Tuesday, June 28, 2005
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.
Monday, June 27, 2005
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?
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?
Sunday, June 26, 2005
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.
Saturday, June 04, 2005
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!
Saturday, May 28, 2005
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!
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!
Friday, May 27, 2005
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
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
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!
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!
Friday, May 13, 2005
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
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!
Monday, May 09, 2005
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.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
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!
Monday, May 02, 2005
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.
Friday, April 29, 2005
Memories
The picture suddenly resurfaced in my top desk drawer at work the other day and I was immediatley transported back to that summer day 8 years ago.
The picture was of my then 4-year-old niece riding the kiddie bumper cars at a local amusement park. She had a smile on her lips, and a look of deep focus in her eyes -- much as she did that entire day at the park.
It was her first venture to the park where she could actually ride the rides by herself, without an adult hovering over her and having to sit next to her on every single ride and she was loving it. And she was just so happy. So happy in fact, that her happiness from that day still oozes out of the photos we took and makes me smile any time I come across one of them.
The picture, almost forgotten, is now taped to the wall of my office. And every time I so much as glance at it, I smile; and then almost as quickly, have to stop myself from crying.
My niece is now 12. A pre-teen and getting the attitude, moodiness and rebelliousness of the typical American pre-teen. She's not that sweet smiling 4-year-old riding the bumper cars anymore and in a way, that makes me sad.
I miss that 4-year-old who thought that every day held endless happiness and promise, and who thought every adult in her life was cool. The girl who could be made to smile and laugh by the simplest things -- 10 extra minutes in the sandbox, a blue popsicle, 2 rides in a row on the bumper cars all by herself.
These thoughts give me a whole new perspective on parents. And how tough it is not only to raise their kids, but to watch them grow up and morph from pudgy, bouncing babies to toddlers to children and then finally, the pre-teen and teen years -- springboards to adulthood. If I can get choked up by just thinking about my niece growing up, how hard must it be for my brother and sister-in-law?
Sure, its very cool watching her grow and learn and develop into her own person and I do appreciate my niece just as much as a pre-teen as I did when she was 4, or 2, or 8.
But I can't deny the part of me that wishes I could reach into that photo and pull the cute little 4-year-old in the pink shorts set out -- for just a little while -- and play with her in her sandbox for 10 extra minutes and give her a blue popsicle, before letting her slip back into the past.
Saturday, April 02, 2005
Back in the Groove
Despite the glum and dreary day outside, I feel good. NO, scratch that. I feel great.
I finally made good on my vow to take actions to lose weight and get back in shape. This afternoon, I joined the gym.
I can't believe how easily my body fell back in the groove (altho I'm sure it will be complaining plenty tomorrow) and how great I felt afterwards. Not just physically, but mentally as well.
It felt good to get the blood pumping again, and to get long-forgotten muscles back in motion. I'm also going to set up an appointment for a personal training session. It came free with the membership, so why not. In the past, I just did my own thing, but perhaps maybe that is why after a month or two I got bored and burned out.
I'm hoping this time, I stick with the program long-term, much like I did the first 4 or 5 years after college where I had been a total gym rat. And if my attitude right now is any indication, I may be well on my way. I'm already looking forward to going back.
I finally made good on my vow to take actions to lose weight and get back in shape. This afternoon, I joined the gym.
I can't believe how easily my body fell back in the groove (altho I'm sure it will be complaining plenty tomorrow) and how great I felt afterwards. Not just physically, but mentally as well.
It felt good to get the blood pumping again, and to get long-forgotten muscles back in motion. I'm also going to set up an appointment for a personal training session. It came free with the membership, so why not. In the past, I just did my own thing, but perhaps maybe that is why after a month or two I got bored and burned out.
I'm hoping this time, I stick with the program long-term, much like I did the first 4 or 5 years after college where I had been a total gym rat. And if my attitude right now is any indication, I may be well on my way. I'm already looking forward to going back.
Friday, March 25, 2005
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 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!
Monday, March 21, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, March 18, 2005
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.
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.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, March 11, 2005
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.
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.
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