A Pic in Time

My morning email ritual is one that has varying effects on the start of my day.

Sometimes, its monotonous, as I delete spam and junk mail, and read boring memos or notes from colleagues, higher-ups and co-workers, skimming each one with glazed eyes.

Other days, its downright exhausting as that morning's batch of email provides me with at least one full day of work that has to get done immediately, in addition to the things that I put on my To Do List the day before.

And then there are those mornings where I literally thank God for the magic that is email and all that it has brought to modern day life. Today was one of those mornings.

The first email in my inbox this morning was from Alice, the best friend of my old college roommate. When college ended, the bond I had formed with Dee, someone I had not known until that hot, sticky August "moving in" day our first week at college, happily continued to grow and remain strong over time. Living together in one room for 2 years will do that to ya.

Fifteen years later, we're still friends, still stay in touch, and her best friend Alice is someone I now also consider a friend.

Alice had emailed a photo she had unearthed while cleaning out her attic. It is the silliest of photos, and it brought back a flood of memories.

We were all about 23, tan, carefree and on vacation at the shore. It was the first time I had really ever spent any time with Alice, other than the few times when I had visited Dee and interacted with her in a group setting.

The photo was taken in one of those cheesy little boardwalk shops where they have costumes and backgrounds for you to pose in, and then they charge each of you $10 for a single copy of the cheesy, silly photo.

We chose the western saloon photo and there we are, in all the Old West Saloon Girl finery of feathers and black chokers and big, frilly dresses with a background of a very old, gritty bar behind us.

That was the last vacation I had gone on with Dee, as she would be getting married in the near future, and it was also the beginning of my friendship with Alice. We liked each other and got along really well. Eventually, we'd go from being mutual friends of Dee to being friends with each other. We didn't realize that's the path we were on, but that's typical of life in general.

See, as is what usually happens the first few years after college, Dee and I stayed in regular contact and visited each other often, since she only lived an hour away. We went on summer vacations together.

But then, she got married, I got busy, the years flew by, and we found ourselves barely doing the yearly b-day cards and Christmas phone calls. We saw each other maybe once every couple of years. Sometimes Alice would be there, sometimes not.

Then, a little over a year ago, Dee called one day out of the blue to get together. When we saw each other, she told me she was separated, was getting a divorce and going back to school. The bonds were instantly re-cemented and the phone calls got more frequent and visits now once every couple of months instead of years. And of course, we exchanged emails regularly.

We'd meet for dinners, shopping and happy hours. Sometimes just us, sometimes Alice and a few other of Dee's friends. As she prepared to go away to school, I started emailing with Alice on my own to help plan girls nights out and the going away party. Alice was also added to my email joke list and buddy lists. She added me to hers and a new friendship was born. We were no longer mutual friends of Dee's. We were simply friends.

Since Dee left for school, Alice and I have remained in touch and meet whenever time allows for Friday happy hours or dinner. When her husband asked for a divorce, she emailed me to tell me. When she went out to visit Dee at school, she filled me in on all the details when she returned and sent pics.

And then there was today's picture. A real glimpse back into the past and, strangely enough, at the same time, a precursor of things to come. When that pic was taken, I probably described it as, "there's me, Dee and her friend Alice. Now its -- "there's me and my friends Dee and Alice."

The birth, death and ever-changing cycles of friendship never cease to amaze me and its funny how the events that have transpired since that vacation picture, taken all those years ago, have made the memory of that photo that much more special.

When it was taken, it was me, my old roommate and her friend. Today, its a picture of me and two good friends, and a chance to remember me and us as we were back then and realize how far we've all come. How the roads we've each traveled separately, have strangely enough, helped bring us all back together and added to the uniqueness and specialness of the memory that photograph evokes.

This morning, as I stared at that picture for several minutes and then made it my screen background, I felt a wave of genuine gratitude for the magic of email and the friendships it has helped nurture.

Something in the Water

I woke up this morning feeling unbelieveably good.

I felt calm and relaxed, invigorated and alive and just so well-rested.

As I stretched and headed for the kitchen and the coffeemaker, I got that feeling you get when you wake up on that first morning of your summer vacation, look out your hotel or beach house window, take a good deep breath and just absorb the first few minutes of your day.

The strange thing was, when I was going to bed I was anticipating waking up slightly hung over.
After hanging with the neighbors Sunday night, helping them polish off the remaining few bottles of wine left from their Saturday nite party, I headed home a little after 10 with half a glass of wine left.

I watched TV for a bit, sipped away at the remaining reisling in my glass and turned in. Before going upstairs I poured a glass of my newest creation to quench any middle of the night thirsts -- cucumber water. (You add thinly sliced cucumber slices (I use a whole small kirby cuke) to a pitcher of fresh spring water, a slice or two of lemon if you'd like, and keep it in the fridge.) I LOVE the stuff. Had it at a spa a few weeks ago when I went for a massage and kept intending to make it. Yesterday I finally followed through.

Anyway, I settled in under the sheets, with the air conditioner blasting and my cucumber water on the bedside table.

I rarely sleep through the nite -- bathroom runs, thirst, the cat and the occasional strange dream often have me up once or twice. And last nite was no exception. Two hours after falling asleep, the cat wanted out of the air conditioned room. And I had a sip or two of my cucumber water; two hours later, she wanted back in and I also needed to pee and then gulped down a few more mouthfuls. Two hours after that, it was 6 a.m. and I was wide awake and ready to start my day.

I remained in bed just vegging, for another half hour -- didn't want to disturb the cat who was still very much asleep and obviously very comfortable resting against my elbow. When I eventually threw back the sheets, I realized I felt great. Not even the hint of a hangover, no stiff muscles or tight back -- I felt like a new person.

As I opened up the downstairs windows to let the cool morning air in, I realized it wasn't very cool. Barely 7 a.m. and already the temp was closing in on 80. And it was hazy out when I got the paper in. But that only added to the energy and rejuvenation I felt.

I have no idea what got into me!

Maybe the air conditioning, I thought and then realized that usually, air conditioning made me feel worse. As I literally bounced around the house getting ready for the day, enjoying the extra time I now had because I had gotten up so damn early, I couldn't get over how much energy I had, what a good mood I was in, and just how alive I felt.

What could it be? I kept thinking as I drove to work. I should have slept for at least another hour, and then woken up cranky and with a headache, cursing the neighbors and their free wine. But I wasn't. Instead, I felt like a Polly-frickin-Anna. All full of goodness and light and well wishes.

Finally, after a couple hours at my desk -- where I actually got work done (I start out slow usually and spend my morning checking email, phone messages and pushing around all the piles on my desk trying to decide what to do first) -- it hit me like a ton of bricks.

THE CUCUMBER WATER!

Its the one thing I did differently. It was the first time I had made a pitcher, and with the weather being so hot yesterday, I had drank an entire pitcher over the course of the afternoon and evening.

It had to be. What else? Its the only thing that was different.

I'm hoping I've found the fountain of youth here. I had previously just drank my water plain, thank you very much, or did the old lemon water thing. I now have a new fad, but I will be doing some experimentation over the course of this week.

I plan on making and drinking more cucumber water, to see if it has any difference. And of course, geek that I am, I'll probably research it a bit on the internet to see if I can find any claims. But for now, all I know is I feel great and looking forward to going home and enjoying the rest of the afternoon -- maybe reading on the front porch for awhile, with a tall glass of -- you guessed it -- cucumber water nearby.

Besides, it can't hurt right?

Wasted Days and Guilty Nights

I hate it when I have weekends like these.

Weekends where I literally have nothing to do. Nothing except, of course, those mundane tasks that I swear I will try to do bit by bit during the week so that my weekend is truly free, but somehow never do get them done. "But I will have so much time this weekend," I tell myself. "I'll have plenty of time, then"

Ahh, the spirit is so willing, but the willpower so weak.

On Friday night, restless and planless, I went for a drive after work -- with the windows all the way down and the day's heat finally receding, I drove down shaded roads, past farms and woods, with the wind hitting my face and the stereo cranking out the latest CD by a favorite local band, followed by Bat Out of Hell II. (I not only love the band Meatloaf, its also one of my favorite dinner entrees. LOL)

My growling stomach finally made me head back to civilization, 10 minutes before the closing time of a favorite gourmet take-out place. I breezed in just in time and treated myself to very rare prime rib, garlic mashed potatoes and teriyaki vegetables. With dinner in hand, I made a second stop for a nice bottle of wine, and headed home for a relaxing but boring evening.

Later that nite, as I finished off the wine and smoked a cigarrette, relaxing on the front porch, I planned my itinerary for the next day.

Errands: recycling center, post office, card store, bank and grocery store, and then wash the car.

Tasks: laundry, dusting, vacuuming, clean the bathroom, change the sheets

fun: Go to neighbors party

Well, as of 10 p.m. last nite, I had done 2 loads of laundry, and barely dragged my ass to the bank and card store, and did make the party.

Once home, I was tired and as I vegged on the sofa, all I could think was --- I didn't do shit today! Practically nothing. And so much needed to be done.

As I looked at my dusty furniture, my non-vacuumed carpets and thought of all the laundry that still needed to be done, while just then remembering there was a load in the dryer that needed folding, the guilt descended.

Tomorrow will be different, I vowed.

Well now, tomorrow is today, and its only slightly different -- I did change the sheets, have already done 3 loads of laundry (only 2 more remain, I have been a bad, bad girl) put done laundry away, cleaned litter box and straightened out kitchen.

But the furniture is still dusty, the kitchen floor could use a mopping and the bathroom, still not cleaned. Thankfully, its not gross, just the usual toothpaste globs and soap spots in the sink. That kind of thing.

And of course, I feel even more guilty.

In the back of my mind, I can hear my mother voicing her disapproval of my housekeeping skills and my laziness. "How could you possibly spend the entire morning reading newspapers when your house looks like this? Where are your priorities? You better get your act together," she'd say. Because in mom's mind, nothing is more important than having a spotlessly clean house and an empty laundry hamper.

What I find most interesting, is the fact that I can't seem to shake the habits of childhood and how at 36, being a professional, a manager, a homeowner and single -- which means every responsibility is mine -- I feel guilty when I let things slide simply because I'm tired or would rather do something else, or nothing.

Many of my friends spend their weekends vegging and partying and not worrying about the mundane -- or constanly berating themselves for a dusty end table here or some crumbs on the rug over there. One friend only cleans every 2 weeks; another only does laundry when she's down to her last few pairs of clean undies.

And I don't hold it against them. I totally understand. And yet, I can't shake the sense of guilt when I don't get the housework done on a regular (ie, weekly) basis.

I guess no matter how old we get, or independent, our moms, or rather, their voices in the back of our minds, can still lay a guilt trip on us.

And I think I know why -- no matter how hard we try to fight it, in time, some small part of us, will become our mothers, even if in only the slightest of ways.

I know I'll never be the perfect, June Cleaver type of housewife my mom was when I was growing up. Truth be told, I'm okay with that. For the most part -- I have to admit, I love it when the house is really, really clean.

Its the part of me that has already started morphing into my mother, and I guess the part of me that will always look for parental approval no matter how much I say I don't need it, that now feels guilty when my housekeeping skills take a longer than usual holiday.

When will it get better?

I feel like crap today --- on so many levels.

Physically, my allergies are in overdrive and I swear if I blow my nose one more time, or my right eye tears anymore, I am gonna go insane!

Secondly, yet another dating letdown. Yes, I'm still doing the online thing, and yes, so far, still not much luck. But I had a prospect; a decent one. He was goodlooking, we seemed to have lots in common and our emails were actually honest to goodness conversations. Until he asked for a picture and I obliged.

And the only conclusion I can draw -- is guys my own age are not attracted to me. Every single time I have shared a pic with a 40-something guy, or late 30s guy, they've replied, complimenting me on my eyes or my cuteness or my smile.

The 35/36-yr-olds, or younger --- fuggeddabout it! Once I send off the pics, I rarely here from them.

What IS that? And in bard its even worse. Every post mid-life crisis single 50 or 60-something guy, hits on me.

An older colleague of mine once said I reminded him of a young Judy Garland. Could that be it? Maybe older guys like cute, perky brunettes?

But regardless of why, I have to admit that its started to put a chink in this girl's armor. Its hard not to feel rejected when someone appears interested, gushes that they can't believe all the things you have in common wiht them, and then, upon seeing a photo or two, drops off the face of the earth.

Definitely a hazard of 21st century dating, for sure, and a total ego-killer.

Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't come on the tails of a huge work issue that surfaced at 4 p.m. on Friday afternoon. In trying to get to the bottom of said issue and put some sort of resolution into motion before leaving for the weekend, I had one higher-up outright lie to me, another confide in me that another higher-up lied to her, and one volunteer resign because, obviously, she did not want to have to deal with the politics of the situation.

The incident was enough to make me pull out a want ad I'd cut from last week's newspaper, print out my resume, write a cover letter, and head for the nearest mailbox.

See, for the past 18 months my job has been a hellacious roller coaster ride. When I saw this ad, which matches my credentials and experience, I considered applying.

But almost magically, in the past week and a half since I clipped the ad, things at work seemed to be on the upswing. So I didn't do anything with it. I figured, 'why try to get out now when it seems like you've just rounded the corner.' Maybe, after more than a year of uphill battles and political landmines, I've finally reached the summit and things will be good and the way they should be.

But alas, the upswing was not to last. I should have known better. It was an unexpected cease fire due in part to everyone being so busy with seasonal projects and the fact that we had just had a very successful and enjoyable annual dinner event.

Its now back to the hidden agendas, in-house politics and weekly backstabbing that has been par for the course since I joined this organization.

And Friday's incident was just the push I needed to realize that. So now, my dusted off resume and freshly minted cover letter are on their happy way to the desk of a potential new employer.

I have no idea what my chances are -- if I'll even be called for an interview -- but at least my hat is firmly in the ring.

A very faint ray of hope in an otherwise depressing 48 hours. And at least it made me feel like I was doing something proactive.

Oh, and also yesterday, I found out a guy who I used to be friends with, but had a falling out with 2 years ago and haven't spoken to since -- due to the fact that he wanted to date me and couldn't accept the fact that I did not have a similar interest in him -- is going to be at a friend's christening for her daughter. Lovely. Its a small gathering and altho I 'll do my best to act civilly, I'm already dreading it.

So, no exactly the greatest 48 hours. And on top of it, my allergies are still in overdrive and I've just used my last tissue!

Aaarrrrgggghhhhh!