Hey, guess what? Tomorrow is the end of August...and the first day of school!!!!!
(Pause here for cabbage patching)
It also means that on Thursday we get to start a new project.
Which, of course, means you will get no sleep until then, as you thrash in fitful angst, gnashing teeth and ripping robes as you fret over what on earth we are going to do in September. I love the power, I do.
A review of what we accomplished in August:
I started drinking a lot more water and a lot less pop - and the pop I drink is calorie-free.
I take my supplements every day.
I eat what I want, when I want, and don't beat myself up over it.
I'm getting some form of exercise every day.
I'm sorta calling people back in a timely manner.
I think that's pretty darn good. If I improve much more, then I'll implode.
September approacheth - are you ready?
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Dinner with Conan the Barbarian
Setting: A stylishly small, yet oppressively hot, kitchen in Small Town America. Mom is assembling enchiladas in a manner which can only be described as "serene." Enter The Boy.
The Boy: What are you doing?
The Mom: Making dinner.
The Boy: (excitedly) Are you making ENCHILADAS?
The Mom: Yes, baby, I am.
The Boy: (trepidation growing): Where did you get that meat? Is it turkey?
The Mom: No, it's not turkey.
The Boy: (trepidation growing yet again): Is it beef?
The Mom: No, baby - it's just meat. It came all cooked up and pre-seasoned.
The Boy: WAAAAAAAAIIIIITTTT.....(heads for the garbage can, rummages for box) It's SOY!
The Mom: Yes, but once it's all put together, you won't be able to tell. (opens can of cheddar cheese soup that she bought by mistake, so has decided what the heck, to use it on the enchiladas)
The Boy: WHAT IS THAT?
The Mom: Cheese sauce.
The Boy: It looked like Beefaroni.
The Mom: Well, it's not, it's cheese sauce.
The Boy storms from the kitchen, muttering under his breath: Stupid vegan fake meat enchilada canned cheese dinner gonna taste like crap....
Now, who said that a single mom can't raise a son. That is the EXACT reaction I would have expected from any American male.
The Boy: What are you doing?
The Mom: Making dinner.
The Boy: (excitedly) Are you making ENCHILADAS?
The Mom: Yes, baby, I am.
The Boy: (trepidation growing): Where did you get that meat? Is it turkey?
The Mom: No, it's not turkey.
The Boy: (trepidation growing yet again): Is it beef?
The Mom: No, baby - it's just meat. It came all cooked up and pre-seasoned.
The Boy: WAAAAAAAAIIIIITTTT.....(heads for the garbage can, rummages for box) It's SOY!
The Mom: Yes, but once it's all put together, you won't be able to tell. (opens can of cheddar cheese soup that she bought by mistake, so has decided what the heck, to use it on the enchiladas)
The Boy: WHAT IS THAT?
The Mom: Cheese sauce.
The Boy: It looked like Beefaroni.
The Mom: Well, it's not, it's cheese sauce.
The Boy storms from the kitchen, muttering under his breath: Stupid vegan fake meat enchilada canned cheese dinner gonna taste like crap....
Now, who said that a single mom can't raise a son. That is the EXACT reaction I would have expected from any American male.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
A Five-Year Interview
So, I heard this thing once in a seminar - if you were to be interviewed 5 years from now, how would you answer these questions? For you, dearest reader, anything. So I present, for your enjoyment....
An interview with Tina - September 1, 2016
(conducted on the veranda at my beach house on a day that's not too hot and not too cold)
What time did you get up today?
I rise every morning at 5:00. I spend the first hour of my day in meditation and physical exercise, then I shower and enjoy a nutritious breakfast while I watch the news. I then get ready for work and head out the door.
What do you drive to work?
I have a mid-size car that gets great gas mileage and handles like a dream in the snow. I paid cash for it so I have no car payment. It's not brand-new, but it was affordable and it's reliable.
What kind of job to you have?
I work a few hours a day as a volunteer at a local museum. I then head home and spend the balance of my day writing the latest in my series of best-selling novels. It pays the bills.
How do you spend your spare time?
Doing whatever I can, whenever I can. I go where the wind takes me and love to try anything new and interesting. I'm just as happy in a ratty old bookstore as I am at a sell-out concert. I have one son left at home; he will graduate from high school next year and so I spend as much time in family activities while I still can. I am quadruply happy when I am with the man I love.
What kind of man is in your life?
A wonderful, fabulous, caring, intimate, sexy, take-charge man who completely and utterly adores me, and has absolutely no problem telling me at least 5 times a day. In return, I completely and utterly adore him back. He's completely hot and has no idea, he has a stable job, he is active in our community and cares for his fellow man.
Where will you be in 5 years?
Exactly where I am right now. My life is completely perfect.
------
Well, there you have it. You are then supposed to go back in time 5 years and ask yourself the same questions, to see how far you've come. By showing you how far you've come in 5 years, you are supposed to feel all warm and fuzzy about your chances at meeting your "5 years from now" description and goals.
So, now it's your turn. Lay your answers on me.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
I Got Up and Some Stuff Happened.
I hate a half a bleu cheeseburger today with a glass of water. I don't think I have ever had a burger in my entire life WITHOUT a pop. Ever. But we don't drink our calories, now do we. So water it was.
There was a shooting a few blocks from my house about 4 hours ago. Murder/suicide. Guess small-town America isn't all Andy and Opie, is it.
I'm trying to be all Zen right now...but I'm lonely. My dear friend Kas sent me a "good morning" text at 5 a.m. because she knows how much I'm missing it right now. There is a 3 hour time difference, but she still took care of me. That is what friends are for. I keep looking at my phone, partially out of habit but mostly due to wishful thinking. No new texts. No new calls.
Sigh.
There was a shooting a few blocks from my house about 4 hours ago. Murder/suicide. Guess small-town America isn't all Andy and Opie, is it.
I'm trying to be all Zen right now...but I'm lonely. My dear friend Kas sent me a "good morning" text at 5 a.m. because she knows how much I'm missing it right now. There is a 3 hour time difference, but she still took care of me. That is what friends are for. I keep looking at my phone, partially out of habit but mostly due to wishful thinking. No new texts. No new calls.
Sigh.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Punch Drunk - Or Not.
So, I don't feel so great today. I think I did that "gee, I'm not going to eat much today, but now I have a raging headache, so I think I'll eat to raise my blood sugar, but that just takes the edge off and now I feel hung over" thing. You know what I'm talking about.
I also was seriously bummed that I didn't get to hear from HF. Pathetic, I know. I'm a grown woman, for Buddha's sake, and a military veteran...I should be able to do a week of no contact standing on my head. I now have this vision that he's going to come back next week, call me and say, "Uh, you know, after thinking this thing over for a week, I've decided that you are too much work." Again, I know - pathetic. And I'm not even officially a "girlfriend."
I even made a point of wearing my "check out my @ss" jeans to work today in an effort to make myself feel all pretty and appreciated. It didn't work. Turns out that mental self-esteem building crap really only works when there's someone around to appreciate you in your "check out my @ss" jeans. Had you seen me, you would have been impressed - take my word for it. Teener has dropped like 20 pounds since January, and is lookin' my-tee-fine.
I did get something today that will be used for our November project, so I'm going to try to distract myself with that. Hard to believe from my writing, for sure, but I do actually have to put effort and research into this whole blog thing. On occasion. Ahem. Anyhow, distraction right now is good.
On a positive note - and yes, dearest reader, every storm cloud is actually filled with glitter - after what seems like an eternity, I'm on the countdown to my divorce trial...FINALLY. September 22nd is the magic day. I was discussing it with a friend of mine the other day, who knows the circumstances surrounding the marriage and how it ended; she was concerned that, after all I'd been through over the past several years, insult would be added to injury and that I was basically going to get screwed over in court. I tell you what I told her - the victory is in GETTING OUT. The victory is not being controlled by your past, or by the a-holes in it. Money comes, money goes. Jerks stick around and suck you dry until you save yourself from them. So I've already won, babe. Already won.
To get back on track - we need something to work on tomorrow, now don't we. How about this - I'm the kind of person who doesn't drink their calories. Okay, the obvious exception being smoothies, but that's because those are MEALS. I'm talking about pop (sad face), sweet tea (gasp!), juices (okay, that ones doesn't break my heart) - that kind of stuff. You get the idea. Let's save those calories for something valuable, like a pack of Starburst.
I also was seriously bummed that I didn't get to hear from HF. Pathetic, I know. I'm a grown woman, for Buddha's sake, and a military veteran...I should be able to do a week of no contact standing on my head. I now have this vision that he's going to come back next week, call me and say, "Uh, you know, after thinking this thing over for a week, I've decided that you are too much work." Again, I know - pathetic. And I'm not even officially a "girlfriend."
I even made a point of wearing my "check out my @ss" jeans to work today in an effort to make myself feel all pretty and appreciated. It didn't work. Turns out that mental self-esteem building crap really only works when there's someone around to appreciate you in your "check out my @ss" jeans. Had you seen me, you would have been impressed - take my word for it. Teener has dropped like 20 pounds since January, and is lookin' my-tee-fine.
I did get something today that will be used for our November project, so I'm going to try to distract myself with that. Hard to believe from my writing, for sure, but I do actually have to put effort and research into this whole blog thing. On occasion. Ahem. Anyhow, distraction right now is good.
On a positive note - and yes, dearest reader, every storm cloud is actually filled with glitter - after what seems like an eternity, I'm on the countdown to my divorce trial...FINALLY. September 22nd is the magic day. I was discussing it with a friend of mine the other day, who knows the circumstances surrounding the marriage and how it ended; she was concerned that, after all I'd been through over the past several years, insult would be added to injury and that I was basically going to get screwed over in court. I tell you what I told her - the victory is in GETTING OUT. The victory is not being controlled by your past, or by the a-holes in it. Money comes, money goes. Jerks stick around and suck you dry until you save yourself from them. So I've already won, babe. Already won.
To get back on track - we need something to work on tomorrow, now don't we. How about this - I'm the kind of person who doesn't drink their calories. Okay, the obvious exception being smoothies, but that's because those are MEALS. I'm talking about pop (sad face), sweet tea (gasp!), juices (okay, that ones doesn't break my heart) - that kind of stuff. You get the idea. Let's save those calories for something valuable, like a pack of Starburst.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
No Rising, No Shining for the Next 7 Days.
So I've woken up every morning for about the past 6 weeks to a text from HF - "rise and shine."
HF is out of commission for the next week and will have no cell service. No good morning text for Tina.
I'm a sad siren.
HF is out of commission for the next week and will have no cell service. No good morning text for Tina.
I'm a sad siren.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
I Got a Band Aid!
Guess what happened today.
So I've been researching "little towns which are close to big towns" for my impending move. Reason being, I want to be close enough to a big town to find a job, without actually having to live in said big town...because I'm small town, and I love the fact that my kids are small town.
Anyhow, one of the front runners in my search is a little town about 20 miles from a big town. This afternoon I went on the school district's website for said little town and discovered that they not only have a huge band program in both their middle and high schools, but they have STRINGS in said program. This would mean no more paying for private lessons (which would certainly cost more in a big town than what I pay now), no more shuttling back and forth to said private lessons, no more re-arranging dinner times, no more worrying about how in the heck I'm going to continue to PAY for all of this...because The Boy could play cello as part of his school day. This is HUGE.
It's like every single piece is falling into place. I just can't frickin' believe it. Once you accept the fact that everything that happens is for your maximum benefit, is perfect in both timing and event, and that everything turns out just fine, whether you act joyful or worrisome...guess what, homie. It does.
I've been drinking water and taking my supplements like a rock star. I ate a corn dog today and experienced zero guilt. I got this stuff under control, baby. So let's mix it up a little, shall we?
For tomorrow - I'm the kind of person who promptly returns phone calls.
UH OH.
It is widely known - kinda like we all know that Columbus sailed the ocean blue in 1492 - that I HATE to talk on the phone; and I ESPECIALLY HATE to call people back. I'm much better at spontaneous conversation, because if I have to sit and think about what we are going to talk about before I talk to you, I freak out a little - ESPECIALLY if I suspect a confrontation.
So, starting tomorrow, I am promptly, decidedly, totally calling everyone back within 4 hours of receiving their message. Period. End of sentence, end of story, buh bye.
Sigh.
So I've been researching "little towns which are close to big towns" for my impending move. Reason being, I want to be close enough to a big town to find a job, without actually having to live in said big town...because I'm small town, and I love the fact that my kids are small town.
Anyhow, one of the front runners in my search is a little town about 20 miles from a big town. This afternoon I went on the school district's website for said little town and discovered that they not only have a huge band program in both their middle and high schools, but they have STRINGS in said program. This would mean no more paying for private lessons (which would certainly cost more in a big town than what I pay now), no more shuttling back and forth to said private lessons, no more re-arranging dinner times, no more worrying about how in the heck I'm going to continue to PAY for all of this...because The Boy could play cello as part of his school day. This is HUGE.
It's like every single piece is falling into place. I just can't frickin' believe it. Once you accept the fact that everything that happens is for your maximum benefit, is perfect in both timing and event, and that everything turns out just fine, whether you act joyful or worrisome...guess what, homie. It does.
I've been drinking water and taking my supplements like a rock star. I ate a corn dog today and experienced zero guilt. I got this stuff under control, baby. So let's mix it up a little, shall we?
For tomorrow - I'm the kind of person who promptly returns phone calls.
UH OH.
It is widely known - kinda like we all know that Columbus sailed the ocean blue in 1492 - that I HATE to talk on the phone; and I ESPECIALLY HATE to call people back. I'm much better at spontaneous conversation, because if I have to sit and think about what we are going to talk about before I talk to you, I freak out a little - ESPECIALLY if I suspect a confrontation.
So, starting tomorrow, I am promptly, decidedly, totally calling everyone back within 4 hours of receiving their message. Period. End of sentence, end of story, buh bye.
Sigh.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Congratulations - It's a Girl!
Today's topic - femininity.
So, being raised in the 70's and 80's - Gloria Steinham, Charlie perfume ads and Working Girl, anyone? - I always thought the pinnacle of womanly success was a corner office in a really tall building, working 80 hours a week at a job most people don't understand, with a male secretary; and wearing suits with pumps. So, I swore to myself at the age of 17 that there's absolutely, positively no way I would ever get married before the ripe old age of 30, or before I made my first million - which, of course, would be BEFORE I was 30 - and kids? Please. Families are for girls who aren't smart enough to succeed in the business world.
So, guess what. I met Mr. Hottie and got married at 18, started popping out kids at 19, never made my million, and never got the corner office. I do now have a job that most people don't understand, and a title to go with it. I've been in love once and divorced twice, and I'm the ripe old age of 41, dead broke and starting over again.
It has occurred to me that maybe I'm doing it wrong. So I'm not doing it this way anymore.
Guess what, world? I LIKE being a girl. I LIKE having a man open the door for me, and I LIKE being domestic. I LIKE looking pretty and I LIKE flirting with every man between the ages of 16 and 85 that crosses my path - and I so I do. I DON'T CARE about having a fabulous career anymore, and haven't for years - and I LIKE the idea of being in love. I LIKE having a man plan our dates, and I DON'T LIKE pressuring him constantly to make time for me/talk to me/commit to me. I LIKE not being in control of anything other than my own emotions and my own self. I LIKE being the kind of girl that a guy wants to show off to his friends.
I LIKE being feminine.
I know, this is profoundly controversial, and my feminist friends are probably projectile vomiting as we speak. But I've shouldered the burden of being both a husband and a wife, a father and a mother, a boy and a girl for my entire adult life. I want my daughters to see that it's not only okay to be feminine, but that men will shoot each other in the streets for the chance to be with a woman who really is. I want my sons to see that it's okay to actually BE men and take control of their futures and be the head of their future families, as opposed to the emasculated facades of men which are so prevalent today.
So we are perfectly clear - I'm the type of person who embraces her femininity.
Okay, reader - your turn. Fire away.
So, being raised in the 70's and 80's - Gloria Steinham, Charlie perfume ads and Working Girl, anyone? - I always thought the pinnacle of womanly success was a corner office in a really tall building, working 80 hours a week at a job most people don't understand, with a male secretary; and wearing suits with pumps. So, I swore to myself at the age of 17 that there's absolutely, positively no way I would ever get married before the ripe old age of 30, or before I made my first million - which, of course, would be BEFORE I was 30 - and kids? Please. Families are for girls who aren't smart enough to succeed in the business world.
So, guess what. I met Mr. Hottie and got married at 18, started popping out kids at 19, never made my million, and never got the corner office. I do now have a job that most people don't understand, and a title to go with it. I've been in love once and divorced twice, and I'm the ripe old age of 41, dead broke and starting over again.
It has occurred to me that maybe I'm doing it wrong. So I'm not doing it this way anymore.
Guess what, world? I LIKE being a girl. I LIKE having a man open the door for me, and I LIKE being domestic. I LIKE looking pretty and I LIKE flirting with every man between the ages of 16 and 85 that crosses my path - and I so I do. I DON'T CARE about having a fabulous career anymore, and haven't for years - and I LIKE the idea of being in love. I LIKE having a man plan our dates, and I DON'T LIKE pressuring him constantly to make time for me/talk to me/commit to me. I LIKE not being in control of anything other than my own emotions and my own self. I LIKE being the kind of girl that a guy wants to show off to his friends.
I LIKE being feminine.
I know, this is profoundly controversial, and my feminist friends are probably projectile vomiting as we speak. But I've shouldered the burden of being both a husband and a wife, a father and a mother, a boy and a girl for my entire adult life. I want my daughters to see that it's not only okay to be feminine, but that men will shoot each other in the streets for the chance to be with a woman who really is. I want my sons to see that it's okay to actually BE men and take control of their futures and be the head of their future families, as opposed to the emasculated facades of men which are so prevalent today.
So we are perfectly clear - I'm the type of person who embraces her femininity.
Okay, reader - your turn. Fire away.
Friday, August 19, 2011
The Pen is Mightier than the Blog
The internet is a strange, strange place. You meet people on the internet that you will never, ever meet in real life. You form weird little friendships. You read their stuff, either on facebook, a blog, or wherever, and you comment on it, and your opinion actually MEANS something to them. If you are like me, you also get into internet DATING. Can you imagine telling somebody 20 years ago that this was going to be a socially acceptable way to meet people, and those people would be normal, and probably not currently incarcerated? It's just whack, isn't it.
I don't really recall the last time I met a person "from scratch" face to face and formed any sort of real bond. It's been, well, uh...hmm. Months and months. Probably last summer, when I had my second job. Instead, I prefer the nameless, faceless, commitment-free anonymity of virtual friendships, where my arms are always toned, I am single-chinned, and my breath is always fresh.
One of my internet buddies is Kludge. I read his blog and comment on it frequently, because it's fun and clever and witty. Kinda like looking in a mirror. Anyhow, Kludge is my new best friend, because Kludge has given me the most amazing gift any person can ever get - OFFICE SUPPLIES.
Turns out my virtual buddy Kludge is a craftsman...and recently had a birthday...so used the opportunity to give away a custom wood pen. Guess who won. That's right, good old Teener did. I got my pen today, and it's lovely. I opened the box at work and we all passed it around. It's visually appealing, with its variations of shade and grain, so it got a few polite "ooohhhs" when I took it out of the package. But you gotta hold it. As it went from hand to hand, expressions changed, pupils dilated, and the "ooohhhs" changed to "AAAAHHHHHHs". I wasn't entirely sure I would get it back, but I did.
There's a picture of it on Kludge's blog, link above - click on it, read through, scroll down...and you'll see it. Thank you for the pen, virtual buddy Kludge. Live long and prosper.
As for our project, here's today's affirmation: I'm the kind of person who takes Fridays off from goal-setting.
I know, I'm a little stinker.
I don't really recall the last time I met a person "from scratch" face to face and formed any sort of real bond. It's been, well, uh...hmm. Months and months. Probably last summer, when I had my second job. Instead, I prefer the nameless, faceless, commitment-free anonymity of virtual friendships, where my arms are always toned, I am single-chinned, and my breath is always fresh.
One of my internet buddies is Kludge. I read his blog and comment on it frequently, because it's fun and clever and witty. Kinda like looking in a mirror. Anyhow, Kludge is my new best friend, because Kludge has given me the most amazing gift any person can ever get - OFFICE SUPPLIES.
Turns out my virtual buddy Kludge is a craftsman...and recently had a birthday...so used the opportunity to give away a custom wood pen. Guess who won. That's right, good old Teener did. I got my pen today, and it's lovely. I opened the box at work and we all passed it around. It's visually appealing, with its variations of shade and grain, so it got a few polite "ooohhhs" when I took it out of the package. But you gotta hold it. As it went from hand to hand, expressions changed, pupils dilated, and the "ooohhhs" changed to "AAAAHHHHHHs". I wasn't entirely sure I would get it back, but I did.
There's a picture of it on Kludge's blog, link above - click on it, read through, scroll down...and you'll see it. Thank you for the pen, virtual buddy Kludge. Live long and prosper.
As for our project, here's today's affirmation: I'm the kind of person who takes Fridays off from goal-setting.
I know, I'm a little stinker.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Mama Says New Shoes Are The Best Gift...
Today was New Shoe Day.
I've been experimenting with Zumba, but have since learned that you need special shoes to do it right. My Nikes (I'm a Nike girl, back up off me in those Reeboks) catch on the carpet, and since I'm already seriously uncoordinated, this is a broken ankle just waiting to happen. However, without shoes, my feet end up sore.
Zumba has an online shop (of course, right) and special Zumba shoes at $75. Of course, you can't use them for ANYTHING else, because they basically have no tread. Nice. Well, guess what. At WalMart, I found Danskin dance shoes for $19. So there you have it. I'm ready to roll with my sparkly black treadless $19 shoes that I can't use for anything else. We are on, bring it.
Thank you for your valuable input on the Zoe/Amanda situation, both to those who posted here and on FaceBook or via e-mail. I feel less like a jerk now.
And today - in my appropriate footwear - I'm the kind of person who gets some form of exercise every day.
Sigh. I hate it when I pick something that actually requires EFFORT. But I figure, I'm over 40...I eat too much saturated fat...I need to start taking better care of my heart. So I will. Sigh again. I figure if I don't make a big deal out of this, and just DO IT, it will happen.
Your suggestions are welcome and encouraged.
I've been experimenting with Zumba, but have since learned that you need special shoes to do it right. My Nikes (I'm a Nike girl, back up off me in those Reeboks) catch on the carpet, and since I'm already seriously uncoordinated, this is a broken ankle just waiting to happen. However, without shoes, my feet end up sore.
Zumba has an online shop (of course, right) and special Zumba shoes at $75. Of course, you can't use them for ANYTHING else, because they basically have no tread. Nice. Well, guess what. At WalMart, I found Danskin dance shoes for $19. So there you have it. I'm ready to roll with my sparkly black treadless $19 shoes that I can't use for anything else. We are on, bring it.
Thank you for your valuable input on the Zoe/Amanda situation, both to those who posted here and on FaceBook or via e-mail. I feel less like a jerk now.
And today - in my appropriate footwear - I'm the kind of person who gets some form of exercise every day.
Sigh. I hate it when I pick something that actually requires EFFORT. But I figure, I'm over 40...I eat too much saturated fat...I need to start taking better care of my heart. So I will. Sigh again. I figure if I don't make a big deal out of this, and just DO IT, it will happen.
Your suggestions are welcome and encouraged.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Demanda, Demanda
I have a couple different topics today, so this is going to be one of those rambling posts. My apologies in advance.
So, I have this little fantasy. I'm assuming you want to hear about it, because you are reading my blog, and because all bloggers are raving narcissists. My little fantasy is that when I move next summer, I will be able to make a living by writing, and won't have to get a real job. Wouldn't that be great? I'm thinking I could crank out at a Harlequin romance once a month and make a rather tidy living for myself, thank you very much. I also have really sleek legs and toned arms in this fantasy.
Topic #2 - and feel free to comment on this one, since my fantasy probably disappointed you - I have this friend.
POINT OF CLARIFICATION - this is not one of those stories where I am really the "friend" but don't want to admit it. This really is a story about my friend.
Anyhow, I have this friend, Zoe, that I like to hang out with. She, in turn, has another friend, Amanda. Amanda is NOT my friend. Amanda is Zoe's friend. Zoe, understandably, likes to spend time with her friend Amanda, and invites me to come along. However, I don't go if I know Amanda is going, because Amanda is a downer. I swear to Dog, 15 minutes with Amanda, and you can feel the joy being sucked out of your bone marrow. Everyone is stupid. All men are dogs. Nothing is ever good. blah blah blah. You get the idea right? So then I look like the raging bee-otch 8th grader because I'm turning down Zoe and hurting her feelings. But I was married to that kind of person - and I'm not voluntarily seeking it out, ever again.
I've tried. Several times. I tell myself that Amanda doesn't have my self-esteem and hasn't learned to embrace her inner siren. (again, raging bee-otch, I know.) I've been around her many times. And it's not getting any better. And you all, my dearest readers, are amongst the most cosmopolitan and cultured people on the planet; ready and able to give me nuggets of wisdom on Amandagate. I know that an Amanda must have crossed your path at some point in your colorful life...how did you handle it?
Let's take a moment to address those of you, however slight the chance, that might have some Amanda tendencies in you. I think it's entirely possible that nobody has ever told you that you are annoying. I love you enough to stage this little intervention, with the hope that you will learn that the following life events are nobody's fault BUT yours, and we, although we love you, don't care to hear about them incessantly, especially when we've worked all day and we are just trying to relax and enjoy ourselves. So here you go:
1. You haven't gotten laid in 5 years
2. Your haircut sucks
3. Your haircolor sucks
4. You think you are too fat
5. You think you are too scrawny
6. You don't like my boyfriend
7. You don't like anybody's boyfriend
8. Your job sucks
9. Your kids drive you crazy
10. Your living situation sucks
11. You don't make enough money
12. You make too much money and so your taxes are too high
13. You work too much overtime
14. You don't get enough hours
15. You hate my ex
16. You hate your ex
17. You hate anyone that reminds you, or is even remotely related to, my ex or your ex.
I hated to do that. I really did. But you needed some tough love.
Which brings us to our topic du jour - I'm the kind of person who doesn't hang out with people who try to steal my joy.
So, I have this little fantasy. I'm assuming you want to hear about it, because you are reading my blog, and because all bloggers are raving narcissists. My little fantasy is that when I move next summer, I will be able to make a living by writing, and won't have to get a real job. Wouldn't that be great? I'm thinking I could crank out at a Harlequin romance once a month and make a rather tidy living for myself, thank you very much. I also have really sleek legs and toned arms in this fantasy.
Topic #2 - and feel free to comment on this one, since my fantasy probably disappointed you - I have this friend.
POINT OF CLARIFICATION - this is not one of those stories where I am really the "friend" but don't want to admit it. This really is a story about my friend.
Anyhow, I have this friend, Zoe, that I like to hang out with. She, in turn, has another friend, Amanda. Amanda is NOT my friend. Amanda is Zoe's friend. Zoe, understandably, likes to spend time with her friend Amanda, and invites me to come along. However, I don't go if I know Amanda is going, because Amanda is a downer. I swear to Dog, 15 minutes with Amanda, and you can feel the joy being sucked out of your bone marrow. Everyone is stupid. All men are dogs. Nothing is ever good. blah blah blah. You get the idea right? So then I look like the raging bee-otch 8th grader because I'm turning down Zoe and hurting her feelings. But I was married to that kind of person - and I'm not voluntarily seeking it out, ever again.
I've tried. Several times. I tell myself that Amanda doesn't have my self-esteem and hasn't learned to embrace her inner siren. (again, raging bee-otch, I know.) I've been around her many times. And it's not getting any better. And you all, my dearest readers, are amongst the most cosmopolitan and cultured people on the planet; ready and able to give me nuggets of wisdom on Amandagate. I know that an Amanda must have crossed your path at some point in your colorful life...how did you handle it?
Let's take a moment to address those of you, however slight the chance, that might have some Amanda tendencies in you. I think it's entirely possible that nobody has ever told you that you are annoying. I love you enough to stage this little intervention, with the hope that you will learn that the following life events are nobody's fault BUT yours, and we, although we love you, don't care to hear about them incessantly, especially when we've worked all day and we are just trying to relax and enjoy ourselves. So here you go:
Things that are nobody else's fault, and nobody wants to hear about anymore.
1. You haven't gotten laid in 5 years
2. Your haircut sucks
3. Your haircolor sucks
4. You think you are too fat
5. You think you are too scrawny
6. You don't like my boyfriend
7. You don't like anybody's boyfriend
8. Your job sucks
9. Your kids drive you crazy
10. Your living situation sucks
11. You don't make enough money
12. You make too much money and so your taxes are too high
13. You work too much overtime
14. You don't get enough hours
15. You hate my ex
16. You hate your ex
17. You hate anyone that reminds you, or is even remotely related to, my ex or your ex.
I hated to do that. I really did. But you needed some tough love.
Which brings us to our topic du jour - I'm the kind of person who doesn't hang out with people who try to steal my joy.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Is the Tank 1/4 Full, or 3/4 Empty?
Today was a busy day at work. I'm profoundly behind in certain areas of my job, and realistically could work 24 hours a day for quite a while before I'm caught up. Okay, maybe "realistically" isn't the right word, because even I, siren goddess, can't work 24 hours a day. But you get the idea.
Oh, big news. I'm sleeping again. Can you flippin' believe it? I've slept at least 8 hours for the past several nights. I'm not entirely sure I LOOK any better, but baby steps, right?
So, in addition to sleeping (one of my favorite activities), I'm flossing, drinking my water, dancing around the house like an idiot, and thinking seriously about taking my supplements. What next, you might ask? Well, I came up with a good one today.
I'm the type of person who never lets her gas tank get below 1/4 full.
That's right, my little chickens. Go ahead and disconnect that low fuel light, because Tina will not ever be needing it again. We are one-quarter full or higher, every day for the rest of my natural life. You may applaud now.
The biggest drama in my life recently is, I took my "Keep My Son Safe" yellow ribbon magnet off my car not too long ago when I washed it, and left the magnet at the car wash. Since it is physically impossible for me to operate a motor vehicle that does support either a person wearing dog tags, or a person who shows up when you dial 911, I scouted around online to find a replacement. That's when I stumbled across this sticker:
Which is now proudly displayed on the Sweet Bachelorette SUV. Awesome, huh.
Oh, big news. I'm sleeping again. Can you flippin' believe it? I've slept at least 8 hours for the past several nights. I'm not entirely sure I LOOK any better, but baby steps, right?
So, in addition to sleeping (one of my favorite activities), I'm flossing, drinking my water, dancing around the house like an idiot, and thinking seriously about taking my supplements. What next, you might ask? Well, I came up with a good one today.
I'm the type of person who never lets her gas tank get below 1/4 full.
That's right, my little chickens. Go ahead and disconnect that low fuel light, because Tina will not ever be needing it again. We are one-quarter full or higher, every day for the rest of my natural life. You may applaud now.
The biggest drama in my life recently is, I took my "Keep My Son Safe" yellow ribbon magnet off my car not too long ago when I washed it, and left the magnet at the car wash. Since it is physically impossible for me to operate a motor vehicle that does support either a person wearing dog tags, or a person who shows up when you dial 911, I scouted around online to find a replacement. That's when I stumbled across this sticker:
Monday, August 15, 2011
Why don't you just go take a pill.
I'm flippin' stuffed. Since it didn't make it to 90 today, and since I'm running out of money, I decided that it was about time that I actually cooked something for dinner instead of copping out with something out of the microwave or from Subway. So around the Wood house, it was Taco Night. Two big tacos later, and I'm more than slightly full. Ready for a nap.
But I can't take a nap, because 1) it's 6:30, and you can't take a nap at 6:30 at night, because that's actually called "going to bed really early", and 2) I am going to bff's in 30 minutes for some girl talk time. Ever since she started dating Mr. Wonderful, I never get to see her anymore. So tonight, he's not in the picture, and I'm leaving The Boy for an hour or so with my unattended computer. Yes, I'm sure there will be a good deal of discussion about HF. Bet you wish you could be a fly on the wall....
But I digress. You and I have some unfinished business. Time for another change, right? Right. So now...
I'm the type of person who takes her supplements every day.
This one is going to be a challenge. Seriously. I'm really, really bad at this. I'm great at RESEARCHING supplements. I'm a pro at BUYING supplements. And I totally rock the STOCKING of supplements in the little pill keeper. But actually INGESTING them? Uh, not so much. However, now that I'm that kind of person, this is going to change.
Seriously.
Side note - did you know, dearest reader, that when you start drinking water, if you slack off, then you get REALLY REALLY THIRSTY? I've never been a water drinker, but today I got behind on my 100 oz, and thought I was gonna flippin' DIE of thirst before I could refill my glass. Go figure, huh. The human body likes water. Who knew.
But I can't take a nap, because 1) it's 6:30, and you can't take a nap at 6:30 at night, because that's actually called "going to bed really early", and 2) I am going to bff's in 30 minutes for some girl talk time. Ever since she started dating Mr. Wonderful, I never get to see her anymore. So tonight, he's not in the picture, and I'm leaving The Boy for an hour or so with my unattended computer. Yes, I'm sure there will be a good deal of discussion about HF. Bet you wish you could be a fly on the wall....
But I digress. You and I have some unfinished business. Time for another change, right? Right. So now...
I'm the type of person who takes her supplements every day.
This one is going to be a challenge. Seriously. I'm really, really bad at this. I'm great at RESEARCHING supplements. I'm a pro at BUYING supplements. And I totally rock the STOCKING of supplements in the little pill keeper. But actually INGESTING them? Uh, not so much. However, now that I'm that kind of person, this is going to change.
Seriously.
Side note - did you know, dearest reader, that when you start drinking water, if you slack off, then you get REALLY REALLY THIRSTY? I've never been a water drinker, but today I got behind on my 100 oz, and thought I was gonna flippin' DIE of thirst before I could refill my glass. Go figure, huh. The human body likes water. Who knew.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
For those about to steak, we salute you.
I had, today, my first steak in like 6 weeks. Like a steak from a cow. And yes, dearest reader, - it was good. My bff invited us up to her boyfriend's house (I guess that would be the bff's bf) and we grilled. I ate it without a moment's guilt. On the way home, I decided I wanted ice cream, which I eat like 4 times a year - so we stopped at Safeway and bought salted caramel ice cream and chocolate syrup. And yes, dearest reader - it was good. I regret to inform you, however, that I'm not entirely sure my large intestine is on board with all this.
I didn't stuff myself into oblivion...but I ate exactly what I wanted for a special day with special friends. However, I know that tomorrow I'm going to be drinking extra water and eating a lot less sugar to help balance everything out again, because I feel a lot like a freshly-fed, horrifically bloated lioness, sprawled out on the African plain right now.
She's leading up to something - you can feel it, right?
Today's affirmation: I'm the kind of person who doesn't beat herself up for enjoying a great meal on a special occasion.
I didn't stuff myself into oblivion...but I ate exactly what I wanted for a special day with special friends. However, I know that tomorrow I'm going to be drinking extra water and eating a lot less sugar to help balance everything out again, because I feel a lot like a freshly-fed, horrifically bloated lioness, sprawled out on the African plain right now.
She's leading up to something - you can feel it, right?
Today's affirmation: I'm the kind of person who doesn't beat herself up for enjoying a great meal on a special occasion.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Mama Mia!
It's now around 9 p.m. - teeth flossed - water drank, sort of. I have to confess that I barely made 50 oz today. It's so much easier when I'm at work...I have my water bottle, I know I need to fill it once an hour. On a Saturday, I'm not chained to my desk...rather easy to lose track of time. Sorry.
I spent the day in Chelan with my two daughters, for no special reason other than we didn't have anything else to do but burn some fossil fuel and emit some greenhouse gases. While at Riverwalk Books (You know, dearest reader, that I love me some Riverwalk Books) I found a little book that just screamed "SEPTEMBER BLOG PROJECT." My daughter Ellie even said, "That's for the blog, isn't it." They know me so well. It's almost like we share DNA or something.
So back to our project du jour. We are drinking water...we are flossing twice a day...and now, you should know:
I'm the type of person who dances whenever she feels like it.
I used to dance all the time, for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Like Ellen, only brunette and not a lesbian. Then I got married again. Then I stopped. You can fill in the blanks on that one. Now - the joy is back in my life - and it's time to dance.
I spent the day in Chelan with my two daughters, for no special reason other than we didn't have anything else to do but burn some fossil fuel and emit some greenhouse gases. While at Riverwalk Books (You know, dearest reader, that I love me some Riverwalk Books) I found a little book that just screamed "SEPTEMBER BLOG PROJECT." My daughter Ellie even said, "That's for the blog, isn't it." They know me so well. It's almost like we share DNA or something.
So back to our project du jour. We are drinking water...we are flossing twice a day...and now, you should know:
I'm the type of person who dances whenever she feels like it.
I used to dance all the time, for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Like Ellen, only brunette and not a lesbian. Then I got married again. Then I stopped. You can fill in the blanks on that one. Now - the joy is back in my life - and it's time to dance.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Tossed on the Wave
So, it's 7:30, and I've had about 70 oz of water today. Not so bad, if I do say so myself. I think I'll fall a little short of 100 oz, but considering I normally drink, oh, negative 3 oz a day, it's quite an improvement.
And yes, I peed all day long. All.day.long.
For tomorrow - I'm the kind of person who flosses her teeth, without fail, twice a day.
To you, this may be normal behavior. To me, well, I floss, without fail, every morning. In the evenings - well - eh. Not so much. My dental hygenist is going to be so very proud of me.
Side note and random factoid - I ate WAY TOO MANY milk duds just now.
And yes, I peed all day long. All.day.long.
For tomorrow - I'm the kind of person who flosses her teeth, without fail, twice a day.
To you, this may be normal behavior. To me, well, I floss, without fail, every morning. In the evenings - well - eh. Not so much. My dental hygenist is going to be so very proud of me.
Side note and random factoid - I ate WAY TOO MANY milk duds just now.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
What Kind of Person Are You, Anyway????
Dear Dog, it's hot in here. Have I mentioned that lately?
I have immensely enjoyed this little hiatus from self-improvement and have completely immersed myself in slovenly living. My daily writing has consisted of, oh, about 80 texts a day with HF, and little else. The vegan month was fun, but I don't mind telling you, daily blogging is a real strain and wore me out just a little. (Still digging the weight loss and reduced appetite, though.)
The good news is - I'm now ready and raring to go, and I've found a project for the rest of our month. I ran across this concept a few years ago, filed it away, and can't remember where I originally saw it. So if you came up with this idea, and you are reading my blog and think I'm stealing from you - well, just cite your published source, and I'd be happy to give you credit.
It's called the "I'm the Kind of Person Who.." improvement program. Here's now it works:
Every night, you write down the statement "I'm the Kind of Person Who..." and add a minor lifestyle change to the end. The next day, voila, you start doing it. The kicker is, you have to keep doing the ones you've already written down. So by the end of a month, you've made 30 changes to your life and you are an all-around swell person.
A key to your success is to not go too big, too fast. "I'm the kind of person who eats only raw food" if you live at the Golden Arches would be an example. Too big, too fast. You will not stick with it.
So, here we go.
I, dearest reader, am the kind of person who drinks at least 100 oz of water every day.
Your turn.
I have immensely enjoyed this little hiatus from self-improvement and have completely immersed myself in slovenly living. My daily writing has consisted of, oh, about 80 texts a day with HF, and little else. The vegan month was fun, but I don't mind telling you, daily blogging is a real strain and wore me out just a little. (Still digging the weight loss and reduced appetite, though.)
The good news is - I'm now ready and raring to go, and I've found a project for the rest of our month. I ran across this concept a few years ago, filed it away, and can't remember where I originally saw it. So if you came up with this idea, and you are reading my blog and think I'm stealing from you - well, just cite your published source, and I'd be happy to give you credit.
It's called the "I'm the Kind of Person Who.." improvement program. Here's now it works:
Every night, you write down the statement "I'm the Kind of Person Who..." and add a minor lifestyle change to the end. The next day, voila, you start doing it. The kicker is, you have to keep doing the ones you've already written down. So by the end of a month, you've made 30 changes to your life and you are an all-around swell person.
A key to your success is to not go too big, too fast. "I'm the kind of person who eats only raw food" if you live at the Golden Arches would be an example. Too big, too fast. You will not stick with it.
So, here we go.
I, dearest reader, am the kind of person who drinks at least 100 oz of water every day.
Your turn.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Who Has My Back???
People, where are you? Why didn't any of you, who purport to love me so dearly, who would willingly jump off the Oak Street Bridge for me, stop me from this madness?
Why on earth didn't you tell me that Zumba in AUGUST, when you have NO AIR CONDITIONING, is a really STUPID idea???
It's going to be 90 all flippin' week, and let's get real, most of the flippin' month. I made it, oh, 10 minutes into the first workout and I was sweating like a goat the day before the quinceanera. Yikes. Oh yes, it's fun and all, but people...I don't think we can do this until next month. Seriously, it's just too hot in here.
So your recommendations for non-perspiration inspiring ideas for August are welcome.
Why on earth didn't you tell me that Zumba in AUGUST, when you have NO AIR CONDITIONING, is a really STUPID idea???
It's going to be 90 all flippin' week, and let's get real, most of the flippin' month. I made it, oh, 10 minutes into the first workout and I was sweating like a goat the day before the quinceanera. Yikes. Oh yes, it's fun and all, but people...I don't think we can do this until next month. Seriously, it's just too hot in here.
So your recommendations for non-perspiration inspiring ideas for August are welcome.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Really? I Mean, Really?
So, amidst all the epiphanies and crap I've been having lately, I still have to live my life, right? So that's what I've been doing...going to work, coming home, going to work, coming home...you get the idea. "Living."
And while engaging in all that torrid living, I've had a few moments when I've thought to myself, "Self, all the epiphanies and crap you've been having lately are probably just wishful thinking. This may be, at best, average- but this is the "known" - and there will never be any joy for you in the unknown variable."
But then, the Universe smiles on you, and you have a day like today, when it all just crystallizes and you know that what has happened to you is the absolute best thing that could possibly have happened, and that you are on the verge of being extraordinarily happy and blessed.
So, while on its face, the events of the week (especially today) may appear to be less than appealing, I'm going to go to sleep tonight knowing that a wonderful time is on the horizon. I wish that for you as well, dearest reader. If it all works for my good, it all works for your good as well. Trust me...I'm a blogger.
And while engaging in all that torrid living, I've had a few moments when I've thought to myself, "Self, all the epiphanies and crap you've been having lately are probably just wishful thinking. This may be, at best, average- but this is the "known" - and there will never be any joy for you in the unknown variable."
But then, the Universe smiles on you, and you have a day like today, when it all just crystallizes and you know that what has happened to you is the absolute best thing that could possibly have happened, and that you are on the verge of being extraordinarily happy and blessed.
So, while on its face, the events of the week (especially today) may appear to be less than appealing, I'm going to go to sleep tonight knowing that a wonderful time is on the horizon. I wish that for you as well, dearest reader. If it all works for my good, it all works for your good as well. Trust me...I'm a blogger.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
FUTHULUVVAPETE.
No Zumba today. Why, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. No Zumba today because Tina had to work until 8 tonight, as one of my cohorts quit her job unexpectedly on Monday and threw my life into chaos.
Call me wacko, but I don't want to work for a zillion hours and then come home and spend an hour dancing. And since it appears I'll be doing today over again tomorrow, no Zumba then either.
WAAAIT! Maybe we can do a Zumba lunch. Or maybe I can come home and watch 90210 on my lunch hour, like I do every other day. (true statement.)
Or maybe I can just sit here in a state of burnout, wishing like heckola it was June and I was packing, and/or HF was sitting on my futon, watching a movie with me.
Some days, life just sucks.
Call me wacko, but I don't want to work for a zillion hours and then come home and spend an hour dancing. And since it appears I'll be doing today over again tomorrow, no Zumba then either.
WAAAIT! Maybe we can do a Zumba lunch. Or maybe I can come home and watch 90210 on my lunch hour, like I do every other day. (true statement.)
Or maybe I can just sit here in a state of burnout, wishing like heckola it was June and I was packing, and/or HF was sitting on my futon, watching a movie with me.
Some days, life just sucks.
Monday, August 1, 2011
The Ides of March...I Mean, August
A new month is upon us. What did I eat today, you ask? I ate 1 1/2 chili dogs, a bleu cheese burger, and about 10 Chips Ahoy. Right now, at this moment in time, it's entirely possible that I need my stomach pumped. I feel like Kirstie, BEFORE Dancing with the Stars. There's a lot to be said for gradually re-introducing animal products. There's also a lot to be said for eating a burger without actually chewing it.
We have another project of the month, and congratulations to Kas for guessing correctly - it's ZUMBA MONTH! Yes, Zumba, that fitness craze that has middle-aged housewives getting their Usher on in the comfort of their living rooms. We'll start on Wednesday, with the "7-day start plan," followed by not ONE, but TWO consecutive "10-day fat burning blast plans."
Since this little siren has been known to get her groove on, I think it will be fun. What's the worst that can happen? Post your answers below.
We have another project of the month, and congratulations to Kas for guessing correctly - it's ZUMBA MONTH! Yes, Zumba, that fitness craze that has middle-aged housewives getting their Usher on in the comfort of their living rooms. We'll start on Wednesday, with the "7-day start plan," followed by not ONE, but TWO consecutive "10-day fat burning blast plans."
Since this little siren has been known to get her groove on, I think it will be fun. What's the worst that can happen? Post your answers below.
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