school's out- and so am I

Finally... and like we respond to all evites these days: it's a maybe. Eat, drink and be merry! Peace out...

sucker

Just for the record I don't eat fast food. Every once in a great while I will have the 'hangover' burger to ease the pain or I'll stop for some fries and a chicken sandwich on a road trip simply because I'm in the need of some protein, but basically I avoid the fast food frenzy and stick to good old fashioned turkey sandwiches when I'm out and about.

I'm sure you've seen the ads lately for that new Southern Chicken Sandwich at McDonald's, I sure have... I do like the chicken sandwich, the grilled, the breaded, the little nuggets- you know, they're tasty. So when this new thing came out I must say I was slightly intrigued. Southern Chicken Sandwich?, what does that mean- it's got gravy on it? I was confused, and still am. So today (and today only) McDonald's is offering a free Southern Chicken Sandwich when you purchase a drink. I'm actually thinking I may have to step or drive into a McDonald's today just to taste the thing! They're doing everything but delivering it to me- and to top it all off, the thing only has pickles on it! I love those pickles.

I'm doing it, I'm in...

safe sex

(I'm fully aware of how judgemental I am being with this post but I'm thinking they all look like this)

Definition: "A cuddle party is an event designed with the intention of allowing people to experience non-sexual group physical intimacy through cuddling. Cuddle parties are described by organizers as "workshop/social-events" that gives adults an opportunity to "give and receive welcomed affectionate touch in a no-expectation, friendly setting, according to your needs, desires, interests, and boundaries." Cuddle parties are described as non-sexual events but kissing may occur at some parties. It's a drug and alcohol-free way to meet fascinating people in a relaxing environment. A laboratory where you can experiment with what makes you feel safe and feel good."

OK, what the fuck is this. On my way home from work the other day they were talking about this on the radio and so I had to check it out for myself. It's for real, people actually do this thing. First of all, I don't know about any of you but I don't need a 'cuddle' party to experience non-sexual group intimacy. But now that I just said that, I'm thinking that if you are an actual sex addict or if you have a tendency to confuse sex with intimacy than this may just be the thing for you... All I'm saying is there is NO WAY on earth I would ever go to any one of these so called cuddle parties if invited. First of all, groups of people in their pajamas freak me out (unless they are 5 year olds) and second of all, I would never attend any gathering where 'non sexual' (but completely sexual) activity is going on without some alcohol! shit, what's the point of these parties? Third of all, groups of people in their flannel pajamas is actually the most unattractive situation I think I could be in. Plus there are "rules" and what kind of party has rules- know what I'm sayin?

Rule # 1 - Pajamas stay on the whole time. (how about the fuzzy slippers?)
Rule # 2 - You don't have to cuddle anyone at a Cuddle Party, ever. (What?)
Rule # 3 - You must ask permission and receive a verbal YES before you touch anyone. (Be as specific in your request as you can.) (like that's really happening-come on now)
Rule # 4 - If you're a Yes to a request, say YES. If you're a No, say NO. (duh)
Rule # 5 - If you're a Maybe, say NO. (I disagree-if you're a maybe, say yes)
Rule # 6 - You are encouraged to change your mind. (and get the hell out of there-fast)
Rule # 7 - Respect your relationship boundaries and communicate with your partner. (yeah, "like , could you move down a little more"?)
Rule # 8 - Come get the Cuddle Caddy or ME if there's a concern, problem, or should you feel unsafe or need assistance with anything today.
Rule # 9 - Tears and laughter are both welcome. (Oh, no)
Rule # 10 - Respect people's privacy when sharing about Cuddle Parties and do not gossip.
Rule #11 - Keep the Cuddle Space Tidy (Stuffed animals take up lots of room)
Rule #12 - Thank you for arriving on time. (that one's loaded...)

One question: If this is an organized event allowing adults to experience non-sexual group intimacy why the hell are they wearing pajamas?! Why not wear turtlenecks and sweatpants?kissing may be allowed at some of them?!?... I'm thinking people that host and join these events are just desperate individuals looking for a perverted way to get some sex. So I need to know if anyone out there is familiar with these things.

The only way you would get me to attend one of these is if the invitation read: Woman only intimacy wine and cheese party; pajamas optional; and no shoes allowed. That's it.

Horizontal with Felicity

O.k, I just have to say one more time that this show was THE best show on television and the fact that the subject of it has come up twice now within the last 4 days is kind of ironic so I just have to put it out there.

Last weekend I was staying at my friend's house in Atlanta and we had just gotten home from a night out when I flicked on her TV (it was in my room) and the show Felicity came on. It was strange because I thought I was turning on the actual cable but apparently I was just turning on the DVD player-whatever. (I never actually figured it out) I heard the opening theme song as I was fluffing my pillows getting ready to lay down and was immediately carried into that trance-like, lethargic state I remember so well. That was it, I was down for the count. I quickly became totally useless to anyone else for the rest of the evening because Felicity had me- hook, line and sinker. Luckily the cats seemed to accept my horizontal position and settled right in there in between my legs and by my side, oblivious to the fact that I wasn't even touching them. If I remember correctly, t2 was behind me typing away at her computer and kelly was blowing her nose in the other room (allergy season in Atlanta); all seemed right with the night.

The lighting of that show is what grabs me and then the dialog is what reels me in. It's similar to that feeling you get when you're in the middle of a euphoric 'act'... know what I mean?... you're still floating and swimming around but quite comfortable in your little place?. It's a settling spot/feeling and it all just mesmerizes me, so there I lay-on my futon with eyes glued to the screen waiting for what ever was to came next. I watched the pilot that night and I chose to watch it with the commentary on because his (J.J. Abrams) mind is so entertaining to me I dig listening to how he thinks. Felicity was a television series with heart and soul... and humor. I can't say enough good things about it and as much as I love Lost, when I first started watching that show I couldn't believe it was from the same master mind as Felicity- talk about feeling 'lost', that guy is intense to say the least. Unlike the unexplained, frustrating drama that occurs weekly on Lost, Felicity was all about reality-amazingly real, piercing reality. It was all about the stuff in between the lines and when someones able to create a series centered around what's not being said by actually saying it is my idea of a creative genius. There were no unexplained monsters in that dorm room.

Anyway, I like to just take a moment to celebrate some facts:#1- J.J. Abrams is still creating meaningful stuff, #2- Felicity is still alive and well in so many people's homes, #3- I had no idea that t2 liked the show and that just makes me feel connected to her on a totally separate level-which is cool. And talk about Felicity 'moments', the fact that I was actually in the home of someone I blog with almost daily and have only hooked up with in person only three times and there was someone in the next room I've only met twice- was pretty cool.

Angie was hanging across town that weekend at her own pad but at one point during the last day we were there, she was mentioning that it was too bad we couldn't have spent more time together (she chose to be busy with other things). When she said that, I was a little taken a back because the rest of us were having Felicity moments right and left all weekend long- just because we were sitting around doing absolutely nothing. Afunt made conscious decisions to not do 'nothing' with us but sometimes within the 'nothing' comes a whole lot of something. The something in this case was simply being present (physically) with each other (not physically, physically- come on now) you all know what I mean... and that's all we needed. I'm sorry she wasn't around more also, but such as life- and such as Felicity.

Know what I'm saying?

In lieu of the weekend- Cheers! I guess we know where the 19 year old shops...

My idea of good

I'm so tired of people telling me about movies they think are 'good' and then either renting them only to experience how much I think they suck or listening to them go on and on all the while saying to myself "what the hell are they talking about!, that movie sucked so bad I had to turn it off", but continuing to keep my mouth shut- just to be polite. Granted, there are way more movies out there that I think suck as opposed to rock but that's just me. Zoe's latest post was on a movie called Wristcutters: A Love Story and apparently she loved the thing but with the title alone I'm thinking it's not really a quality film... but maybe. After checking out the trailer I decided to let this one pass- but you be the judge and if you end up watching it, let Zoe know what you think.

Anyway, her post got me thinking about my own favorite movies and thought I'd share. For starters, the movie The Station Agent holds one of the top (If not the top) spots on my list and I recommend it all the time to people looking for a good flick. I actually only recommend it to certain people though, because of the slow pace of the movie tons of people would find it boring and I don't want to recommend it if I think they can't handle it. To me- those people are boring. If I ever had to do speed dating, this would be one of my questions- 1. Did they see it and 2. Did they like it. This would tell me a lot. (other speed dating questions are another post) I understand people like movies for very specific reasons and depending on what mood they are in when they watch it has a huge effect also but for me, The Station Agent is a movie I love because it's real- not real as in non-fictional but real as in authentic and 'quality'. I get a good feeling from watching it- not an angry feeling, a sad feeling, a violent feeling or a depressing feeling. It feels normal, it's cool as hell and it's definately in my top 5. Other movies are:

Good Will Hunting- it's a Boston flick and it's "awesome" for many reasons.

E.T.- It's a classic and a watching a little kids mind in action is hard to beat.

Swingers- Funny as hell

That's three for starters, there's more but I'm running out of time and gotta go- So anyway, go rent Wristcutters if you're into that or rent Station Agent if you want to spend time with space... Let me (and Zoe) know.

tears of joy

I cry. I'm not a "crier", but I do cry. I don't particularly like to cry because whenever it happens it always seems to get in the way of whatever else is going on at the time. For me, if I'm sad it just makes me sadder and if I'm happy (and crying) it just wrecks the mood because now I need to find a tissue and can't focus on the enjoyment anymore. My crying can occur under many different circumstances:I can easily cry during sad or inspirational movies and seeing children and animals of any kind in pain; I cry when my parents are in pain and I could totally break down if I sat with the thought of one of them going through life with out the other due to a death; I am able to cry from certain words, pictures, thoughts and television shows and I'm a total sucker for the 'underdog' and the person living in "rags" making it big. But I also always seem to cry, well my eyes tear up, whenever I crack up laughing and sometimes that laughter turns into a lump in my throat as if I really feel like crying- it's strange and the eyes completely fill up when I cut an onion, but there's no emotion attached to those tears. In other words it's just never convenient to shed the tears, so I don't jump at the opportunity, but as we all know sometimes the act is unavoidable.

I've learned as an adult that crying is a healthy thing and should not be held in- kind of like sneezing... so I do it when the the moment moves me. I actually cried many times this winter, not because it was the worst winter in like 15 years but because I was either frustrated as hell over something, in a fight with C. Love, still growing, or over the fact that my job was requiring me to work some Saturdays; hence I felt like my life was being taken away from me. It's been a pretty tough winter for many reasons both emotionally and spiritually. At times I chose to bury my self in 'sex and drugs and rock and roll' to sooth the pain but that relief is only temporary then it's time to face the truth... and the tears.

Today I went running for only the second time this winter (I choose not to run on ice and risk killing myself from traffic or dodge snowbanks and get frost bite) because today was 61 degrees. Just saying that is enough to make me cry on the inside. The fact that I haven't moved my body much more than to run up a flight or two of stairs for the last 3 months didn't make for an easy jog, but I managed to get myself down to the lake. As soon as I jumped off the wall and my feet hit the sand my eyes started to tear and I felt that feeling in my heart, head and throat- I made my way over to the rocks away from the babies, the dogs and the walkers and totally burst into tears. They were completely undeniable and obviously inconvenient. I guess they were tears of joy but what they felt like were tears of relief. A lot of my tears over the winter were because I couldn't breathe; today my tears were because I finally could. That warmth from the sun and the energy from the beach is all my soul needs for fuel and the fact that it was without them for the last 5 months was too much for me to take today. They were tears of joy but then sadness when I soon realized that was the (sad) truth.

And of course I didn't have any tissues on me.

A hard knock life

Yesterday at work I noticed a small Spiderman lunchbox sitting on a desk in the office and it seemed (and looked) really strange. I knew who the lunch box belonged to because it was on the desk of the 'new person' but instead of my saying out loud, " what the fuck is up with the lunch box? does she have a 7 year old son or what?", I calmly asked if there was a 7 year old little boy running around somewhere- and people looked at me like I was crazy, they didn't get my joke. There's never any 7 year old's running around our work place, the youngest is maybe 17 and they're doing everything except running around. But my question was more of a way for me to understand who the new woman in the building was without being rude. I needed some explanation for that Spiderman box because I'm sorry but you can't be a 27, 37 or 47 year old woman and bring one to work on your first day without an explanation-she seemed sane but you never know...

When adults carry or own (and use) little kid things like that it freaks me out. If it's a joke I kind of get it but still... leave it at home. Don't wear little pink or yellow t-shirts with rainbows or kittens on them and don't wear little colored barrettes in your hair as if you were four. Now don't get me wrong, I'd kill to have my Partridge Family lunch box back in my possession but if I did, you wouldn't find me filling it with my banana, my apple, my turkey sandwich, my oatmeal, or my little bag of chocolate chip cookies and bringing it to work... no way, that box stays home and comes out only to show off how well I took care of it. It would even be different if she happen to have maybe an old school Barbie lunch box or something classic but Spiderman?!

Anyway, from Spiderman the conversation turned into Little Orphan Annie. We were talking about the lunchboxes we had as kids and someone in the group had an Annie one. Now I've come to realize that If there's a woman in any room between the ages of 35 and 41 and the story of "Annie" comes up, nothing else and no other topic is going to take over that subject- at least for the next 10 minutes straight. People don't just seem to 'remember' "Annie"; they live, breath and worship her- and her little dog too. The way they talk about her borders on obsession but it's so strange because it happened so long ago and they talk about it as if they were just on stage with her. I can never figure out if it's Andrea McArdle, the actual story, the orphanage thing or the music that everyone was attracted to but it never fails: first comes the announcement "I loved Little Orphan Annie", then comes the singing "it's a hard knock life...", then more chatter about the sun coming out tomorrow. The infatuation and power around this thing amazes me. Sure, I remember Annie but because she had to have red hair and have the bad luck of being an orphan, and I too had red hair- I guess I chose not to pay too much attention to her. A red headed orphan... do all the odd ball characters have to have red hair? Come on now, Pippie, Annie, Hollie. It sucked for me because I was the only scrappy looking red headed kid on the block and in school and feeling quite special because of it and they had to go and make weird looking characters in the movies and comic strips have red hair just like me. It was rough.

I just realized this post has turned from talking about a grown woman carrying a lunch box to my childhood issues with being a red head. Lunch boxes, Little Orphan Annie, red hair and pigtails, infatuations and being a little kid... I'm not sure what it all means, but I'm glad I was a little red headed kid - even if it's taken me 1/2 my life to realize it.

Ahhh

I haven't had anything to drink for close to two weeks because of my horrific bronchial/flu-like/exhaustion state that I've been entrenched in. But yesterday with the snow flying, Easter weekend upon us and cancelled plans to head out (because of the fucking snow storm), I picked up a couple bottles along with dinner on the way home from work and man did it go down smoothly...




I sipped it slowly and methodically and I swear I could have drank it for the entire evening. It's good to be back...

Out of commission

I don't know what that last post was all about, I scare myself sometimes... butter? man, I am sick...

Anyway, for the last week or so I've been fighting a cold; I've been physically exhausted, feeling a little dazed and confused and walking around like I haven't slept in days- and I have. Last night I went to bed with a fever and a low, deep cough that was just waiting to explode. Needless to say I called in sick today and spent the entire day on the couch- with exploding cough, lots of tea (I hate tea), spoonfuls of raw honey and herbal cough medicine. My chest is burning, my cough is dry, my fever of 101 at 2:00 has broken and I'm back to a normal temp, but I still feel like I've been hit by a mac truck... and left out in the cold-in the rain. Damn, I've escaped getting sick all winter long! I was so proud of myself, feeling like some anti-germ fighting super hero or something. I guess even superheroes get knocked down every once in a while, but I don't like it.

So yesterday I high tailed it out of work at 4:00 so I could finish up a project I have been working on and that was going to be picked up on Thursday. The project was actually a very cool one but it took up every ounce of free time I have had for the past 2 months or so. I'll try to bottom line it here: Someone hired me to fill an ipod with 4-6 hours of music and then make a mixed CD from that music and burn 45 copies(one for each couple) with her evite logo on each CD. She's having a "meet and greet" party at a restaurant for her friends and neighbors and since she had zero knowledge of any adult music (she has 3 bratty rug rats), she needed some help. All she knew is that she wanted "cocktail" type music that people could talk over- nothing too depressing or too loud. No problem, I was all over it. I have enough music in my house and on my computer to take care of a 20 hour cocktail party. I accepted the challenge and immediately dove in. The problem, and it was a big one throughout the entire process, was this woman. She just wouldn't leave me alone at any point throughout to let me do my thing. She e-mailed every day, wanted certain things earlier than we discussed, couldn't commit on the fee, had horrible taste in music, and basically couldn't let it go. So for months not only have I been listening to and choosing particular songs for the party but also pacifying this woman through the entire process. After printing up and cutting 45 copies of the play list for the mix on Tuesday at work, I came home and slid each one into it's sleeve and I was done. I piled the CD'S on the coffee table and went into the dining room to get a box to keep them safe. Less than one second later, I hear a crash and run in to find that my cat has knocked over my glass of water and it was all over the coffee table FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I grabbed the pile of CD'S and went into the dining room to assess the damage. First of all, do you know how long it takes to burn 45 CDs, compose and print out the cover art and decide which 20 songs are making it to the "mix".?! I take music and this type of thing very, very seriously. I told her from day one that I was treating this as if it were my own party and she had absolutely nothing to worry about. I changed the play list many times and even went to the restaurant and listened to the ipod. Since it sounded horrible because of their speakers, I turned around and burned 5 CDS for her to put into the changer instead. Sound is of utmost importance to me. This thing took me forever!

Back to the accident: it turned out that every single CD that I had burned and put into a sleeve had to be taken out and sleeve tossed- each and every one was wet. At This point I still had two nights left if by any chance the play list needed to be re printed or (the worst of all) CD's needed to be re-burned. Icouldn't literally breathe because with every breath came a whopping cough- All this while chasing the cat around the dining room because she was now obsessed with what's on the table and kept jumping up on top of the laid out CD'S. I proceeded to take every single CD and play list out to lay out and let dry. The cat eventually got shut in a bedroom and C. Love went to Best Buy to buy some new sleeves. All this while my cough is getting progressively worse and I feel a fever coming on. We spent the next hour putting the CD'S in their new, dry sleeves and I put everything in the closet, shut the door, ate some dinner and went to bed.

Fast forward to Thursday at 1:23: I'm home sick again today and already called in for Friday. I've hit the Robitussin, can't stop sneezing and the woman comes over in 1/2 hour to pick up the fucking Cd's. I think I'll meet her outside so she doesn't have to come into the sick house. Man, what a way to end the winter. And on top of it all I wasn't even invited to the party... oh well. I'm done- good bye, I'm off for a nap as soon as she leaves.

Bad Butter

I know there are more important things in life to discuss: like breaking up with your love or 'hooking up with a hottie' or quitting your job or losing your cat or hitting a pot hole and screwing up your alignment but I gotta complain about the bad butter I bought at the store. It's tainting all of my food like a bad smell permeating the air. It looked a little funky when I opened it but I needed it so desperately that I choose to ignore- and I now I suffer.

On Sunday I was making C. Love a birthday dinner (birthday was Sat) which consisted of fillet with a white wine herb sauce, twice baked MASHED POTATOES, roasted asparagus, some warmed bread, and some profiteroles with chocolate sauce for dessert. I had only one quarter of a stick of butter left after I made the profiteroles and I still had the entire dinner to make- not good planning on my part. I definitely needed more than 1/4 of a stick for mashed potatoes, a rich wine sauce and bread, so I ventured into the living room and told C. Love about my problem. Being her wonderful self, she offered to go to the convenient store for me and pick up a stick- great, but when she said "convenient store" I kind of froze in my tracks. I kind of think that if you're not a snack food, a newspaper, a cigarette, a soda, a Gatorade or maybe a box of tissues- you're never leaving that convenient store- I swear some of that food on those shelves has been there for years.

Anyway, to make a long story somewhat shorter, the butter C. Love bought that night was indeed bad... very bad. It looked odd to me on Saturday night but I let it slide. It smelled odd and it tasted a little funky in my mashed potatoes, but again- I let it slide. But tonight when I made Pasta Primavera it smelled and tasted bad again- that was it. Damn, a whole pound of butter and I had to throw it away. I looked at the date as I tossed it in the garbage. It said: Best if purchased by Jan 2008. Just as I suspected, don't ever buy butter in a convenient store- stick to the candy bars.

Trust me, I have many more important things to be discussing here but for some odd reason the butter thing got to me... So it leads me to this question: what are you putting on your toast- real butter or the fake stuff? (I bet the fake stuff never goes bad)

Inside out

It's like I can definitely see it. I can feel it, hear it, experience it and sometimes taste it but I just can't seem to touch it- physically touch it. Not that anyone can actually physically touch any part of it, it's just that being in it's presence and interacting with it feels like touching it-kind of. I'm talking about blogging. I literally haven't had the time ti sit down a compose a post let alone venture out and make some visits to just say hello.

It feels like for the past month I've been stuck in a snowbank. Sure, I come out every day and do my thing but I always go right back every night and huddle up next to the warm interior with ice cold walls. Thankfully people bring me red wine and laughs and I'm able to loose myself in the idealism of American Idol and the headiness of Lost, but this winter thing is getting old. I can see the sun but it's so deceiving because it has zero warmth and it always goes away way too soon. I do venture out of the snow bank quite often but all I hear is other people talking about how much their snow bank sucks or how they've abandoned their snow banks for sand dunes. Fuck them- But...after it's all said and done, I've kind of -strangely- enjoyed my little snow hut this year. I've gotten tons of mail and people bring me cool projects. It has some great air, tons of space to exercise my mind, it's an awesome place to do some 'planting', it frees me up from any outside obligations and complications, it's loaded with great food and wine and it seems to be a very good shelter from all the elements... if you know what I mean. Hibernation is good, I get it now.

The problem is that life outside the snow bank feels so far away; it's right outside my door but for some reason whenever I try to get to it something happens. There's either a blizzard, a wind storm, wild animals or another phone call to bring me back inside. Life in the snow bank is good but I miss real life. I miss the grass, the blue ski, the warmth of the sun, the back and forth nonsense talk from the blogging world, the friendly hello's from strangers, the smiles on every one's face and the ease of life. There's so much to do in my snow bank and it's all good but I'm ready to get out. Starbucks closed their doors for three hours the other day to train their employees. I'd like to open my windows for more than one second to re-train my body to breathe the good air.

I stopped over at t2's place for a second the other day and she was mentioning how long the month of February felt. She's absolutely right, in the dead of winter time seems to stop. That last month felt like eternity. Today is that funky extra day in February. Great, one more day...

winter storm warning #56

Ok, I know I am obsessed with the weather and can't stop complaining about this winter; it's been pretty rough here in Chicago so far with the fridgid temps and pesky snowstorms but this is fucking rediculous! I really wanted to go out tonight. I actually have cabin fever for the first time in my life and was looking forward to tonight- that's a huge deal, believe me. We had plans to head to a cool restaurant for cocktails with awesome food to meet up with a bunch of women (lesbos) for a professional networking thing. I rarely want to go out let alone socialize with a bunch of strangers but lately that's kind of all I want to do-it's strange. I'm all over the events with free apps, especially if they're good ones! Fuck, this sucks.

A couple of weeks ago we were invited to a cocktail party with free appetizers and FREE WINE, (that's right folks I said FREE WINE -for two solid hrs) at a new restaurant. We were at dinner there the week prior and we were approached by the marketing woman. She took our e-mails and said they had some private events coming up if we wanted to go. Hell yea! count me in for sure. That particular night was the bomb, with excellent food and endless bottles of wine from 7-9. My glass was never 1/2 empty and to make the evening even better, the woman walking around with the bottles (one in each hand) were hot- thank god the restaurant chose the good-looking ladies to work the room. Smart. One of them looked like Lindsay Lohan, back when the woman looked good. Anyway, that night it was also snowing and we almost backed out. Thank god we didn't...

It completely sucks when it snows but lately it's been snowing on every night we have plans! Most of the time we clear off the car and go but I always feel like I can't drink as much (if at all) and it's nerve racking getting home. Tonight we planned on going out up until the very last moment. Since I was driving and we had to pick up two other people and it had been snowing since 10 am and not expected to stop until tomorrow, I made the executive decision to not go. I'm glad we're not going, now we can watch Lost and drink where we are safe. It still sucks though and to make myself feel better I will continue to complain. It's an excellent subject to complain about. I'm off to get some vino. Cheers.

frost bite with a twist

I'm all for going out to a cool bar for a cocktail or two but come on now, these type of places are absolutely ridiculous.

I was thinking about them as I sit here in the warmth of my home with my new found honkin bottle of red vino and a soft comfy couch. I think at noon today it was 2 degrees... 2.... When I ran into the bookstore from my parking spot my snot literally froze upon dripping. Now that's just totally wrong. I think the windchill tomorrow is supposed to feel like it's negative 20. NEGATIVE 20! yikes.

I want to know who the hell actually chooses to go to bars like these and why, and what's with the blanket on that ice couch- like that works? When I'm so cold I can't think, let alone open my mouth wide enough to get an alcoholic beverage down there. And to drink with mittens on?! These people scare me. Just please give me the Beachcomer in August. Actually, just give me some red wine and a warm body.

Januray woes

Just a few random thoughts and observances I've noticed since the beginning of January

1. Women are never going to rule the world if lesbians can't get off the couch
2. The week after New Years has to be the worst week in the year
3. How can people think that 63 degrees in January in Chicago has absolutely nothing to with Global Warming
4. I wonder what would happen if i pods only came in only one color
5. How can someone who looks so gay claim they are straight?
6. Jeans with cuffs that are 6-8 inches on a suburban preppy woman with horrible shoes? That's high fashion?
7. Why isn't the Super Nanny all over that (Britany) Spears family?
8. Diet, exercise and New Years resolutions- don't bother.
9. Why the fuck aren't tampons free for women.
10. Why will some lesbians only choose to "go out" once a year to watch the factitious women of The L Word when they could have a cocktail and conversation with some 'real' ones the other 364 days. Again, that brings me back to #1... and I don't want to hear that you are "an old married couple", "a homebody", "just not looking" or "too tired". If you're dead that's ok but again... refer to #1 and get your ass out there.

I hope February is brighter-

all pooped out

Warning, if you have bathroom/feces issues don't read on


OK, this is a disgusting horrible story but it's kind of funny too so here goes: To make a long story somewhat shorter we'll fast forward to last Thursday evening around 5 pm. We were driving back to Chicago from Boston and had made it to our hotel in Youngstown Ohio (10 hrs into the trip). After checking in and checking the cleanliness of the room we decided it was OK to stay so we put our bags down and continued on. I had to go to the bathroom for awhile but since I have an issue with germs and dirt and grime I made the decision to hold off until we got to our hotel where I would at least have some privacy. Since I didn't have time to thoroughly inspect the toilet, I placed toilet paper on the seat... just in case. I did what I had to do in there, came out and checked out the quality of the TV; C. love then went in the bathroom to pee. After all the peeing and pooping was done we headed out into town to get a bite to eat.

Two hours later: We walk back into the room and since I didn't want to use the restaurant's bathroom to pee, I went back into our bathroom to do just that. When I got in I noticed something in the toilet (I'm not going to spell out exactly what) and not thinking anything further I immediately flushed, but something told me that wasn't my poop in there and then proceeded to pee. A second after that I stormed out of the room and said to C. Love "you used the bathroom after me, right?" "yes" she said with confusion. " I mean you flushed, right?", "yes" she said again. ( now I'm starting to freak a little) "you mean you went in, just peed and flushed. "Yes, that's what I'm saying!" (she's getting angry now because I'm not explaining myself) "And there was nothing in the toilet when you went in?" She proceeded to explain how she knew there was only pee in the toilet after she peed because she was noticing the color of it. ( we take note of things like this regularly)


OK, at this point I'm completely stumped, totally confused and a little bit grossed out at what I'm thinking because what I'm imagining is either number 1: my poop came back up after two flushes which is totally bizarro and very unlikely or #2: someone else's poop came up through the pipes, which is totally disgusting, totally wrong and totally bizarro as well or #3: someone entered our room while we were out and used our bathroom, which is totally horrifying, completely disgusting, completely wrong, and completely unbelievable. But out of the three, in the moment, we chose to think it was either #1, or #2- even though we both knew it probably wasn't. Now I spent the next 5 minutes trying to think back to what my poop looked like... just in case it was scenario# 1- strange things can happen with plumbing, right? After going through all the possible explanations and accepting that maybe someone possibly came in and used the bathroom we checked our luggage, and belongings and then both did our best to just let it go and we hit the bed.


The next morning we went to fill up the tank for the next 7 hours home but our card was 'declined'. Not putting two and two together (the unknown person entering our room and a declined credit card and the fact that C. love had left her wallet in the room) we proceeded to call the credit card company and they told us it was probably just the station itself that had the problem. It wasn't until we got back into our home in Chicago, heard the messages from the fraud people, unpacked, played with the cat, went to the store and then talked to the fraud people that we were told that someone has been making charges on our card and the fraud people caught it. Then we froze and realized the same guy (or girl) who came into our room and relieved themselves in our bathroom could have also stolen the credit card number. We freaked out; I was completely grossed out and we both felt totally violated. Nothing was stolen from C. love's wallet and it could have been two totally separate instances but it's kind of coincidental- don't you think?


So fine, someone has stolen our credit card # and used it. And fine, someone entered our hotel room when we were out, pooped in our toilet and didn't flush. Whatever... we will get the money back, I still feel really dirty, and I'm extremely angry that both those things happened but whether they happened within the same night and by the same person or not- it still sucks. FUCK! what the hell?! here I am thinking that whoever came into our room was either 1.- mentally ill and just does this kind of thing or 2.- an employee who regularly does this kind of thing: goes into someones room, poops, and steals credit card numbers (or the other way around). What the fuck, is that like his "sign"? his poop?!


The whole situation is totally strange but in way very, very funny. And I'm glad I can laugh at it now, even though I feel like I still need to take 10 showers a day to cleanse myself of the bad guy in our bathroom. We think it was an isolated case, our identities are in check and from now on we leave the television on and "do not disturb sign" on the door whenever we leave our hotel room. What a way to end the year

baby, it's cold outside

I'm feeling a bit of a draft these days and it's not necessarily because of the frigid temps outside -or maybe it is, I'm not quite sure. That's OK- Christmas time has a way of affecting different people in many funky ways. Most people are walking around in circles totally stressed out from all the mayhem or... depressed but I'm good because I'm just kind of sitting back under my tree watching the season go by.

Lately I've felt like I've been wrapped in blurry Christmas lights. Work has been crazy busy, so my long days have blended into even longer nights filled with too much red wine and mellow Christmas music but tis the season I guess, it's what I gotta do- Just chillin', literally watching the snow fall. Johnny Mathis and Nat King Cole have completely invaded my stereo system and gingerbread and truffles have happily replaced beer and pretzels. On the down side I've had way too much snow to shovel, windshields to scrape, parties to attend, cards to mail and people to call/e-mail and winter is in full force around here. I'm freezing, it always seems like it's dark outside and I'm tired as hell. But at the end of the day I always find a way to manage to relax-drink and eat and sleep like a baby. If the cards didn't get sent, people didn't get called and chores ignored it's all good because when you're walking around in a haze of Christmas lights nothing really matters.

The other day I was lying on my couch thinking about how my Dad used to make an awesome holiday Champagne punch for our "open house", Christmas Eve party every year. For some reason I just loved watching him make it; bottles of this, bottles of that, orange slices and a huge,cool chunk of ice in the middle of it. The punch was a hit and there was never any left at the end of the night. The deviled eggs were always wiped out too. Right now I'm staring at my mantle with all those photos of babies and children and families and I'm wondering if I would do the same if I had kids- I think not actually. I like cards, real cards.

On Saturday morning we fly out to Boston and then drive up to Maine. We'll stay in Maine until Christmas morning, and then drive back to Boston in time for Christmas dinner. We head back to Chicago 2 days after that and settle in for the end of the year. There will be no holiday punch or open house parties, but there will be lobster rolls, little kids, Christmas cheer, lots of love and probably snow- (I could do without the snow)

Merry Christmas to all- I hope the magic finds you.

Down for the count

I got hit with a 'cold'. It's funny because I work with a lot of people who are constantly sick and our environment is like a friggin' petrie dish, all hot and moist and disgusting. There's little air, a lot of dust and mold and a lot of people spreading their germs around. I'm usually able to fend off any potential threat by washing my hands constantly, walking in the opposite direction when someone sneezes, and I drink plenty of water but for some reason my defenses decided to take a baby time out. Bottom line here is I rarely get sick, actually I think the last time I got sick was exactly one year ago -that's weird. Anyway a couple of months ago I managed to avoid getting sick even when C.love was blowing and sneezing and coughing and dripping all over the place- I'm not surprised I got hit this time around, I mean I've been feeling like I need a break so I probably just allowed myself to give in. Maybe I'll call in sick tomorrow too, who knows.

Today all I did was get the cats nails trimmed, get my own hair trimmed, watch the food network, eat a grilled cheese sandwich and thought about things I would put on my 'wish list', just as t2 did. I was also trying to catch up on some blogs, since I've pretty much disengaged myself from the whole blogging process lately. I just haven't had the desire to hear about anyone elses life, or indulge their narcissistic tendencies; after all isn't that really why we all fucking blog? I've focused on a couple of things over the past month or so about blogging that have turned me off (or in the case of #1-on:

1. I'm strangely drawn to someones blog if I find out from a photo they are damn good-looking

2. I immediately get off someones blog when the post goes on and on and on and on... Sometimes I'll just scroll down to the last sentence to find out what the hell they're talking about.

3. I'm rarely interested in reading about a straight woman's world- it's usually boring as hell

4. I love when people comment back to every comment left on their post. It's like saying "thank you"

5. (this one I've hated from the beginning) When people write a post, ask questions and then don't respond to any answers- they just move on to another post.

6. I miss my creativity- I seem to have lost it in the wind over the years

So as far as my so called wish list goes for this year I've realized Amazon doesn't actually sell everything under the sun- go figure. I mean you can't but jeep wranglers there, or real estate or puppies or huge kitchens with wood burning fireplaces or more intuition or olive oil- know what I'm saying? I want an unlimited supply of wine, beer and olive oil for Christmas and I'm thinking they don't have that at amazon.com. I want cash to buy whatever the hell I want and I want to know where I'm going to be living in a year from now. I want to perfect my cooking skills, hook up with someone else and cook like crazy for other people and I want my own beach house to kick back in.

I actually like being home sick, I can just sit and think-without pressure. Random thoughts float in and float out. C.Love just walked in with the mail and I got something I wanted and have been waiting for, my t-shirt from Cisco Brewers-they rock. I'll take some of their beer for Christmas, or how about a weekend trip over there to drink it on the premises, now that would be a good gift...

Cheers

I can't wait for Thursday. Happy day to everyone; enjoy the food, the wine , the company and the day off. I'm making a new sausage stuffing this year... yummy in my tummy! We got wine, we got olives, we got some cheese, we got popovers, we got creamed onions, we got buttery mashed potatoes, we got some squash, we got a big ass turkey, we got delicious fresh green beans with some almonds, we got hard cider, we got time to cook and time to eat and time to give thanks. We'll do all that with no problem. Again, I can't wait. Cheers to all!

getting aligned

June 18, 2007 Where The Soul Is
Finding The Place You Belong

"There will likely be times in your life when your soul evolves more quickly than your circumstances. Your subconscious mind may be ready to move forward long before you recognize that you are destined to embrace a new way of life. "...

Phew- sometimes it helps to have someone else explain what you're feeling.

human decency

Why does it seem like people loose their manners when they become an adult. Shit, I know more 5 year olds who have more human decency than some 35 year olds do. Here's an example of what I'm talking about:

Last weekend we invited a couple over for dinner on saturday night. They responded via e-mail with " Yes, sounds like fun! we'd love to come. Do you think we can make it an early dinner because we (the boyfriend and I) want to try to catch a show later that night (band at a pub). Do you guys want to come along?"

My immediate response when I heard this was well forget it, I'm taking the invitation back because that's fucking rude. Then I calmed down, decided to rise above and be the adult here; we invited, they accepted so I will serve drinks and cook. I'm just saying first of all if you have something to do that night you either don't accept the invitation or you say "we'd love to but we have tickets to a show later that night. PERIOD. If the person throwing the dinner party wants to then say "oh that's ok, we can do an early dinner"-then that's ok. Do you know what I'm saying?! Anyway, they came, they drank, they ate, we talked, we laughed and it was all good.

After they left, c. love and I went out to meet up with a friend for some more wine so in the end it was all good. I don't like guests to overstay their welcome anyway so an "early dinner" was actually good for me. But I still think it was rude.

In and out...

and I'm not talking about the burger chain, although I wish I were. We flew in to California last Wednesday morning and out again on Sunday morning. Our purpose was to experience the area and try to determine a potential place to live- we did, and we didn't. Within those five days we probably experienced more emotion, excitement, fear, anxiety, confusion, and growing than we would have had in five months of therapy, but in the end I hate to say the trip wasn't anything like we had anticipated and everything we hadn't and it kind of sucks.

Lucky for me I was born and brought up in a house where my parents actually loved me. They told me they loved me, kept me safe and secure, never abused me, hugged and kissed me every day and night, literally tucked me into bed when I was little, read to me, played with me, made me feel important, taught me about good and bad, allowed me to grow at my own pace, didn't smother me with their own stuff and gave me stability- solid stability. They did everything I believe parents should do, but as we all know that isn't always the case. I consider myself very lucky. I also consider myself cursed. Cursed because as I've learned over the years and more so since I've evolved into the adult that I am that all of that stability I had when I was young has in a way kept me from growing and is making it more difficult for me to accept change- now in my life. What does my stable childhood have to do with moving to California? Well, I'm having a real hard time thinking about uprooting my life here in Chicago and letting go of all the comforts, security, knowledge and familiarity that I have, to go to a place where the exact opposite will exist. We are not familiar with California, have no connections out there, don't know our way around and personally I don't really feel like learning it all- it's a pain.

I've only moved once in my life. Besides living away at college for four years and living in two separate apartments in Boston, I've lived- really lived in only two I'll say 'homes' my whole life. My house, where I grew up and this apartment for the last 11 years. As a kid, I lived with the constant knowing that the bedroom I was sleeping in and the house we were living in was as solid as the cement and bricks that surrounded us. Let's just say I slept very, very soundly. I never had to deal with multiple schools, moving from place to place or making new friends so my mind never had to go there. unlike myself, if you are a kid who was never really loved or or is used to living in fear and instability, moving as an adult would probably have little effect on you. As a matter of fact it would probably feel more comfortable because it's what you were used to. Not so much for me.

Being in California last week was anything but a vacation for us both. We actually felt like we were working and went to bed every night as if the next day was another work day with lots to accomplish. Who looks forward to work. Every morning the maps came out, gas tank filled, and minds set on overdrive. We visited each town not with amazement, joy and relaxation but instead with our guards up, our spidey sense activated and our focus on 'do we fit in'. It's really hard to visit an unfamiliar place with thoughts that you may be living there someday. Live- really live there. It's like all of a sudden being a lefty instead of a righty or vice verse- you know? confusion, awkwardness and feeling discomfort runs rampant. Issues came up, arguments ensued, and our relationship took a beating. All because the both of us were freaked- out of our minds that we were actually thinking of moving to California and there we were in the middle of the process. Yikes. In the end nothing felt perfect- not the weather, not the roads, not the people and not any town we visited. There were glimpses of joy and sighs of relief here and there but when we got home we felt beaten and discouraged. Places were either too much or too little; too big or too small; too beautiful and fake or too crappy and unattractive. Nothing felt normal- nothing. Do we let go of our dream to live in a warm climate with beauty and joy surrounding us or do we throw in the towel and stay put here in Chicago- who knows. Moving back East is an option but it just doesn't feel like the right one- not yet. All I kept saying on the trip was "why is it so damn hard to get what you want". This whole thing is so difficult from every angle but know we are stuck because we started the ball rolling and we can't really go back. That's the thing with change, inviting change and growing- no one ever said it was easy but everyone always says it's worth it. Shit, just get me to the other side.

I sure would love to be zapped back to childhood where my decisions were monitored, my mistakes were fixed and my mind was like a sponge. And the safety of my bedroom was just steps away from the safety of my whole little life. Or at the very least back in California, sitting down in the sun eating an In and Out burger.

The sweetest

without a net

As expected, this whole "move" thing has brought up some of my issues and at this moment (unfortunately) continues to wreck havoc on my relationship and in turn has forced us to cancel our dinner plans for the evening.

I was just aimlessly scrolling through a bunch of old e-mails and I came across one that oddly enough hit the spot, calmed me down a bit (enough to attempt a post) and will thankfully allow me to trudge on with my process. My fear around this move or should I say 'fear of the unknown' has almost paralyzed me from making any attempt to move forward around it and instead has totally allowed the naysayer that lives inside of me to completely- 100% not only take over my mind but allow those stupid words to come out of my mouth as well. I've been wanting some 'proof' that everything will be ok for us in California especially after last weeks horrific events unfolded and since it's impossible to receive that, I've been living in a pretty bad place lately. My all knowing, strong, inner self knows we will be better than ok in California but that fucking negative voice always seems to win. I gotta find a way to put that thing on the bench and start letting the other guys play. So as some of you (or most of you) can attest to, when the negative voice rules our little world we tend to stay stuck in the gloom and doom and frolic in misery instead of embracing the potential joy of change.


Anyway, through the e-mail I came across "Today's Daily" and thought I'd share it with you all in case anyone else is entertaining the naysayer tonight instead of fun, human contact.

father knows best(?)

Like most dads, my dad has said a lot of things to me in our lifetime together- some good, some not so good, some just plain silly and some very meaningful but one thing he and my mom continually expressed was 'if you don't have anything nice to say to someone, don't say anything at all'. For some reason those words stuck and wouldn't it be nice if I could say I have lived my whole life abiding by that phrase- but (head down) I can't. As much as I hate to admitt it, I have said some hurtful, mean things to people in the course of my life time, and I do regret that. But I can honestly say that ever since I've "grown up" my track record has shown more silence than anything and I try to be aware of saying the nice things whenever I think or feel them- which is quite often.

My point of all this is that on Friday when we were on our way up to Minnesota to that wedding we made a pit stop at a McDonald's in Wisconsin to pee and we encountered a dad who obviously didn't drink the same kool-aid my parents drank. As C.Love and I were walking in one door this cheese head man and his little 6 year old son were walking out the other door. As soon as we stepped inside we hear- Don't ever talk to a lesbian, (pause) they all suck. I heard the words but couldn't seem to process them as quickly as C. love could (I was still in my morning fog) because she immediately responded with(as he was walking out the door) " thanks for that- we're lesbians" . I heard him, I heard her and I looked at the little kid- who was looking up at us. This whole interaction happened very quickly, like within 4 seconds but it lingered with me all weekend- just as McDonald's does. After C. Love blurted us 'out', the guy didn't miss a beat, didn't turn around to see who was speaking and responded with I don't care. He doesn't care- what a shock.

I was still processing the comment when I walked out of the restroom and remember saying to C. Love "there must be a "lesbian" behind the counter..." but all the while thinking what the hell? what kind of comment was that to let alone speak out loud but to say to your 6 year old?! I was honestly shocked this guy was actually saying those words, they didn't make sense- I realize we were in Wisconsin, but come on now! what the fuck! I don't get it. He's six!! After the shock and then the anger wore off, the sadness hit. I realize there are other people besides this man in Wisconsin that feel this way but thankfully I don't hear it too often because when I do it sets me back somewhat-

We got back in the car and C. Love came to the conclusion that this guy was problably married to one (a lesbo)or not married to one anymore- one can only hope. All I kept thinking was I hope that little guy only listens to his dad with one ear. Some words stick, hopefully those nine won't.

road trip

In about 45 minutes we have to get in the car and drive for 9 fucking hours. We're off to lame- ass Minnesota for a wedding. Everyone says "oh, pretty!" when I say Minnesota. Pretty? I say- for nine hours?! Pretty might be OK for two- not nine. Anyway, we drive up, go to the "grooms dinner" Friday night, wedding on Saturday and drive nine hours back on Sunday. That's my weekend.

Minnesota is fine but if I hand you a map and showed you exactly where in MN we will be you'd understand why I'm not looking forward to it all that much. How people live in the middle of nowhere as if they're stuck back in 1970 is beyond me. It's called a no frills weekend, that's for sure. In a way that's kind of refreshing, it was easy to choose a hotel because there was only two to choose from- Holiday or Comfort. We'll be in Willmar... if anyone knows where the hell that is.

So it's banquet tables, tradition and meat for dinner for me for the next 2 days- At least there's cable in the room so I can catch the Red Sox when we get back to the room tonight.

moving on

We've lived in Chicago for 11 years now, before that it was Boston for 32 and now we are off to California (city not determined yet) for the next phase. This next chapter feels like it could possibly be the most significant, meaningful, fulfilling and happiest yet, but only time will tell. You know it's funny but when we first moved here to Chicago we didn't know anyone, we were kind of unfamiliar with 'the lesbian community' and I started this blog in hopes of getting connected with some lesbians out here. Well, I did get connected with some other women- some lesbians, some not and some not so much but sometimes on weekends... I made some solid connections with friends from the blogging world as well but now It's time to start the whole process over again in a whole new city. Man, it sounds exhausting.

So here I sit in the comfort zone of my own home thinking about starting the process again. The thought of it is exciting but anxiety provoking at the same time. We wouldn't have made this decision if we weren't convinced at a much deeper more powerful level that it was the right thing to do. It's hard to think about leaving because we have built so much stability here over the last ten years: I have neighbors I trust my house key with, numerous friends I could call on a moments notice, a stable job with benefits up the wazoo, local coffee shops and liquor stores that know me and say hello as soon as I walk in, a mechanic and vet we trust whole heartedly, a house full of furniture and we have a very convenient, easy life on top of it all. On one hand it's so easy to stay and so tumultuous to leave but staying would equal stopping and leaving feels like growing- so we go.


We're going to California because we've been talking about it for years now. Plus they have the weather we crave, the food we love, the lifestyle we lead, the attitude we want surrounding us, the good spas C.Love can connect with, the beauty we prefer to look at and the ocean air that feeds our souls. But the real reason we're heading out to CA is because we know it's part of the puzzle, our whole life puzzle-(or path). As scary as this whole move is, it is overwhelmingly calming at the same time, it's kind of creepy. California is unfamiliar to us so we want to make sure we end up in the right area. You know... a lesbian friendly area... with cool shops and restaurants and stuff. Good luck to us, right?

So here goes, move #2. We are headed out to Long Beach at the end of October to check out the area, so if anyone out there can recommend a few potential places to live please enlighten me. One of my firsts posts was about the lesbian scene in Chicago and "a Lesbian in Los Angeles" had a few words to say but I need waaaaaaaaaaaay more. My biggest issue right now is trying to figure out how to tell people not to give us anything when we throw a huge going away party in December to say goodbye; (nothing except wine gift certificates that is)that and bringing our cat on the plane. I can feel this blogging thing will be used for a lot more than chit chat over the next 3 months so I'm warning you all now. A lot is going to come up for me and hopefully I'll see you on the other side -in sunny, warm California. Cheers.

the end

How depressing is today? on a scale of 1-10 it's up there pretty damn far. Labor Day completely sucks; how anyone can have a party and celebrate the day is beyond me. Next year I'm having a party though- not to celebrate, but to commiserate. Maybe it'll just be more of a celebration that summer actually exists- period.

a slice of my life

Sometimes I like to do multiple things at the same time. For example, most mornings I'm "Media Multitasking"-you know, watching TV, surfing the Web, reading the morning paper etc, etc. Add to this an occasional ball toss to the kitty with coffee in hand and my conscious awareness is literally all over the place, and I'm good with that. I assume the majority of people multitask throughout the day and for most of their lives but besides the morning routine I prefer to do things one step at a time. I actually prefer less stimuli in general in life- in every situation. I've informally diagnosed myself as an HSP . I really do HATE: loud noises, bright lights and 'smells'. I am an extremely intuitive person and get annoyingly overwhelmed when I have tons to do, say or respond to with little room to think. I enjoy Mr. Rogers and the game of baseball for the same reason- they're both slow and easy to focus on.

So as much as I attack situations with the long, slow approach, when it comes to cooking and drinking I'm multitasking like a pro. Monday evening was a good example of how my stream of consciousness went from practically comatose to hyper-aware in a matter of minutes. It all started when I made the decision to finish my 2007 summer CD and pour myself a glass of wine. Within that next hour and 1/2 or so, not only did I complete and listen to my mix, but I grilled a steak, roasted potatoes and asparagus, had an online conversation with a realtor about an outdoor shower, made a red wine sauce for the steak, ate olives, cheese and bread, played a game of hide and seek with the kitty and drank the entire bottle of red wine. Yes, entire bottle- with no hesitation. Now if that's not productive multitasking, I don't know what is. I went from living room to grill to stove, to living room- to bathroom to kitchen and back again. My senses were alive and I was focused and alert. I had a goofy smile on my face when C. Love walked in at around 7:30. First she told me it smelled good in there, then she said, "what are you smiling at?", I told her it was because I made an awesome sauce- she said "you're drunk" and walked into the other room to change. Ok, so I admit it, I drank the whole damn bottle (minus 3/4 of a cup for the awesome sauce) but the stuff was good and my shut off valve was lost when thoughts of that outdoor shower on Cape Cod came rushing in. Needless to say, the meal was delicious (I think)but conversation was a little rough around the edges and sleep wasn't as dream like as it usually is.

The next morning I was a little slow on the uptake but I actually found Mr. Rogers on TV to watch and my paper was delivered late so it was just me and my coffee and the couch. When I came home from work and C.Love asked me how my day was all I could think about was how I struggled through the day because I drank that whole bottle of wine- but I was good. I wouldn't have changed a thing. Wine, music and cooking? what more could I ask for- besides a whole lot more of that wine... Cheers- not so much to the end of summer with the dreaded Labor Day coming up but more so to the start of something new... and inspiration.

club victoria

Every so often we receive 10 dollar gift type cards from Victoria's Secret and sometimes they have a 'free panty' offer attached to it. Just for the record, the word "panty" is on my list of words I hate. We got one of those cards while we were away and C.love wanted the free thing so since the store is close to where I work, I offered to pick her up a pair- no problem.

The store had recently been remodeled but I had no idea it was it was going to take on the look and feel of what it did. As soon as I joined the throngs of people piling through the revolving door and made my way inside I was immediately blown away by not only the size of the place but with the electric atmosphere as well. Amazing. I stood there glancing around trying to figure out which way to go but nowhere out there, in that huge sea of bras and panties was there any indication that what I was looking for would be easy to find. (I was also in there for a new racer back bra in my newly discovered size-32D) All I saw was thousands and thousands of colorful, shiny, sparkly, glittery, lacy-things. And plenty of panties and pink dogs flying around- Madonna was blasting over the sound system, the floor was shaking and people were running through the place like it was Grand Central Station. I decided to follow the woman who had said hello to me when I first walked in, to ask her where I could find what I was looking for. She led me over to the farthest corner in the store and as we took the long stroll I was thinking two things: 1. why the hell am I always interested in things that are on the fringe and 2. where's Giselle Bundchen?! (it felt like there should have been a runway somewhere around there)

As we made our way through the store on route to the racerback bras, I couldn't honestly believe how much the place resembled a night club! Shit, there were flashing lights, beautiful (and not so beautiful ) people milling around, glitter, boobs, shiny things, loud thumping music and video screens... well, I'm not sure about the video screens but if there wasn't, there should have been. It was amazing and might I add brilliant. But I don't understand how there can be so many different types of bras and panties out there, and then I think- are the people buying and wearing all this stuff wearing it all the time? Because if the outer clothes don't reflect what's under them it all seems just a little wrong. You know? How about instead of paying 50$ plus for your bra, you dish out half that for a decent pair of jeans- that's what we're looking at, not your undies. Whatever.

When we finally made it over to the corner I asked her if she had the bra in 32D, and she looked at me and said "NO". Damn!, all that for nothing. Then I asked her if there were any bras in the night club that were in 32D, she again said "no, I'm sorry it's just not a popular enough size, you must be one of the lucky few, narrow in the rib cage?". "Yeah" I said. I'm thinking- LUCKY? I don't call this lucky if I can't find my size in Victoria's closet! I was so distracted by the nightclub atmosphere that I totally forgot to ask where the free panties were, but I managed to flag down the next head phone woman that walked by and she led me over to the bin. I was waiting for Justin Timberlake to come dancing in from the dressing room but no such luck. To make a long story short: I had ZERO success. No free panty, no bra, no nothing. I waked out empty handed and defeated.

I was thinking they should install a bar in the back corner and then nobody would leave empty handed. Plus it would totally complete the scene.. music, a runway, a bar- know what I'm saying? I'd definitely go there for a drink- if it was offered. But now I think I'll shop exclusively on line and drink at my own place- it's just easier . Victoria's place was a little frightening for a Thursday night.

my (future) summer home

I need some cash, cold hard cash because I want to buy something that at this exact moment I can't really afford. Or should I say is a little above my price range. It's a house- on Cape Cod. But it's way more than that; it's actually a house on The National Seashore in Wellfleet. There's a particular home in the same area that I'm more interested in but it isn't even up for sale. I have the woman in charge of these cottages asking the owner if they are willing to sell. Here's the thing, I'm tired of wanting and waiting- I can't take it anymore.

Ever since we got back from vacation we've started to adopt a new philosophy of just doing (whatever it is we want to do) and the rest will take care of itself. This requires a huge amount of faith and trust: that the universe will ultimately give you exactly want you deserve and desire. We are all in control of our own lives and a lot of the times I know fear and or crap gets in our way and holds us back. it's actually the philosophy of The Secret, or of the Law of Attraction. It's for real and it works. I have tons of faith, but it's a bit frightening all the same.

So I need some greenery, anyone got any they want to invest in something?
The path behind the house looks like this:
And then it's just steps away from this:

If we buy, we plan on renting it out to friends and family with the exception of a couple of weeks in July reserved for us. It's just a cottage we're looking for; a summer cottage to generate some additional income... for now. After that- who knows. It's just a beach house, it can't be all that difficult to get- right? If I could just find a way...

occupied

Something extremely horrifying happened to me on the plane to Boston last week; horrifying and when I made my way back to the seat I told C.Love the event was "traumatic"-it was that bad.

Let me preface this story by admitting how much of a freak I am about germs, germs in general: spit, sneezes, mucous, sweat, smells, shopping cart handles, salad bars etc. Public restrooms put me on major alert as do crowds when there's no air in the room and kindergarten classes. I manage to never touch my hands to my eyes and or mouth during the day and I wash my hands before and after I pee. (my thoughts are turning to the whizzy) I wouldn't call myself obsessive or compulsive at all, but I will say I think I am more concerned about germs and human waste than most of the general public is, I admit I have a problem. I'm in and out of a public restroom faster than a little boy in a bush but when it comes to airplanes I'm lost,confused, trapped and helpless. In my mind germs are just flying rampant all over that cabin and when someone sneezes?!, shit I just hold my breath and crank that air knob overhead. It's all I got. I don't drink anything before flying just because I want to avoid that bathroom at all costs- I can't stand going into that little room, it freaks me out. Morning flights are tough because of the need for coffee, but I try to get it all out before we board or if there's any left I'll hold it for as long as I can. (I know it's not good to hold it) Once inside that door and body turned around my mind is on nothing other than releasing and bolting- get me the hell out.

Last week, I don't know what happened, but I had to pee so I made the trek down the aisle. We had a good hour and a half left before reaching another bathroom so I figured I should go. And I did, with little interference; the trauma occurred as soon as I leaned over to flush... When I turned around to hit the button with my foot, my glasses fell off my shirt and landed straight into the fucking hole. The black (or toilet bowl disinfectant blue) hole. In that loud, flushing suction moment I froze. In what seemed like a solid 10 minutes, but was only probably 3 seconds between the flush and the end of the flush I watched my glasses go down... and come back up again. My first thought was shit because they were my only pair of glasses (I don't wear contacts) and I planned on driving a lot, then I thought-shit- THEY ARE STILL ALIVE? There they were sitting right there- wedged over the hole, I had to go in and get them. Wait a minute, GO IN AND GET THEM?!! But they were right there, just an arm's length away. With no time to panic, I held my breath, blocked out the thought of what I was doing and pulled them out. I picked the glasses out with 2 fingers and immediately tossed them onto the sink. I had no idea what was happening at this point but I managed to wrap them in a paper towel, wash my hands and get the hell out of there.

As I approached my seat at 14 D, C. Love looked up at me and said, "are you all right?" I said "no, I just had a very, very traumatic experience", then continued to recreate the toilet scene. She laughed and I wanted to cry. I sat there with my hands stretched out for the next 20 minutes, thinking I had some disgusting fungus growing on them. When the drink lady came by to ask if I wanted anything, all I could think of was a wet-nap. That would have been pretty nice at that point but she didn't have one. Figures, all she had were liquids.

So what's the deal? has this type of thing ever happened to anyone else? Have you ever lost anything down the airplane toilet?

(There was zero damage to the glasses by the way... amazing.)