Motivation Station

Here's where I confess

Instead of breaking up again I wish that we were making up again.

 
Actually, that’s a lie. For every thought that wants what we used to have, 10 others rise up to slap me in the face. You fool, they seem to say, think of how happy you’ve been these last few months, let yourself feel the weight that really was lifted, the spark that returned to your smile, the confidence you’ve regained simply by looking in the mirror.

It’s been so long since I’ve written in this space yet where else would I go to share? Some of you may still have alerts set up to my posts, you may be wondering what the hell I am talking about. I forget who knew about last April when I started dating John again. It’s a telling sign when you can’t tell those you love most that you’ve gone back to the source of your heartbreak. I'm sorry for that.

It’s hard to admit when you’ve made a mistake. I made a mistake thinking I could get something back that probably died more than two years ago. He made the mistake thinking I’d ever be able to accept him as is when too much of his past is still so unsettled.

I find myself so excited for 2012. I coped through the fall the same way I always cope: by making plans. Not only making plans but following through with them. I went to NY, went to Virginia. Planned trips to Nashville and DC and Mexico and invited people to Chicago. Bought new exercise equipment and explored new neighborhoods. Started dating again and didn’t feel guilty. I looked across the table at men who were interested in me and even though I haven’t been able to return that interest in ways they would like, I know that it’s going well, this healing process. 

We’ve reached that point in the year when people like to wrap things up and so I’ve been thinking a lot about the keys of mine he still has and whether or not I’ll run into him. Part of me wants to tell him it’s OK that he hurt me and that I am glad because I finally feel myself moving on. I want to tell him that I genuinely believe he’s a good father and doing a great job with his kids. But in all other areas, he’s a coward. He could have told me anything and I would have tried to understand. Instead he shut me out in the most painful of ways and now there’s nothing left to say anyway. Nothing left to say to him, that is. For me, a whole new basket of wonders awaits. Happy New Year!

 

Black is this year's pink

It’s hot today, hotter than tar. I am working “from home” which today means “working from a grocery store” since my pirated wifi* gave out in the early afternoon.

Anyway, since the grocery store has A/C and a Starbucks, I can’t complain too much. Oh and I also dropped off a prescription so I being all-around productive since I will grocery stop before going back home. I usually get a lot done on days like this but today I am procrastinating and trying to avoid reading 100 pages on PBRNs. You don’t want to know…
But since I really don’t feel like doing that, I am doing a little people watching instead.
And I just have to say: What is with women and their crappy jewelry businesses?

I totally respect hobbies. Hobbies are fun. Hobbies sometimes even give us a reason to wake up in the morning! But this business of making clunky ugly jewelry and then selling it to your friends or people you met on craigslist…just stop. Even the occasional pretty pieces I see. Just STOP. Listening to your little sales pitches, so desperate and hopeful, yet totally a waste of time. Mine, yours, everyone in your orbit.

Is this just me? Have I been cornered by too many people in my time? (and while we’re at it, this goes for all the purse parties, sex toy parties, gold parties, all of ‘em.) Even if the host is actually the creator of the jewelry, they don’t really crave your company. They just want your money so they can say they make jewelry!
Whew. I feel better.

*P.S. I am trying to get my internet honestly, but apparently naked DSL is a ruse in Chicago. At least if you live in my apartment. What a racket!

Exercise is an exercise in vanity

This week is Bike to Work Week in Chicago and to challenge myself, I signed up. Now, I live three miles from my work and frequently bike downtown on the weekends so it wasn’t like I was worried I couldn’t handle the commute. I knew I could. What I did wonder was, “How will I handle the commuter traffic?” and “Can my back survive lugging all my stuff?”** (until I prove I will commute regularly, I am not upgrading my bike!)

I also worried I’d be too sweaty since I no longer have a gym, but a promise is a promise, so…

Wednesday was the day that best suited me. No real rain in the forecast, high 60s-low 70s…

I got up a little earlier than usual, OK a LOT—5:30am WTF?—and after a nice breakfast and coffee, I left my apartment at 7:15.  I arrived in front of my office at 7:30. NO LIE.

I mean, I knew it would be fast but this was ridiculous. The only problem now was that because I usually get to work at 9 (and no use in changing this since I have to stay until 5:30) I had time to kill. And no appetite or book with me.  Sigh. I went to my desk. Sad, I know.

I know bragging about a 15-minute commute should make me want to do this all the time, but it doesn’t.

For one, it’s a pain having to plan and organize your clothes. This was a 15-minute ride on a breezy and perfect day and I still had a sweaty back.

Two, I left early. Trust me when I say that Chicago Avenue is a completely different animal at 8am versus 7am.

Three, I had to bike home. The 8am traffic has nothing on the 6pm-variety! Plus, since riding a total of 6 miles isn’t much of a workout, I still had to get in my 4-mile walk. After that, zoning out on a bus home sounded pretty good.

In the end, I enjoyed the ride home, if only because I got green lights in all the tricky spots and it is only 3 miles…Unlike the morning ride, when I stuck to mostly side roads, I went direct on the way home and felt pretty safe. I did worry about my tires on the Chicago Ave. Bridge because they felt pretty slick but other than that, it wasn’t bad. And I definitely felt great when I got home. Six miles on the bike AND walking added up to more than an hour of exercise.

I think I am going to aim to do this once a week for now…

Amazing grace

I finally figured out my biggest problem with Facebook: I’m too cynical!

It’s very hip right now to be all self righteous about privacy and oh-my-how-dare-they-share-my-likes-and-what-have-you and lord knows, my red state relatives make me nuts with all their proselytizing about Rush Limbaugh and what not, but I had to face this very ugly truth about myself this morning as I trolled around logged into a friend’s account.

(Quick aside: A college friend gave me her log-in a few years back and every once in a while, I take a peek at our mutual friends.)

Anyway, it’s all very innocent and appealing to the voyeur living inside me. For instance, today I learned that a girl I knew in the dorms my sophomore year now lives in Santa Fe. How lovely for her, I thought. I also looked at some pictures of a former roommate and her family and marveled that she still has the same exact smile and hair.

But there’s also the problem that someone I once dated is one of her friends. And how can anyone resist looking at the wall of someone they once cared about?

And there it was: Being a father has shown me my purpose in life, he wrote.

Now, even if I hadn’t recently written about despising Mother’s Day, these words just bothered me. I am woman enough to say I was a little jealous of the spittin’ image that is his son, but more than that, it was knowing him and knowing what a scoundrel he could be at times, and how he tried to meet up with me even as he was moving in with the woman who would eventually become his wife, it just made me sick that he was so self-satisfied with his life. I wanted to gag. Purpose? Him? Laughing? Moi?

And just seeing yet another man control the timing of relationships based on their world axis just pounded certain sore points home again.

I won’t be back on FB anytime soon.

******

It’s hot. Nearly 90 degrees and the thought of picking up my heaving A/C unit and installing it so I can get some sleep tonight tires me.

Summer doesn’t do any tiptoeing in Chicago. One minute you’re in a peacoat; the next your changing your underwear in a McDonald’s restroom, cursing your decision to take a “leisurely” bike ride and ending up 14 miles from home…

Go Blackhawks!

Sing us a song you're the piano man

It’s 4 o’clock on a Friday and I’m grumpy despite all signs pointing to a hot weekend. I’ve got plans for brunch, plans to ride my bike, plans to finish a long photo project. A couple of work issues appear smoothed out for the time being and I just got a fabulous deal on a pair of black pants that may or may not disguise the rapidly-expanding middle-aged-middle I got going on.

Yet something nags.

I think it’s Mother’s Day, if you must know. Yes, I am pissed off about Mother’s Day—that well-meaning tradition where we give thanks to the women who raised us and nurtured us and taught us empathy and how to survive dealing with emotions, even if they never knew it at the time.

I think when you get to be my age and you see your dreams of having a family slip further and further away, you get a little jealous of this holiday and it starts to seem like a crueler version of Valentine’s Day. The “Happy Mother’s Day” wishes bestowed on every woman of a certain age—mother or not—start to get to you and no matter how thankful you are for all the things you do have—which are plentiful—you can’t help be a little bit angry at the universe that your own life continues to revolve around what new dinner hotspot to try or where to go on your next vacation. You feel even sorrier for the women who are in an actual position to be mothers (married, financially stable, etc.) but for some reason can’t get pregnant. You wonder how they feel during times like this when pink flowers everywhere remind you of just painful it really is.

You remember those times when you’ve been with your friends and their kids and how great it is but how you always know that no matter how logical or knowledgeable you are about children, you really don’t know anything since you don’t have one on your own.

You know how people always say you can’t understand until you become a parent what it means to be a parent? I think that’s true. But I also think that it’s true that you can’t know what it’s like to be single at 38 unless you’ve actually been single at 38. No tales of woe from your 20s can teach you what it’s going to be like when 40 is winking at you in the rearview mirror. And even if they could, like the parent who doesn't want to listen to the single woman talk about children, we just don't want to hear it.

I am soooo not into this virus

On May 3, I met the lovely E. for cocktails. I haven't done a damn thing since.

That's because--and as I type this, the Boston Celtics just beat LeBron James in Game 7 and HD is in LABOR!--I have been rendered completely and utterly helpful by the mysterious virus terrorizing Chicago.

It started out with a soreness, my throat and body. One minute E. and I were catching up; the next I had to go home. Stat. I stayed home from work the next day and tried to fight it with rest. No dice. It got worse and spread to my sinuses, then to my ears. I lost my voice, energy, will to do anything that wasn't absolutely necessary.

Instead of spending part of the weekend in Milwaukee (as originally planned), I spent it sleeping. As in, napping from 2-7pm and going to bed from 9pm til noon the next day. And repeat. I will throw a shout-out to my boyfriend for all the ginger ale he's kept me in as of late and for being my only social contact since E.

In all, I've missed 3.5 days of work, one restaurant shift and countless other fun things. My former roomie is having a baby right now and I probably won't get to visit her in the hospital. I mean, would YOU want a virus-harboring snot monster visiting?

So, yeah, I haven't updated recently--and I am really forcing it now, right?--but I wanted to type something.

When I haven't been sleeping and blowing off laundry and other housework, I have watched some DVR. I enjoyed seeing Betty White on SNL but thought she was definitely more fun than the material she was given. I watched a 12-year-old play Paparazzi on Ellen and watched the last Bonnie Hunt Show.

Self pity is fun to read, yes? Tune in next week when I write about bran cookies. Cheers!

Don't even think about it

“I dunno, what do you want to do?”

“Maybe.”

“We’ll see.”

And so on.

I am not a patient person.

But I believe I am getting better. For instance, at work I no longer get (too) annoyed when people don’t answer my e-mails right away. Rather, I plan on it ahead of time and am happily surprised when they get back to me in 24 hours.

But people whom my relationship goes beyond the weather? It makes me crazy when they’re indecisive.

Crazy.

Just say no.

Say “hell no”.

In fact, say any damn thing you want, just don’t stall or try to people-please me. You’ll drive me to blog, which in turn will drive some friends to wonder if it’s them I am ranting about. In this case, it’s likely not, but they’ll still wonder…Meanwhile I’ll be silently stewing, trying to mind-will myself into being more patient and desperately wondering how the Zen folk do it.

 Misc:

Don’t hate me, but I’m not loving Glee. I love the people, I love the concept, I love the music…this should be my number one show but I can’t even be bothered to DVR it. I watch when I’m home and I was inspired enough to get the show’s versions of “Hello” and “Don’t Rain On My Parade” from iTunes but it’s just not Appointment TV in my world. I keep thinking I need more to the story and less wackiness. Think: Freaks and Geeks' Verisimilitude Meets Show Choir. Now THERE’s a show I could watch.

Speaking of TV, I am, however, liking Treme a lot. It’s no Wire but Bunk (now Antoine) gets the great lines and Lester (I mean Albert) still commands respect. And did I mention the music?

I really, really, really need a haircut. I haven’t had one since January and I am starting to look horrible. What happened is that my stylist had to close her shop but promised me she’d still keep me as her client and we’d just work out of her home. In March I made a house call for coloring and we were supposed to set something up for April. She said she’d e-mail but she never did and now I guess I need to find someone else …Grr. And did I mention I look horrible? 

Question of the day: Does ovulating make you emotional? (I mean, if you’re NOT trying to have a baby?)

It's now or never

The longer you go without blogging, the harder it is to get back on track. Sound familiar? Take away blogging and you could substitute dieting, exercising, seeing friends, having sex...pretty much anything works.

So yeah, about my absence. I went away for a 5-day jaunt to Mexico and I came back with sea urchin poisoning. Crazy, right? I'm actually a little hesitant to write about the urchins online because believe you me, people who've stepped on these silly creatures are a rabid bunch indeed!

In my case, it happened on my first day at the beach. We'd seen some rocks, we'd seen other people swimming to the rocks, we'd seen one or two standing on the rocks...well, why couldn't we? So Morgan and I swim out there and it's lovely water. It's deep too, so I didn't worry too much about what was down below. Hmmm, perhaps I should have considered that there could be things living on the rocks? You see where this is going.

My feet collided with those rocks and suddenly my strange trip had really begun. At first I thought I'd cut them or something. It was only when we got back to the hotel pool and shower area and a lovely girl (a student of some sort in Mexico City) informed me that I'd stepped on an erizo. Despite her warnings--"they need to come out or you will get sick!--the hotel doctor didn't seem too concerned. I went back to my room and soaked in warm water for a bit and read. The next day I figured out how to walk in my sandals without too much pain...We proceeded to proceed with our vacation and I didn't worry too much about what would happen next.

Well! Fast forward to our final day and I started experiencing weird stomach pains. I didn't think too much of it and we hopped our flight back to Chicago with no problem. It was only after I woke up feeling crappy the next day that I flashed back to the girl's warning. I decided to do some internet research on the subject and learned that sea urchin spines carry toxins and did I mention I still had 14 or so spines in my feet? Reluctantly I made an appointment with my doc. About 90 seconds into my story and she said, "You need to see a podiatrist."

Before I made the appointment, I went home to try a few remedies of my own. I soaked one foot in white vinegar, the other in Epsom Salts. I wrapped the vinegar foot in duck tape after reading that the spines would float to the tape and just disappear...Uh no. The other foot was soaked repeatedly and then also wrapped.

The next morning, I convinced myself that I was feeling better but the urchins remained. Off to the podiatrist I went! If you've never had to visit a podiatrist to have something removed from your feet, I will spare you the gory details. Suffice to say that all the local anesthetic in the world couldn't mask the pain of the torture instruments she used. And she only got half of them out! The rest would have to wait until I recovered from the pain of that first experience!

So home I went. Plans were canceled, restaurant shifts were covered, my stomach continued to hurt. I spent an entire weekend dreading the return to the podiatrist, but what to do? Live with the little buggers for the rest of my life?

I'll wrap things up now to say that the return visit was a piece of cake. Apparently the Epsom soaks finally started to work and she rather easily pulled the remaining 8 urchin spikes out. I kept a few--one was nearly a centimeter long. Crazy! Instantly I started feeling better. Later that night, I worked my first shift at the restaurant. Two days later and I went for a job. The stomach pains went away too.

In case you're wondering, I still love the beach. I just think I'll love it more next time with my water shoes!

What's in your wallet?

I didn’t take a shower this morning. I pressed snooze 5 times, cursed the cat and did everything I could to avoid getting out of bed. I don’t know why I was so tired. I went to bed at 9 last night.

Anyway, back to the shower. I was obviously being lazy but that said, I got this idea in my head that I could take a long lunch and work out and shower then. Then I got to work and realized that we’re short-staffed today and any exercise and shower plans are going to have to wait. Not that I smell or anything. Le Sigh.

I’m getting ready to have a nice break from work at the end of this month. Yay!

But before that can happen, I have to survive the next week.

That means:
• Working 11-7 at the restaurant on Saturday and 5-11 on Tuesday and Wednesday;

• Cleaning my apartment before Jessie and Alex arrive on Thursday (yay!);

• Surviving a conference Thursday and Friday during the day before scooting out for a 7pm flight to Virginia that night;

• Attending my sister’s baby shower on Saturday and then taking a 7am (ouch!) flight back to Chicago Sunday morning;

• Packing and spending a little time with Mr. C before heading out to Acapulco a week from Tuesday;

• Making sure I stay out of the line of fire while in said Acapulco.

You can't do that

True story: Junior year at college, I got this idea in my head I was an athlete. I joined intramural soccer, took weight-training and ballet classes, ate myself out of the dorm…you get the picture. I also signed up for beginner tennis, which was slated for the second half of the spring semester. Well, about 2 weeks before classes started, I broke my right foot in one of those ice-breaker exercises where you tie a balloon around one leg and then hop around trying to pop everyone else’s balloon. (Don’t ask.) I took this mission a little too seriously and set out to win the “competition,” which is how a 6-5, 250-lbs-plus dude ended up crushing my third and fourth metatarsals. There went my tennis lessons and everything else. I probably put on 10 lbs that spring and summer just sitting around and it took me years to regain my athletic prowess. Ahem. That was 17 years ago, btw.

Why is this relevant now? I just signed up for beginner tennis lessons! That’s right, for 6 Sunday mornings in April and May, I am going to do my best to learn how to hold my own. I love watching tennis and remember how much fun it was back in 6^th grade when we learned how to serve. I love the idea of having a sport I can take with me into my senior years –and you know what they say, “You’re never too old to learn.” 

Note: If you’ve never heard the story of how I broke my foot, it’s probably because the ice-breaker story soon morphed into how I broke it “playing basketball with some dudes.”

Hoopin' off

It’s funny, I’m sitting here at my desk, score-watching and what not, and I see that there’s 12 seconds left in the ODU-Notre Dame game and I can tell, as I see the score go from 49-48 ODU, pause, to 50-48, pause, to 51-48, that ODU just made two free throws and the Irish need a three to tie. I’ll peek in a second to see what happened.

I can’t believe how excited I still get for this tournament every year even though I watch less and less college basketball as the years go on. But I still fill out the brackets and I still scour the Web for the best human-interest pieces I can find on the players. 

Here are some I recommend for today:

A nice fathers-sons piece by a former colleague.

A story about the Australia-St. Mary’s Connection.

A frustrating piece about what’s wrong with today’s entitled athletes and how maybe this one is back on track.

By the way, ND only got a layup at the end and so down go the Irish in Round One. How about them Monarchs? (proving yet again how crucial senior leadership can be for the so-called underdogs.) And while we’re lovingly praising the tournament, can we take a moment to say no-please-no-what-are-you-crazy to the idea that the NCAA somehow thinks that expanding the field to 96 (it’s 64 now) is a good idea?

STOP changing things, do you hear me!?! I am tired of being this grumpy, pre-middle-aged complainer who prefers so many things in the past to the way they are now!

Remember when people didn’t shout into phones everywhere?

Remember when people RSVP’d?

Remember when people read newspapers?

I think of those things, just a few of my pet peeves, and I do get grumpy.

And then I think about my beloved internet and e-mail and direct deposit and my abused blog and I realize how much I need it to be 2010 and not 1980. Still…

In other news, count me among those trying the full-fat dairy experiment in order to see how it affects digestion. Yes, I AM MIDDLE-AGED. Talking about my bowels and what not…

Where do I begin?

Basically, I blinked and February was over. Did you miss me? I know my sister did, she has e-mailed me twice in the last week to ask when I was going to blog again.

Anyway, I have tons and nothing to report. The big news is that I am going to Mexico at the end of the month for my first warm vacation in years. I am bit terrified about putting on my old lady swimsuit but that fear is outweighed (no pun intended) by the thoughts of reading silly novels and sunning myself on the beach/pool.

In the inconsequential files, I am focusing on trying to cut back on artificial stuff. I am not ambitious enough (or rich enough) to go completely organic, but for the last week I've been doing my coffee with milk only. I'm also buying organic apples and later today, will attempt to make a modern chickpea stew. (Please no comments with suggestions on how to eat more healthfully. This is just a small experimental project for me right now and I don't want to feel like school!)

In the major news-but-I-just-can't-write-about-it category, I am back with Mr. C. It's been about a month and is wonderful, a relief if you must know, but it's too soon to share anything more.

Today is Oscar Sunday and I am up for Laziest 38-year-old in Chicago. I took a 3-hour nap yesterday, slept 12 hours last night and haven't done a damn thing today other than write this long overdue blog! The last few weekends have been chockful of work and I guess I'm at the point in my life where I need to recharge my batteries. I am loving the solitude in my apartment right now. I've got a Gilmore Girls rerun on, a candle burning and a sleeping cat. I can't seem to pick up the phone and catch up on calls or do anything. It's 46 degrees and I should be out for a walk but bleh, this is so much better! I had to work last weekend in Utah of all places. It was actually surprisingly beautiful but working Friday, Saturday and  Sunday took its toll. I can report that the Mormon Tabernacle Choir was splendid and not at all what I expected. Also, when you're as old as I am, they don't try to convert you... :)

So, to make a long story short, I am sorry for the extended absence! XO

Just call me Fiona

Finally—some good news about being single. Did you hear? Having a mate makes you fat! Eventually…maybe…or maybe just the Australian babes?

Eh, who cares. I’m feeling heavier right now and I can’t blame it on dating. I can, however, and should blame it on the guacamole. Friends, you have no idea how much I’ve consumed—and chips along with it—in these last few weeks. Not to mention the neverending parade of post-holiday crap food in the office. Most of it I can resist, but then someone brought in chex mix. And scene.

I have absolutely nothing to report since I last checked in. New Year’s was uneventful and I had to spend New Year’s Day recovering from a sleep hangover brought on by working until 3am. I’m very much tethered to my apartment these days. My best bets for being social are doing things after work, doing things close to home and doing things close together. (Going home between engagement = Jen the Flake.)

I some new cookbooks for Christmas and plan to spend Sunday experimenting. I’ll keep you posted! I have a party this Saturday and next week, head to The Homeland. Before you know it, it will be February, and next thing you know, March. God how I long for the days of a child. Remember how two weeks felt like years?

Same ol' old lang syne

It’s that time of year when we start thinking about things we’d like to change and I’m no different. 2009 wasn’t all bad for me—I actually stuck to my resolutions to take up yoga and spinning and feel like I’ve visited some of my darker parts and emerged a little wiser. (One can hope, right?)

I’m still a little numb, though, and not nearly as passionate as I used to think I was. Part of me really wants to recapture that part lest I slip into some downward slide into forevermore fogeydom. I find myself taking closer looks at my reactions. Like, this morning, I was walking to work listening to my ipod and I found myself all of a sudden singing aloud to “Hey Jude.” I used to do that sort of thing all the time but not lately. Today I noticed it and smiled. How natural.

I’d love to claim that 2010 means never smoking another cigarette and keeping the soda habit down to one a week but that’s not where I’m at right now. I want to do things like read more novels and write more letters by hand and strive to average 8 hours of sleep a night.

After a few half-hearted attempts at dating, I’ve gone back to my couch. No offense to Younger but he just wasn’t doing it for me. It could be that he oversold himself at the beginning or it could be that he sensed I wasn’t that into him. I did go to his work party but I had more fun chatting with his coworkers than I did with him. (I’m including that for those of you wondering…yes, Melissa, I’m talking to you!)

Lastly, I really wanted to send cards this year but it was the one thing that got away from me. If you sent me a card, thanks! I loved seeing all of your children and pets and hearing news from afar.

I hope to do a little more weekend traveling this year (there’s another resolution!) so let’s work together to make that happen!

Welcome to a new decade!

On the mend

Sooo, it's Wednesday and I'm just now reporting on my weekend.

Basically, it blew. Outside of dragging myself out of bed for a short restaurant stint, I spent the weekend in bed or on the couch. Mostly I was in pain from a perplexing stomach bug that began late Thursday. The rest of the time I had a killer headache. I'm not going to lie: drugs were involved.

Anyway, yeah. Felt like crap, did next to nothing. Missed a fun party and gave up on sending Christmas cards. Am now aiming for New Year's cards to those people I think need to get a return card.

Instead of being slow, work has been nuts. Tons of stories falling into my lap left and right. One includes an obit that is not fun. Am dreading calling the family and so am blogging instead.

Oh--my mom called today with uber-important news: Will I please join them for the holidays in 2010? If you want the backstory on this--and I know you do--I was not the one who decided not to do Virginia for Christmas, rather, I was told she'd be in Orlando. Then her plans didn't work out and I end up feeling guilty. Do you like how this works? Anyway, I told her of course. Of course.

I hope everyone's warm and not on the roads or the skies. It feels like most of the country is roughing extreme weather right now.

In the meantime: Merry Christmas! XO

Thursday which was never good anyway

Note: This next post is coming from a cranky place, but I swear to you I am fine. OK?

What are you doing for the holidays?

God, if I hear that question one more time, I might just bite someone’s head off.

The truth is, I’m not sure and likely won’t be sure until later this work. I know I will have to work at least some of the holiday, Christmas Day or Christmas Eve, at the restaurant and that’s OK. If not, I might head to Michigan to visit with Spencer’s family.

However, when people (nonblog-readers, of course) find out I might be staying in town, they seem to become obsessed with inviting me to things. To them, I say, “Stop!”

Doesn’t anyone know how wonderful it is not to have to travel for the holidays? Not to have to regress to your 12-year-old self? Not to have to make small talk with relatives who know nothing about you or worse, don’t listen when you do open up? Doesn’t it sound kinda nice to snuggle up on your couch with junk food and old movies instead of doing dishes for a party of 12?

Don’t get me wrong. I love the holidays and I love my family. I even love them both at the same time. But I’ve done a pretty good job this year, I think, of balancing visits and holidays and all the expectations that go along with it. I mailed my presents on time and RSVP’d yes to the parties. Now? Now I want Christmas all for myself. I want to see movies and sleep in and eat guacamole (maybe) instead of turkey.

To quote Greta Garbo: “I vant to be alone.”

 

8:30 on a Friday night

I am sitting on my couch with my feet propped up on the ottoman. The tv is off, the candles are a-flame and my tiny Christmas tree twinkles in the window reflection.

I just took a long, hot shower and threw on my warmest sweats. I am completely and utterly alone. It is wonderful.

We were given the afternoon off at work today, sort of like a "sorry-we-can't-give-raises-but-here's-an-extra-3.75-hours-of-pay-on-us" present. I did not take this gift lightly as I have barely one vacation day left in 2009. I figured taking the entire day off made the most sense. No getting up early, rushing downtown. I slept until 10, when a call from Heath D. stirred me from my laziness. Off we went to search for maternity pants, striking gold at Gap Maternity. A few hours later and we were playing with her friend's twins and newborn (read: 3 children under the age of 2) and laughing as the older ones turned somersaults.

It was one of those days where I didn't make plans but sort of followed where a friend led me. I found out at 3 that the restaurant didn't need me and so my night was free as well! There were so many things I could have done: caught up on movies, gone to a late yoga class, called friends...instead I chose to do laundry and make dinner. Younger texted around 7 to see what I was up to and I told him I had plans. Guess he decided the 17th was too far away. As for me, I am getting ready to close this laptop and read a good book. Here's to unexpected free time and the contentment it brings! Buenos noches!

Thursday I feel better just for spite

I think I’ve finally figured out the “why” in my current “relationship.

Uh oh, you’re thinking, if you have to find a why, there probably shouldn’t be a relationship and I’m not going to say you’re wrong.

When this first started out, it was sort of exciting to be pursued and to have someone making plans. Younger is really into restaurants and likes the adventure of trying a new place. This is a very good quality.

However, with the timing of my Thanksgiving travel, his own travel schedule, and now, his insane working hours (midnight shifts last week, 14-hour days this week), I feel like we’ve lost some of the steam we built up in the first month. Factor in that I’m still not over you-know-who and you’ve got the perfect ho-hum, this-will-neverl-be-more-than-casual relationship. Fair enough.

I could also look at this a couple of ways:

One, it could be that he’s pulling the old, now-that-I’ve-got-the-girl-I-don’t-have-to-try-anymore routine. It could be. Except that he doesn’t have me. Have I misjudged his arrogance? Or is he yet another man who thinks that it’s OK to blame his work for being all-consuming? Hmmm...

Two, and this is the explanation I find kind of intriguing, is that he could merely be using me to make someone else jealous. I mentioned before that he invited me to his office holiday party—ONE MONTH BEFORE IT TAKES PLACE, and one month after meeting me. We may not be making time for each other but hey, “are you still coming to my holiday party?” has been brought up several times. In fact, he just texted me about it now. Since I’ve seen him one time in last three weeks, I texted back that yes, I was still planning to attend. I also asked, “Do you still want me to?” to which he promptly replied, “Yes.” I then asked if that was the next time I’d see him. No reply on that one yet. Stay tuned. I rather like the idea of being used to make another girl jealous. Takes the pressure off me worrying that he wants something more with/from me…

But am I wrong here? Is this how people date? Me, I need more of a connection, which is why I was sort of hoping I'd see his this weekend to hang out and figure out if the initial interest is still there for us both!

Here's to stuffing done right

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all.

You KNOW you are stressed out when you are looking forward to the airport. The way I see it, the airport is one of the few places in life where you totally relinquish all control. I could use a place like that right now.

Injury-prone Jen strikes again. Last Wednesday, I injured my left heel. Thursday I woke up with a sore throat. Friday I inflicted pain upon myself by getting a bikini wax. Saturday I thought I had a torn groin. Sunday, a lacerated tongue made eating difficult. Yesterday I scratched my knuckle on the bus. Today? Today I burned my forehead on the curling iron. Yes, everything hurts.

So, by my count I've been seeing Younger for about 5 weeks. That's 6 dinner dates and one invite to a holiday party (his). Methinks I've found a new boyfriend. Any advice for tearing down the fortress I've apparently set up around my heart? Don't answer that.

At any rate, have a great Turkey Day, whatever you do. Me? I'd like to see a movie or two but know that's unlikely to happen. Talk later. 

My life right now

It’s been a week so I apologize for the musings here...

I got my hair cut 3 weeks ago. For a few days it looked dramatically different (read: much, much better.) Today: It looks exactly the same as it did before. And if you’re wondering what my hair looked like when I was 11—well, take a look at me now. Le Sigh.

I ate steak 3 times last week. By my calculation, that’s as many times as I ate it in all of 2008. What in the world?!? It was good though. And I am still dreaming about the goat cheese fondue I had with my steak from Mexique.

Little bro came for a visit this past weekends. Number of touristy things we did: 2—Sears Tower and deep dish from Malnati’s. Number of sports-related things we watched: 237. I kid, it was a fun weekend!

Cars are awesome. In honor of the bro’s visit, I rented a car for the weekend. The cost: $9 a day. With tax and gas, the grand total of this 48-hour rental was $47. Of course, the fact that I access to a car, meant that I racked up about $200 in Target expenses, etc. So much fun! 

I’m in love. With Bonnie Hunt. Her show is my favorite part of the day. She is so funny. If you haven’t seen it, you must DVR it. If only for her opening monologue. Cracks me up and she gets guests to tell stories about themselves you haven’t read 37 times elsewhere.

Precious. I don’t know if I can see this. Sorry to disappoint you.

 There is no flow to this post, no clever turn of phrase. I feel kind of like a robot if you must know. I yearn for a day off, a day of nothing, a day of sleeping, nachos if I crave them. Happy Monday to all and to all a good week!

The couple upstairs

Tampering with mail that is not yours is a federal crime.

You knew that though.

But somehow you couldn’t help but wonder about the insurance statement that wandered into your mailbox a few weeks back.

You didn’t notice at first, that it wasn’t yours. The envelope looked like most every other statement that made it to you, but this one wasn’t addressed to you.

You’re not friendly with the peace corps-marathon-runner it belongs to. If you were a different sort of person (read: not lazy) you’d simply walk the piece of mail up one flight where it rightfully belongs. And you mean to, really. But a week goes by and still it sits. You think of tossing it—don’t most people toss those insurance updates?—but think the better of it. For one brief moment you consider opening it but thankfully, the conscience wins out on that one. Finally one morning full of determination, you grab it on your way out the door and place it in front of her door.

Case closed. You think.

Flash forward a few days, a windy and Indian summer day at dusk. You hurry across the street and almost knock over your other neighbor—the husband of the peace corps-marathon-runner. You ask him if he was playing Willie Nelson that morning (he was) and tell him how much you enjoyed it. You mention meeting a new person in the laundry room. He says it’s his roommate, “a peach of a guy” is how he puts it.

“S. moved out. We’re getting a divorce,” he says flatly.

“Nothing bad happened. We still love each other,” he continues. “She just doesn’t want to be married anymore.”

He talks a little more, you see the pain in his face. You wonder what’s really going on in her head. It’s none of your business though.

Suddenly your mind goes all “Days of Our Lives” on you.

The insurance statement!

What if it revealed she secretly had an incurable disease and was just trying to spare him? What if she had an STD and was too ashamed to come clean of her infidelity? What if she was pregnant with a love child? 

Don’t you wish you had looked?

The future's not ours to see

I'm blogging to you from my couch on a Saturday. It's 10:45, I've been up for about a half hour and I am trying to work up the motivation to visit the postal store and get my 45 minutes of cardio in. For now, I am drinking coffee and watching the second episode of Friday Night Lights.

I had another date with Younger last night. Did I mention he has a car? We went to a cute little Turkish restaurant and I ordered (accidentally?) the biggest thing on the menu. Anyway, it was another nice date and I know that I've stumbled onto someone who is ready (wanting?) a relationship. Isn't that what I always want, especially at this phase of my life? I am trying to figure out if I am holding back because I'm not that into it or because I've never been in this situation before? I usually just fall ridiculously fast and then think later. And where has that gotten me, I ask? The other reason, I guess, is that I'm not over what happened this summer. I may never be over what happened this summer.

ANYWAY.

I'm waiting to post pictures from the hikes we took last weekend. We went to Wisconsin and it was awesome and so great to get away.

I am working at the restaurant this afternoon. It will be my first shift in 10 days--can I just say I am loving the leeway they are giving me here? I should have gone back ages ago!

OH- and the reason for the postal store visit? I have to return some shoes to Zappos. I have been on a sort of mission as of late to find new, comfortable, stylish, don't-irritate-the-plantar-fascitis boots. I'll keep you posted.

C'est la vie.

The scoundrel and the younger man

So I watched Game 1 of the World Series last night with a Yankees fan. I know—what on earth was a National League devotee such as myself doing with a Yankees fan?

And how great was Cliff Lee? The game conditions looked miserable. I love baseball but man, sitting in the cold and windy rain is not something I’m up for these days. I feel like I paid my dues on that one during my sportswriter days, roaming around sidelines during football season. No thank you.

So, the Yankees fan.

Let’s start with his age. He’s 32, not a huge gap or that big of deal, but it is interesting. I have never gone out with anyone younger, mainly because I associate older with wiser—even though I KNOW that’s not the case. It’s also weird because my last two relationships have been with people in their 40s and I am fixating on that for some reason.

I’m not sure if I am particularly excited about this new person or simply happy that someone’s paying attention to me who doesn't totally repulse me (ahem, I’m talking to you, previous post.) This dating and moonlighting has completely turned my world around for the better. I don’t want to give those things too much credit, but I was craving change so deeply that I am just so grateful to feeling better again.  

“Younger” doesn’t act it either. For our first date, he called to ask me out, followed up by giving me a choice of three different restaurants and then made a reservation at the one I picked. Is it sad that this is not how most dates go in 2009?

I’m grateful to him because he’s kind of the perfect guy to be going out with right now. Interesting but not demanding. Attractive but not so much that I lose all focus. Best of all? His baggage is minimal.

Spinning my wheels

I’m not in the mood to dig up Emily Post or whatever etiquette guide I’d need to consult on the subject of splitting checks on dates. I do know that in terms of group situations, it’s considered polite and it’s definitely easier and unless you are the cheapiest of cheaps, things usually even out. (unless someone doesn’t drink, then that part is excused.)

ANYWAY.

The point of this post isn’t really about that, but I wanted a little framework to explain my mentality on dates.

I had the movie date last night with someone I knew I was not attracted to. However, I went on the date anyway because a- what do I know? Everyone deserves a second date. b- it was too late to cancel and c-I need to actually put myself out there instead of writing about my desire to put myself back out there. (see previous weeks of entries.)

Backstory on this guy, The Professor, is that he was an old 41. We went to dinner last week and he paid and I enjoyed talking to him, he was very interesting, but I felt torn. But from his perspective, I am sure it looked like I had a good time. (It was a two-hour-dinner, with both of us sharing the storytelling.) I felt comfortable enough with him to joke about hoping the closed-circuit video at the restaurant had captured his face in case I turned up missing the next day--he drove me home.

Over that dinner, we discussed our mutual interest in seeing “A Serious Man” the following week. I’d said, sure, and offered next Wednesday (last night.) However, the next day, I had an e-mail from him wanting to know if he could see me that Friday. I could tell from this behavior that he liked me, but I already had plans and said no, Wednesday was the day that worked for me. 

We decide to meet at the movies since I had a doctor’s appointment prior and I arrived first. I went ahead and paid for the tickets since he’d gotten the previous dinner. Also because I was trying to set the tone that this was a friend’s thing. (Does that even make sense?) The movie theatre had published the wrong time earlier in the week so we ended up having over an hour to kill before the movie and decided to get dinner. 

More background: I’m poor—did you guys know that? OF COURSE you know that. I don’t do dinner out that often anymore and my waistline is the only one who is happy about that. However, I also don’t date people for free dinners. For real. Therefore, I try to operate under the philosophy of only ordering what I can afford. In this case, two appetizers and a water. He got an appetizer, an entrée and a beer. The check arrives and he makes no move and so I start getting out my money. I am fine with this. However, the communication is terrible and we split the check. Fine except that my $10 meal now costs $25. Am I right to be annoyed about this? Was I overthinking all of the “trying to set the friend tone stuff”?

 We go to the movie and it was really wonderful. I so appreciate the love of filmmaking the Coen brothers have. I did feel slightly uncomfortable in the fact that my date had the shared arm rest and kept lingering near my arm…

The date ended with him driving me home and me dreading the final moments. When we got to my apartment, I quickly hopped out and said, “It was good seeing you. Have a good night.”

I feel guilty because it was so obvious I didn’t want anything physical to happen but I didn’t know what to do!

This morning, I had a “Take care, you’re a nice person but I’m not feeling it yada yada yada” e-mail.

Yes, I got what I wanted. But I feel like crap.

Fear of flying

Maybe you’ve tried online dating. Maybe you’ve even met someone cool that way. I’m no hater of the medium, but I am here to tell you that the movement has gone way past its prime. It’s kinda like all of the old people joining Facebook. What started out as something cool and fun for the youngsters is now definitely “so last year” for the cool kids. 

And I get it, I do. Why pay for an online matchmaker when craigslist and okcupid and all the other things out there are free? I’m not really looking for a soul mate anyway, not sure if I believe things like that exist, and so this is just an additional weapon in the artillery. 

I am here to tell you that the most action I’ve gotten lately though—and by action I mean, actual-conversation—has been with people whom I-connected-with-in-the-flesh, then e-mailed, texted, called….

Last week, just for kicks, I let one of my friends do some trolling around for me. I even let her wink at someone, who of course e-mailed me back to say things like “Their is so much to do in the city” and “What R U doing?”

Then, for kicks, I just randomly e-mailed something like 10 people on Sunday. And of the few return e-mails I got, one asked if I was interested in “getting together” that night. And he did not mean to watch the Bears game!

Ick.

But the real reason I think OD is over is that people are no longer intrigued by the unknown quantity of it all. Maybe if I were a supermodel (but only a fake one in my photos) I would be more appealing this way, who knows? It's worth sharing that my heart wasn't that into creating a compelling photo of myself and one of my male admirers took a look at my photos and said I was selling myself short. I guess I don't care and it's evident? 

Speaking of football and ohmygod, how have I not mentioned the baseball playoffs—so fun.

LOVED having the Dodgers go from tying the series to being down 3-1.

LOVED watching the Yankees make a stupid pitching move and then losing in extras to the reborn Angels.

LOVED Cliff Lee shutting the lights out on the Bums, 11-0.

While I would prefer a Angels-Phillies series, I am OK with the center-of-the-universe Yankees hosting it in their new digs. Besides, for once the boys in pinstripes really are the best team out there. And A-Rod is actually playing well. Oh my.

But please no Dodgers. That would just kill me.

More dating: It’s now just one professor, one salesman and a new guy we’re calling tech support. No moves or hand-holding going on, but there is a movie with the professor tomorrow. I’m really looking forward to the movie.

Goin' to West Memphis to look for my joy

I can’t speak with authority on many things but I wanted to get it out there that I believe with every fiber of my being that the world can be divided into two kinds of people: Those who would do anything and sacrifice everything for love, and those who are too afraid to ever take that risk.

Some people start out as one and end up as the other.

Some people define sacrifice differently.

Some even go out of their way to fill the fear up with other things.

As someone firmly entrenched in the former, I can’t explain why this is or how long the fear will last for those who believe differently.

I only know that I am looking for someone who agrees with me, someone who can navigate our mutual baggage to at least match and wants it that way. Someone who has been out there and lived a pretty good life and who realizes that connection trumps sensibility every time.

I’m back out there now, mining through the dating fields. So far there’s been a professor, another professor, a software developer and a salesman. Only one has any proper potential, and even he can only be categorized as a friend right now. Another wants me simply because he shouldn’t. The other two? Let’s just say after one date apiece, I’ve already dodged some bullets there.

It isn’t that much fun, earnestly trying to move on with your life, yet realizing in the back of your mind you’re still hanging onto to the thread of possibility… 

What I did for lunch today

Took a shower! Thank goodness I have the gym nearby...

I went to bed at 10:30 last night and didn't get back out of bed until 8am. Good grief.

It's happening

I stayed up too late watching MNF last night and got to work about 10 minutes late. I plan to sleep and recover from a long, awesome family weekend tonight and do laundry.

My apartment has been transformed and so has the spirit of its inhabitant. So important to live in a place that feels new to me and with no memories. The couch is in a different place, the windows have curtains, the bed is on a frame. Someone else lives here now and she has yet to scratch the surface.

Tomorrow, I get to see The Diva and perhaps the long-lost HD.

Thursday I get to spin in the morning, work all day and then work all night. Money for furniture is in the works…

Yes, you read that last part right: I got a job!! After months and months of looking and getting my hopes up and being turned down by disingenuous suitors, I went back to my old lover. Soon I will be back in the know of all things wine and cheese. Come visit, I’d love to see you. And on the bright side, even though going back to a place that sometimes took advantage and made me miserable, I’m actually excited that I already know the drill and some of my favorite people still work there!

When I am functioning at my happiest, I am making plans and spending time with the people I love. Sometimes that love stretches to strangers. I’m looking forward to seating and greeting and flirting and anything to jump-start the new life. I’ve got online guys calling and old faces saying hi. It’s not a race. I’ll get there.

Still hurting

I’m finding myself teetering on the edge of obsessive behavior. On the one hand, I have not had any contact with him for two weeks and won’t allow myself to call him or e-mail or anything no matter how much I want to. So that’s good. I’m thinking about him but not acting on my thoughts.

But the thinking is with me everywhere. I’ll see a Red Sox story and want to call him. Or a funny story in The Onion. Or a song will come on my iPod that came from him and all of a sudden, I am just so…well, right back in that place that wants to go back in time.

That kind of nostalgia will get me nowhere but it doesn’t stop the thoughts from tumbling over me.

I don’t know why it’s happening so much lately. Maybe because we met in the fall? Realistically it’s kind of silly to dwell—for all practical purposes we have been apart for three months. That’s a quarter of a year. Life goes on as I imagine his is doing right now.

Contrary to what a previous blog entry may have indicated, I did not go “balls out” on the internet dating. I put a teeny, tiny toe into the waters. I suppose I should be enthusiastic about it but as most of you know, that sort of thing works better in theory. Or something like that. But hey, so far the men in Indiana are reaching out!

Shake your fist

I am having one of those days that should suck but surprisingly doesn’t.

The day got off to a particularly vexing start when I WOKE UP AT 3AM hungry. For one, I never wake up in the middle of the night hungry. Panic attacks, sweating, hungover, yes, but NOT hungry. To make it worse: I had a 10am physical scheduled and was not allowed any food until after that—meaning I wouldn’t be eating or drinking until lunch.

Talk about a bad start to your day.

Anyway, I got myself to work and threw myself into a few projects that I normally would have put off until the afternoon. That helped take my mind off food and what was a building headache.

A couple of notable things happened at the doc’s. You know the electronic health records everyone keeps praising—and deservedly so for the most part? Well, mine had me listed as weighing 250 lbs back in January 2006. I know I moan quite a bit about my weight in this space but I think I’d notice if I lost 80 lbs, ya know? To make matters more complicated this was my first physical in this office since 2006 since I briefly switched to an HMO provider for two years after…Anyway, my physician went from being impressed that I no longer weighed 250 to realizing that in fact I am 7 pounds heavier than I was in 2005. Did you follow that? So yeah, I went from being praised to encouraged to lose about 10 lbs. I totally agree with this—it’s just funny how those things go.

The worst part of the whole day though was the lab tech who, predictably, couldn’t find a vein to draw blood. Despite being a regular blood doner, I have tiny veins and this happens a lot, but I am almost always able to give my pint away.

Um, not so with this lab tech. She poked and prodded BOTH arms until finally digging her way to success in my left. Two hours later and my arm is killing me.

I also had a tetanus shot, which may or may not mean, no yoga for me tomorrow.

Still, despite these minor tragedies, I am smiling and listening to my new music.

I am stopping by a restaurant on the way home to put my hat in yet another ring. Will keep you posted. Oh and the suburban place wants to see me. On Monday. At 2pm. Yikes!