Getting In the Groove

Well, after trying fad diets, saying I was going to exercise, and debating whether or not re-joining the gym after my 2-year absence is what I really wanted to do, I've decided whether I want to do it or not, I MUST!

I remember a time, seems like a lifetime ago, where I could eat, drink and lounge around as much as I wanted and not gain an ounce. I had a voracious appetite, but a magical, super-charged metabolism to go along with it.

Seriously, I ate whenever, whatever and how much of whatever I wanted. And never had to deal with pants that didn't fit, a scale that creeped up to a number I had never imagined I would ever have to deal with.

Becoming 33 changed all that. That is when the pounds started to creep on. At first, it didn't bother me. It was a pound or two every few months. Not a big deal and I didn't pay attention. Then one day, it was 7 pounds more than I had weighed when I felt I looked really good. Then 10, then 15.

I won't even admit in writing my actual weight now, but it is a far cry from my optimum.

So, enough. I can't do the fad diets, then scale back on them and go back to where I was before in a matter of months. And I'm tired of looking puffy. Any muscle tone I once had, is pretty much gone.

So tomorrow, clad in sweats, checkbook in hand, I will make my way to the gym and get a membership. And to keep myself going, I have enlisted a friend, who has promised to be a drill sergeant, and I've already taken the size 8 pants and skirts out of the back of my closet and hung them front and center, to envision how I will look once I become a workout goddess!

I Hate Dating

I remember a simpler time. When dating was easy and fun, and I can't for the life of me figure out exactly when, or how, it all went south.

In my 20s, it was easy. There were single, interesting people everywhere my friends and I went and chances were always pretty good that you would meet someone cute and interesting, if you were looking.

These days, it seems to be a world of couples or those that are single, are in their 20s.

And when I do get attention from the male of the species, it always seems to be from a leering old man, someone with a wedding ring, or someone in whom I have no interest whatsoever.

Over the past couple years, I've even tried the online sites off and on. About two years ago, I did meet someone who I ended up dating for about 6 months. But since then, all I've had are plenty of first dates, but none of them good.

Okay, not none. There was a good one, about 6 weeks ago.

He was cute, professional, polite and courteous and interesting and I liked everything about him. He was even a good kisser. And more importantly, he seemed to like me too.

We shared light, breezy, flirty emails; interesting, hour-long, phone calls. But duty called for me -- I had several consecutive business trips that kept me from seeing him again for 3 weeks straight, and he had a vacation planned during one of those weeks, so we just couldn't seem to get together after that great first date -- where we had sat in a cafe for four hours sharing wine, food and interesting conversation.

I got back in town the day before he went on vacation and he had left an email saying he'd get in touch when he got back. I counted the days.

He called me the day he got back home. I was psyched! Said we should get together. I agreed. But we didn't pick a night or make any concrete plans.

And then, a couple of days later, I get the email saying that he's decided to start seeing someone else exclusively. (The pitfalls of the online dating jungle where everyone tries to meet as many people as possible, not dating exclusively, until they feel they've met their match.)

Oh, but he still wanted to be friends. Of course, that was 2 months ago and I've not heard a peep from him since. Probably better that way to be sure, but damn, it was a kick in the gut.

So now, I'm back to emailing strangers from a pool of profiles I'm told by a computer system meet my criteria of what I want in a mate, and going through another round of what seems like an endless stream of bad first dates.

Six weeks after FIRST GOOD DATE IN A VERY LONG TIME, and I've emailed with, talked to, and met several guys. Not bad guys to be sure. Just not for me. And they pretty much felt the same way about me.

I'm tempted to drop out completely, give up on dating, and just let fate have her way with me and my dating future, but I guess the old saying is true -- hope springs eternal. Even after countless letdowns and disappointments.

But dang, sometimes it is very hard to stay positive. I guess that's why I've focused on that one good date I had six weeks ago. It keeps me going, because I know that at some point (and the law of averages is on my side here) that there will be another one. And that eventually, I will meet someone and possibly, maybe, one of these nights, I will go out on my last first date.

Please Let This Day Be Over!

I'm tired.

Its been a long week filled with bureaucracy and traveling and required networking and socializing with people (many of whom I can barely tolerate) and just a whole lot of other BS I've had to contend with that I really didn't want to have to deal with.

And now its Friday and I can't wait to walk out the office door and leave it all behind until Monday morning.

There are days I love my job. There are days I LOATHE it. And there are days like today, where I am just tired of it and find myself sitting here wishing I were anywhere else but here.

So much to do, and no matter how much or how little I accomplish each day, there's still a never-ending pile to contend with. On top of that, there are many personalities that I have to deal with on a day to day basis that completely and utterly drain me -- emotionally and physically.

I suppose that's normal and to be expected, but lately it seems as though there have been more bad days than good and I'm just tired of it.

See a theme here?

Thank goodness spring is right around the corner. At least the winter doldrums are starting to lift, and I can take a few vacation days or mental health days to just get out of the office, become more active and maybe even get out of town for a little while. I'm even considering joining a gym -- get the blood flowing on a regular basis, lose a few pounds and perhaps even meet some new people.

For right now, I guess I'll have to settle for some late afternoon coffee and hope that tomorrow I have more get up and go.

Am I Getting Boring?

Or just older and more comfortable with myself?

Here it is, a Saturday. I used to LIVE for Saturdays because it was a day filled with fun activities, once I got past the mundane.

Sure there were random errands and tasks that needed to be done. But once finished, I played. Went to the mall or an afternoon movie. Went to the gym or for walks or jogs or long drives in the country. Then it was home to shower and get ready for a night out on the town.

Dinners of hot wings or pizza and beer with friends followed by going to hear local bands and/or dancing or maybe just hanging out at the local watering hole talking to all the regulars we knew.

But over the past few years, as friends have gotten married or had kids, our weekly Friday happy hours have turned to something we do 3 or 4 times a year. Weekend dinners are -- meet at 7, have a drink, order, eat and home well before 10. These days, I tend to go out more during the week after work than I do on the weekends.

And my Saturdays? Well, today for example, I'm getting the car's oil changed, washing it, taking recyclables to the recycling center, followed by a grand finale OF (drumroll please) a trip to the grocery store, where I need to by kitty supplies and probably will grab a steak or something nice for dinner.

Once home, I'll do the household chores (or at least a couple of them) and then I'll make my nice dinner, have a couple glasses of wine, take a bath and settle in with a good DVD or book and most likely be in bed by 11.

B--O--O--O--O--O--R--R--R--I-N--N--N--G!!!!!!!

Thing is, this really doesn't upset me or bother me, until someone I know rattles off a weekend that sounds more like a marathon event than 2 days off from work.

My friend L gets up at 7, has her house cleaned by 9 or 9:30, then meets friends for breakfast. On way home, she grocery shops, comes home, puts groceries away, yells at husband who has dirtied something that she cleaned earlier, and then she hits the shower because while they still don't have any kids, she insists that they will go out on Saturday nights.

Sunday, she's up early again, does her aerobics tape, showers and its off to one of the parents house's for Sunday dinner. After which, she finally comes home to pre-make the next night's meal and then, finally, relax. This after a week in which she meets her best friend for dinner on a night hubby is working late, belongs to a bowling league, tries to go walking a few times a week or more aerobics tapes, and, oh, did I mention she's also taking continuing ed classes?

I get tired just thinking about her schedule! And then I start to wonder --- is she abnormally active, or am I just a big, old, worthless slug? I'm starting to think the latter.

Maybe its winter doldrums; maybe its that now, I work ALOT and have a mentally and emotionally stressful job; maybe I'm burnt out from having lead too structured an existence before I was 30. LOL

See, when I first moved out of my parents house and had my own apartment, I didn't go hog wild. I still stuck to the disciplined, home routines -- laundry never piled up; ironing was done once a week; dishes were always done immediately following a meal; every surface in the house was cleaned at least once a week, whether it needed it or not. And all my friends were still single too, so of course, you still had to go out a minimum of 3X each week or be considered a loser.

But we all started getting older, and while some of us, like L don't know what to do when they have more than an hour of unscheduled time, the rest of us have decided we like down time.

Sometimes, the dishes don't get done in my house until the day after the meal; the laundry does pile up on occasion, and sometimes, instead of the major, no surface is safe, cleaning I used to do weekly, might go 2 weeks.

The former disciplined girl shudders at that and always vows that she'll do a major cleaning this weekend, and it won't ever happen again. This girl knows, that after a week of pushing papers, and playing office politics and working late -- it will. And that its okay.

The house doesn't need to be perfect, I don't need a packed social calendar and my friends and I have known each other long enough and well enough, that we don't think the other hates us if we don't go out till the wee hours every Saturday night.

I go to work every day, work hard, pay my bills, pay my taxes, make charitable contributions, and even though I no longer see my circle of friends every nite of every single weekend, we do see each other regularly. Only now, we're eating salads or grilled fish, instead of wings, and drinking one glass of wine instead of a pitcher of beer.

And we don't feel like losers if we end up staying in on a perfectly good Saturday nite.

No, I haven't grown that much older, nor have I grown boring. I've finally come to realize that after all these years, its official --- I've grown up.

I'm actually looking forward to my night in, my steak and a good merlot, and settling in with a good read.

My Very First Blog Entry

I can't believe I've done this. Sure, I've read other people's blogs, even posted comments to them. But to have actually created my own --- something I never thought I'd do.

So why? Well, I've journaled for years, although I am a very bad journaler. I start out with the best of intentions, promising to write, if not every day, than at least a few times a week. For the first week, I'm golden. And then all of a sudden, weeks and months have gone by without a single entry.

And sometimes, when something hits me hard enough to make me actually want to record it, or a silly, simple thought spurs me to want to remember the moment it popped into my head and that urge that made me want to remember it, I am nowhere near my journal, or don't have enough time for longhand.

So I turned, in this wonderful computer age of ours, to the internet and the world of blogging.

I have no idea if I'll keep this up. I have no idea if anyone but me will ever read this blog. But for better or for worse, here it is.