Country Clothes

When I shop, all bets are off. Not only am I like a bull in a china shop, but I'm not always practical. Hmm, maybe this is why it is dangerous for me to shop alone.

Well, I unexpectedly bought SEVERAL items yesterday. Shopping for the wedding went out the window. Shopping just to shop and shopping for me became the focal point. And I'm not a shopper.

But right now, the anti-social, rebellious way I feel, I feel like wearing these clothes to the wedding in October whether they're appropriate or not. I should be me, no matter where I am. And if me is "a little bit casual" or "a little bit country," oh well.

And the cold, more formal, New England reality is I have the black dress from two years ago and it functions just fine for the wedding.

This duster is just called love at first sight.
Had to be ordered just one size up (so I can wear something under it) so I don't have it yet.

The detail on this shirt is so gorgeous.
When I put it on I feel like a country bride myself.
Where is my country boy?
I am qualified to help him work the farm.

Of course, it doesn't hang on me like this, but I love the chamois.

And I never ever ever ever ever in a zillion years would have thought I'd ever put something like this ON, let alone like how I feel in it. It is so beautiful and it will rock under the duster.

And of course, shoes that I will likely break my ankle in.
(These may go back.)

Here are a few shots of me, I don't think they came out accurately well, but that's that.

This is tiger's eye.

And with this, I conclude that I'm done putting on pony shows here. I've determined who I can get honest advice from and that's good enough. The rest would just be for your amusement purposes anyway.

I love to show you the items, but as for me in the items, well, it is difficult to photograph myself. What matters most to me is that I LOVE these pieces of clothing and I feel good wearing them. They may or may not look good on me, but the reality is if you wear a size 22, you're going to look like you wear a size 22.

But the dresses that I returned definitely made me feel uncomfortable, regardless if someone said I looked good in it. The other side of the coin is that when I see myself in a photo, I rarely think I look good, even if I feel good.

Sometimes it is better not to look because it ruins the mood.

From Date to Friend?

The Harry Potter Lookalike that I boffed back in December emailed yesterday and asked if I wanted to grab some dinner with him, dutch. Well, we all knew I'm unforgettable. And we all knew he was strange...and maybe desperate?

But this was not a date, this was a friend thing, he thought we could chat about work (we work for the same conglomerate, different sites). I hemmed and hawed; my anger toward him had long since faded, and I tried to remember if we had anything to talk about besides my least favorite subject of work, remembered that he was a Springsteen fan, and agreed. It is what the lonely, friendless in Jersey do.

He has this quirky goal to reach 50 diners in Jersey before 2010, so we went to a Jersey diner on his list. All the while, I'm thinking what's his angle. Turns out he really just wanted some company. Except he did seem to need to vent about his dating experiences of the last 6 months, so we traded a bit of "Tales of the Tail."

I did my good deed, I listened intently, and when he ASKED for my opinion, I was surprised. Genuinely wanting a woman's opinion; a sign of friendship perhaps. I told him that he may do things on the first date that appear to be rude or disinterested. He asked for examples. I didn't hold back. Lack of eye contact, walking ahead of the date, not opening the door, and interrupting the date when she's talking. I also said don't nickel and dime over the bill.

He nodded, and it seemed he knew most of this already. I also told him that his need "not to plan" that he calls "spontaneity" and I call "being plan B or C on a date night" is going to turn off a lot of women. Whether we are the only one he's dating or not, we'd like to feel as if we are. If he wants to make it beyond the first date, he has to compromise a little and plan.

So I came home from this diner experience, mulling over the things he said to me. How I'm so attractive I should be beating men off with a stick. Yeah baby, you got that right. And that I could have any guy with just the allure of my eyes. And if I wanted to "release some urges," he would "take one for the team." I stared at him and said, "I realize you were joking, but no woman wants to hear a guy is going to take one for the team by going to bed with her." He mumbled that it was appropriate because we'd been talking about baseball and football. I just sighed. I'm too sensitive.

I went searching online for more clothes to wear. I don't know why I was torturing myself further. But I found this site I wanted to let everyone know about, regardless of what SIZE you are, they can help you find precise fitting clothing. Short legs, long torso? Wide shoulders, narrow waist? My measurements indicated I apparently have proportioned shoulders and hips, just my kangaroo pouch is the obvious problem.

MyShape.com

CAUTION: Be prepared to take A LOT of body measurements. I mean at least 25. But so worth it. I actually have hope.

The results are their suggestions on clothes based on your body measurements. Not just the basic breasts, waist, hips, but everything. Inseam, breast rise, shoulder width, etc etc.

I am renewed with hope, along with the advice of two sweet and truthful friends, and I will be making another round of purchases.

But first I must go return these. Shopping on a Saturday? Who I am and what has happened to me? Those baby strollers better stay out of my way. After all, I didn't win the megamillions, and I've got an attitude!

5 Thursday Night Pissers

I'm pretty sure of a 5 things tonight, and I'm pretty pissed about them too.

1. I'm done entertaining the delusion that people with my body shape (notice I didn't say yours; I said mine and mine alone) can wear dresses. Evidence is below. Wait, I should just tell people I'm 5 months pregnant with L's illegit. Then I could have a baby shower and return all the gifts for money. Why did I just say this? There goes THAT secret plan!

2. I'm in the final section (aka book 3) of Breaking Dawn, and *sigh* I'm pretty damned disappointed. This book has sent me to sleep more than 5 times. What the hell. So many people have told me they loved it, and I'm wading through it like it is mississippi mud. Edward has stopped being alluring to me. I don't know why. I don't know if he'll return. I hope he does. I really, really miss our conversations.

3. I think my hair has washed out already. Less than a week? I don't think so. I will probably have to go see the hairdresser to see what's up.


4. I have a definite, there's no denying it, problem with my left knee. Resting it, working it, walking it, new sneaks, support brace...nothing changes the situation. Guess I'll just be living with it. If I ever take off the sloth costume and go back to the gym again.

5. I'm having a delayed reaction about L. Much more upset than I thought I would be. Yeah I know he's not worth the energy. But I'm so upset I didn't even realize I was upset. Like random tears for no particular reason and fervent cussing and loud chanting of anti-love songs (thank you Justin Timberlake, I was never a fan before but liked your SNL spoofs). What goes around, L, comes around. Hope so.

Do you think my family is ready for a pantsuit-wearing lesbian?

The Tree Dress

My new shades. Yeah I'm sooooo not cool. But they've got my initials on the side. I soooo geekishly couldn't help myself.


Alright, are you all ready for a little mid-week fashion show, geek style? I think Stacey & Clinton (sorry I got his name wrong the other day!) would not be amused.

However, for your amusement...

I present

The Tree Dress (in rare video form)!

It looked good on the model....maybe she was a willow tree whereas I'm more like an oak.








I'm starting to think a Hillary pantsuit might be best.

Report

1. Vanilla Cupcake Body wash is great, but fragrance doesn't linger after. Not a good exfoliate, but a good body wash, very creamy.

2. Strap Perfect certainly works, BUT I had a hell of a time getting it on and off. If you have long hair, tuck it up away first. And you MUST loosen your bra straps or they'll cut off your circulation. Everyone please, learn from my pain experience.

3. There's a department reorg announcement today. I'm told it won't affect me directly. Still the urge to drink before 11 AM is strong. Or rather, to be honest, carb-load as I am not all that attracted to alcohol. Anyone have any muffins? Donuts? Breakfast biscuits? Hide them.

4. The results of the poll as of 8 AM this morning:

Go for it! 11 (42%)
No way! 11 (42%)
Other 4 (15%)

COMMENTS (on the poll section)
- depends on how well you can tolerate his company
- Go see Chicago instead, Vegas is overrated
- go with someone else

The extended comments on the post page were quite detailed, and I appreciate everyone taking the time to share their thoughts.

I've accepted Chicago's invitation to Vegas. I just need to arrange dog care, and that might be the dealbreaker right there.

For those of you still reading, thanks. I don't owe anyone an explanation. But I am very introspective and I do like to explain myself, often, to the utter and absolute boredom of my friends.

Maybe you're not single, maybe you're surrounded by really great, close friends whom you see on a weekly basis, or maybe you just prefer to be alone.

Those descriptions aren't me.

I've been alone A LONG FREAKING TIME now. I'm all set with being alone. Dining alone. Movies alone. Shopping alone. Watching TV alone. Exercising alone. Sleeping alone. I'm quite comfortable with it. I'm surprised I even know how to interact with anyone socially anymore, that's how long I've been alone.

Someone (it really doesn't matter who for the sake of explaining how I feel) is offering me a paid 2-day/3-night vacation in Vegas. It could be Regis Philbin or it could be someone on the street corner. Did I mention flight and hotel were paid for?

There is no part of my Sagittarian soul that would give that opportunity up (unless I cannot work out arrangements for the canine/feline crew I share my life with).

No one is asking me to get married and live the rest of my life with this person. No one is asking me to do anything more than enjoy the lights and shows and food and scene for 72 hours. Yes, hello, where do I sign up?

Now add in that it is a guy who is interested in being a friend, and who isn't putting me down about my weight, slapping my hand at the table, or even remotely trying to offend me (the animals are a separate complicated issue, but still there was no malicious intent). Bonus: He thinks I'm gorgeous. Um, OK. My ego says he is allowed to keep talking.

To the person who suggested I should go with someone else, sure, when are you and I going? I tried that last year, asked everyone I knew, and the best I got was from my brother who said "some day."

I'm not living my life for some day folks. I'm living it today.

What to Wear

Alright, the last time I survived attended a wedding, in October no less, I looked like this two years ago:


I don't look THAT bad, but I can remember wishing I was watching the Sox instead. I'm not any thinner, but I'm in better shape in terms of quantity of exercise. And I have less tatas. I still have this dress and I could easily wear it again. After all, it is a black dress, suitable for all weddings and funerals. These days many people feel they're one in the same. This particular affair is a night wedding in mid-October.

But of course, I still have enough of the S chromosome in me to try to see if there's something out there in the world that I could wear instead.

So here are the contenders or should I say contender. It is a limited pool, let me tell you. Basically, this is the same dress in 3 colors. Technically, the black has shorter sleeves and no little spacer between the cleavage.


Since you're all so great with offering your opinion, my own little brigade of Stacies and Quentins, I thought I'd toss this one out there for you to weigh in on as well. I've ordered all 3 to try on, and will probably return all 3 when I remember that the fabric doesn't like me...or something.

Then She Shopped

I have to tell you....shopping alone, sucks, at least for me. Which is why I rarely go into the stores themselves anymore, I just do everything online. Except perhaps for the caveat "If you want to quit and leave, no one is stopping you," I really don't see any advantages to store shopping alone.

Yesterday I shopped with a dear friend, and it went much better for me. The disappointments I found in the stores weren't as deflating. I could laugh it off. I did drool a little bit over the items she purchased, but I was happy with the items I purchased as well. It just wasn't anything I could wear to my cousin's wedding in 8 weeks.

I got these sneaks, which I am wearing casually today before I test them on the tread.

Because of the way I walk, I am hoping the added support (my current NB sneaks are about 5 years old) will help my knee situation.

I got this body scrub, because quite frankly, once I smelled the fragrance, I thought "Oh my god, I'll eat myself." Normally, I'm a chocolate girl, so it really surprised me that I fell in love with vanilla cupcake!


Also bought these because I'm a sucka just too damn curious. I'll let you know if they work.

I got my hair done, just a nice dark chocolate like usual, nothing new. But I like how dark it is, I wish it would stay this way and not get washed out in the sun and heat of the dryer. I use AVEDA products and put protective stuff in it, but still by the time I need the roots done, the whole head has to be done because it has washed out so much. My hairdresser always jokes that I have the hair of someone who works outside. Um...no. Oh well.


Oh yes, I got some D&G shades....they're in the car melting at the moment I suppose. Can't really find a photo of what they look like. Guess it'll just be another photo op when I show up for an Inglorious Basterds viewing later today. William Bradley, are you ready for me?

In other movie news, I'm really bummed that Spread is not even remotely around here. I guess it is a limited release? Feels like I'm in country bumpkin land. However, I can tell you that 500 Days of Summer is really cute, especially if you like semi-indie, non-Hollywood movies. I mean it is, but it isn't. You know? Personally, I found it refreshing to see unrequited love from a guy. That's not a spoiler; they say that right in the trailer. And I really like the soundtrack.

As for Chicago & Vegas: Thanks to everyone who has left a vote and a comment. I really appreciate everything said. If you haven't voted, please, don't hold back.

LoCarb Martini Please

Happy Friday!

Since we can't all be down at the local bar for happy hour together,
order up a drink and take a virtual vent with me.....
there are some real winning comments there already.

ManBearPig
Virtual Venting Bar


Oh by the way, have you voted on my poll?
Over there, to the left?
Thanks!

Take a Poll on Me...

~* There's a poll on the web site, dear Liza, dear Liza.

There's a poll on the web site, dear Liza, a poll. *~

With apologies to my email subscribers, there's a poll on the web site. Please click on through to the other side and take a vote, will you?

Oh you want to know what you are voting on? Well...

It isn't life critical (unless you count the fact that I'm a Sagittarian and if we don't travel frequently we get really really cranky).

It doesn't even really make sense.

But the offer has arrived and it is out there. Officially.

"So I'm thinking of going to Vegas for my birthday in November. I would love for you to join me." - Chicago

There it is.

I don't recall expressing it here, but last year, I was jonesing to go to Vegas. I've never been. I wanted to see Criss Angel Mindfreak more than anything. I also wanted to see the Cirque de Soleil Beatles Love show. But I decided not to go for one reason: I didn't want to be alone in Vegas. I went to Bermuda instead. Lovely stormy off-season Bermuda.

So, now, here's a Vegas offer, with a travel companion. Yup, flight and hotel paid. Just my meals, my shows, my gambling to pay for.

So what do you think? Vote over on the left side. Say whatever you want. I value honesty. I'll still make my own decision.

_____________

Oh, yes, were you as curious as I about the circus coming to town? Here's a shot of the backyard. No animals have arrived yet.

The photo makes it appear small in size. Trust me, it is huge. I love how they had to hang the swing sideways for the tent to fit. Now if someone can climb on there and catapult themselves off the tent and into the lake, I would be entertained.

This is all for my entertainment, right? They want to celebrate my 4th year, right, paying them a grand $86,000?? For that price, BrucefuckingSpringsteen better be playing live and in person under that tent this weekend.

Wicked Wednesday

Well I've gone and done it now...

On the eharm profile, I've put that the most important trait a guy has to have is that he "must love dogs." I explain that while it sounds amusing, it is true, because "if he loves dogs, he'll understand unconditional love which is what I hope to find and hope to give."

Collectively now: "Awwww...."

In the end, I'll be able to say I was absolutely myself.

Even if my absolute self might send guys reaching for the CLOSE MATCH button faster than usual.

And Pet Passions and Must Love Pets? I suspected it wouldn't be very fruitful, but turns out they are a total waste of time, because you cannot contact anyone until you pay money. 100% free my ass.

_______________

My SLUMDOGLORDS have erected a mother huge-ass circus tent in their back yard that extends all the way toward my place (about 20 feet between the edge of the tent and where my yard begins). By the way, no one has ever sat on the tree benches. Perhaps soon though!

I swear to god if elephants or llamas or camels or sacred cows show up, you will hear about it!

Meanwhile, I'm wondering where else I can be this weekend.

Besides hanging out in the backyard in my underwear or something equally obscene.

The dogs are going to be thrilled, let me tell you. A solid bunch of *CENSORED* to bark at nonstop? YES!

What? Yes, I'm wholly embarrassed to admit that my dogs are sometimes racist. I tried to get them edu-ma-cated, but I can't afford it when I have to pay for the doggy Ritalin. Darn Belgian shepherds and their elite haughtiness.

_______________

Chicago has finally toned down his "How are you/here's what going on with work/I miss you" messages to just once a day. Yikes. Once a day. He's the one who said it wasn't going to work first! Now he writes that he's confused. Ugh.

Monday I told him quite clearly that I couldn't be in a relationship with someone who didn't love animals. And he readily admitted he did not love animals. Case closed.

Then he writes "I miss the smell of your hair." I should have written back "But you don't miss the smell of my dogs' hair."

My next step will have to be to tell him I'm pursuing another eHarm possibility. But that's not the truth yet and this girl don't lie.

_______________

I've started Breaking Dawn. It is hard to put it down to sleep. Or write. Or work.

But Edward

(ummmm minor possible spoiler here)

is so tortured and I'm only at page 200....I can hardly bear it. But I could kill Bella with my own bare hands. Which would make me Edward's enemy. Oh the torture! She makes Joan of Arc, the martyrs of all martyrs, seem selfish.

Speaking of selfish, I must get back to Edward's tortured existence.

(Sox win! Sox win!)

Must Love...Dogs?

Never once, in all my years as a dog owner, did it ever occur to me that my owning dogs would be a dating turn off. But this year alone, the dogs have been dealbreakers with 3 guys. I even read on some eHarm discussion boards that if a profile mentions cats or dogs, the guys don't even bother. WTF. I'm keeping my profile the way it is. I'm not going to wait to tell anyone that I have pets and that they are important. That's just setting myself up for more frustration.

So I feel like I'm walking around with two handicaps: the weight and the animals.

Good thing one of the handicaps can be altered a bit right? Pretending the animals are children....riiiight!

I thought I would be able to walk on smoothly after the weekend's screw up, but it hit pretty hard last night. It didn't help that Chicago continued to email me all day long, apologizing all over the place for overstating his interest and then withdrawing it so quickly, and asking me if I would still like to be "friends who go to Vegas together."

Let me see. Lonely guy meets lonely girl. Lonely guy likes lonely girl but doesn't like lonely girl's environment. Lonely guy still seeks to make a friend who could meet outside of lonely girl's environment.

I mustered up a response: "Sure, you can treat me to Vegas." That oughta put the kabash on that kind of talk out of him. Or maybe I'm going to Vegas soon. Dunno. At the moment, don't care.

I went searching through the initial communications with Chicago. I wanted to make sure I remembered things correctly, and I wanted to see if I could learn from the experience so as not to take a misstep again. But I didn't find any slip-ups. I even asked this in my 1st questions:

Are pets an important part of your life?

A) I have several pets and they are like family to me.
B) My pet is a nice addition to my life, but no serious emotional attachment.
C) I don't own pets but I don't mind them either.
D) I am not a pet person.

He chose C. Turns out his answer was based on his limited experience: 2 older dogs and 2 cats. But they weren't "hyper" apparently, as my dog is a full-on ADHD case. Does anyone have any Ritalin they can spare?

Of course, it dawned on me, like a hangover, what people like me need is a pet-friendly dating site.

Million dollar idea, right? I'll be raking in the bucks.

Wrong.

They already exist. And rather pathetically, I might add.

I've joined the two free ones. Not going to shellack out fundage set aside for doggy Ritalin on a paid pet site instead.

Pet Passions

Must Love Pets

So far, the guys in the local area (all 5 of them) fall into two very distinct categories:

• They mention sleeping in bed with their ferrets or squirrels. (Yup, not making this up.)

OR

• They expressly state they want a woman who weighs about 140 lbs.

I'm laughing so I don't start crying. Damn, but we all have preferences, don't we?

I've gotta get back to the gym.

Pretty Terrific

*sigh*

From Chicago....

I want to thank you for a WONDERFUL weekend. I know you really tried hard to make it special. And it was. I'm so sorry everything came out wrong this morning. I probably shouldn't have been talking while I was so tired and undergoing allergies. I think you are terrific. You are so charming and pretty, and having communicated with you for the past month or so has really changed my life for the better. I thought I would have been better able to handle being around your pets than I did. I know you warned me. I was just too uncomfortable. It's nothing against you.

As far as the other things I said, I'm sorry I misinterpreted your actions. I guess I was so trying to make it perfect as well I was just overanalyzing things.

I wish I could give you another hug and a kiss. I hope we can remain friends :) I'd hate to think about not being around you in one way or another. And if so, maybe we can hang out some time.

As far as E-harmony goes I think I'm done with dating. Thanks for all the compliments. I just don't think I have anything to offer anyone. I thought about what you said about being so laid back that nothing would get done if I was with someone like myself. It wasn't fair that I left everything to you this weekend. I realize that now.

I'm getting kind of teary-eyed now so I'll go.

For realz? Note to self: do not date any more man-childs. Even ones who tell you they want to fly you to Vegas. Crikey. I've got to stick to my gut instinct.

But hey, I'm charming and pretty and terrific. *snort* Clearly, he's in the 6th grade.

Sugar Free

Well. I know we all had such high hopes, and I thank you all for wishing me the best and sharing the experience, but I won't sugarcoat it.

I have never seen something between two people go from good to bad so quickly. And yes, I acknowledge that there was a role in this for me, but I was just being myself.

Good to bad...such is the case with me and Chicago.

*wince*

Seems that 2nd 24-hour period brought out the reality that we just are not compatible. eharmless, ya failed me. You need to add a few more personality traits to that test you give out!

I enjoyed the dinner last night. He did not enjoy himself very much.

He felt a $75.00 meal for 2 was extravagant. He stated that the atmosphere was too fancy for him, just as we sat down at the table. There were only 2 forks at the place setting...too fancy?? From the guy whose destination of choice for escape is Vegas?? I'm confused. This is no country bumpkin; he's a financial analyst working in downtown Chicago.

If I look back to the entire experience, he didn't hold doors or pull out my chair or get up from the table. He needed a lot of reassurance on how he looked. He couldn't make a decision about anything...odd to me because he made the decision to come out here. But menu choices, and "what would you like to do now" questions put him into a quandary time and time again.

He didn't make a single move first. This may sound like squabbling, but as independent as a woman I might be, I like and need a guy who takes charge and takes care. I waited, patiently, for him. He was always tentative in his touch, even though I was very warm and open. And then, in the kissing department, well, he pretty much failed. Overall, he lacked confidence. My original instinct of "milquetoast" was correct in the end.

Of course, there is always something that pushes the decision one way or the other. For me, it was his comment this morning that my dogs "are too much" for him. He wouldn't even touch them when he was over. (Say what we will about Mr Listener or L in all their self-absorbed nastiness, they at least showered the animals with affection.)

So, when Chicago couldn't decide if he was to get breakfast/lunch before I drove him to the airport, I thought to myself, 'Right, this isn't going to work.' Although I didn't say anything, he sensed my frustration at his indecisiveness (which he called "being laid back," while I called it "being wishy washy"), he told me I could just take him to the airport early because clearly I "wasn't interested in talking to him anymore." Whoa, just a little passive aggressiveness? No thanks.

Fair enough: He did have an allergic reaction in his eyes to Duncan's hair. He said he'd never experienced that before at age 37. Liquid children's benadryl took the puffiness away from his eyes within 20 minutes, with no lingering effects. He did comment that he'd never be comfortable in my house.

One of the more amusing questions he asked was "How do the dogs go out in the backyard in the snow? Don't they get all wet and dirty?"

Yes, they do.
And that's my life.
And too damn bad if you're not fine with it.
I am.

There are 12 new matches waiting for me on eharmless. I sure hope they read my profile that clearly states I have pets.

NEXT!

Winner winner...

...chicken dinner?

We had a great time getting lost on the way to the Statute of Liberty (and this was my second trip in about a year's time). I'm convinced they want people to feel as if they've arrived in the country for the very first time and don't know where the hell to go. When we finally got there and saw license plates from all over the country (as far off as Texas), I had to wonder how long it took some of these people to find Liberty State Park.

The sun really took a beating out of us, but I so loved being on the water. And what could be more perfect than ice cream after a day of feeling like you were melting? The experience at Holsten's was delightful. I sat in THE booth, me in Tony's spot and Chicago in Carm's spot and together we kept an eye on the door for Meadow to show up. He consumed a 2 scoop banana split and I had a coconut walnut malted chocolate shake. Easily 3000 calories and totally worth it.


Getting home was nearly a nightmare. The lovely google maps on my half-functioning crackberry told me to go a certain way and I'm pretty sure I misread it or the evil Jersey traffic demon decided we just weren't going to get home quickly. But I prevailed, using some good old "Hey I've been here before, this looks familiar" way of thinking and only swearing a few thousand times.

We rested, caught up on some Entourage, and hung out with the dogs. And then, just like a pair of rockstars, we took off for the Sands Casino. Showing up just as everyone else was winding down, we had a very empty room of slot machines all to ourselves. Although the guy's been to Vegas more than 20 times already, he's not much of a gambler. Go figure. I won about $100, he lost about $100, we called it even. We had a lot of laughs, and I told him I would definitely need other things to do in Vegas so I didn't become a complete degenerate.

Here are some funny things we either overheard or said ourselves yesterday:

"I think you damaged my straw. Oh it is a flex straw, we don't have those in Illinois..."

"He can't get lost; he's on an island!"

"I've seen a guy still functioning without an arm or leg..."
(They were talking about Dungeons and Dragons behind us.)

"If I don't make it, Leo DeCaprio should play me in the movie."
(Totally deadpanned as we pull away from the ferry dock.)

"This is what I look like on zombie nights....do you still think I'm sexy?"

_______________

And now for a moment of seriousness...because you know that's just how I am right?

Well, I have always advocated living in the moment since Sena died, and I have been pushing off dreams of living a life with someone else since L screwed it up. But I can tell you that my heart still dreams of the future when I have someone by my side.

And I can say that Chicago has a good chance of being that someone. He has a few quirks that make him unique to be sure (he can't swallow pills of any kind, he's allergic to something in beer, he has a nervous laugh that might drive me insane). But it is WAY too early to think like that and certainly WAY too early to express it to him. But then he'll go and say something like "Well, when we go to Vegas," or "Well, next year maybe we'll be living in the same place..." and I think whoa, he's thinking ahead. Then I instinctively feel the walls coming up and the warning message flashing in my head that says "Don't trust anything a guy says ever ever again." (Thanks L, for the lingering BS, really.)

So I'm just trying to pull myself back to the middle of the road by telling myself to enjoy the moment.

Enjoy the moment!

Chicago Arrives

The Chicago package is secure. And no, I haven't gotten a look at his package. Have purchased cheapo digital camera. Photos hopefully to come. (No, Soxy Deb, not of his package. )

(From pre-pick up excitement via the web cam.)

Airports The threat of terrorism really put a damper on that romantic notion you can meet someone at the gate now.

We had to meet in baggage claim; even though he had no checked baggage, he came by and claimed me with a big hug. He is easily heads and shoulders taller than most. That makes me feel dare I say...small. Very nice, rare feeling.

Definitely no instant love feelings, but that's just fine by me. My previous love-at-first-sights have turned out really really poorly (including yesterday's unexpected visitor), so let's hear it for friendship first.

He loved the sign!

Giant Bat Guano

As I was explaining to Edward just the other day (when I put Breaking Dawn on the shelf next to the others even though it was unread it'll be a treat when Chicago leaves), there are times in a self-aware person's life, or as I really wanted to say, a writer's life, when you just know without a doubt that your own life is scripted as if you were writing for a main character. Then there are other days when it is much more like comedy improv theater. The movie Stranger Than Fiction is really so fantastic.

This morning, perfect example of a scripted life. Someone, somewhere, is having fun with me as the main role in a little play of emotional torture. Or at least that's how I see it to keep myself sane. Which in itself, is probably textbook definition of a personality disorder. I've got to write this down as the details are already slipping away due to emotional overload.

Here I am, looking utterly absolutely disheveled, though I managed to get dressed for my at-home conference call (yay for remote working on days you really need it). Still grooving on the good vibes of the massage last night, and soooooo excited to drive to the airport to pick up Chicago!

The dogs are chilled out on the cool floor and I've got the call on mute while I multitask myself into a mug of tea and some blueberries. There's a car door noise and I glance out the window.

And there is the last fucking love of my life strolling up my little driveway. The guy I haven't seen in oh-I-don't-know FOREVER, and the guy I never expected to see again yet always look for his car as I'm driving around town.

TODAY!? 12 or so hours before I go to pick up Chicago. What the hell? No, he doesn't read blogs, he's barely computer literate. Do they have RADAR and know when you are just ABOUT to get over them? They must. Like bats. Like bat guano. Oh how I wish I had some so I could throw it at him in a fitting retort to one of his favorite movies.

Chadster was already alerted to his footsteps and at the front window whining for him. Nice. Nice loyalty, you ferocious Belgian shepherd you. You're supposed to want to bite this guy, or at the very least, not let him in.

L has the nerve to try to open the door without knocking. Yes, sir, do come right in to the quaint cottage you and I were supposed to live in together while your house was built on 10 acres. So glad the door was locked.

Just like my heart, I told myself. Just like my heart.

Knock. He knows I'm there. The windows are open, the car is there, the running water from the washing machine, the beeping of the long forgotten tea in the micro, and I'm quite sure the loud betrayal beating of my heart.

Only a coward wouldn't answer.
Only a loser would talk through a closed door.

Why was my hand shaking as I reached for the knob? Was I afraid of what he was going to say? Or want?

Not now L. Not fucking now.

Oh, did I mention I was on a conference call? Yeah. At least 7 people talking in my ear. Talk about confusion.

"Hello gorgeous."

What is this, The Way We Were? I step back as he's between the screen door and the front door with a foot on the landing already.

Words fail me. Me. The wordy one. Fail.

I point to headset. He understands because I think he's had his surgically implanted years ago. He nods.

I turn to get the wildly excited 4 year old 95 lb suddenly turned 8 week old squealing puppy out of the way for fear that I will trip on him. I herd him out to the garage.

Meanwhile L has come into the house.

I am not sure where to even stand, what to even say. I keep telling myself to play it cool. I can't bring myself to look him in the face. After all, our last exchanges involved my mother being hospitalized and me telling him to leave me alone if all he wanted was sex after 4 years of a relationship. Did the freaking massage therapist put a curse out on me or what?

I'm standing with my arms crossed, not because I'm pissed (although I did feel anger building), but because rather like Bella I'm cold and I'm convinced that my insides are going to spill out. Yes, L had the effect on me that Edward had on Bella. He was the one. Except he wasn't. Because if he was the one, he would have felt the same way about me. And he didn't.

I look up into his eyes, passing by the cute little goatee he's rocking, something I'd never seen in 4 years. I am frowning, I feel it.

"I was just in the neighborhood...thought I'd say hello."

You've got to be fucking kidding.

"Really..." I squeek out.

"How are you gorgeous, you look great."

He holds his arms open for a hug.

People are talking in my ear as I go in for the hug. Yup I'm a sucker, how could I not hug him? I was just not thinking clearly.

Surprise is the predator's main advantage, says the commentator of the Discovery channel documentary that's running in a sidebar to this event unfolding.

I feel tears already welling. I'm upset at that. What the hell. Be MAD, be angry. Don't flipping cry. I didn't. But I was close.

I find my voice finally. Standing back a few feet, "So, how are you? How's that new place you've got across from the reservoir?"

He is utterly surprised that I know about that. Several towns away. Google rocks. Did he think I stalked him? Hmm, Glenn Close I am not.

Fueled by the surprise, I continue, asking about his son, his dog, his business.

Then I shake my head and frown again, "So what exactly brought me to mind that caused you to stop by here?"

I was pretty sure he was going to say he got a text message on the man code frequency that told him I needed to have sex.

"Oh Andy and I are about to go salmon fishing and I remembered last year when I called you from there and I put you on with Andy..."

OK, so he thought I needed to have sex...with two guys?

"So you live in that big house all by yourself?" I asked, already feeling that couldn't be possible.

"No...I live there with my wife."

His wife.

"Oh. When did you get married?"

Again. You weren't going to get married again. You'd said, at your age. With your track record. Right.

"A while ago."

A while ago. Like when I was still with you a while ago or a while ago 6 months ago?

"Well, congrats."

I'm staring at him now because it is my turn to be shocked.

Then he comes to give me another hug, knocking off my headset but I don't stop to get it. And he's hugging me tightly, like there's something more, like there's something he's not saying.

So, always the excavator of emotions and information, I say, while he's still hugging me, "Do you love her?"

Masochistic much?

"Yes. But I miss your warm caring heart."

Ouch. Pain. Slimeball.

I wanted to tell him that my warm caring heart hopes to hell he suffers somehow, but nothing particularly biting came to mind. I wanted to knee him in the balls, but I couldn't do that either.

Just as I was trying to pull away his hands started to wander up the back inside of my shirt. WTF? If ever there was a moment to pull out some self defense moves, this was it.

"What are you doing?"

He doesn't miss my warm caring heart, he misses my warm fat ass.

"I didn't hear the word no or stop."

Jesus Christ, give me strength. Predator indeed.

"Well, here's a no. You can't do this. You've got some balls."

He steps away.

"You know, we're adults here."

"I'm not...it took a 12-step program to stop calling you."

*blink*

He's joking.

Or he's a sex addict.

Ding ding ding. Tell 'em what he's won Bob!

And then Lo, my little rescue girl, realizes something is going on. She can't see or hear too well and she hasn't a clue who L is and she comes growling around the corner toward the new bulky shape in her vision.

In the Discovery channel documentary, she rips off his balls.

I wish he had smelled horrible to her. I wish she would have snapped at him. But he has a way with dogs and women, and got right down to her level and she was putty in his hands in about 2 seconds flat.

"Are you and your wife raising puppies together?"

"No..."

No. That was going to be our thing. But we'll never have anything now. Ever.

He stands up, looks me over. "You look great."

Translation: How about a booty call? Am I wrong here? It must be awfully cold in that bedroom at his house or he is indeed a sex addict.

"You said that already."

"Well then I've said all there is to say..."

"OK..."

"I'm sure your boyfriend is a happy guy..."

Yes. Because of....all the sex...that...you're not getting?

I didn't respond. I just let my last love walk out the door, down the drive, and out of my life.

Married BASTURD!

My insides still feel like they're going to fall out.

And you all thought it was Chicago I had to worry about? Ha.

Chicago deserves better than some half-out-of-her-mind sap; I've got to get it together!

TMI Thursday

I am not sure I measure up in the TMI department (mostly because I think I share everything already and partly because there's just no way to outdo today's 20somethings) but as Ms. LiLu suggests:

-- Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s! --

Without further ado, here's my attempt to go TMI Thursday.

I usually go for a massage once a month, for the past two years or so and especially since the not-so-lovely 2008 February car accident. I always book with Larry, the extremely professional, very good karma, school instructor who has more than 25 years of experience (and also leads meditation groups and preaches vegetarianism and yadda yadda, the whole nine yards).

So, as what tends to happen at the hairdresser if you frequent the same one long enough, they start to know bits and pieces about your life. Such is the case here. This man knows I'm currently WL (without lover). He also firmly believes that my gallbladder is rotting, because I consume too much protein. But anyway....

As per usual, he asks how things are going, and I inform him I'm doing great. And without skipping a muscle on my knotted shoulders, he says, in an all-knowing Jewish mother-type way, "No you're not...you're so obviously not."

And I laugh. I'm obviously not? Must be because of the knots. And I don't volunteer further.

So he presses, as much on my thoughts as on my back, "Come on, tell old Lar, what's the deal."

I briefly mention work.

He hmmms and awwws but mostly brushes it off.

He, being a Yankee fan, sadistically dares to mention the Red Sox.

My muscles tense. He laughs.

I stop talking and just try to drift off, focusing on letting the toxins go through breathing, etc.

(At this point, let me assure you, this man is UBER professional. Nothing seedy or inappropriate in any way. Not to mention he's elfish looking in nature, nothing buff or European about him in any way, shape, or form.)

"I know what's wrong." He declares after several minutes working on my feet. God, I hate my feet.

I give a muffled "hhmmfff" because after all my head is pressed into that donut-shaped space on the massage table.

"You need sex."

And there it is folks. The answer to it all.

This was in no manner a proposition. It was simply a diagnosis.

I mumbled, "Ya think?" Sarcasm dripped out along with the drool onto the massage table.

"Just tell the next guy you meet that your massage therapist said you need sex. As soon as possible," he can't help but let a little childlike giggle escape from his mouth as he works out the pain in my foot because I freaking pronate instead of supinate.

No, I don't mention that I'm meeting Chicago guy to Larry. Noooooo, not going to set myself up like that.

But it is so good to be diagnosed properly, don't you agree?

24 Hours

24 hours until Chicago intersects with Jersey!
He's worried about me not being able to find him at the airport.

Poor, sweet, midwestern, tall drink of water.

I gently reminded him: We have evolved. We have cell phones.
Yes, I haven't lost my mind yet.

(Although, I did have to have a long talk with Edward...)

Smel-ly Girls, Smel-ly Girls

This is not a paid advertisement. This is an honest-to-goodness, I-love-this-place endorsement.

I want to share one of my favorite places of late: Pacifica Perfume

You may already know them, because apparently they're in all the cool stores like Whole Foods and Sephora. But I rarely go to stores, cool or not.

I know this company via their web site and through my very dear friend, the Princess of Sweden. And you know, when she likes something, darling, it is well worth a try.

(Although, she can HAVE Matthew I-can't-keep-my-shirt-on McConaughey because by my lofty standards, he isn't worth the price of a Goodwill tank top.)

Anyway, focus! Pacifica Parfumes online store is having a BOGO on their solid perfumes right now! The scents are out of this world and the little compact case is so cute and portable! They make cute stocking stuffers if you're lucky enough to still do that sort of thing around your winter-holiday-of-choice.

~Florals~
French Lilac
Lotus Garden
Malibu Lemon Blossom
Nerola Orange Blossom
Tahitian Gardenia
Tunisian Jasmine
Waikiki Pikake

~Fruits~
Bali Lime Papaya
Brazilian Mango Grapefruit
Hawaiian Ruby Guava
Mediterranean Fig
Tuscan Blood Orange

~Herbs & Spices~
Egyptian Bergamot Rose
Madagascar Spice
Mexican Cocoa
Thai Lemongrass
Vanilla Vera Cruz

~Woods & Resins~
Avalon Juniper
Sandalwood
Spanish Amber
Tibetan Mountain Temple

I wish you could scratch and sniff the web site; I highlighted the one I love. Go ahead, try to see if you can suddenly smell patchouli. I triple dog dare ya.

And thus my Wednesday Wish for you (as I try not to lose my head with excitement about Chicago guy's arrival tomorrow night):

May you always be smelly scented just the way you want!

Corporate Screaming

Uh-oh, the downward spiral continues.

Had what I thought was going to be a fairly positive performance review yesterday.

Wow, was I wrong. My boss actually said "there's no reason to focus on what's right, so let's just focus on what needs improvement." WTF? There's no reason? There's every reason! Where's the opportunity to acknowledge what's gone well in this incredibly difficult year? And this is a boss I normally love to work for!

And suddenly, focusing on the improvements needed, I felt the swirling sensation around me that I am so not cut out for this corporate bullshit. Basically, the areas of improvement involve behavioral changes such as conflict resolution and effective verbal communication. Change who I am, for the company. Be a different person, think and act outside my comfort zone, FOR THE COMPANY. I'm sorry but I don't live my life that way! If I want to change, I will change FOR MYSELF. And the more you try to force me to, the more I will resist. Screw it. I am not, nor do I suspect I ever will be, corporate material.

All I want to do is emit a very loud primal scream in the middle of my department. Maybe they'll declare me unfit to work, and I can go on medical leave for 6 months like two other members of the department.

This was supposed to be a 5 year gig at the most. This is year 4, and now circumstances are forcing me to consider if I'm going to be here the rest of my life. You just don't see 4th decade individuals walking away from jobs that you basically cannot get fired from (laid off, yes but fired, no). I woke up this morning and started trying to psyche myself to go to work.

"You've got it so good, you've got it so good."
"You've got it so good, you've got it so good."

Somehow it rang hollow.

Somebody slap me, kick me, punch me, hug me, kiss me, love me, fuck me, give up on me, or just shoot me. Please.

What Weekend?

There's not much to say about my weekend. So I will proceed to say not much about it.

The Sox didn't JUST lose 1, 2, or 3 games....they lost ALL 4 games to the Yankers. Despite all-out, phenomenal, heart and soul playing. In baseball, this is called getting "swept" and there are broom references abound. Going to work in Westchester county NY today will be like walking through the valley of sneers and loathing. But that's OK. I still love my baseball. I still love my Sox.

I just don't know that I can watch the rest of the season. I can love them from afar. And maybe I should sell my September Sox vs. Oriole tickets for a ticket to Chicago to see Springsteen perform the entire Born to Run album instead. (Let's see if Soxy Deb is still reading my blog for a reaction...)

Garage: Not cleaned.
Gym: Not worked.
Breaking Dawn: Not read.

Somewhere along the road to these things, I became less interested in achieving them and more interested in sleeping. T.o.M. really kicked my ass hard this weekend. I have an awful lot to make up at the gym.

Chicago arrives Thursday night, and I've begun to get used to the feeling sinking in that there just isn't anything I can or cannot do before then that will or won't make a difference in how he feels about me. First impressions are first impressions. It's going to go over like a lead balloon (does anyone use that expression anymore or just those of us approaching our 4th decade?) or it is going to go smashingly well or it is going to go straight down the blaise middle of the road. Yeah he's fairly into me at the moment. It is awfully sweet. But I don't know if I'm all that into him until we eyeball each other.

Just been way too many times where I've been disappointed or downright hurt to have much over-the-top optimism right now. I am not pessimistic though, I'm just more realistic. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen. I can only be myself. And that self is someone with a fair amount of wonderful qualities. And a fair amount of flaws. He's got plenty too. Whether or not our qualities mix or our flaws diametrically oppose one another will remain to be seen until some point in the near future. So until then, what the hell am I stressing out about?

Oh yes, I remember now. I don't want to be alone for the rest of my life. Got it. Too bad that wasn't even remotely in my realm of thoughts before I got divorced 13 years ago.

What's In Your Yard?

Swayed immensely by lousy baseball and T.o.M. (yay that it isn't here next weekend), I'm feeling the strongest urge to escape. Of course, Edward senses my weakness and is calling my name....I mean, I can barely hear the movie theater calling instead. But before I slip off, into the dark sweet world, I thought I would ask you all an important question that I hope I get some answers on.

What's In Your Yard?

Are there 3 ingredients in your yard that could use to kill make a meal for someone? Someone you didn't like or someone you loved?

As I was cleaning up the yard tonight, after my daily stint as a masochistic Red Sox fan, I noticed there are quite a few ingredients in the yard one might find in an exotic kitchen perhaps, such as:

• Tiny Pears (yes, from a Pear tree)
• giant Alice in Wonderland-esque thick, wild mushrooms (fertilized with the help of Chadster and LoLo)
• Hickory nuts (the squirrels love them, why wouldn't we?)

Sliced and sauteed over rice...doesn't that sound positively lethal delish?

Tell me....what's in yours? How would you serve it?

15 Innings of Torture

As Soxy Deb and I are fond of reminding one another:

THERE IS

NO CRYING
IN BASEBALL!

There is, however, a hell of a lot of swearing.

Profane, unladylike, truck-driving, sailor-swaggering, biker-esque, white-trash cussing.

I, for one, said some things last night that I've never said in my 39 years. And I was in public. And I didn't care.

My words were appropriate, I rationalize, as I'd never experienced a scoreless game that went 15 innings to lose to a walk-off HR by my least favorite player in the ever-loving world. Mr A-Hole. Mr. You'll-Never-Be-A-Dirt-Dog-Player-In-Boston. Mr. Shove-the-Pitcher-Out-of-The-Way-at-First-Base. Mr. Glove-Eating-Tek-Sandwich.

I can't exactly condone violence. I'm a pacifist. No really, I am.

So, ummmm, could someone else help me out here? Please? Just don't tell me about it.

The upside to baseball: There's always a next time. 4 pm today in fact.

Whatever It Is

Well, The Red Sox are a-hurtin' but hopefully tonight our Country Boy pitcher Beckett will get 'em. Chicago guy was so sweet last night, even though he doesn't care much for baseball, he still offered me sympathy over the beating we took from the Yankees.

And once I was all buttered up, and we were talking about music, he told me that he "Hopes to kiss the lips of an angel next week," (get your mind outta the gutter!).

Then he sent me this song and told me it had some of the most beautiful lyrics he could imagine, stopping just short of saying anything about me as we haven't met yet. Awwww....isn't that sweet? I'm trying to stay level-headed here, but it is tough when the guy tells you he's no longer looking for other women.

So here, you all enjoy this:

I still have a garage to clean and a sign to make. And wouldn't you know it, I've got to do the floor AGAIN already? Ahhhhh I love my crew, I do, I just wish they could clean up after themselves. Nothing stays clean for long. I suppose it is like having teenagers. *shudder*



______________


#18 / 138
Thursday, August 6
Life Fitness Treadmill
Standing heart rate: 82
Average heart rate: 137
Max heart rate: 157
Workout mode: RANDOM mode level 19@3.0
Calories: 937 Distance: 2.88 Time: 65:00

NOTE: Tough to watch my boys when I'm working out. I really lose focus. I could've pulled a muscle and not even realized it.

I Ated It
bluebran vitatop muffin top
chocolate whey protein shake
salt-free trail mix with cranberries
1 gallon water
36 ounces of unsweetened iced tea
grilled chicken breast
1/4 cup wild and brown rice
peppers and onions
910 calorie chicken ranch taco salad w/ no beans

A Little Cammy

So, Chicago really has no idea what it is like to live with 2 large dogs and a cat. So, I shot a little cammy to shine the light a bit.

I thought it would scare him, at least with my scary fake accent, but it didn't. Seems to have prepared him a little instead. He said he'll be packing lamb in his pockets, Elaine-style (great Seinfeld episode). Of course, the crew was delighted to hear such treats are in store.

______________

The invitation to my cousin's wedding in October arrived. I knew I would be going, but I didn't know it would be held in the lavish Aqua Turf. That photo doesn't do it justice. It is a night wedding, so not much of the scenery will be appreciated. However, the venue means two things to me: 1. Awesome food, therefore I must look the best that I possibly can, and 2. It would be nice if I had a date. I'm the oldest unmarried (divorced) cousin who'll be there I think, and damnnit all, if I have to be there, I want to have fun and dance and not face all the "So how come you don't have a boyfriend" questions from relatives. I might just go with the shocker "I've converted to a lesbian" answer if I can't get a date.

______________

Someone emailed me and asked "So, with all the working out and food planning, are you losing pounds?"

Fair question, although I'm trying not to focus on the numbers hang up.

Amazingly, the answer is no. Maybe there's something wrong with me.

I'm still in the 60s, the low 60s. But nothing to report. When I am safely ensconced in the 50s, I'll be sure to let you know. Safely no longer means 59 or even 58. Safely would have to be crooked numbers like 57.

______________

4-game series against the Yankers starts tonight.

Let's Go Red Sox!!!

______________


#17 / 138
Wednesday, August 5
Life Fitness Treadmill
Standing heart rate: 78
Average heart rate: 141
Max heart rate: 159
Workout mode: RANDOM mode level 19@3.0
Calories: 955 Distance: 2.95 Time: 65:00

NOTE: A little bit closer to 3 miles. It is fun to have a mini goal like that, but I have to be careful to still allow myself the warm up time. Otherwise I could easily pull that good old muscle in my leg again.

I Ated It
bluebran vitatop muffin top
1 tablespoon Smartbalance PB
1 slice of Ezekiel bread
chocolate whey protein shake
salt-free trail mix with cranberries
1 gallon water
36 ounces of unsweetened iced tea
grilled chicken breast
1/4 cup wild and brown rice
peppers and onions

NOTE: I had a craving for something salty. I drank some water and went to bed instead. The only problem with this is that it was at 5 pm.

I Need a Sign

I need a sign...somebody send me a sign...

I'm going to make a sign for picking Chicago up at the airport. Cuz I embrace my inner geek like that. But you can help me be a little funny and cute and then maybe the geek won't shine straight thru.

What should the sign say?

So far, my ideas are limited:

~ CHICAGO ~

(What is he, a Broadway musical?)


~ ROCKSTAR CAMP ~

(I might get other passengers disembarking...)


~ MR BURGUNDY ~

(Because of this)

Help me find something clever and witty.

I'll pay you.

In kindness.

Or Turkish lira.

Whichever is worth more to you.







______________


#16 / 138
Tuesday, August 4
Life Fitness Treadmill
Standing heart rate: 78
Average heart rate: 142
Max heart rate: 158
Workout mode: RANDOM mode level 19@3.0
Calories: 943 Distance: 2.93 Time: 65:00

NOTE: Reached a personal best in distance for 65 minutes. Nice. I wonder if I can get to 3 miles, that would be awesome. Felt GREAT today. No sickness at all. Around minute 38:00 felt so light and free, like I could float away.

I Ated It
bluebran vitatop muffin top
1 tablespoon Smartbalance PB
1 slice of Ezekiel bread
scrambled eggs
salt-free trail mix with cranberries
1 gallon water
36 ounces of unsweetened iced tea
1181 calorie chicken burrito @ Moe's (WAY better than the 1620 calories nachos)

NOTE: I exercised before eating dinner. I'm learning.