Getting a Workout

I love to sweat.

I know that sounds odd, and kinda gross, but I do.

Of course, I don't mean the kind of 3-hour workout sweat where, well, horrid smells emanate from every possible part of your being. I'm talking about the mild sweat. The perspiring sweat, if you will. The kind of sweat that has a sort of wholesome smell, maybe with a little bit of salt mixed into it.

Like the kind of sweat I built up today doing yard work. After 2 hours of trimming hedges and sweeping sidewalks (with several iced tea breaks built in, of course) I had the perfect sweat going.

Not too drippy, not too offensive, but good enough so that I could feel self-righteous about the 2 hours of manual labor I had done, and enough that it felt like a workout, as well, giving me the perfect excuse for not having to go to the gym today.

Oh, did I mention that I also packed up all my recyclables and carted them off to the recycling center, filled the bird feeders and hung a new birdhouse to give my feathered friends a nice place to stay while they summer here?

So, now, I'm done. Just in time too, because as I swept the last of the hedge trimmings from the front sidewalk, the rain started coming down and it looks like its gonna be here for awhile.

Guess I'll grab another iced tea (iced green tea, that is), a cigarrette and chill on the enclosed porch for a bit and try to decide if I want to just shower, grab dinner and call it a day, or do a few indoor domestic tasks, ie, cleaning the bathroom or polishing furniture.

I'm thinkin' the shower/dinner combo is probably gonna win out!

Better with Age?

It happened quite innocently. I had gone to a local salon in search of better makeup. After suffering through weeks of breakouts, where I have changed just about everything that could be a possible culprit in causing them, I determined it must be my makeup.

Granted, the same makeup I've been using for about 3 years now, but hey, shit happens and sometimes we just can't explain why.

So I decided to go with a higher-end brand.

As Cheryl, the cosmetologist brushed and smoothed and powdered, she stopped just underneath my left eye, and "hmmmm, you seem to be a bit dry under here." Then she touched just below my right eye. "yep, here too," she said.

"How old are you?" she then asked, as she applied some moisturizer to the area.

"36, why?"

"Oh, me too. I was just curious. But you know, you really should start doing something about your undereye area or its going to get worse. Tell me, do you use eye cream"

"Ummm, no. I don't. Why? Do I need to?"

"Yes," Cheryl matter-of-factly stated. "You do."

Normally not one to overly concern myself with those types of comments/issues, or personal vanity, I could not get Cheryl's eye cream advice out of my head.

As I grocery shopped -- I found myself trying to catch glimpses of myself in freezer door glass and anything resembling a mirror. On the ride home, I kept looking at different parts of my face in the rear-view mirror.

When did my pores get so big?, I started to wonder. And how long have I had that furrow in my brow? And damn, she was right, my undereye area is not only dry, but darker than I remember it being last time I looked? Is it just from lack of sleep?

As I made dinner, ate it and then read and watched TV, I kept going into the bathroom every half hour and examining my face in great detail.

Its happened, I suddenly realized. I've begun looking my age. The old grey mare, she ain't what she used to be.

All of a sudden, all the pieces came together -- the stiffer joints in the morning, the dry skin that no moisturizer has been able to cure, the expanding waistline, my heel spur, my ever-earlier bedtime --- DAMN. I'm middle-aged (or at least very close to it), I suddenly realized.

WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN TO ME?

And why did my brain not realize it sooner? I mean, inside, I still feel like a 20-year-old. But the shell is saying, "slow down honey, and please, don't forget the moisturizer and face cream at nite."

Well, I've been more diligent the past few days with my skin care routine and probably will buy the more expensive makeup. And while I haven't gone out and bought eye cream yet, its a good bet that this weekend I"ll be at a makeup counter at a department store, checking a few out.

I guess in addition to wisdom, with age comes vanity. And alot more maintenance! LOL

21st Century Romance

There they were -- two messages in my as yet unchecked in-box, from 2 men I winked on Match. Somehow, never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I'd be doing the online dating thing.

Of course, everyone who does online dating says they never thought they'd be doing online dating.

But for me, by now, my online dating days should be over.

I've been doing it off and on for about 3 years now -- with very, very limited success. In fact, the other day, the day I sent the winks, I had logged on so I could cancel my membership. But then I saw a few new faces and decided to surf for just a minute or two.

I ended up sending the winks, vowing that if I didn't get a response the next day -- I'd resign for good. Forever. Never to return.

The next day, there they were.

One good thing -- both of these two guys seem to be genuinely nice and interested in talking and meeting quickly. That is a good thing. Nothing like prolonging email only contact and then find out you're totally incompatible with the other person.

So, with any luck, I'll have at least one date this weekend.

I'm not getting my hopes up. I've had lots of first dates thanks to these online dating sites. My problem -- getting second dates. Time, I suppose, will tell.

I just wish I could figure out exactly when, and how, dating got to be so darn hard!

People come and people go......

I walked into the room, sat down at a table, and there she was.

The nemesis from my first post-college job.

My heart started beating a little faster, and I felt a few hairs stand up on the back of my neck. What the hell was she doing here? At a dinner for a group of which I had belonged to for the past 5 years?

Before my mind even formed the question, I knew the answer. Another colleague, who had also worked with her in the past and still remained in touch, must have extended the invitation.

And here she was, sitting across from me making polite dinner conversation. Unbelieveable. I thought our paths would never cross again. Now, as one of the newest members of my women's group, she will be crossing my path at least every few months.

Well, dinner turned out to be not too painful and M was actually very pleasant and polite. That doesn't mean I now like her and will embrace her as a friend. I am still wary, still untrusting, and a few hairs will always stand on end.

I can't quite explain it, except to say that when I knew her all those years ago, she liked to stir up trouble -- and put people at odds with one another. And I swear, she has a multiple personality disorder. At lunchtime several of my co-workers and I would trade barbs when she was out of earshot and one common nickname was Cybil.

Well, I'm more mature now, more diplomatic and more experienced at handling difficult people. I also refuse to let her bother me the way she used to. But I still don't like the fact, that even though in a very minimal way, this woman is back in my life.

Which made me think.

Why do certain people cross our paths? Why do some stay with us for a lifetime, while others enter for a short time, then just as quickly as they appeared, fade away? And how is it that sometimes we become true friends with the most unlikely of people? Why do some people keep coming back to us despite our best efforts to keep them out?

I worked with a woman, I'll call her the psychic secretary, who was a big believer in reincarnation. She claimed that we kept coming across the same group of souls in each consecutive life to work out karma from previous lives. Once the karma was worked out, they would leave our circle to go work out other karma.

So how does one explain lifelong friends, siblings, lifetime spouses etc. Reunions, reconciliations and that rare instance where sworn enemies somehow find common ground, make peace and end up friends?

If everyone is working out karma, wouldn't all of our connections be fleeting? Wouldn't we end up like the feather in Forest Gump, floating along in the wind, landing in one location, at the feet of one person and then eventually being picked up and taken somewhere else to another person by a universal force, never to return to the same place again?

I don't think I quite buy the psychic secretary's theory -- but it would help explain how sometimes we just feel an instant bond with someone and become fast friends and/or lifelong ones.

Take my friend LB for example -- we met at a work function and became instantaneous friends. After one day of conversation, I felt like I'd known her forever. We talk several times a week and never tire of each other.

Then there's my "friend" S. S entered into my life like an avalanche. One day, I turned around and she was just there. And has refused to leave ever since. For the first few months of our friendship, we got along great, had lots in common and got together frequently. But then I started to literally resent her. She frustrated me with her constant analyzation of the industry we both worked in, and totally smothered me.

Seriously smothered me. There were days when I'd get several emails, as well as 3 or 4 or even 5 phone calls. She'd call me at 9:30 at nite to tell me about something funny her dog did, for chrissakes.

Finally, it ended. We got into an argument, and I used it to distance myself.

She's gradually been coming around again, trying to re-establish those formerly steel bonds, but I"m not letting it happen. I won't completely shut her out, but no way can I handle her neediness and unending desire for constant communication and attention.

I wonder if perhaps she needed me in her life, for some reason, and that is why out paths crossed, and probably will continue to cross for some time to come. I don't dislike her, really. Its just that we're very different, and if not for talking shop when we're together, we'd have nothing in common.

After all this rambling, I still haven't answered my question. Maybe I never will. I've heard of different philosophies. People come back in our lives to teach us a lesson, connections can never be completely broken, etc., etc.

So far, none totally satisfies me.

The conclusion I have come to, is: The best I can do is enjoy those people I do enjoy and find ways to deal with those I don't. And limit my contact with those for which I feel both enjoyment and non-enjoyment, so that I can enjoy them in limited quanities.

Life is too short to waste it or our energy on resentment or frustration or dislike or hatred. The more we can find to enjoy, the better our experiences will be.

Batteries RECHARGED!!!

Sometimes, its the small things that really do make a big difference.

Less than 24 hours after my early (um, I mean, on time departure from work yesterday afternoon) the spring is back in my step and the cobwebs banished from my mind.

True to my word, I did leave at 4:30 yesterday and went straight home. I walked right past the very high laundry pile in the bedroom, donned a pair of shorts and a tank top and headed straight for the porch, where I spent the next hour immersed in fiction.

The only thing that slightly interrupted me and my "enjoying the weather" time, was a phone call from a friend. A sometimes slightly annoying friend, but she had exciting news to share about a new job offer and needed some congrats and advice.

Phone call completed, I switched from the front porch to the enclosed back porch to escape the growing swarm of gnats gathering around the front yard bushes, and read some more.

AND, I even managed to do some productive things -- made a nice dinner, took out the garbage and then settled in for some quality reality TV. Congrats to Uchenna and Joyce on winning The Amazing Race 7. So glad they were able to beat out the increasingly annoying Amber and Rob dynamic duo!

Tonite, I plan to leave work on time AGAIN, and actually put a dent in that laundry pile AND get my butt to the gym.

The weather's fine......

I'm going home on time today.

This is a big deal.

As someone with a Herculean sense of guilt and a strong tendency to be a workaholic, me leaving work at 5 p.m. or (gulp) before 5 p.m., regardless of the number of extra hours I may already have put in, is something that happens very rarely these days.

But today -- with temps approaching 80 degrees and a perfect springtime sun and clear blue sky -- is just too nice a day to keep my self-imposed sweatshop hours and so, come 4:30, that's right, not 5, not 5:30, but 4:30, I am walking out that door, getting into my car and heading home.

My plan: Be on my front porch, tall glass of iced tea setting on the table beside me and a book in hand, to soak up the late afternoon rays and enjoy the gentle breezes that I've gotten just a hint of, as they filtered in through my open office window.

Never mind that I really should force myself to better utilize this time and at least think about going to the gym, or maybe sneaking in a couple loads of laundry (which has been gathering in a Mt. Everest-size pile for the past week now)

The only pit stop I may make on the way home is at the roadside flower stand to buy some hanging baskets for the front and back porches, and the only reason I'm allowing myself this task is because it will enhance the quality and enjoyment of, my porch time.

Truth is, I've been working hard lately and dealing with alot of upper level management type BS, and its showing.

I have preposterously weird dreams, in which the upper level types often appear doing the most bizarre things.

I've been eating alot of junk food. My occasional smoking habit has become a daily one, and I find myself finding fault with people for things that I shouldn't even be thinking or caring about (see post below).

So, a short workday that will end with some of my favorite things -- being outside, reading and iced green tea is going to feel like a little slice of heaven to this stressed out, really tired girl.

I can already feel those gentle spring breezes blowing through my hair -- and I can't wait for 4:30 to get here!

The Island of Misfit Toys

I love my staff. Really. I do. But there are days when I can't help but wonder how this collection of misfits all landed in one place.

Don't get me wrong. They are all hard workers. Take initiative, are honest and trustworthy, and there have been times where they've saved my butt after an unexpected screw-up or unfortunate turn of events.

But, occasionally, on days like today, where their little quirks and personal trivialities just get under my skin and irritate the crap out of me.

I have one woman, who can hear just fine, unless she's taking a message. Numerous times, I've called asking for a Darcy or a Marcy, when it was Nancy. Asking for Lenore, when it was Leonard.

Then there's the project manager. He claims to block everything out unless you directly address him. I make announcements to the collective staff in the common area, and he purports not to hear them. But when something he has done or didn't do is called into question by one of my superiors, he suddenly has bionic hearing and a very focused attention and before I even get off the phone, he has the project paperwork in hand. Usually negating what I had answered to the said superiors, because of my understanding of the matter, which turns out to be slightly different than how it was actually handled on his end.

In addition, he thinks he's just got it all going on, talking to his friends on the phone using terms, like "dude, happenin,' fan-tastic" and the like, and thinks he's the perfect male specimen -- despite the fact that he weighs less than half the women I known and sports a hairdo that does not hide the fact that he's balding.

Lastly, there is a woman, older than me, who still acts like a college student. Speaking in cutesy language, giggling in a childlike manner at things that amuse her, and of course, having all her belongings packed up 5 minutes before quitting time so that the second the clock hits the quitting hour, she's out the door and on her way across the parking lot.

A lovely woman, but totally out of touch with modern day life and lifestyles, preferring instead to live in the world of children -- watching Nick at Nite with her young daugher and sacrificing any semblance of a real social life or grown up interaction.

Oh, and she refuses to dress up for anything. Even professional outings. I can only assume that its partly due to her financial situation (single mom, dead beat dad, a low salary) so she will show up at business dinners in leggings and a pilly sweater.

I've given up having her attend (partly because of the dress, partly because the daughter is always an issue), and therefore take on most of the office responsibilities.

I guess the reason I'm blogging about this -- its really starting to get to me.

I can admit that I may not be the most perfect manager in the world -- although I've heard of, and experienced worse) and I realize I could be stuck with horrendous employees -- which I"m not.

But one can only take so much. Being the only manager in the building, I miss having a peer group made up of colleagues of simliar ages and backgrounds and experience.

Come to think of it, I think that's it. Except for the hearing-impaired secretary, the personal lives of the other two are a mess. And I have to say -- from hearing their stories, they have no one to blame but themselves, as they both made horrendous personal decisions.

And I, have had nothing close to what they have gone through, and even if I had, my position prevents me from getting too close and personal with them. So perhaps that's it.

I miss comraderie; I miss lunches out with peers where we could discuss politics and current events adn personal stuff with abandon. And I miss working with normal people. In my last job (5 years) I had a similar cast of characters. And here I am again.

Surely tomorrow, it won't seem so bad. But today, it just really got to me and I needed to bitch. Since there are no other managers around, this blog got the brunt of it.

Me, a homeowner, huh!

Half asleep, I padded across my kitchen to the sink to get water for coffee and turned the hot water faucet to get cold water for the coffeemaker.

Thing is, I didn't do that because I was half asleep, but because in my old apartment, where I had lived for almost 8 years, the faucets on my kitchen sink were reversed. Hot was cold; cold was hot.

And I do this frequently in my kitchen, not just when half asleep.

Old habits die hard, as do old memories. Apartment flashbacks, I've started calling them.

I've been in my new house now for about 5 months and there are times where the reality that I actually BOUGHT this dwelling hits me like speeding freight train.

I love the place -- even though its a 100-year-old farmhouse that needs quite a bit of work to bring up to my standards. The former owners had taken care of the major issues -- siding, replacement windows, a garage, and some nice landscaping. However, their inside decor is outdated and not my style and for me, there is lots to be done. My only limitations -- time, money and know-how. Or rather, not knowing how.

But it still surprises me, how after all this time, I still unconsciously turn the hot water faucet in the kitchen when I want cold water. Or, how I go to buy towels and my first instinct is to look for ones to match the color of my old apartment bathroom.

I always catch myself in a second or two, and as I switch faucets, or look at different colored towels, I realize I no longer live in an apartment. I OWN a house.

When I was going through the bidding and mortgage process, the thought that I was BUYING a house would suddenly occur to me and I literally felt my stomach drop and my heart would start to beat faster.

Signing the papers that day in the lawyers office, I could barely speak I was so nervous.

The one thing that got me through it though, was just how RIGHT the house felt to me the first time I walked through the door. Despite all the nerves, worries and doubts, I never doubted the house itself.

I love the house, and so happy I bought it. Despite the imperfections, unexpected repairs and ever-growing list of needs.

Even when I look around and see all that needs to be done and sometimes, I'm excited, other times scared. Right now, for example, I'm paralyzed. I don't have the money to do any major overhauls and not sure exactly what it is I want to do.

I just look around and realize that its all mine and I can do whatever I want to it and I still get chills over the features that sold me on on it --- the three car garage, the enclosed porch, the huge kitchen, the walk-in closet in the master bedroom.

The good news, I guess, is that I have the next 30 years to figure it all out. My last mortgage payment is due Dec. 1, 2034!

Me -- a homeowner -- un-freakin-believeable!

Easy Come, Easy Go

Up until yesterday, I had never quite understood the lure of the casino, or of slot machines or of gambling.

Up until yesterday, the only gambling I had ever done was buying lottery tickets and a few rounds at the roulette wheel at Casino Night style fundraisers and other events. (unless of course, you count those games of War and Go Fish as a child where we played for M&Ms or Skittles, but I don't think they count)

But, Mom and Dad, who LOVE to gamble had wanted to go on a daytrip to a not too far away slots parlor, and thought it would be fun for me and my brother and sis-in-law to join. I agreed.

Taking only a limited amount of cash, in order to keep my losses to a minimum, I walked through the doors and for the first half hour was completely confused. Slots, lights, beeps, whistles and bells emanated from every corner of the room, and 80-year-olds brushed by, knowing exactly what they wanted to do and where they wanted to go.

Me, on the other hand, walked up and down at least 3 rows of machines before finally settling down at one. And even then, I knew not what I was doing. Ten minutes later, I was $25 poorer, because I had been betting the maximum and of course, losing each time.

Hoooooo. Ooo-kay! I left that machine and picked another. This time, I was more careful, and my $20 lasted for almost a half hour. Got up, found another machine, and threw in more money.

Big Loser.

Now $65 poorer, and my limited cash reserve dwindling, had I driven myself there, I would have left. But I was there for the day, good or bad luck.

Eventually, I lost another $40 and was down to my last $40, when lo and behold, I started winning. Bells rang, the credits bar on my machine started increasing, and suddenly, I was starting to have some fun. When that machine started to slow down for me, I found another one, just as "hot" (gambling jargon for a machine that you're doing really well on).

Again, bells, whistles and more credits later, I was totally enjoying myself and did some quick math. My credits equalled about $250. That was more than $100 than I came with. The "I'm in the money" jingle was going through my head.

But my streak was not to last.

An hour later, I left the slots parlor with $3 to my name.

Easy come, easy go.

I did have fun, however; and I will probably go again, every once in awhile, because it can be fun. But I'm glad I set limits for myself and in a way glad that my experience turned out the way it did.

In one afternoon, I learned both the joys and pitfalls of gambling, and came away understanding how some people do get addicted.

As I had watched my $250 dwindle, part of me kept saying, "okay, you're streak is over. Cash out. Cut your losses"

But I couldn't help think that my luck would turn around. Heck, an hour earlier, I'd been down to $35; and turned it into $250. Surely I could do that again? And the devil on my shoulder, said, "keep playing. You can win it back"

I had fun -- even though I walked out broke -- but I'm lucky. I only took what I was willing and able to afford to lose. And didn't let that devil on my shoulder talk me into spending any more than I had brought. (No trips to the ATM for me)

More importantly, the day wasn't really about gambling or making money --- it was to spend a day with our family. Go somewhere fun, enjoy a nice drive on a cool but sunny spring day, and the best part of the day truly was the phenomenal dinner we had afterwards at a local steak and seafood house --- paid for by my brother, whose luck had been much, much better than mine.

Would I go again -- sure. But not really for the gambling. Simply for the experience and the time spent with the family and friends who'd be accompanying me. Because, coming away richer in those circumstances would be a sure thing.