.000-04:00

Jali got me started:

I SO used to have that sweatshirt!!!!

I know entirely too much of this by heart!!

That one too!!

I just don't understand...

2006-10-04T23:33:00.000-04:00

My heart is so heavy tonight. I ache.

I keep asking myself why, how, why is there so much hate on this planet for women?

What on earth makes someone think that it's ok to rape women with hot curling irons? Kill the rape victim in the name of honor, while the rapist goes free? Express military prowess by raping the women and girls of the defeated opponent? Stalk an ex and pick up the phone to advise the police that you're about to kill her, just before you kill yourself? Cleanse yourself of HIV by raping 7 virgins? I mean, really, if you even really believed that would work, why would you do it?

What makes someone believe that women are so worthless? So disposable? So insignificant?

Why is it that all the spiritual texts of the world's major religions are used over and over to justify such hatred? Such mistreatment? And disrespect?

What could 6 little girls possibly have done, or possibly represent, that their molestation and murder could provide someone relief? Revenge?

How is it possible that there are women who support and defend misogynists? Who succumb? Who bow down? Who submit? Who encourage and browbeat others to conform?

How is it possible that women lash out at the other woman, when it was the man who owes loyalty?

I'm really bothered by the Amish man who stood by the body of the dead 13 year old girl and taught the boys around him to not think evil towards the man who did this, but to forgive? I'm sorry, but, for me, there is so much that needs to come before forgiveness. Honor her life for God's sake. Be angry. Acknowledge the evil. Value her life.

If we're not supposed to be irrate about what happened in Paradise, Pennsylvania, what on earth is supposed to make us angry?

I feel so strongly that if we women don't love and care for one another, no one will. We can't afford to hate each other, fight each other, tear down each other. Our girls can't afford to see us divided.

I'm planning to attend Sheryl Lee Ralph's one-woman play that deals with the number of Black women dying from HIV. So many despite the fact that they are in monogamous, heterosexual relationships and marriages...or so they think. Tell me what makes it ok that the fact that you haven't come to terms with your sexuality gives you the right to lie, cheat and expose your wife to the rotten fruit of your high-risk behavior? What makes us so insignificant that the risk to us is not considered?

I ache tonight. I ache for women everywhere. I don't understand.

On My Soapbox

2006-10-03T19:39:00.000-04:00

The cynic in me finds the following quote absolutely hilarious: "Mark Foley wants you to know he is a gay man."

I laugh, not because former Rep. Foley is gay, but because in light of all that has happened in the last week with regard to heinous sexual assaults on young girls, followed by murders, one of our elected officals who is caught having internet sex with pages and grooming others for future who-knows-what offers in his defense? that, "I don't even like girls!" Give me a fucking break!

Let's see if we can connect some dots here:

Mark Foley:

molested by clergy, ages 13-15
has internet sex with teenaged pages
sends inappropriate emails to others, arguably grooming them for the future

Duane Morrison:

suicide note alleges he was molested
sexually molested all six girls before killing one and killing himself

Charles Carl Roberts IV:

molested children 20 years ago
dreaming of doing it again
brought KY Jelly lubricant with him to the school where he kills 5 young girls

You would really have to live under a rock this week to deny the horrid, disgusting fact that sexual assault happens every single day, in every single town, in every single corner of the globe. You would really have to be moron to deny that children are the most vulnerable and therefore the most likely to be sexually assaulted.

Here are some facts:

FACT: Most sexual assaults go unreported. (RAINN)

I am glad that these stories in the news bring publicity to this issue, but I work with survivors every single day who because of shame, fear, mistreatment by authorities, disbelief of loved ones and a hundred other reasons choose not to report their victimization to the police. If they don't report, they aren't counted. I am a survivor. I am not included in the statistics. Not any of my assaults.

FACT: Among female rape victims, 61% are under 18.
American Academy of Pediatrics, Committee on Adolescence. "Sexual Assault and the Adolescent." Pediatrics. 94 (5) 1994.

FACT: Most victims are sexually assaulted by someone they know.

MYTH: "We live in a beautiful, safe neighborhood. None of these children could be victims of sexual abuse, right?"

It is highly likely that you know a child who has been or is being abused.

Experts estimate that 1 in 4 girls and 1 in 6 boys are sexually abused before their 18th birthdays. This means that in any classroom or neighborhood full of children, there are children who are silently bearing the burden of sexual abuse.
1 in 5 children are sexually solicited while on the Internet.
Nearly 70% of all reported sexual assaults (including assaults on adults) occur to children ages 17 and under.
The median age for reported sexual abuse is 9 years old.
Approximately 20% of the victims of sexual abuse are under age eight.
50% of all victims of forcible sodomy, sexual assault with an object, and forcible fondling are under age twelve.
Most child victims never report the abuse.
Sexually abused children who keep it a secret or who "tell" and are not believed are at greater risk than the general population for psychological, emotional, social, and physical problems, often lasting into adulthood.

It is also likely that you know an abuser. The greatest risk to children doesn't come from strangers but from friends and family.

30-40% of children are abused by family members.
As many as 60% are abused by people the family trusts- abusers frequently try to form a trusting relationship with parents.
Nearly 40% are abused by older or larger children.
People who abuse children look and act just like every one else. In fact, they often go out of their way to appear trustworthy to gain access to children.
Those who sexually abuse children are drawn to settings where they can gain easy access to children, such as sports leagues, faith centers, clubs, and schools.

“It can't happen in my family. I could tell if someone I know is an abuser.”

Yet in more than 90% of sexual abuse cases the child and the child's family know and trust the abuser.

Consequences to children and to our society begin immediately. Child sexual abuse is a direct source of a number of problems facing us.

Consequences to children and to our society begin immediately. Child sexual abuse is a direct source of a number of problems facing us.
70-80% of sexual abuse survivors report excessive drug and alcohol use.
One study showed that among male survivors, 50% have suicidal thoughts and more than 20% attempt suicide.
Young girls who are sexually abused are more likely to develop eating disorders as adolescents.
More than 60% of teen first pregnancies are preceded by experiences of molestation, rape or attempted rape. The average age of the offenders is 27 years old.
Approximately 40% of sex offenders report sexual abuse as children.
Both males and females who have been sexually abused are more likely to engage in prostitution.
Approximately 70% of sexual offenders of children have between 1 and 9 victims; 20-25% have 10 to 40 victims.
Serial child molesters may have as many as 400 victims in their lifetimes.

(Darkness to Light)

Now, I challenge you to compare the facts with the statements in the media regarding these 3 offenders. In my opinion the community has a role in this. We have a resposibility to protect kids because, so often, this is where the abuse starts. But we have a larger responsibilty.

We have the responsibility to take our heads out of the sand and look at what is happening around us. We have to allow people to tell their stories. All people. Even men and boys. When we silence them by turning their victimization into an issue of whether they are gay or not, we drive their pain underground where it festers, and worse.

I am so angry about this Foley mess for so many reasons, but nothing burns me more than him appealing to his sexuality as somehow a defense for his actions. It clouds the waters, I think intentionally, and it attempts to somehow put pedophilia, rape, and sexual assault in the same category as sexuality. One's sexuality is not a crime. These other behaviors are.

Guess what Foley? Perpetrators are gay and straight and anywhere in between. That has no bearing on who they assault. But somehow, I think you already know that.

My heart aches for the families of the girls who lost their lives in the past week:

Naomi Rose Eversole, 7

Marian Fisher, 13

Lina Miller, 7

Mary Liz Miller, 8

Anna Mae Stoltzfus, 12

Emily Keyes, 16,

And for the unnamed victims whose lives have forever been changed by the hand of evil.

We need to wake up!

Say it Ain't So!!!

2006-10-02T14:52:00.000-04:00

Do you know what that is? Yes, it's a gray hair. No. It's not mine. My camera is having issues getting such a quality shot of....yes....MY first gray hair!!!

My mom is 63 and has not grayed. WHY am I cursed? Please tell me?

I am not pulling it because I don't want more. And what's worse? It's right in front!!

I'm a little frazzled right now. I'm too young for this...you know....to dye or not to dye.

Sheesh!

Just Rambling...

2006-09-30T15:09:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was nearly a perfect day. I woke up in time to actually make breakfast, have free coffee at home, shower and get off to work. I'm not a morning person. I go to work at 10am. So, when I have to get up early, I am reminded of how much can actually get accomplished in the tender hours of the morning. Still, I prefer to only see them on occasion. Wouldn't want them to lose their charm.

My self-talk surprised me pleasantly as I was getting out of the shower. "Don't forget your vitamin, Beautiful Lady," I say to myself. That shocked me. I can't explain why, but it was a pleasant shock. I wish I could download my self-talk and analyze it. Most of the time I don't think I really notice it, or pay much attention, but this caught my attention. It was a cute little shot in the arm. Reminds me of the comedian who insists that, "They call it self-esteem for a reason!"

Work went fine. I got a copy of some papers that were particularly exciting. It feels so amazing to be making progress in the right direction. I did some more research into law schools. I spent all day Thursday in a training for preparing T-visa petitions for victims of human trafficking. I am extremely attracted to this area of law. It's in the hopper with all of the other things I want to do when I grow up, but I actually think immigration law, with some degree of practice devoted to human rights/women's rights contexts would be a pretty efficient amalgamation of my disparate skills. Who knows? First step, freedom. And it's on the horizon.

After work I went out to dinner and salsa dancing with my prima and a few of her friends. It was so much fun. I hate going dancing when I don't have interested friends going with me. But when everyone's into it, it's so much fun. Let me pause here and make a cultural observation. I prefer going out with foreign men. They are such gentleman and though many women may be offended by this, I like they fact that they buy all of your drinks and those of the women you're with. I've encountered this many times now and I like it. I like going out dancing with my girlfriends and have a guy assume that if he buys one of us a drink, he buys for all of us. I don't feel entitled to this, but I appreciate it. It's why I like the salsa scene so much. Such diversity. Last night I danced with a German, an Italian, a Mexican, a West Virginian, and the rest--I don't know. Have I mentioned before that I love meeting different people? LOL.

One question? Why do people go to salsa clubs if they don't want to dance, or even learn? They take up space and get stepped on. I stepped on one gawker's ankle last night. He later told me that he'd had surgery in that exact spot. I apologized profusely, as I had done when it occurred. He then informed me that he was going to sue me. I smiled and nodded and rubbed his shoulder while saying, "OK, you do that," in the most patronizing manner I could muster. Asshole. Dance! That way you're not a sitting duck to get stepped on. Much harder to hit a moving target.

And, I'm getting old. I'm starting to appreciate the first shift of the dancers, you know, the ones who get in before they start charging a cover. I guess we got to the club at about 9 or so, and by the time they were charging a cover and there was no room to turn around, I had successfully sweat out my hair and the waistband of my pants and was ready to go. Somehow I still didn't get to bed until 2:30am. That's about the same time I woke up this afternoon, 2:30. I love the weekend.

I fail to understand why people cram their weekends full of activities. I've done all the running around I plan to do by Friday night. I might do a little shopping (groceries and such), but a day full of must-dos is a no-no for me on the weekend. Sleep is an under-appreciated pastime. I'm actually waiting for my new living room TV to be delivered, so I can put the one I currently have in the living room in my bedroom where it belongs. That way I can watch FoodTV from the comforts of my bed all weekend if I want. I really want to make my bedroom more of a sanctuary, but I don't have the money at the moment to make it more than a clean comfortable place to rest. In time. In time.

And the last randomness for today, I've been picking out artwork for my apartment. My place is extremely colorful (I'll take pics and upload them later on). But I want to go with black and white photography on the walls for balance. Again, I have no money, so I'm stuck with framing my buys from allposters.com.

Here's some of what's in my shopping cart. Eventually I'll figure out how to pay for it all when I click "checkout".

Helloooooooooo?????? UPDATED, AGAIN

2006-09-26T19:16:00.000-04:00

Is it me or has Blogger been smoking crack for the last 24 hours???

Where the hell's my BlogRoll???
________________________________
UPDATE: Now it's back. My apologies, Mr. Barry.

Related Anecdote: The last time I saw Marion Barry in person I was stopped at a light on Georgia Avenue in DC. He crossed directly in front of my car and immediately turned around, crossed again to go back to get something out of the trunk of his car. When he crossed the third time I could see that he had a urine specimen cup in his hand. Upon further investigation (read: turning head to the right) I noticed that he was going into someplace called Something Something Laboratories. Pee Test! It was hilarious! Now that would have been a secret squirrel photo worth taking.

I love you, love you, love you -- Only if you let me, let me, let me

2006-09-25T23:35:00.000-04:00

All this secrets stuff is bringing memories out of the woodwork. Andy's mention of a cassette tape in his secrets meme made me think of an old boyfriend who once made a tape for me when I was 14.

I'll just call him K.C. so that I don't wreck his M.C. career. Below are the lyrics of a rap he recorded for me. He was a DJ, so the recording was pretty sophisticated, mixed with background vocals and everything--all from the comforts of his bedroom studio, on a ZZ Top tape that he over-dubbed by taping the holes on the top of the cassette.

Let me give you some background. I must have written him a letter or something telling him off and referencing Deniece Williams' song, Silly:

Silly Of me to think that I could ever have you for my guy
How I love you... how I want you...
Silly of me to think that you could ever really want me too
How I love you...

Chorus:

You're just a lover out to score
I know that I should be looking for more
What could it be in you I see
What could it be...

Oh, Love, oh, love, stop making a fool of me
Oh, Love, oh, love, stop making a fool of me

This was his response. He alludes to the song in his text. I need you to hear a moderate laid back beat, reminiscient of a cool stroll as you read this:

Sittin’ here in my room, thinking of the time

I would hold you in my arms when you were mine

The memory is a happy one, it makes me smile

I think about you every day, not once in a while

You seem to think I was cheatin’ on you all of the time

But little did you know that you were all mine

No Alexis, I’m not a lover out to score

And I’ve never met anyone like you before

You do seem to think I love you

But really I do

Girl, it wasn’t silly of you

Because…

Chorus

I love you, love you, love you

Only if you let me, let me, let me

I love you, love you, love you

Try not to forget me, -get me, -get me

Oh, Lordy, Lordy, Lordy. This cracks me up everytime I sing it. I wonder what he's doing now?

Jesus! Did I mention I was 14?

This is why I don't have children!

One More Secret

2006-09-25T12:34:00.000-04:00

OK. I was thinking about this all night, so I must add it to my list of secrets: I am vulgar. Not even “vulgar for a girl”, just plain vulgar. I have a potty mouth, and that’s no big surprise to many, but most people don’t know the extent of my vulgarity, as I choose to protect them from the shock of, “OMG the ex-preacher's wife says stuff like that!”

There are a select few who have had the pleasure of Lexi unrestrained, but I try to reel it in as much as possible in most cases. I am not always successful. I crack myself up constantly as I self-edit my thoughts for a better alternative that might be at least reasonably appropriate in a social setting. I try even harder when kids are around. In such settings, do NOT ask me what I’m laughing at. I guarantee you don’t want to know. It’s probably a bad sign that I find myself absolutely hilarious and am not looking to change this in the least.

Here’s an example. No explicit language. Fear not.

A couple of weeks ago my brakes started making a God-awful screeching sound, again. I called my mechanic hook-up (translation: mechanic who does work for me and gets paid in cash at a discounted price under his boss's nose…or just does the work at his house) to find out what was wrong. I took the car to him. His reaction: Oh MAN! I really needed him not to be that appalled. He told me he couldn’t look at it at work that day, but to bring it to his house after work. I did.

My dad lives in the subdivision next to the mechanic, so I asked him to come bring me cash so that I could at least tip the guy. When dad got there, I leaned in his car window and said:

Yeah dad, I don’t think he’s going to charge me anything, but if he does, I’ll have to offer to blow him. That’s all I’ve got!!

My father closes his eyes, shakes his head (shocked, but not really) and says, “Well, let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that!”

It was sooo much fun saying “blow him” to Daddy!

So, you see what I mean?

I was Tagged: Secrets Meme

2006-09-24T22:53:00.000-04:00

I was tagged by Andy for this "Secrets" meme. I'm supposed to reveal 10 secrets about myself and then tag 2 other bloggers.

Without further ado...

1. I hated bathing when I was about 9 or 10. So, at bath time I would run a bath and sit on the side of the tub fully clothed and swish my washcloth back and forth to make it sound convincing. Then, I'd take my clothes off, wrap up in my towel and go to my bedroom to put on fresh, clean jammies. This happened every night. I may have acutally bathed once a week.

2. Heartissanfrancisco shared the "peeing like a boy" secret. I did this too, but it doesn't count since I'm copying. So, I'll share another peeing secret. The first time I decided to shave my nether regions completely bald, I had no clue the effects this would have on public bathroom use. The first time I tried to pee hairless while hovering over a public toilet pee went everywhere, down my legs, all over the toilet seat and soaked the back of the waistband of my pants. I was laughing so hard I couldn't stop, so I had to just sit on the toilet to finish since I couldn't stop the flow. I did my best to dry off and absorb the pee from my pants, but I had to walk around Miss Pissy Pants for the rest of the day.

3. I got caught in the process of convincing Ex (then boyfriend) to go skinny-dipping. We were parked on the side of a road near a pier. We went to sit on the rocks and I convinced him that we should skinny dip. We got our shoes off and he was going for his pants when a police car pulled up shining his flashlight in our faces. He warned us that the "park" closed at sundown and that we should go. I thought it was hilarious. He was scared to death and we spent the rest of the ride home deciding who we would have called to bail us out of jail if we'd been arrested. We decided on my parents. They would have thought it was funny.

3.1 There are some things about him I actually miss, but they are few.

4. I was brought home in a police car for skipping out on a summer enrichment program when I was 12.

5. I received an underserved A for a class I took in graduate school. I never wrote the paper upon which said grade was based. The professor agreed to not give me an incomplete as long as I faxed him the paper when I finished it. Well...he went back to Mexico, I've been otherwise preoccupied with life...and I still haven't done it. This was in 2003.

6. I have a very hard time sticking with things. I've tried to master the piano, guitar, bowling, roller skating, tennis, belly dancing, bodybuilding, German, Korean, even anorexia. I get distracted by the next thing to come along. Salsa dancing is the one thing I've stuck with the longest. The longest I've stayed at one job is 2 years and that's because I was under contract. I'm told it's typical of a Gemini.

7. I hope I never grow up to the point of taking life too seriously.

8. I am very spoiled by both of my parents. That's no secret to those who know me, but I am 33 and have never seen my cell phone bill. I've been on the same cell phone plan with mom and dad since 1991.

9. My weekly allowance started at $20/week. By the time I left home (when I married) it was up to $120/week. Yes, I had a full-time job. Yes, I was 25. Yes, I know this is pathetic. And, yes, you would have taken it too if offered!!

10. I used to think "trifling" was pronounced "triflent", and I used to call people triflent. I was 12!!

Bonus: I only floss about twice every two weeks. That's about how long it takes for me to realize that once again, I haven't stuck with something I set out to do and start over. It fizzles out again after a couple of days and in two weeks I'm back to feverishly making up for lost time for two more days and then...

OK. That's it.

I tag Gela and ~Macarena~.

Happy Friday! Happy Autumn!

2006-09-22T11:35:00.000-04:00

Did anybody else just wake up and realize that it is the END of September? Where'd the month go?

I am so sleepy today. I hate drinking coffee because I need to. I don't enjoy it as much. I'm sitting here waiting for it to kick in...so far, nothing.

It's Friday and it's fall, so that means that I need to come up with something particularly comforting for dinner tonight. I really am feeling like shrimp and grits. What???? Don't knock it 'til you try it.

Happy Friday! Happy Autumn!