Damsel in Progress

Emmaus 1st Annual BBQ Cook-off

2010-08-08T10:00:00.006-05:00

...was a blast!!! Dana and Greg threw their hat in the ring and competed against 13 other participants. While they did awesome, coming in around 6th, my friend Mike, with all his secret techniques won the whole thing. It was a great day for all, no matter who won or lost!

Newest Cake

2010-07-28T10:15:00.004-05:00

Dana's BUTTON Birthday Cake!

Vampire Rant

2010-07-15T15:55:00.006-05:00

Today I dropped my son off at my mother's and took myself to the movies. Having read the Twilight series I've been trying to keep up with the films and though I didn't see the first 2 in the theaters I though I'd catch Eclipse while it was still there instead of waiting for the DVD. I asked my hubby if he'd like to join me but he just gave me that look... you know the look... the "I'd-rather-have-my-nails-pulled-out-one-at-a-time" look... if you don't know it ask any straight guy you know to go to the movie with you. (The only exception would be all you newly-coupled people...when men would still do anything for you...)

Anyway, back on topic. I actually really think the films are pretty good interpretations of the books. I use the word interpretation because let's face it, no movie will ever be the book page for page, and what I like is this series doesn't try to be, so I don't carry any expectations for what will happen next. Not that I don't know what will happen next...I just don't care how as much. Does that make sense?

But that's not really even what this post is about. There's this teeny-bopper debate that the marketing media is profiting on about Jacob vs Edward...Wolf vs Vampire. Well, for everyone whose in the know (everybody who cares) we all know who Bella chooses, but sitting in the theater today I started to think about who I would choose and why... my decision was choice but my reasons made me feel old and married.

I concluded that while pale and sexy was a draw, eternity was a long time. And don't get me wrong to be the girl running with a wolf pack is pretty sexy too, and adding in the abs you would think that would be reason enough. Throw on top of that not needing to go through a painful transformation and complete loss of... chocolate, french fries, and coffee... being with a wolf seems indisputable. But really, while all nice, none of that phased me. It was the idea that though you love this person and currently desire a long life with them the fact that the life would be finite had major weight on my decision. Don't get me wrong, love and passion and desire are all great emotions and nothing matches them, but time marches on and even if you're frozen in this midst of that you still live day to day with the same person sharing meals, living spaces, discussions, arguments... Can you imagine when you inevitably discover that single habit that drives you nuts about the other person, like leaving their shoes around the house or drained corpses on the kitchen floor, then having to deal with it for ever? I mean, if it's grating now, what's it going to be in 100 years? 1,000 year? How many times can you take falling butt first into a toilet because he forgot to put the seat down? (Do vampires even use the bathroom?) Add onto that the fact that you don't sleep (at least in this interpretation) so you can't "sleep on it" and wake up refreshed, relaxed, and reasonable. You have to be with this person 24 hrs a day... unless they have a job, which I would think would be far and few between especially if your outward appearance is that of a 17 year old. Can you really keep a family on the hourly wage of a... bag boy. But I digress...

I know this all sounds really pessimistic and I'm trying to be in the "magic world" mindset but really, there is something to be said for the cycle of a relationship... any relationship. When we meet someone, we are drawn to them for any number of reasons. We hope they will always be a part of our lives. And while some will reach that "always" marker, some don't. It's just a fact. When we are teenagers our friends are the "bestest" and they are a vital part of our everyday lives. We can't imagine what it would be like without that one that makes us laugh, or that one, who understand our deepest thoughts, or that one, who we can't stop touching because of the way our physical self responds to being within 10 feet of them.

Knowing that people are constantly coming and going from our lives can be as much of a comfort as a distress. Think of it like this, you are an elevator with a "maximum capacity" (everyone's is different) and when someone gets off you have room for someone else to get on. And even though they are gone, the person whose left inevitably leaves something behind...a purse, umbrella, or even a draft of their perfume or cologne. So, we are forever changed because they road with us for awhile.

So, I think this is just a really wordy way of saying that the idea of riding in an elevator with the same person for thousands of years is my idea of purgatory. And now you chew on it for awhile...

(Oh and the next post will be about not being able to have children as a vampire and how facing thousands of years without the humor my 4 year old has provided me would just be blah...)

Let Them Eat...

2010-03-19T15:03:00.007-05:00

Cake is a good thing...It's a comfort. When we eat it, usually we are celebrating something or we were and now there are leftovers!!!! America's new obsession is cake. Where television was once focused on redecorating our homes it is now showing cake makers, cake buyers, cake competitions, cake consumers...Just as long as it's interesting and new.

So, I thought why not me....

These are my recent additions to my artistic repertoire.

My sister, for her most recent birthday wanted Mexican food so, for her cake I made some Mexican poppies and a sarape blanket.

For my father's recent 60th I did a stack of presents each wrapping a different flavor cake. My son enthusiastically sent fondant through the pasta maker to create piles of streamers and confetti.

And today I just dropped off this coffee themed cake over at my friend's place, PERK in Emmaus for the Grand Opening of her new location.

I really have to say...I love designing and creating these edible pieces of art but I'm not sure I would want to do it for a living.

Sleepover

2010-03-14T17:20:00.006-05:00

4:45 Son starts to keep watch for cousin's arrival.

5:30 The cousin arrives.

6:45 The pizza arrives.

7:00 Peter Pan commences.

7:30 Peter Pan is put on pause for a 4 minute. Time-out for bad behavior.

7:34 Peter Pan restarts.

8:30 Peter Pan ends. PJ's are put on.

8:50 Cars commences.

9:15 Cousin informs me that she never stays up this late and she is getting tired. Son gets upset about movie interuptus.

9:20 Everyone is tucked into bed and Cars restarts on the portable DVD player in bedroom. Lights out.

9:30 Husband arrives home from work (Yah, sure he was at work...;oP)

10:15 Cousin emerges from bedroom to say Cars is over and can she turn on Hannah Montana Movie. Son still awake but fading fast.

10:20 Hannah Montana commences. (Much to the Son's dismay and promise of his picking the next movie...hahaha)

10:25 Son comatose and snoring.

11:00 Adults go to bed.

11:30 Cousin screams that Hannah Montana is over and she is homesick. Son still out like light.

11:45 Cousin in tears over not being at home. Host parents running out of nice things to say.

12:00 Phone call home to groggy mother. Mother soothes, calms, and threatens the cousin into calming down and going to sleep.

12:30 Cousin asleep.

6:30(am) Cousin awake and wakes up Son and both proceed to start noisy playing

Parental Mental note...No More Sleepovers...for awhile...a long while....ZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.............

The "Lion" poses with the "Lambs"

2010-03-14T17:06:00.008-05:00

Instead of buying roses for Valentines day (at $20 a bunch) I bought myself some red and white tulips. I just love tulips...they are smooth and sleek yet romantic and sweet. They are one of the first flowers we learn to draw as children therefore one of the ones we cast aside as ordinary. But I did have them as part of my wedding flowers and find them to be one of the most joyful sights either in bud or bloom. So when I lined them up on my windowsill I thought they made the perfect contrast against the snowy results of our Valentines blizzard.

Maybe they are my wish for an early sPrInG...

Haircut

2010-03-09T20:25:00.004-05:00

"Hair is vitally personal to children. They weep vigorously when it is cut for the first time; no matter how it grows, bushy, straight or curly, they feel they are being shorn of a part of their personality." ~Charles Chaplin,

My Autobiography, 1964

It was

haircut night

on Sunday and it was born with the same patience and stillness of a pissed off bee whose been separated from his flower.

It was only the promise of

cookies

that made the cut-ee at all placid.

Why I love doing high school theatre...

2010-03-03T13:19:00.015-05:00

We just finished up our work on

Once Upon a Mattress

at Moravian Academy Upper School

(me-costume and set design...john-set building)

I swear I fall in love with the students every year...Look at them...How could you not?

Tag...I'm it!

2010-03-03T11:53:00.014-05:00

I miss the days of running around the backyard playing a game of tag with my friends. So free, running like crazy because if you stop you may become "it" and that didn't mean what it means now. But in this adult world the only game of tag we seem to engage in is one that can be played from behind the walls of your cubicle when you have a free minute. At least you still play with people you like. Case in point: My cousin has tagged me and since I hadn't written in...like... years, I thought it was time.

So now I will share with you...10 Things My Readers May Not Know About me...in no specific order:

1) I am really a terrible friend. Not because I'm not loyal or good at keeping secrets. I am honest and sincere and will not let you go out on a blind date looking like hell. But when it comes to keeping in touch....suckaroony. And unfortunately in this incredibly busy world with all the ways we can keep in touch with everyone (Did you ever think you would "tweet" someone...or is it "twit"?)I just suck at picking up the phone or sending an email or text message.

2) I'm still not sure I'm a good parent...but then who is, right?

3) Even with all the factual statistics and safety measures and years of proved physics...I am scared to fly and haven't ever in my life with the exception of a 15 minute fight over the Lehigh Vally in a single engine. I think one day I will let my husband pull a B.A. Baracus on me to get me to Europe.

4)I have had some sort of anxiety disorder my entire life. Most people would think me secure and social but the effort it takes for me to go out to dinner or confront someone about an issue is beyond the norm. And even then I forget to breath...

5)I still find it inconceivable that my body knew how to make boy parts even though it's never had them itself. It's actually kinda cool.

6)I know that I am overweight and unhealthy but for some reason have not discovered the inner discipline to stop overeating and start getting physical(as Olivia would sing) which leads to...

7) I have a horrible self image and am completely talented at standing in front of a mirror and not looking at myself.

8)I come from a long line of artists and sometimes I actually feel their talent flowing through my hands when I'm painting. And no...I'm not on drugs or drunk at the time.

9)I understand every art form but cannot wrap my head around how to use a camera.I feel horribly for my husband since it is his media of choice and he has worked in the industry on and off for over 15 years. But honestly, whenever anyone has tried to explain apertures and f-stops to me my brain stops and all I hear is "blah blah blah light blah blah blah opening blah blah blah".

10)I truly believe in the need for constant growth and am determined to become the person I imagine myself to be in the back of my mind before I die...morbid I know but what can I say?!?

Well, there you go...my a little TMI as the kids say but you came to my site so....pffftttt! :o)

October...What Happened to October?

2008-11-21T17:38:00.015-05:00

So, for those 3 of you who have been checking in...I am so sorry that I've been missing. But that is my M.O.! Get comfortable...we have quite a few events to get through.

(This was actually in the end of September but...)Even at the ripe old age of 4 my niece knows where it's at...Times Square in the Big Apple. Yes, for those of you who don't know, there is a new tradition for the little ones in our family. Around the time of their Birthdays they get to chose something fun to do for a day...so my niece chose Toys-r-Us, Time Square. Mainly for the Barbie room but also for the GIANT ferris wheel that takes up the three stories of the store. Needless to say, the Boo can't stop talking about it and we are now in what? Mid-November. Then we walked...and walked...and walked to Serendipity III where we had lunch and the best and BIGGEST ice cream sundeas I have ever seen in my life. The peanut butter topping was literally pouring our over the sides of the glass and yes...the whipped cream was real...god help me! The girl knows how to party, let me tell you.

We started our Halloween festivities for the month when John surprised everyone with a day off to go the pumpkin patch. So, off we trotted down to Buck county to a darling little place straight out of a story book, with a pumpkin patch, a carriage ride, corn maze, and hot chocolate with kettle corn...such goooooood kettle corn. They also had a couple gas engines that powered a corn husker and and grinder...very manly and grunt worthy...John and the Boo were utterly fascinated. All in all it was a very successful trip as we came home with three pumpkins, a large bag of kettle corn, and definite Autumnal spirits.

After picking out our pumpkins, we went that Sunday to Mom and Dad Bayliss' to gather as a family and carve our individual pumpkins together...how cozy. Thanks to Aunt Dana and Maddy who provided some stencils and very helpful carving tools. I was suddenly awakened to power of the worlds tiniest hand saw...God, I spent my youth trying to be creative with a kitchen knife...what a difference the right instruments make. But the surprise of the evening was when Pappy brought out the tractor (a thing worshiped daily by the Boo) that had a small wagon hitched up with hay for Hayrides!!! Yay!! The children were enthralled and even Aunt Dana got in on the action.

The following weekend we made our way downtown for the Annual Bethlehem Halloween Parade to watch the marching bands of our youth walking by with class and style. The children of course are excited for the fact that it's like trick-or-treat, with candy raining down off the many float, except the candy comes to you without effort. All very exciting.

Halloween itself was a very full day starting with a parade at the kids school (yes, the cousins go to the same preschool...very lucky for everyone) which was the Boo's first opportunity to model my "Ode to the Man in the Yellow Hat" ensemble. I wanted him to be recognizable but I didn't want to be so boring as to stick with just plain yellow...I mean I am a fashionista, on the inside. So, the kids paraded around in front of the school and then we all went inside where each class got a chance to sing the "halloween" songs they have been working on at home and in class. I put halloween in quotations because the words may be halloween based but the tune were definitely recognizable..."I'm a Little Tea Pot" came to mind.

Then, after a long nap, we all met down in Aunt Dana's neighborhood for pizza and some of the best Trick-or-Treating I've been a party to since I was little. Aunt Dana had decorated her house to the nines and we sat on the porch awaiting the masses...too much fun.

Finally, it was my turn to entertain. We threw a masked dinner party with rises for the best masks. And some very good fall chili...if I do say so myself, however, I cannot take all the credit since the recipe was mainly Better Homes and Gardens with some dashes of my own. And I would also say I had a very successful first fondant cake ending up the exactly the right color grey I was going for...Bringing to mind Sally Field's quote from Steel Magnolias:"It's got gray icing, I can't even begin to think how you'd make gray icing."

Well...As you can see we've had a very busy Holiday Season so far with only more hustle and bustle to come...I'll keep you posted!

School-Crow

2008-09-24T16:01:00.005-05:00

This past Sunday my family and I joined fellow members of our charter school in building a scarecrow for the Emmaus Downtown competition. Since we are a school...children were the obvious choice. But this event gave us the opportunity to meet new people and happily share in a very seasonal tradition...If I wasn't so big in the pictures I would have thought I was in a "happy go lucky" fairytale with children illustrations...damn those fairytale waistlines.

Anyway, it is so enjoyable to be part of a little community...with people who know my name and give me a wave and smile when they see me...enter the "Cheers" theme song and a hardy "Norm" to boot. I just haven't had this for awhile and the last time I did I was a member of a different family...a tag-a-long, a child who everyone knew as my parent's kid. Now, as an adult, the irony is many of these community members...know me as the "Boo's" mom...ha!

I See a Blond Hair and I Want to Paint it Red

2008-09-18T18:19:00.007-05:00

Yes, I did it...I had my hairdresser work so hard to get the remaining red from my hair and then....Surprise...I go red again. I am such a wishy-washy person when it comes to my hair. Those who have known me for awhile have seen it in every natural shade and some unnatural ones too.

The funniest part is my appointment was while the Boo was at school, so when I dropped him off it was blonde and when I picked him up well you get the picture. Anyway, he comes out of the classroom and looks at me, pauses with great comic expertise and says "Mommy, you all red!". He does give me a hug though so I'm pretty sure he approves. My niece immediately told me she liked it and she's such a fashionista (at 4) that I'm sure it's a hit. At least with the "under 5" crowd.

I think the hardest part for me is walking by mirrors, it's like "woh....whose that" and then I hear my son's voice in my saying "Dat's my mommy". And it's true no matter the shade of my hair, the size of my waist or the color of my toenails, he will always call me mommy. As Martha would say..."It's a good thing!"

“A Sunday well-spent brings a week of content.”

2008-09-14T22:09:00.009-05:00

I go to church on Sunday...well not your traditional church but it's my church. My church consists of a slab of cement approximately 120 ft by 80 ft. which acts as the Emmaus Keystone bank parking lot the other 6 days of the week. But on Sunday it houses one of the most sacred of places in my life, the Farmer's Market. Here I find everything I would at your traditional church....These are the stained glass windows. Their colors truly from God and the inspiration for them straight from his/her hands. The four "walls" are filled with these bright hues and their tones change with the seasons. They are a true artwork each with it's own shape and size, carefully crafted by it's "artists"....The farmers are doing spiritual work. They carry hope that the earth will pour it's nutrients into the small seeds that will grow to fruits and vegetables. They have faith in their produce to provide sustenance for their customers who will therefore provide means for their family. We are the congregants, the buyers who find fulfillment in spending a morning with our families, smelling fresh scents and finding true treasures. We find community on our shared tarmac, listening to our children play, sharing stories while waiting to buy our goods, having comradery in the similar goal of supporting our town and feeding our souls with natures bounty. We share prayers with every apple and hear the moral in the sermons our consciences preach weekly about organic food and healthy living.

So, if you're ever looking for me on a sunny Sunday morning don't waste your time at the stone walls of the local Cathedral with it's repetitious prayers and hymns. Come on down to the Farmer's Market where I'll be sitting with my cup of Chai tea and my fellow worshipers participating in the joy of earth's rewards.

The Mommy Chain

2008-09-10T14:46:00.006-05:00

I think one of the reasons I decided to return to my blogging and change my approach is the inspiration I got from the tragic story of Stephanie Nielson. For her story:

But they now are republishing her archived posts on her everyday blog (NieNie Dialogues) which is how I'm getting to know her since I have only discovered her recently in a news article about the accident. This quote is one she published in a post she entitled "Basket Head Mother":

“The biggest mistake I made [as a parent] is the one that most of us make. . . . I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of [my three children] sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages six, four, and one. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less."(Anna Quindlen, Loud and Clear [2004], 10–11)

It's nice to be reminded to slow down and remember how fast it all goes and how quickly it can all change.

Let Me Tell You Bout My Best Friend

2008-09-09T22:45:00.006-05:00

The truest of friends live in my house. They giggle together and eat cookies like they were potato chips and gulp juice at crazy speeds. At night I will go to take a bath with the understanding that one will make sure the other gets to bed, only to come out and find them both asleep on opposite ends of the couch. I will get on the computer to do the bills and discover a whole photo session of crazy faces. They egg each other on and speak in similar tones almost like it's a foreign language.There are moments of hero worship... or, for The Boo, truck and tool worship. They wait to see each other at the end of the day and moods shift from bad to good when they finally get together. Standing in the room you can feel the vibes change from end of the day "blahs" to "what's next, what did I miss, what can we do". Its hard not to get caught up in it.

There are times that I stand back and am jealous. I wish that I could be a part of the joke, and other times I'm pretty sure I am the joke. I definitely have moments of feeling left out even though I'm sitting in the same room. But as I'm coping with my moment of self pity and isolation, The Boo will look at me and ask "What's your name?" and I'll respond "I don't know" to which he'll smile and say "You're my Mommy" with a level of confidence and joy that can only secure my position of importance in his life. And John looks over at me with a smile and I am reminded that though I may not always get the joke or participate in the moment...I am fortunate to be at the center of these two "friends'" worlds. And all is well in mine...

Ok, it's time to get my act together.

2008-09-05T14:02:00.007-05:00

So...I've been REALLY absent from the blogging community. I think everyone's given up on me... but can't I blame them. I really should write some long diatribe about where I've been, being a mom, and personal growth but instead I'll sum it up in a short list:

Had huge anxiety issues last fall that required focus and attention which took a little while.
My son, hereforth referred to as The Boo, is 2 almost 3 and full of activity and questions and craze.
I cut my hair.
Took a painting class.
Opened a shop on Etsy....www.ValnotteStudio.etsy.com
Rearranged the livingroom... 3 times.
Gave up on my gardens.
Dropped The Boo off at his first day of PreSchool...Moms, you know how hard that is.

I'm sure there's more but those are the really important ones. I don't think becoming a mom happens the way we think it does: You have sex, get pregnant, get BIG, give birth, and love the baby. Yah that's all dandy, but the process of creating a new person, which doesn't end with the "delivery", actually is creating 2 new people. The second one being you, because you will never be the person you were again, physically or emotionally. I'm sure this isn't a new concept but it's new for me and is quite the journey.

So, I think that means this blog is going to head in a new direction. More of a journal for my journey (ha) than an outward expression of my views on the world we live in...Not that I'm not going to talk about that stuff... don't get me started on Sarah Palin....I'm just not going to focus my energy on that which I can't help. Since that which I can is so exciting and happening all around me in my own little world here in Eastern PA...which, by the way, is about to turn the most beautiful autumnal colors you'll ever see.

He asks "Will You Marry Me?"...She says "Define Marry?"

2008-05-31T14:19:00.008-05:00

In this day and age of “love” and “family” where “self” often ranks higher than others, I’m really struggling with the antigay marriage crew and their need to keep the definition of “marriage” pure (their definition of pure...not mine). In a society who’s divorce rate is an estimated 40%, shouldn’t we be more worried about the casual way that the institute is currently approached and the lack of understanding about what marriage really is...not a giant party (i.e. Bridzillas) or a romantic ending. That unlike the fade out in the movies or the final words of devotion in a paperback novel, there is more and it’s hard and it takes work....constant work. So, I came up with my own definition that focuses on things other than the sex of the parties involved.

mar·riage
Pronunciation:
\?mer-ij, ?ma-rij\
Function:
noun
(1): the state of being united to a person a consensual and contractual relationship recognized by law, wherein both parties realize that the commitment will always require work and effort even in the time where romanticized love seems lost.
(2): the core union between two people that creates the foundation for a family, of any size and type, with the understanding that with a faulty foundation any structure can’t stand against nature’s will.

Stalking John Cusack

2008-04-01T13:14:00.014-05:00

"Emily Leatherman was taken into custody Sunday after Los Angeles County sheriff's deputies were called to Cusack's neighborhood, where a cab driver reported that a passenger didn't have enough money to pay for the ride to get there, sheriff's spokesman Steve Whitmore said Monday."(http://news.aol.com/entertainment/movies/movie-news-story/ar/_a/woman-arrested-near-cusacks-home/20080401064709990001)

Poor Emily...it seems that, at the age of 33 and after what I'm sure has felt like a hopeless search for her own "Lloyd Dobbler", she decided to get herself the original. Oh come on, after seeing that film we all wanted to wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes" blaring from a boom box being held high over John's head outside our window. There hasn't been a more romantic gesture since...hmm...I don't know when. So, I was inspired to do research and find some of the most romantic gestures ever made. Here is my top ten list...(Thank you, John, for yet another great idea inspired by one of your movies.):

Napoleon had issues, as well as affairs but his early letter to his first wife Josephine were...well, here are some examples..."I awake full of you. Your image and the memory of last night’s intoxicating pleasures has left no rest to my senses." and “You to whom nature has given spirit, sweetness, and beauty, you who alone can move and rule my heart, you who knows all too well the absolute empire you exercise over it!”
When they first met at one of her art exhibits, Yoko passed John a card that simply said "Breathe". While not necessarily considered a romantic gesture, John was truly taken with her "positivity [and] humour", considered by most a good start to any relationship.
While we are on the Beatles, George Harrison's wife, Olivia Arias, in 1999 single-handedly fought off an armed attacker who broke into their home and stabbed George multiple times. She subdued him until the police arrived, saving her husband's life.
After only being married for 274 days, Joe DiMaggio stayed a steady rock in Marilyn Monroe's life, as well as death, sending a dozen red roses to her crypt three times a week for twenty years. He never married again.
Prior to getting married, Humphrey Bogart presented Lauren Bacall with a gold whistle inscribed with their movie quote "If you want anything, just whistle". At the time of his death Bacall had it interred with his ashes.
After falling ill at the age of 64, Ava Gardner was fiscally cared for by her ex-husband of 29 years, Frank Sinatra. Then, when she died, a black limo showed up at her funeral but no one got out, though an arrangement by her graveside had a note that simply read "With my love, Francis".
Virgina Woolf, best known for her nose being placed on Nicole Kidman's face, wrote her lover, Vita Sackville-West, a novel, Orlando. This was later called "the longest and most charming love letter in literature". The fact that it was very public in a time when people didn't discuss same-sex relationships openly makes the gesture even bigger than its size...352 pages.
In a great public gesture, Johnny Cash proposed to June onstage during a performance. And you thought having it written on a scoreboard during halftime was romantic.
The dual suicides of Mark Antony and Cleopatra. Antony killed himself with his sword thinking Cleopatra had already taken her own life. Then Cleo, with in the following weeks, allowed a poisonous snake to bite her arm.
In December 1936, only 11 months after inheriting the throne from his father, Prince Edward VIII abdicated his position as King of Great Britain, Ireland, and the British Dominions to marry American divorcee, Wallis Simpson...now that better be love!

All of these are gestures to go years on...suicide aside. If all husbands (or partners...of either sex) of the world would make a "move" like these once every 5 years or so, maybe we wouldn't be so ready to jump ship for the casual glance of another. And let's face it...romance novelists everywhere might be seeing a drop in book sales. Are we all too busy watching movies and TV, living our lives vicariously through characters like Lloyd and Diane to send a love letter to the "person" in our REAL lives? I really wonder if in some future list like this one, someone will be writing about a couple who met through match.com and wrote email tirelessly for 14 years until they saved up enough money to buy airplane tickets to finally meet in person. How romantic...I can just hear the soundtrack rising in the background as their two planes touch down on the tarmac.

Deconstructing Christmas

2007-12-16T09:10:00.001-05:00

Deck the halls with boughs of holly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Really, is it “boughs of holly” anymore? I know not a single family who puts strings of really holly down their hallways. These days its more like “Hang some icicle lights from your gutters”. And then see if you remember to take them down before July. Why is it we don’t surround ourselves with the “natural” Christmas anymore? Many people, myself included, have faux trees...my excuse is 2 dogs and one small child so my trees are all tabletop. But we aren’t hanging holly and mistletoe or burning yule logs...unless Yankee Candle sells that scent?

Tis the season to be jolly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Who do you know that’s “jolly” this time of year? Because I would love to meet them. Most people are exhausted, exasperated, and experiencing financial crisis. Since Christmas starts in September, commercially speaking, by the time the day rolls around everyone’s so tired of all things holiday that the holiday is diminished. Where’s the “jolly” in that? “Ho,ho....uh-oh” as my son would say.

Don we now our gay apparel,
Fa la la, la la la, la la la.

This is one I want to be careful of as not to offend my “gay” readers. The true meaning of this line is that we put on our best clothes, the ones we saved for Sunday or very special events, as we didn’t have closets full like we do now. I will say that this is one line that, with new interpretation, still rings true. I can remember boys in choir with me giggling after we would sing this line thinking “gay...ahuh, ahuh” in typical Beavis and Butthead fashion. But really think about the clothes you’re wearing. With shows like Queer Eye and Tim Gunn’s Guide to Style, the gay man’s presence in the average wardrobe is unavoidable and I bet at least one of those giggling boys can now be defined as a “metrosexual”.

Troll the ancient Yule tide carol,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

One definition of “troll” is: to sing or utter in full, rolling voice. Another is the one of the mystical sorts who are typically ugly, obnoxious creatures. These days it’s a label used in chat rooms for the poster who just wants to undermine the discussion. If we once again reinterpret the line, maybe we can still find it relevant. Most people I run into say how much they HATE Christmas music, grimacing at the sound of it. Not me though. I love it. One of our local radio station goes to “all Christmas, all the time” after Thanksgiving...and I am listening. I mean, think about it. There are thousands of Christmas songs that have been interpreted in thousands of different ways. And we only have just under one month a year to listen to them. Besides, like them or hate them, most of us know their lyrics better than any other genre and why not? “White Christmas” held the record as the most sold song of all time from its release in 1942 till 1997 when Elton John reinterpreted “Candle in the Wind” for Princess Diana.

See the blazing Yule before us,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Most of us don’t. If we do have fireplaces in our homes, we rarely use them and those of who do use them often have switch to some gas powered version with fake logs that don’t even burn. So, what is one to do? Well, if your really lucky, like I am, on Christmas Eve you can tune into your local television station and watch an image of a log burning in a fireplace while listening to 1970’s versions of all the popular carols. And if you want the full effect I’m sure Glade plug-ins has a pine scent you can have going at the same time.

Strike the harp and join the chorus.
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Come on...How many people do you know play the harp anymore?

Follow me in merry measure,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
While I tell of Yule tide treasure,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Nowadays, this could be interpreted as “This week’s Holiday Specials at Walmart...” because, “Yule tide treasure” is finding the Wii gaming system at the least expensive price and then telling only your closest friends where they can get it too...a.k.a. “Follow me TO merry measure.” All this because you know what you will be spending on the games that your kids, and/or your husband, will be asking for on their birthdays.

Fast away the old year passes,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

This is very true...moreso as you age. I can remember summer feeling like forever and the wait for Christmas day taking what felt like months. The last hour before your friends arrived for a sleep over ticked away like days. Now, my son’s 2 hour nap is over in a blink; the summer is only weeks; and Christmas is here and gone before you’re sure you got everything on your shopping list.

Hail the new, ye lads and lasses,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Oh come on...just when you think you couldn’t go to another party, fit into another dress after hordes of rich, sweet, fatty foods, or drink another glass of liquer...Well, somebody pop a cork it’s New Years! One last night to smile before the credit card bills roll in and you realize you’re starting the New Year 25 pounds overweight and $2,000.00 in the hole. Resolutions anyone?

Sing we joyous, all together,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

We’ve already covered this.

Heedless of the wind and weather,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Don’t get me started on Global Warming! As if the aforementioned Holiday issue weren’t enough we have to worry about a war on terror, our rapidly melting ice caps and toys from China. Boy that last one has made Holiday shopping hell.

So, with all this in mind I hope that you can take a moment to put a poinsettia in your house, smile to yourself as you put on that new top you bought for the occasion; enjoy a little Christmas music as you burn your “Christmas Cookie” candle; pat yourself on the back for finding that gift half price; make those last minutes of 2007 go as slow as possible; and not let the weight of it all diminish the joy that you find in the Holiday season. Happy Holidays everyone!

A is for Apple

2007-10-08T08:29:00.002-05:00

My son has officially mastered his first two syllable word: “apple”. I mean we’ve done “ma-ma” and “da-da” but this is the first one where the individual syllables are different. It’s really cute how he says it too....”aaa (pause) pull” with the “aaa” part going up in a singsongy fashion. Personally, I would love to believe that it is him pining away for the love of his life...Gwyneth Paltrow’s daughter. I truly believe we are meant to be best friends. But to him, it pretty much covers anything that is round and/or red with a stem: peppers, tomatoes, pumpkins, onions, and the occasional apple. You can tell he is so proud of himself and he is currently working on his cousin’s name which is not coming out right...yet. But he is very proud of all the things he accomplishes in a day: pulling his pants up, putting his shoes on, eating a bite of food, making his toy car go from here to there. These are all such great BIG things for him and for me as well. As a mom there’s nothing more exciting than seeing your child grow and learn. But why don’t the little things stay important?

Some days, I really feel as though getting out of bed and taking a shower is an accomplishment. That sounds truly pathetic, right? Or maybe like there’s something wrong with me? Why? Because I’m an adult and getting myself up and dressed was something I should have mastered around the age of 4 or 5? But honestly, the challenges may have changed but the task hasn’t.

When you are 4 the actual task at hand is the difficulty: make the bed, pick out some clothing that might match, tying the shoes onto the right feet, making sure you brush your molars. As an adult, the difficulty becomes something to the extent of “If I get out of bed I have to face that meeting (or bill paying, or boss) that I don’t want to face and if I just stay here it will all go away.” So, why not give yourself a pat on the back for actually getting up? or facing your boss everyday? You deserve it.

A few weeks ago, we decided it was time to get a new toilet. The one that had come with our house was running all the time and the parts were going to cost us more than a whole new one. Does that make any sense? Anyway, we went to the local Lowes and after a long....long debate we bought a new bright white toilet. This long debate however, had ticked my husband off enough to come home and immediately go for a walk to get away. Feeling badly, I took it upon myself to remove the old toilet and install the new one. After a quick tutorial from 2 different web sites and borrowing some latex gloves from my neighbor, the contractor, I did it. Not completely on my own, since my husband came home in the middle of the installation and helped me get the new one positioned. But beyond that, it was all me.

Now, to many people this may seem like an easy chore but for me it was as empowering as learning how to use the toilet will be for me son. I was flying high for a week on this accomplishment. I told anyone I thought would be interested. It was the closest I’ve felt to youth in a long time. But why? Why do we do that to ourselves? Take away the pride of accomplishing the mundane daily tasks and only award ourselves for what society has told us are the true “accomplishments”: new jobs, more money, winning, reaching milestones...etc. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not telling you to pop a bottle of champagne every time you change put in a load of laundry or turn the dishwasher on. Just don’t discredit achieving that task.

Here’s the challenge: the next time you’re driving somewhere you’ve never gone before and you pull into the parking lot successfully reaching your destination, before you get out of your car take a minute to giving yourself a round of applause or a pat on the back. You may feel a little stupid but I bet it puts a smile on your face as you open the door and step out into the world. If my son can face his day with a smile for get his pants on right...you can too.

"A handful of common sense is worth a bushel of learning.”

2007-09-20T17:24:00.000-05:00

Coming soon to a theater near you is Sean Penn’s new film, Into the Wild which is an adaptation of Jon Krakauer’s critically acclaimed book of the same name. It tells the true-life story of a young man, Christopher McCandless, who abandoned all of his worldly goods and hiked into the “wilds” of America and Canada. Finally spending 112 days in the Alaskan woods where he starved to death. Hmmm, sounds like a fun date night. Can somebody pass the popcorn?

I have a funny history with this book. When shopping for a birthday present for my husband a few years back I stumbled upon it. Seeing that my husband had hiked the Appalachian Trail, I thought this would be a story of interest to him. However, his first response was basically “Oh yah, I saw this on an episode of 20/20 or something…idiot.” Wow, not what I expected. How about “Thanks honey, this looks interesting”? But his feelings came from the place of a person who had the same desire to experience nature and the vagabond lifestyle that can come from lack of personal and financial ties. The difference is being prepared for the world you are placing yourself in. And here is where my mind goes…this young man had been a recent graduate of Emory University when he decided to “disappear”. While a college education gave him a degree which prepared him for a job, it didn’t provided common sense that would have told him he needed certain things to survive this adventure he was embarking on. Where was his back up plan? Margin for error? Common sense?

BA, BFA, MA, MFA, PHD all add, not only length to a name but also certain prestige to a person. When we hand our resumes over to potential employers we hope that these many years we’ve spent toiling over term papers and final exams will win us some respect in a room full of CEOs. But take that same room of CEOs and tell them that you’re qualified for the job as their accountant (lets say) because you’ve been working with your father, the accountant, since you were old enough to add, and most likely after a few stiff coughs, you’ll get some version of the old “Don’t call us, We’ll call you” line. Why is that?

My father-in-law and I have fought this one out…to an extent. He honestly believes that someone who goes to college is better prepared to perform professional tasks than someone who works their way up through a business or trade. His thinking is that the graduate with the mathematical equation is going to save the bridge, building or plane. That the guy who has worked on/with metal, cement, or engines for 40 years can’t have that type of necessary knowledge. Of course, common sense (ha) tells me that while he may not be able to write the equation out on a piece of paper, if he’s been paying attention all those years the resulting cement, metal, or engine part which that equation factors out to is already in his head…aka learned common sense. But see, we don’t value that form of knowledge. My father-in-law’s mindset is a symptom of a world that tells us we couldn’t possibly find our way anywhere without a map or GPS. We’re taught that reading self-help books (useful sometimes) is better than thinking things through on our own and trusting our answers; that taking stained garments to a drycleaner (or throwing them out) is right because we couldn’t possibly know how to solve it ourselves; that relying on others to tell us how to decorate, eat, and raise our children is a must because these things are no longer built into us.

Does this come from more “hands off” parenting? Commercialized education? Too much TV? While my mom would claim the latter, I will leave it at this: common sense is being written off as “common” and too easy therefore being hard. We don’t trust our inner voices the way we should and handle things on our own. Beyond that, we aren’t training our children to do it either, leaving them without some necessary tools to take on future adventures. If you doubt that, just urn on Mtv sometime, I bet you won’t have to watch for more than 15 minutes to understand what I’m saying.

As far as my common sense goes, well I try to use it often and hope that it will keep me ready for any surprise situations. But don’t worry; none of those will take place in the middle of some deserted forest somewhere on the outskirts of society. Common sense has told me for a long time that I couldn’t live in a world without running water and flushing toilets.

Candy is Dandy, But Liquor is Quicker

2007-09-11T16:03:00.001-05:00

The term DUI seems to be running rampant in the press these days. In the past few months there has been a growing list of recognizable names who have failed their sobriety tests: Britt Reid (son of Eagles’ coach, Andy), David Boston (NFL Buccaneers receiver), Jerramy Stevens (his teammate), Eve (singer),Lane Garrison (actor), and, most recently, Kirsten Storms (actress). Add to that the long tally of brainless starlets who have served their time for their sins in jail or rehab, and it’s starting to look like an epidemic. These acts of stupidity come from complete lack of maturity when it comes to alcohol. Not being a huge drinker myself, I have been sober around many a drunken friend making me privy to their “acts of intoxication”. And, while trying to stop someone from dialing drunk can be a funny experience, stopping someone from driving drunk can be a lifesaving one. But, with a two year old getting into everything these days and not wanting to take a nap...ever, I don’t have the energy to climb onto my soapbox right now. What I really want to talk about is the evolution of alcohol itself. Makes one ponder, right?

A couple of weeks ago my best friend had a date. Someone she’s met through an internet dating service. As this was going to be her third date with this guy she asked if I would “pop” by the bar where they would be to “check him out”. My first instinct was “no”, but as I glanced over at my husband falling asleep on the couch at 8:30 on a Friday night, my “no” turned into “no problem”. So as not to look completely suspicious, I got a bit dressed up, something I haven’t done for awhile, to keep me from being completely suspicious, and headed across town. After stopping by their pool table to shake his hand and give him the once over, winking to my friend as a sign of approval, I headed back towards the door. Before leaving I noticed that a friend of mine was bartending so I headed over to chat him up for a minute or two. During our brief conversation, a couple of boys came over to order a couple of Long Island Iced Teas. I refer to them as boys because my guess is that they were barely legal and the sheer act of wearing a baseball cap to a “hip” bar late at night is nothing I would expect from anyone over the age of 23.

Anyway, for those of you not sure what exactly is in a Long Island Iced Tea...because I wasn’t until I asked my friend...it is:
1 part vodka
1 part tequila
1 part rum
1 part gin
1 part triple sec
1 1/2 parts sweet and sour mix
1 splash Coca-Cola

Watching him make this drink was hysterical because it basically involved him picking up every bottle sitting infront of him, dumping it in the shaker and then topping it off with a swallow. He told me that learning how to make this drink was Bartending 101. I stared at the wall of “top shelf” liquor behind him wondering how often someone comes in and asks for a scotch, “neat” or “on the rocks”. He laughed...”Not in this town”. That makes sense since I live in a medium sized town that houses a major university and a respected college, turning the weekend bar scene into 75% students.

Not all drinks popular among the younger set involve that much liquor but most involve masking it. Fuzzy-Navels, Sex-on-the-Beach, Screwdrivers and Rum-and-Cokes all drop shots of hard liquor into sweet familiars that most of us have been drinking since birth. And you know why someone would mask the taste of liquor? The same reason they make cold medicine taste like cherries...it goes down easier. I dare any of these starlets to have a drink the way my grandparents did, straight and unmixed. I can remember my great-grandmother in her nursing home having her scotch, on the rocks, everyday at five as she had done her whole adult life. When I was younger, my mom had a glass of wine when my dad got home and he had a whisky or a beer. But just one and it was never a big deal, in fact much of it tasted bad to me during my few unnoticed, curious sips. I never really connected it to being an adult, I just thought they had bad taste.

These younger people with all their mixed beverages are drowning themselves in an illusion of fun that most times involve being slightly, or completely, out of control. Because if it doesn’t, why not just have the coke, or the orange juice...because if you don’t enjoy a liquor, straight...then why else drink it. Maybe it’s because they want to be more “grown-up” or look more mature...if that’s the case go smoke a cigarette. And if it’s to enjoy that feeling of being “free”, doing it on the roads with those of us who enjoy our orange juice with a bagel and our coke with a hot dog is not only unacceptable, it should be considered attempted murder.

Money...That's What I Want

2007-09-04T17:45:00.001-05:00

This week a Wicca practicing accountant thanked the pagan gods for his winning a part of the $330 million Mega Millions jackpot. When all is said and done he will walk away with about $32 million after taxes. All in all, not a bad “blessing”, though the “gods” spoke the winning numbers through the machine and not directly to the winner. I really have to wonder what he could have done better to win the entire jackpot? Or maybe “they” know the exact amount it takes for a 40 year old married man with an 18 year old daughter and a 21 year old son to have eternal happiness for the rest of his life...like an equation: When a=male, b=years married, c=number of offspring, d=prayers and x=amount of winnings, then c(a+b) x d = x.

Are we to believe the old sayings and, well, the Beatles, that money can’t buy happiness or love? That even the poorest of souls can be blissfully happy living in a cardboard box? I’m going to sound like a pessimist for a minute and say that I don’t believe it. Even the most giving of people, like Ghandi and Mother Theresa, who desire no possessions or worldly goods needs a certain amount of money to do the altruistic acts that make them effective, and therefore happy. They either need to travel to their mission’s destination or buy food for personal sustenance so they can go forward with their ministry. Their followers and those they help can’t be nourished by words alone...it takes money to help them “get their footing”. You’ve seen the ads for Save the Children? If good thoughts alone could keep them alive, why are we giving up our “one cup of coffee a day”?

So, am I saying that money can buy happiness...that it’s actually needed for happiness?

Not exactly. I think what I’m saying is having enough money to factor the issues money solves out of your life enables a certain piece of mind. For example, my husband and I have money issues. Not anything scary, mainly very typical: “Can I save money?”, “The house needs some upkeep...where is the money going to come from?”, “Will we be able to afford to move out of our starter home?”, “When will we be able to start a college fund for our son?”, “Will we be able to retire?”, “Can we pay off our student loans?”. None of these are as bad as some of the horror stories I’ve heard but they do weigh heavily on one’s mind, as well as, keeping my husband’s stress level in the “moderate to high” range. Considering we own our own business the risk of failure exists in your thoughts even on the calmest of days, since my husband refuses to ignore his cell phone on his one day-off a week. This of course drives me nuts and makes me want to scream bad words at this customer calling about their horse's lost shoe, who I consider intrusive and selfish. However, the customer is always right and when they’re paying your bills, putting up with this ignorant behavior is a necessity. And I know it...that doesn’t mean that my husband doesn’t receive some dirty looks as he talks patiently into the phone. You see where I’m going with this?

They say money is the number one reason for divorce in this country...I know you were all thinking extramarital affairs but in reality most of those are a result of discontentment at home due to arguing and distance between spouses. And the top thing we married couples fight about is money...there’s not enough, someone’s working too much and never home, someone's being careless about spending, etc. Wives and husbands through the years have fought these financial fights and, though I feel a bit of camaraderie, personally I’d like them to end. I truly believe that if these monetary problems went away so would the sense of strain to other problems like the “musts and have-tos” of the business. The lack of time for family or trivial interests wouldn’t be an issue. Certain individual needs would be fulfilled as well as being able to afford better choices in education and environment for those we love.

Now, I also am not ignorant to the fact that when you no longer have money issues to focus on, other issues will surface. But it’s not like those other issues aren’t there anyway, you’re just too busy trying to keep your head above water, and under a roof, that you can’t acknowledge the other issues so it’s almost as if they don’t exist. But they do...and will, no matter what.

Now, to the real question...Am I running out and buying a statue of “The Goddess” to pray to with hopes of winning my factored amount in the next big lottery? Not really, I’m not even sure I would make that kind of wish on an eyelash. I think praying and hoping for money is not only fruitless, it’s distracting. Whether we like it or not, most of us will receive our share of the world's cash the old fashioned way, earning it. However, that doesn’t mean that I’m above upping my chances for millionaire status by buying my shot at the next multimillion lottery drawing...I’m sensible, not stupid.

Where Have All the Parents Gone

2007-08-28T15:52:00.002-05:00

“40 Kids have 40 days to build a brave new world without adults to help or hinder their efforts. Can they do it? These Kids, ages 8-15, will turn a ghost town into their new home. They will cook their own meals, clean their own outhouses, haul their own water and even run their own businesses including the old town saloon (root beer only). Through it all, they'll cope with regular childhood emotions and situations: homesickness, peer pressure and the urge to break every rule they've ever known.” This is the description CBS has on the website for their new reality series, Kid Nation, premiering in September. Already, this experiment is facing some controversies: breaking New Mexico’s child labor laws, ethical and moral issues, and legal actions over an injury that took place during production. Not to mention the masses of people thinking “Are you kidding me?”...myself included. But my real question is: what parent in their right mind allowed their kid to participate in this?

We’re talking 40 kids...have you ever been in a room with 40 kids? In my teenage years I had my share of camp experiences. At overnight camp, I was a counselor for 2 years and in that limited time I saw my share of peer intimidation and physical aggression and had to deal with the results of one very odd game of “truth or dare” played by a group of preteen boys. When I taught music and theatre at a church related day camp, my ability to cope with a room full of gabbing youths dissipated over the summer. But I did learn a few things: kids are immature, kids are hard on each other, kids make bad choices out of pure curiosity.

My son (who is only 21 months old) has recently decided that “up” is the best thing ever. When I say “up” I mean if there is a piece of furniture with arms, slats, or supports, he’s on it, up it, and over it. I can only assume that this sense of adventure comes from a new kind of freedom he’s experiencing. We are definitely past the days of playpens and fenced areas. Mainly, we’re left with a couple dog gates that keep him (and the dogs) from following us to the bathroom. He is now free to explore our home within certain boundaries, drawers and closets are off limits. So, table tops and TV cabinets are new frontiers. I find myself resisting a common parental urge to remove everything breakable from the room. My husband and I talked about it and decided that our son needs to learn what is his and what is not, therefore we are allowing him to handle some of our “precious” things and helping him decide how to treat them. This is not to say we haven’t made the antiques harder to reach, we just chose to teach him how to live in our world instead of changing to one that revolves around him. So far so good, but I am prepared for the set backs.

This is a societal problem, revolving a world around our kids. I can’t tell you how many people I know have family rooms filled with plastic toys and discontent children. But is it the parent’s fault? Our media and fashion industries are focused on our kids; allowing them to decide trends in clothing, music and most consumer products. They use our infants and toddlers to scare us into buying their tires and life insurance. They use our preteens to help us choose snack foods and laundry detergent. And our teenagers...well, they control everything else. But it’s our job, as parents, to limit the freedom this commercialized world offers them. We need to allow them choices but keep them to “A” and “B”, leaving “C” and “D” for a later date. We are here with our “worldly knowledge” to keep them safe from others as well as themselves.

So, if CBS came knocking at your door offering a potential prize of $20,000, would you hand over your child for a month? There’s a reason Lord of the Flies is a fascinating work of fiction, read by many of millions of students since it’s creation by William Golding in 1954. While the story is a fabrication, it’s prophecy is daunting and up till now has acted as a type of warning against the “insanity” of unsupervised youth. Don’t get me wrong, I am not disillusioned by the “no adults” claim. I’m sure there are adults around ever corner as well as holding the camera. It’s just also clear, as a reality junkie, that these people are taught to hesitate and not step in immediately when things get questionable. That’s good TV. When we as parents allow our children to be used for entertainment purposes, what example are we setting? What lesson will be learned, I wonder?

Fall Ahead

2007-08-21T18:07:00.002-05:00

My mailbox is so full of catalogues you might think it was “comin’ on Christmas” (thank you, Joni) But no, it’s not Christmas items gracing the covers...it’s fall. Fall sweaters, boots, and jackets mixed with Halloween items, colored leaf wreathes, and the appropriately placed pilgrim. As I’m standing there in my sandals and tank top, starring at the vast amounts of orange and brown in my hands, I’m shocked by the marketing timeline. It’s just getting earlier and earlier. I can remember when I used to work in a local gift shop we were always so surprised when boxes of Halloween merchandise came in at the end of July, mainly because the we knew the first Christmas boxes were to follow in a couple weeks. But as I’m going on about my disbelief, I also have to admit a secret. I am ready.

I am ready for fall: cool weather, sweaters, expectation of holidays, change of foods. All of these things are comforting to me and turn me into a new character. I become someone who likes to bake; who is “crafty”; who can be overwhelmingly nostalgic; and, when out, “I wanna be home again” (Thanks, Carol). It’s like playing a completely new character. I actually do it every season: fall is “Martha Stewart”; winter is “Virginia Woolf”; spring, “Gertrude Jekyll” (though my garden doesn’t compare) and summer, “Holly Golightly”. In fact, for me, seasons are like movies or plays. They have new characters, settings, costumes, and soundtracks.

When you live in Pennsylvania, fall is your season. The colors are spectacular, even the old, stone farmhouses are the right shade against the changing foliage. And you can really experience the change...”A few more geese are gone, a few more leaves turning red” (Appreciate your input, James). Colors creep up the Appalachian mountains. If your really good, maybe a local farmer, you can probably guess the date by the shade on the trees. The smell in the air is crisp and so distinct that even when you look at a fall photograph during another season...it comes rushing back to your nose. Many candle companies have tried to capture fall in their distinct scents, coming up with things like pumpkin pie, apple spice and amber woods. But not one has captured the sharp, cool aroma mixed with a touch of chimney smoke and damp earth. I don’t know how well that would sell though...

Fall also forecasts a clothing change. Sweaters and corduroys come out of hiding and reenter your daily wardrobe with the appropriate accessories, dark nail polish and earthy scarves. What’s missing, moth eaten, outgrown or just “out” needs to be replaced. Shopping, yay! Being a parent takes me back to my youth (here comes the nostalgia) when I got new shoes and clothes for school. While my son’s not school aged yet, his ability to add inches in weeks keeps my credit card busy. And when you top that with my fashion addiction, that inner desire to replace the “old worn out suit and shoes” (thanks muchly, Roger) where the only thing thing worn out is the style, fall can become a costly endeavor.

And speaking of school, you can really judge fall by the silence in the neighborhood between the hours of 8 am and 3 pm as the children are herded back into their classrooms. Ahh, listen to that collective groan. This silence is filled with a new type of wind, that rustles instead of sways. Then, every once and a while, the sound of geese spelling their way across the sky...vvvvvvvvvvvv. And finally, the lineup of musicians that keep me company in my car during travels from errand to errand, changes from the summer, upbeat new artists back to my old friends (nostalgia, anyone?), some of which have helped me write this. The singer/songwriters who capture the moments of life so vividly in songs that everyone can make them their own. They take over my cd player and itunes requiring me to remember, reminisce and sometimes sing along.

So, as you page through your latest LLBean catalogue, wondering if you need a new pair of wellies to see you through the fall rain, know that you have two choices as “summer's beginning to give up her fight” (well said, Girls). You can fight it, wearing your tired flip-flops through the last 60º days, cursing the loss of summer like a resentful child, or embrace the change, finding comfort in your favorite coat or a warm pair of socks as nostalgia (last time, I promise) helps to remind you of the magic of a red leaf and the mystery of alphabetical geese. But if you just can’t find any autumnal optimism, James Taylor is great at keeping you company through the end-of-summer-blues as you make plans to let Florida hold the key to your future fall happiness.

My Hero

2007-08-15T16:45:00.000-05:00

“Three truck bombs were detonated in the villages of al- Qataniyah and al-Adnaniyah in Ninewah province late yesterday. The blasts caused “severe destruction,'' leveling houses and injuring another 200 people, police chief General Wafiq al- Hamdani told state television. A Kurdish health minister told the Associated Press today that the toll had reached 250.” (Robin Stringer and Camilla Hall. "Iraq Toll Exceeds 200 as Suicide Bombers Target Sect (Update4)." www.Bloomberg.com. August 15, 2007 13:07 EDT. Bloomberg.com. 15 August 2007. http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=20601102&sid=azzuhWi8QId0&refer=uk)

“The civil war was fought between the largely Christian Sudan People's Liberation Army in the south and the forces of the Sudanese government in the north, which is mostly Muslim. More than 1.5 million people died.” (Nick Wadhams. "Tension Rises Between North, South Sudan Over Abyei Region." VOA News. 15 August 2007. Voice of America. 15 August 2007. http://www.voanews.com/english/2007-08-15-voa35.cfm.)

“Even as rescuers work feverishly to save six trapped men at the Crandall Canyon coal mine, others in Utah's coal country don big rubber boots and hard hats with headlamps and go underground like on any other day.” (Christopher Smart . "Work continues for Utah coal miners." The Salt Lake Tribune. 15 August 2007. Media News Group. 15 August 2007. http://www.sltrib.com/news/ci_6626684.)

It’s amazing. All these could easily be the plot summery for the next Oscar-worthy, blockbuster film or ratings boosting pilot. But unfortunately, they happen to be taken from a few of today’s news headlines. It is baffling to me though that these days when it feels as though the world is getting scarier, we still feel the need to go home to our TV sets and/or DVD players and entertain ourselves with violence and fear. One of the top rated shows on NBC is Law and Order:SVU...a show about catching criminals who prey on women and children. After being put on the cancelation list for CBS, Jericho was jerked back to life by an enormous fan base who wanted to know more about this town that survived a nuclear holocaust. Personally, I don’t watch either of these shows. Call me superficial, but mainly I can handle medical dramas, half hour comedies and most anything in the reality genre. I do wonder though...What makes people so interested in these nightmares hidden in acted dialogue? What do people want from these shows?

One thing they all have in common is the “hero”. The guy, or girl, who stays calm under pressure and always seem to have the answer and come through in the nick of time to save the day. So, is it just that we need reassurance that Superman does exist (note I say Superman and not Captain America since he was killed off earlier this year...cause for pause, I think)? That happy endings are possible? And, as average people, we have a chance at justice prevailing over the “evil doer”?

Did Bonnie Tyler have it right and we’re all “Holding out for A Hero”?

The thing that makes me sad for our nation is that we are surrounded by heroes who work everyday to make our endings as happy as possible. Police, firefighters, paramedics, doctors, soldiers, lawyers (yes, lawyers), teachers, councilors, security guards, parents,...and so many more. All of the jobs, done well, make a difference in our society and the path it takes. Sometimes I wonder if false heroes distract us from real ones. I know that in my youth I have been inspired by the actions of these fictional heroic idols while paying little attention to the real ones. I can remember lying in bed at night as a child and figuring an escape route if bad guys broke into the house. I had an alcove door in my room that lead to a storage space under our roof rafters. It was right next to my bed and my plan included disappearing into that, hiding among the Christmas decorations and boxes of old books until it was safe to come out. I’m pretty sure that this plan was inspired by many episodes of The A-Team and MacGyver. I think it was pacifying as a child to know I had a safety strategy, whether it would have worked or not, that allowed me to feel as though I was ok. That I could take care of myself, no need for the parents or police...I would be my own heroine.

However, there are things going on these days that are impossible for us to handle on our own. We need heroes and we’re lucky enough to have them. And now to my real point...a word of thanks.

I would like to thank our soldiers...those who have died, who have been injured, and who have survived to continue to fight. It is you who provide me with security to live my life in the way our Constitution promised...not this government. You put your life on the line when asked with no question and no hesitation, enduring what no human should have to so that the rest of us don’t need to. Whether I agree with the course of this war or the actions you’ve been ordered to take, your path was laid out before you and you’re walking it with grace and pride. Even when one of you stumbles and falls your instinct is such that almost fearlessly you persist in carrying this load that has been placed on you. When your time is done you return only to forever be changed by experiences the rest of us can never imagine. This is where my second thanks comes in...

I would also like to thank the wives and husbands, mothers and fathers, children and friends who have sacrificed their loved ones for me and mine. Given up days, months, and years of birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays. Who have gathered memories like flowers, keeping them watered in a vase with hopes they will live until new ones arrive. I am in awe of your ability to live your daily lives with a level of calm that makes even the best yogi look stressed. There is a sense of peace that you provide the rest of us which shows that you have a “job” as well and are doing it successfully.

I could probably go on for several more paragraphs, waxing my words of thanks, but I’m finding myself unworthy at the feet of my heroes and to go on would come across as excessive. Let me just say, on a final note, that with no scripted plot, enhanced camera angles, defined “bad guy”, promised happy ending, or driving theme music, our average heroes make their way through this world and not only deserve our respect and praise, but also our attention and focus. However the outcome of their workday, we as a nation should recognize it at the end of our own busy days. Their fame is beyond money and media, their skills and sacrifice are priceless, and their survival, literarily or figuratively, is praise worthy.

Tag. I'm It.

2007-07-31T17:11:00.001-05:00

Has anyone else noticed the resurgence of game shows on television? Has anyone else noticed they haven’t been making it? Personally, the only new one I catch every now and then is Don’t Forget the Lyrics!. This probably stems from my single days when I loved to tag along with my boyfriend to a local karaoke night. There’s nothing more fun that sitting and watching your slightly inebriated friends make fools of themselves in front of a bar full of others in the same state. Note I said “watching” as I don’t often participate...not that I can’t sing, I just can’t sing with a karaoke machine. I know...weird. Anyway, back to game shows. This season alone (2006-07) we’ve seen several show come, and several go: National Bingo Night, Power of 10, The Rich List, Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?, 1 vs. 100, Set For Life, and Show Me the Money. All of which, I can honestly say, did not catch my eye. Why is this? Maybe I’m just not the “game show” type or maybe adults just don’t have any time in their life for games.

This Saturday my family is heading off to a week of relaxation and fun down at a lake in Virginia. We pack our car up with the comforts of home and take it all to someone else's rental house to enjoy it. It will be my family, my parents, and my sister’s family. The other day I got an email from my mom to remind me to bring Humm...ble. This is a game that the women of my family love but is absolute torture for the men and is a lot more fun if they’ve had a few...kind of like the Karaoke bar. Basically, you have partners and to win you have to hum songs to make them guess the right answer. Whether the men like it or not, games are actually good things...they make us use our minds and also interact with each other instead of sitting comatose in front of the TV. I would just once like to see a field of adults running around at full speed playing hide and seek or tag.

But, I guess for now I have to settle for a rousing game of “blog tag”. For those of you who don’t know, “blog tag” happens when a group of questions circulate from blog to blog and allows everyone to learn a little more about each other. I normally don’t do it but since I’m feeling a bit uninspired by news stories this week I thought I would answer these questions...but more in my style, so Ms. Place, my dear blogosphere friend, you will have to allow room for interpretation....

Four jobs I have had or currently have in my life:
I have had so many jobs in my life...probably because I’ve been fired from a couple and then got bored with a few or found my boss to be too annoying to work for so I quit. I would say my first real job was as an ice cream scooper at a local popular café. It was fun but I never realized that when ice cream melts it doesn’t become water...no. When ice cream melts it does get very watery but then reforms into a sticky solid that is like rubber cement to get off. Needless to say, it turned me off ice cream for years. In college I was a stagehand for the Broadway traveling shows that came through the presentation house. It was interesting and allowed me to meet and experience many performers I would have never gotten the chance...like Dave Brubeck. This led to my job as Events Manager at the arts center that I have spoken of in past posts. After quitting for many reason, I got a job at a local bridal salon, selling gowns and helping women plan their weddings. It’s interesting, to say the least, watching people invest everything in one day, when in reality that day is just a step towards the rest of their lives, the real investment.

Four countries I have been to:
This is, sadly, one I don’t have a very interesting answer for. America and Canada if we’re being honest. If I could go by all the various books I’ve read, movies I’ve seen and music I listen to, I could add France, Italy, England, and Ireland. I am absolutely fascinated with British television, their humor and style of hiding the crude and rude behind proper accents is the definition of class that outranks any amount of money. A french radio station that plays their version of “oldies” is what I make my morning breakfast to, with its light and cheerful tones it can cast joy on even the gloominess of days. Italian art and architecture gives me hope that humans are not completely lost in destroying history for the “newest” and “most up to date”. And Ireland, well, it’s in my blood...even my skin would probably be happier there.

Four places I’d rather be right now:
I don’t know..since I am an absolute homebody and this post finds me sitting on my very comfortable couch that is nicely situated in my very bright sun room. My son is sleeping, well mumbling to himself, in his room down the hall. I am happiest in my own surroundings. In my mind I have several types of homes I’ve built in many cities, even a few in other countries, but each was a home...with comfortable furniture, beautiful kitchens, some have old bath tubs...no showers, all have porches and dear friends with cups of coffee and glasses of wine....wait that's the next question.

Four foods I like to eat:
Food is an interesting subject for me. I know I write for a blog devoted to a cooking show so I risk admitting something here that maybe I shouldn’t. I have a horrible relationship with food. Due to a chronic illness, I have had to be careful about the foods I choose to eat. Many make me uncomfortable, to say the least. Things like caffeine, dairy and sugar are “no-nos” for me. But foods I love...bread. I love good bread, probably because my mother made bread from scratch when I was little and good memories are filled with the smell of it baking. In my life I have given up chocolate, coffee, red meat, and most sweets but Dr. Atkins and I could never be friends because I will never give up bread. (It’s probably my biggest enemy when it comes to my weight.) Mint iced tea, with no sugar, is a new love of mine. I make it with mint I’ve grown in my garden and a vanilla black tea...it doesn’t need to be sweet. My son and I are on a search for the best oatmeal raisin cookie in the world. Any suggestions? Also, anything in it’s most natural form...steamed veggies, herbed pasta, raw fruit au jus. It’s how they are at their best.

Four people that I would like to tag:
Since most of my blog friends have already been tagged, I’m going to do my own interpretation of this question...
Four people, living or dead, real or fiction, whose blogs I’d like to read and whose answers I would love to know:
My most recent addiction has been a rediscovery of Jane Austen. I think she would write an amazing daily blog about her life at the turn of her century. Maybe she would even try out story plots on us, hooking us in so we would have to go out and buy the book. I would love to have a president (not this one) who was open enough to let us in on his/her daily life and maybe a bit about the “why’s” of some choices and decisions they make. Carrie Bradshaw is totally a blogger hidden in a journalist. Her column would transition nicely to the blog format and then she would get feedback from women world wide. Sex and the Earth, anyone? (Fashion advice would be an additional bonus.) Finally, maybe someone like Gandhi or Mother Teresa. I know, pretty obvious but think of what the blogosphere could have done for them. Their thoughts could have reached beyond their physical presence, not to mention the fact that many people would subscribe to a daily “Words of Inspiration” email that could raise money in ways that they had never dreamed of.

Well, there is my turn being “it” in an adult game of tag. Game shows may come and go, but nothing beats the companionship a good group game has to offer. And while blogging may not seem like a group sport, it is defiantly an activity that has allowed me to interact with people who I would never have met in the course of my life and forge friendships through shared ideas and written conversation. Isn’t that what playing a game is all about? Interacting and having fun?...and maybe, depending on the environment, winning 1 million dollars!

I would just like to mention a word of thanks to members of my blog community who have gotten me through my 29th year in the world...As I approach my 30th birthday next week, Calady, Brilke, Ms Place, Marius, Eric 3000, Linda Merrill, Laz, Other Eric, and the many others who don't even know that I enjoy their words daily, thank you for inspiration, laughter, friendship, and everything else! Keep it comin!

I...Can't...Look...Away

2007-07-24T15:28:00.001-05:00

As I’m sitting here trying to get my weekly inspiration for something to write about I have one of my favorite television networks on in the background, BRAVO...like you couldn't guess. Fortunately, I’m not paying much attention because on it right now is one of the worst shows the network puts out into this media driven world...you all know which one I’m talking about...that’s right...Hey Paula. I do write for a few blogs that are devoted to one or more of the many reality shows that headline the network’s lineup, but this catastrophe I refuse to watch on a regular basis. One reason is that it’s actually on at the same time as a new favorite of mine, Burn Notice. (I’ll pause for a Donovan moment.) But mainly it’s because...it’s a disaster. I’m not going to go where many of the media outlets are because speculating about someone’s issues or why someone has issues is not really my desire. What I will say though is that she does have issues, so it turns the show into a car crash that, of course, we all are weirdly drawn to. And I have to ask...where are the people who care about her? She is surrounded by a group of people whose paycheck she signs and obviously has an agent who is allowing her to do this show. Do these people have natural instincts or have they been bred out of the gene pool along with caring for those who are having trouble caring for themselves?

I feel about this the same way I used to feel about nature documentaries as a child. What am I saying? I still hate nature documentaries. The baby zebra, giraffe, or elephant stands by their parent as the lion, hyena, or cheetah stalks in the background...you know the rest. As a little girl I always reasoned that the photographer was there why didn’t he step into to save the baby? I know, natural selection, allowing it to take it’s course, yada yada yada. But is it the same thing with humans...do we give someone whose struggling a hand or enough rope to hang themselves? Aren’t we suppose to be the only animal on earth that helps and heals it’s weak instead of casting them out of the tribe or, in the case of TV, voting them off the island?

When I was in elementary school there was a girl who made my life miserable. Fortunately, she didn’t go to the same middle school as I did but not to worry, there were many more girls around to make my life equally as bad. Anyway, she was that little girl who was just plain mean but many others who were afraid to be on the wrong side of her wrath followed her around like a flock of cackling hens and added to the misery. Originally, I wasn’t even on her radar. I was the “middle ground” kid at first, wasn’t a friend but also wasn’t a threat so I was basically ignored. That was until the day I couldn’t take it anymore. My class was on the playground one afternoon and it just so happened that the “special class” was out too. Every school had this class. They weren’t the kids with hugely obvious problems, just maybe a little slow or distracted, what we now know is ADD. And there was the one girl who not only was in this class, her parents were not the wealthiest on the block so she was lacking a stylish wardrobe that may have kept her out of the “mean girl’s” target. On this particular day Miss Mean was tormenting this poor girl, it was like every bad cheetah hunt I’d ever seen on National Geographic. I know, you’re all standing there looking at me look at her screaming “Don’t do it!”, but I did.

I just couldn’t ignore the high pitched cries on the dying prey. So, a few weeks later when it was me being tortured in the school yard and no one came to my rescue, I realized that I was alone in a world of rubberneckers who can’t turn away but fear the results of interfering in the path that someone else's life has taken. We wish to stand anonymous amist a world of “peeping Toms” and judge from our hiding places....a.k.a. the popularity of the reality television genre. Hey, I admit to my addictions, because those people signed up for it, as did Paula. But you know how they have the murder defense of “insanity” and if the lawyer can prove that his client was out of their mind at the time of the act, then they get a certain amount of leniency? Or when you sign something that’s life changing (divorce papers, wedding certificates, or advance directives) you need someone there to witness the fact that you were in your right mind when you signed it? This should be a requirement for signing up for a reality show, especially when it’s going to be completely based around your life.

And if you consider yourself a friend, loved one, employee, or even an estranged family member, it should be your obligation. If you get done with lunch and they have spinach in their teeth, tell them. If they’re gonna buy a orange polka-dot dress that is 2 sizes too small, stop them. If they agree to marry someone who you know has cheated on them...several times, warn them. And if they’re about to walk into traffic blindly, assuring instant death, by all means grab their hand and yank them back onto the sidewalk. It’s the least you can do.

Paula is missing this person from her entourage...Hairdresser? Check. Make-up artist? Check. Agent? Check. Employee whose going to stop me from publicly humiliating myself...again, therefore potentially saving my career and my livelihood? Ooooo, she definitely needs to run an ad on Monster.com. “Bminus-list celebrity looking for an individual capable of keeping me from destroying my career with bad choices that are dooming me to fall into the C-List or below. You must have no other focus than me and my life, since I have trouble focusing on it myself. Nights required as I don’t sleep and you must always carry pocket change since my main food source is vending machines. Please, call with inquiries., because I have 6 or 7 people working for me already who have phones but other than that are completely useless.”

Patience is a Lost Virtue

2007-07-17T16:39:00.000-05:00

As I was driving to get bagels on Sunday morning a sign at a local fast food place.... Wendy’s, ahem...caught my eye. It was advertising the fact that their drive-thru now stay’s open to 2 am. All I could think was how many of us need a Wendy’s frosty at 1:45 in the morning. While I can remember a time in my early twenties when I was working late hours at the arts center that a frosty as I headed home after an event would have been refreshing, it honestly wasn’t something I actually needed to have. I could wait till the next day. Anyway, this started me thinking about patience. How very Guns N’Roses of me, I know. We’re all so busy trying to get somewhere, save time, and accomplish things as quickly as possible, that the trait of “patience” is almost nonexistent. What happened the sweet anticipation of the wait?

This fast food need for instant gratification is the first in my range of 3 types of patience. This is the one you’re not willing to have and you really don’t need to because this ‘’futuristic” society of iPhones, free overnight shipping, and instant weight loss pills has made it easy to have our time tables met. And while a certain amount of personal well being and proprieties were sacrificed, this patience was lost by our culture years ago and with the advances being made in technology really doesn’t have a chance in being rediscovered.

The second type of patience is one that defines the person and the style in which they live their lives. It’s where the irony in our culture becomes amusing since that which many label luxurious, expensive or even priceless are usually those things which have aged in some way. For example, antiques and fine art gain value as the years go by and society moves further away from where it was when the piece was originally crafted. Also, it’s a lengthy process to make a fine wine or a good alcohol, which involves it just sitting for years to create the desired flavor. And diamonds are at their best when they have sat under intense pressure for centuries. All of these things take time and though many have tried, speeding up the system doesn’t replicate the value. This is what I call the “optional patience”, for everyone chooses for themselves what they are going to value in this world.

Finally, the type of patience that nobody wants but you can’t avoid. There are two memorable times I’ve experienced this. Once was in having my child. Much as I would’ve loved to have gotten it over with as soon as possible 9 months is 9 months is 9 months. Even the Virgin Mary had to wait 9 months and her baby’s daddy was God. In retrospect those months were as vital for my development as they were for the baby’s. It was a necessary wait because I wouldn’t have been ready for or bonded to the child inside me without it. So, while frustrating, it was a good experience with patience. The second time is one I’m currently carrying, and I wouldn’t curse it on anyone, even though as I write thousands across our nation are sharing this “patience” with me.

A month ago I got an email from my best friend. He’s the one who, besides my family, has been in my life the longest and has seen me through my ups and downs. We aren’t “everyday” friends anymore, we have the type of friendship where touching base once in a while reminds you that someone out there in the world is pulling for you and thinking of you often. That day he was writing to tell me he was going back. As a ranked officer in the Army he has been many places in this world and is no stranger to the war going on in Iraq. In fact, 4 years ago as I was getting married he was lying next to his supply vehicle listening to the first bomb raids of the war take place less than a mile away. So, this is a wait that I’m used to but it never gets easier. He’s there now and will soon fall into the pattern that will be his daily life for the next 18 months, and I will go back into my pattern of thinking of him once or twice a day and occasionally glancing upward hoping for some kinda of support from a God I question regularly. And then there will be the moments where I stop breathing as the news flashes US casualties across their evening reports. This is war...it involves alot of patience and what feels like a slowing of time for those of us left behind by someone we love. It’s actually a patience that outlasts all time, cultures, and developments.

Waiting can be, as Tom Petty says, “the hardest part.” And though there are all sorts of things to fill my day, things that can’t wait like bills, laundry, my son, and every other task that daily life requires, there is no speeding up the next year and a half of my life to make sure he’s safe. And not even a 2 am frosty can ease that wait.

The Beautiful People

2007-07-10T16:26:00.003-05:00

There are many sides to my personality, several of them wouldn’t be considered “girlie”, however if I do have a “girlie” weakness it would have to be movies in the romantic comedy genre. I’ll watch them all and the ones I love I’ll watch over and over...my poor husband. Let’s take this summer’s upcoming release No Reservations. While Catherine Zeta-Jones is not my favorite actress her love interest in the film is played by Aaron Eckhardt, who has gain my respect as an actor through performances in Erin Brockovich, In the Company of Men and Thank You for Smoking as well as many hot magazine photos. So for that reason and the fact that it’s about chefs (cooking is a hobby of mine) I was looking forward to this film. That was until is was pointed out to me by a better informed friend that this was in fact a remake of a German film called Mostly Martha. Now that alone wouldn’t have stopped me from loving the remake, but then I check out the write up about it at IMBd. Here I learned that Aaron’s character in the original film was played by Sergio Castellitto, a 54 year old Italian actor whose looks are...unconventional. This is not the first time I’ve seen something like this, beautifying the characters for an American audience.

Recently one of my favorite British comedies was rewritten for a pilot on our Fox network. In translation, The Vicar of Dibly went from being played by Dawn French, a larger woman with comic talent coming out of her you-know-where, to a recently much skinnier and less funny Kirstie Alley. Fortunately for America, Fox chose not to pick up the sitcom and as far as I know the pilot is in someone’s trash can. I need to ask, though, why? Why do production companies feel the need to pretty things up for us? Are we really that superficial, only watching “beautiful people”?

In a desire to prove this theory right or wrong I took a gander at the movies topping this weeks box office to see who was starring in them:

Transformers-Leading this cast through a world battle against characters I haven’t seen since the 1980’s Saturday morning cartoons is boyishly cute Shia LaBeouf, perfectly plucked Megan Fox, dashingly rugged Josh Duhamel, and Tyrese Gibson, who is known for his godlike cut body.

Ratatouille- A comic cartoon about a gourmet rat...I think animated animals might be an exception.

Live Free or Die Hard- Yes, Bruce Willis is now a balding man in his 50’s but he’s looking more ripped than ever and he’s leading beautiful Timothy Olyphant through this Die Hard addition.

License to Wed- I know what your thinking...Robin Williams is a short hairy man. What’s so attractive about him? Nothing, except he’s the comic relief in this wedding catastrophe. The “lovers” are Mandy Moore, known for redefining the “girl next door” as hot, and John Krasinski, who is described as “tall and handsome”.

Evan Almighty- One of my biggest pet peeves in comic films and sitcoms: the not so attractive, annoying guy married to the stunningly beautiful, tolerant wife. This film is no acceptation pitting average looking Steve Carell with the more than above average Lauren Graham. Though I do think that women, when dating, are more accepting than men...20-something men, I find the difference that we are suppose to believe happens as men age verses women aging is ridiculous. Women actually age with their men...or is that just me?

As you can see we really flock to the spoon-fed ideal that studio executives throw at us. And it’s really not even limited to movies and TV. This perfection is perpetuated by magazines, advertisements, news outlets (ever seen a fat, ugly anchor) and even books...go ahead read the descriptions of main characters in romance novels. Types who look like people I know are usually comic, evil, gassy, best friends, relatives, bosses, and annoying coworkers, all defined as “character” actors. Even roles that are defined as average are not played by average people. Bridget Jones’s Diary and The Hours both had opportunities for talented “character” actors, but were given to Hollywood beauties who then had to work to completely change their appearances.

Where am I? I want to see a movie or tv show where someone who actually looks like the guy on the street falls in love, saves the world, or even becomes famous. (Oh and can it not have the label “Independent”?...even though standard Hollywood stars are infiltrating that genre too). Even the “reality” genre is becoming more exclusive, unless the world is becoming more pretty. Go ahead, if you don’t believe me, take a gander at the new season’s cast of Big Brother..then change the channel quickly.

Since I can’t seem to figure this one out or hope for a nationwide solution, for now I’m going to stick to my British comedies, Mystery and Jane Austen mini-series. And if anyone has a suggestion of any other great romances I can find to fulfill my “girlie” needs for the time being, it would be greatly appreciated?

President "Average"

2007-07-03T15:17:00.001-05:00

It seems that many staffers over at “John McCain For President” headquarters lost their jobs yesterday after a failed three month fundraising campaign. While other hopefuls were bringing in three to four times the amount John was left with a measly $2M in his election account. Well, the kids in my neighborhood who go door to door with wrapping paper and candy would be thrilled. I do understand that to run for president having millions of billions is a necessity, and now all the major media outlets are questioning McCain’s chances at the nomination, however it does make me wonder. Our national debt this instant as I am writing is $8,869,270,164,871.86. If all the current candidates got together and took their campaign funds that currently total $159,893,469 (as of the end of the first quarter of the year...new numbers will be out in July) we could take a small chunk out of that debt or at least buy several Americans decent healthcare for the rest of the year. I could be wrong but I don’t think our founding fathers wanted only those with money, or those who have close “friends” with money, to run for president. I thought running for president was about feeling that you were the best person with the best ideas to keep the people of this country safe, healthy, and employed. I know...try to keep the laughter to a minimum. I have to ask though...Where are the real candidates with solutions to real problems?

Have any of these people struggled to keep food on the table for their families or wondered how they were going to pay to get their kids through college? Have any of them had to live without health insurance during a pregnancy or an unexpected hospital stay? Have any lost their job unexpectedly?...well maybe, by not being reelected. I just wonder where the average “Joe” (or Jane) is.

As I write this on a sunny, summer Tuesday in July, sitting here with my windows open, I listen to the garbage truck picking up my trash, a couple lawn mowers grinding away in the background, and my 19 month old making “I’m up” sounds from his bedroom. My husband is out god-knows-where, driving to the next stop on his endless schedule of horses that need shoes, trying to keep the money coming in so we can live a fairly normal existence and also keep fuel in his truck...so he can keep working. My new neighbors are about to move into the house across the street, their first. They are a family of seven and the house only has two bedrooms but it’s what they can afford and they seem really excited about it. I’m also making a list of things I need to get done today since tomorrow is the 4th and the banks aren’t open so my list just got longer...I don’t really even have the time to be sitting here writing this...and I’m a stay-at-home mom. What average American, who is barely making ends meet in a two income household, has the leisure time to think of running for president? And, while most candidates’ money is fundraised, it takes money to earn money...prime the pump, so to speak...what bill do we not pay to put money towards an election commercial?

We, the collective lower two thirds of the class scale, are so busy in our daily lives and schedules that the idea of throwing that all into upheaval for the purpose of running for office is laughable. Even if we have a little extra money to play with, the current course of the country is such that it’s more likely we’ll think to our individual futures before we consider gambling on the chance that we alone could change everyone’s future. And gambling is really what it comes down to. The average American would have to gamble not just money, but everything. For example, it’s fortunate that all the current candidates either work for the government or are retired from working for the government because what other “boss” is going to give you two and half years off so you can look into getting another job? And then if you are passed over for that position, what boss would welcome you back with open arms? The average person would basically have to quit his/her job, not eat, sell their home, take out a loan and then default on it to even have a shot at being noticed as a political candidate. Getting elected would probably have to be an act of god.

So, what am I saying? That all politicians are bored multimillionaires with nothing else to do with their time? Possibly, but not really. I think I’m saying that not worrying where your next paycheck is coming from allows you to expand your possibilities with less fear of failure, this however does limit who can run for office. Therefore, begging the question...does this make them the best people for the job?...I don’t have an answer for that. You’ll have to work it out for yourself. Personally, I would like to think that we each know someone who would be a great president, someone who holds the qualities that we think the leader of the free world would need. For me it’s probably my husband...for reasons too long to go into and since I don't think he needs a bigger head I'll leave it at that. Anyway, I guess that means I have to find those qualities in a 2008 candidate, because unless there’s an account somewhere that I don’t know about, my husband won’t be running anytime soon.

Nothing Personal

2007-06-26T17:06:00.001-05:00

You know, fashion gets me in trouble often. Concepts like “I can’t live without those shoes” or “They’re having a big sale, that means I won’t spend as much” have tricked my Kenneth Cole wallet into some tight situations. Other times trusting magazine’s ideas like “These jeans will make you look thin” or “Fuchsia is the new black” have lead me down the path of a fashion “don’t”. But it seems that Cameron Diaz’s fashion has her issuing public apologies to an entire nation. During her recent “Shrek” promotional tour, Cameron was seen in Peru sporting a messenger bag decorated with a famous political slogan from Communist leader Mao Zedong. The nation had suffered much persecution in the late 80’s and early 90’s from the Shining Path, a Maoist guerilla organization. So, when an American starlet shows up carrying a pouch that says “Serve the People”, while in the US that could be a wonderful statement to our government, in Peru it reminds them of years of assassinations and mass murder. While having to say “I’m sorry” to an entire nation isn’t exactly a positive, at least she knew about the insult. How many times in our lives have we insulted someone and not known it till later...if ever? or have we been insulted and never let that person know?

My sister and I have been doing this to each other for years, however public and, for that matter, private apologies are rare. While we might have the same parents our personalities, likes/dislikes, and life goals are very different and makes me regularly question how we actually grew up in the same house. My sister is a definite type “AA” personality. I say “AA” because even though I have an “A” in my personality I also sport a “B” about certain subjects. And while she is someone who can’t live without daily, weekly, and lifelong goals, I shy away from anything that has to do with actually scheduling blocks of my time. If I don’t know weeks ahead that I have to go somewhere, I’m not going, no matter how good the offer.

Anyway, the most recent of these ‘insulting situations” was during her latest visit to town. She and her husband are hoping to move back here within the next year and with a daughter going into her third year shool districts are very important when looking for homes. So as we were driving around we got into a discussion about exactly that...schools and education.

Before I continue with this story let me tell you the main difference between my sister’s and my youth. I went to private school while she went to pubic. The reason being that when I hit middle school I fell apart, didn’t fit in and generally behaved badly. My sister on the other hand always had friends and was an “A” student...there’s that letter again. Ultimately, we both had positive experiences so, of course, we want that for our children.

You can probably guess how the discussion went. It was very light hearted at first but things were said...things that I can’t remember, and somehow I started feeling as if she was insulting the education I had received. Instead of stopping the conversation to ask “Hey, did you mean to say that the way it sounded?”, I proceeded to change my tone to reflect what I thought I heard in hers. And now we’re insulting each other and the conversation went on like that. If we had just stopped and asked the question we would not have entered the cycle we’ve been cycling since I could talk. Even if it wasn’t a question and one of us just said “Hey, you just hurt my feelings” things might not have escalated.

Why is it so hard to let some one know they’ve hurt or insulted us? Are we afraid to find out that they don’t care? I mean, we flip the bird at anyone who dares do us wrong on the highway...but face to face it’s far harder. Maybe because face to face we risk that awkward moment where the person must then make the choice to apologize or defend their words. Or maybe its because by confronting them we risk hurting their feelings and now we’re in a different cycle. The human psyche is amazingly fragile considering the front we like to put up. A common phrase that gets thrown around but I really don’t like to use is “Nothing personal but...” It and it’s many forms (“I don’t want to get personal, but...” or “Don’t mean to sound personal, but...”) are usually a prefix to something that is very personal. And isn’t most interaction personal? I mean we are “persons”.

So, as I work on my ability to speak up when it comes to my relationship with my sister, I’m glad to see that apologizing to an entire nation is not a career ender as Shrek the Third is still on the top 10 list in the box-office this week. I mean, if the nation of Peru can ask an actress who makes 15 million a film for an apology and she can give it respectively and graciously then I think I can handle my insults given and taken with a little personal style and humility. I’m sorry if I’ve ever insulted anyone here...see....good start.

"Stuff" Filter

2007-06-19T17:13:00.000-05:00

My husband has a new favorite show. A&E just came out with their latest addition to the reality genre called Confessions of a Matchmaker and let me just say I haven’t seen him laugh that long and hard in months. The show follows matchmaker Patti Novak in her quest to find her clients the love of their lives in breezy Buffalo, New York. Needless to say she runs into some real winners in this process and while others might handle the situation with kits gloves, Patti likes to lay it all on the line. In the premiere episode her client John, a 41 year old virgin, presents her with the challenge of having to out someone, which she handles with all the grace of an elephant. Come on, is there a good way to tell someone they’re gay? But believe it or not, that was not this guys main problem. During the episode John goes out on two dates, one with a woman and one with a man, and on both dates he proceeds to introduce them to his “vestibule of crap”.

Let me define this for you. When I say “vestibule of crap” I’m referring to people who instead on storing all their “excess baggage”, personal history, and “dirty secrets” in the basement, attic or even a hall closet, they dump it right in the foyer where everyone who walks in is greeted with it. They don’t realize that, while eventually these things do need to be shared, it’s just not necessary on the first date or initial meeting. This can be just as literal a problem among people, although I want to focus on the figurative. Here, I'll use examples...

I had a friend (notice the word “had”) who was married and, at the time, mother of a newborn. She would invite me over to her house and I would cringe as I pulled up front. It wasn’t a big house but it was a good size for the three of them, with a full attic and basement. But for some reason whenever you walked in the door you were instantly confronted with a mountain of stuff: shoes, jackets, bags of god-knows-what, camping equipment, cases of beer. If I didn’t know them I probably could have sat down on the doormat, sorted through the piles, and basically told your their life story. On the other hand, I have an acquaintance who, I have no idea what her house looks like, but I know when her husband calls her “fat” or what obnoxious thing he said when he wanted sex the other night. This is what many of my friends call “TMI” (Too Much Information). If you’re a tight group maybe, but distant friends just don’t need to know this stuff.

Taking this problem on a date with you, especially a first date, can predict a disastrous evening. People like the illusion of a clean slate, even though we know it’s gonna get dirty, we want to feel like the other person is ready to get it dirty with us.

Now, I have a confession to make...I was a bad date! I was horrible at dating and in fact really didn’t want to date. I wanted a boyfriend and when that relationship was over I wanted another boyfriend. I have a good friend who is recently back on the market because her newly ex-husband was an "infant" (I could be more vile but will try to take the high road). She is being so healthy about it. In a recent phone conversation, she told me that while she’s ready for some companionship she doesn’t want a strong commitment for awhile. I envy her position. When I was single there were several times that I should have had that attitude but couldn’t. So, instead I engaged my “vestibule of crap” as a tactic, the difference being that I knew I was spewing “TMI”. I used all my baggage and history to sort out the guys who wouldn’t put up with my issues from the guys who were willing to see what was in my den (note “den”, not “bedroom”...you don’t want those guys either!...well, not long term.) Incidentally, this was never done on a date. Sometimes it was a phone conversation or a casual chat at work. Dates only came after the verbal “front door trash”. If they could get through my messy entry they might sit down and stay awhile, maybe out of desire or maybe because they couldn’t find the door through all that stuff. God only knows how or why my husband decided to stay. Maybe because my “stuff” match up evenly with his “stuff” (You should have seen his place when we got together...unkempt is an understatement) or maybe my entry was alot less intimidating than I thought it was. Either way, looking back, I consider myself pretty lucky not to have weeded out the good one.

For now my advice to my friend and anyone else on the dating scene is don’t follow my...or 41 year old virgin, John’s example. Keep the baggage packed away for at least the first couple of dates, unless it’s that you’re gay since that will greatly affect the outcome of the situation. But don’t be afraid to put it out there sooner than later, because while the illusion of perfection is nice, we all know that no one is perfect so reason would tell you that everyone has flaws and sharing them is one of the truest forms of intimacy.

Oh, and one more thing, if you’re gonna invite your date in for coffee or an after dinner drink or something else...clean up your foyer...literal “stuff” can be just as big of a turn off! If you need more advice all I can say is go ask Patti.

Woman's Debate in 120 Minutes

2007-06-11T19:19:00.000-05:00

You know those nights when you wake up and no matter what you just can’t go back to sleep. You have a choice you can take Lunesta and not wake up until noon or you can turn on the TV with hopes of finding a movie slow enough to make you go back to sleep. That’s what I did the other night only I didn’t choose a slow movie. Before she became “President of the United States”,Geena Davis played Samantha Cain, a once spy turned mommy after a bout of amnesia. The Long Kiss Goodnight was the 1996 female answer to the Die Hard Trilogy, coming a year after Die Hard 3: Die Hard With a Vengeance (it also shares the same director as Die Hard 2, Renny Harlin). Unfortunately, or not, it seems female action heroes don’t draw the audience that men do so there was never an opportunity for The Longer Kiss Goodnight or Kiss Me Goodbye...wait that was a romantic comedy with Sally Fields..sorry, anyway.

For those of you unfamiliar with this movie, after bumping her head, which starts to reverse the effects of the amnesia, and a really intense scene with vegetables and knives, Samantha realizes she needs to figure out who she once was because old “friends” have come knocking. With the help of Mitch, a detective played by Samuel L. Jackson, and a peroxide makeover Samantha, now Charly Baltimore, takes on her peers at her former place of business, the Chapter. There’s only one small problem, Caitlin, her 8 year old, played by the 90’s Dakota Fanning, Yvonne Zima, who many TV watchers know as Dr. Greene’s daughter, Rachel, on early seasons of ER. As Samantha transforms back into Charly, her mothering instinct starts to fade and give way to her survivor/killer one. She struggles with balancing her two half's into one functioning lifestyle, something all mothers can relate to. Not that I have killers showing up at my door, just being a mother shouldn’t be all that defines me, right? I mean, don’t I have a right to bake the cake and slice and dice it up before consuming it?

This character really embodies the “Mom” debate that has been going on ever since women saw they could become valued members of the American workforce. While, Samantha is the “home mom”, an active member of the PTA, Charly is very focused on the work she is invested in...not that she has much of a choice as men are shooting at her with automatic weapons. But while her choices are limited we as “everyday” moms have more wiggle room.

As a stay-at-home mom, I feel torn about my decision. I always believed that if I was going to have a child I was going to be at home with them until they reached school age. No judgment on anyone else, this is just my desires for my family. And I feel really fortunate to be able to be here for my son: playing, reading, and being that person he looks to with a smile when a moment of accomplishment comes along. But sometimes in the evening, as I’m cutting up veggies for dinner with my santoku knife, I find I have a secret desire to plunge that knife...no not really. I do, however, wonder where the person I was before having a child and getting married got to. It really is a form of amnesia. Memories of friends and boyfriends, jobs and events exist but start to feel alien, almost as if they were part of a former life, not a former decade.

I miss her. She seems, in my limited memory, to be a load cooler than this person I currently am who sits at home in a room full of tiny cars and plastic animals and is unable to function the next day if I’m not in bed before 11 pm. She had goals and plans for her future. She went out at moment’s notice and never let schedule dictate her fun. And, while Samantha needed Charly to help her with closure on her past, sometimes I think a good bump on the head might allow my past self to help me with my plans for the future. Her mind, lacking the limitations mine currently has, may be more creative with what possibilities exist around the corner for me.

Realistically, I know she’s in there...I know she’s me and the limitations I’ve set on myself are mine to lift, head bonking aside. I need to give her some room to breathe and maybe a little hope that the ideas she throws my way aren’t going to be wasted on a list of dreams. Who she wanted me to be and who I am can be married and the factors that exist in my life now are no danger to that union.

So, as the movie ends and we see Charly/Samantha sitting with her man, Hal (What a name!) in a beautiful country setting we realize she’s done it. Not only has she stopped the Chapter from taking thousands of civilian lives in a catastrophic event that oddly predicted the conspirator’s theories about what happened on 9/11, but she has also found the balance of her old life and new, mothering and also being a strong woman. And while there was no chance for Geena’s character to return in future sequels, I hope that my story has trilogy material. And who know's, if Die Hard can have a part 4...

This post is also a part of a Blog-a-thon over at Film Experience Blog! Try to check it out.

Can You Spell "Mature"?

2007-06-05T11:37:00.001-05:00

Lindsay Lohan is in rehab, Paris Hilton is in prison, and Britney Spears is in professional exile. It seems to me the media darlings are all crashing and burning around us and the paparazzi is loving it. What a world we live in. The idea that these girls, who are somebody’s child and each have 4th grade pictures somewhere with gawky teeth and rainbow sweaters, have hit rock bottom before the age of 27 is on the surface horrifying. But then again maybe that’s good: get rock bottom out of the way before your thirties? I mean since the 30’s are the new twenties then they’re really just acting out more teen angst.

And this is the idea that I really want to talk about. As I am on the cusp of my 30th birthday, one of the concepts that was working to make me feel better about leaving my 20’s was women in their 30’s being more respected, sophisticated, and worldly...without really trying. But now that the icons of the 20-something women are starring in their own sex videos and bouncing in and out of rehab, it seems the elders of the population (aka 40 and above) are taking back the label of "maturity" and reserving it for themselves.

“What does this mean for me?” I ask in a very selfish, 20-something fashion. I lived through my 20’s: horrible dates, employers who treat you like your IQ matches your age, random nights at bars, and that look you get when you’re trying to participate in an adult conversation where everyone else is over 35. Don’t I deserve to transition into my 30th year with grace and sophistication that demands the title of “woman”? And when I say woman, I don’t just mean someone with “the nature, characteristics, or feelings often attributed to women”(Dictionary.com Unabridged). I mean a person with all that stuff and then some: a mom, an intellectual, a beauty, a diva (not brat), etc. I feel like I’ve earned it, especially since I’ve never ended up in rehab or jail.

Why do we focus on the faults and define people by them? I find it interesting that these girls who are falling apart are in the media’s spotlight while Natalie Portman is traveling to third world countries as an Ambassador of Hope for FINCA International and Julia Stiles is serving on the Board of Directors for Amend.org. Do we as a nation have a pigeonhole for people to fit into and if they don’t we just disregard them? I know many women in my age group and stage who are married and raising a child or two. Many of them are also holding down a job as well because they have families in a nation where one salary can’t support that lifestyle. And they are also politically minded and socially aware. This is what makes you a woman...not your age or the tragedies that you have or have not endured (though I’m sure those help). It’s how you walk through the life your living that defines maturity. And while stumbling and falling doesn’t necessarily lose you maturity points, laying on the flooring a drunken stupor doesn’t help the cause of your females counterparts who are trying to get out of a stereotype in a world that needs you to stay there.

So, while I can’t stop my 30th from coming, I can make sure that however I spend that day it won’t be trashed and driving my car into somebody’s front yard or lip-syncing some song onstage in front of an inebriated crowd. And I can make the effort to forward the cause of the 30-something woman by carrying myself in a fashion that would please those that walk in the high-heeled footsteps before me. But to make sure I do it well...I think I need a new pair of shoes.

Resignation or Reason?

2007-05-29T16:11:00.000-05:00

This seems to be a week of strong women giving up. First, after a split screen confrontation between herself and right wing conservative, Elisabeth Hasselbeck, Rosie O'Donnell asked ABC to let her out of the final three weeks of her contract with The View. And yesterday, Cindy Sheehan, mother of Casey, a 24 year old soldier killed in Iraq, and peace movement leader, wrote a letter on the political blog, Daily Kos, saying that she is “resigning from her role” and giving up her fight against the war in Iraq due to disappointment in the Democratic party’s inability to hold the president to some kind of pull out plan. Now, you don’t have to agree with these two women’s beliefs or even their style of putting those beliefs out there, but we all can agree that they made their voices heard in a fashion that brought media attention to the desires of women in this country. There are just not that many female voices speaking political ideas in the main stream media. And that brings me to my question, if someone the likes of these two women, who both have passion for their thoughts and a soapbox that draws attention, can be knocked down and sent away with little more than a “Miss ya!”, what hope is there for my voice to be heard?

I have a tendency to zone out in front of Oprah at the end of the day, probably because that is when my son goes down for his nap and I actually get a chance to turn my “mom mode” down and my “woman mode” up. Somewhere between her “favorite things” and “Nate, the interior design guru” shows, I’ve seen a few of her episodes about Africa: her school for girls there and her episode with Barack Obama, who spoke of the horrible acts that are going on in the Darfur region of the Sudan. Stack all of that on top of the fact that this year we had the deadliest attack ever on a college campus and this month is in the running as one of the deadliest months for the US in Iraq since the war started, and one can see that it's an overwhelming world to be a part of right now, let alone be a woman and mother in. While I can be distracted by a good shopping trip for a pair of shoes or the feeling I have after a successful hair appointment, there is that little pang inside that wants to make change in the world around me and have those changes count for something.

I try my hardest to do my part: I recycle, stopped using plastic and paper bags at the grocery store, my husband is a letter writer (everyone from our governor to our congressman has heard from him) and I have made it my goal to choose an new organization every month to donate to. But is this enough?

Shouldn’t I be out there protesting this war in the streets? Will anyone listen if I go and stand in front of the White House with a sign that says “This War is a Waste”? Is there any hope for the changes I want to see when those who have tried are walking away in defeat?

Every night before I go to bed I check on my son, who is usually sprawled out in his crib completely uncovered and laying with one leg hanging out between the bars. As I pull him back into some semblance of comfort I am reminded of his innocence in not knowing the troubles that face him in this world and am overwhelmed with the clichéd motherly need to keep the world a place for him to safely grow old in.

So, I will do my part to not give into the easier path. I will vote and donate. I will try to hold up my end of the “conversation”. I will teach my child the importance of standing up for what you believe in no matter how hard you are pushed down, but also I will teach him self preservation and knowing when enough is enough; knowing when to give of oneself and knowing what to keep for oneself. And I will do the same for me.

As for Rosie and Cindy, I respect you. I respect your fight and I respect your retreat. To quote my new (like...today) favorite song by India Arie:

Every time I turn on the T.V. (There's Hope)
Somebody's acting crazy (There's Hope)
If you let it, it will drive you crazy (There's Hope)
but I'm takin' back my power today (There's Hope)
Gas prices they just keep on rising (There's Hope)
The government they keep on lying
but we gotta keep on surviving
Keep living our truth and do the best we can do

Stand up for your rights
Keep shining your light
And show the world your smile

What About Your Friends?

2007-05-22T16:42:00.000-05:00

My Mother’s Day gift from my son...my husband really...was the first three seasons of Sex and the City on DVD. Not jewelry, I know, but if you know anything about it, this gift was quite expensive. Now I know you’re thinking “Don’t they show it in reruns now? Why buy the DVDs?”. While those reruns are a good taste of the show, it’s not the same. Let’s be honest, Samantha is basically edited out of the entire show so it can be shown on basic cable. So anyway, needless to say, I am very excited. It’s like my girlfriend’s are back in town. I think alot of women felt that way about the show, hence it being so popular. It was like having a group of women to talk to or just relate with in a world where relationships like that are few and far between. What’s happening to us?

A few months ago I was looking through my grandmother’s photo album for a picture of her in her teens. As I searched I was reading all the captions and enjoying the laughter and comradery that came through the images: “Kitty and Essie at the beach-Summer 1941” under a photo of my grandmother and her friend giggling and looking like movie stars in their period bathing suits. There was page after page of these pictures. This was something she had throughout her entire life and beyond. Just the other day my mother got a call from one of my grandmother’s friends “Just to say ‘Hi’” and let my mom know how much she still missed my grandmother who passed away from cancer about 3 years ago. There was a group of them where she lived in her later years. They went to plays and garden shows and when one was sick they all rallied to be there for her or when one stopped being able to drive the others would take turns going to pick her up...eventually I think my grandmother was driving around and picking everyone up...and she wasn’t the best driver herself. That is friendship.

I just don’t have that kind of thing. I did for awhile as a single working girl. There were a bunch of us where I worked who all kept the same crazy hours so we would go out together. But really, after I quit and definitely after the wedding, they just all slowly fell away. My high school friends are scattered to the wind, my college friends I really never felt that close to, and now that I’m a stay-at-home-mom, I find myself alone most the time talking to a 18 month old child who really only barks back, thanks to my dogs (that’s a whole other post). It’s really kinda lonely.

What’s amazing to me, on a side note, is in a world where the population is increasing rapidly and another person is just a phone call, text message, or e-mail away, are we really growing further apart?

I was talking to a coworker of mine (when I do theater work every once in a long while) who just went through a divorce about 9 months ago and she was saying that she was ready to start dating. I told her I thought that was good because she had been so negative about the chance of getting married again. She paused and said that she still didn’t think she’d ever get married again; that being divorced was actually very freeing and that, while she would like someone to share moments with, she really enjoyed the freedom NOT being part of a pair allowed her.

That’s it really. I think when we get married or even commit to someone in that type of relationship we have a tendency to let all others slip away. We look to our partners for everything and frankly, that’s a ton of pressure. My husband is just not going to respond to my new purse the way a girlfriend would; he doesn’t want to hear how hot McSteamy was in last night’s episode of Grey’s Anatomy; and he definitely won’t be bias about the issues I’m having with...my husband. So, I guess I’ll have to keep my options open when it comes to finding friends. Maybe I’ll take out a wanted ad in the newspaper: MWF looking for other MWFs to have coffee with and talk about our husbands, children, and anything else of general interest. Do people read newspapers anymore?

Until then I guess I’ll be living vicariously through Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda. My four best friends will always be there for me just a remote control click away. With them, my shoes and I will never be without company.

Other People's "Property"

2007-05-15T11:04:00.000-05:00

If karma truly exists, then Paris Hilton’s just bit her in the ass. Yes, our little American princess, daughter of hotel royalty, is about to spend 45 days in prison. And while I feel a bit sorry for her situation I am also glad to see that justice is working across class lines...sometimes. Other’s are finally noticing Paris’ behavior as well. It seems that Candy Spelling, wife of the late Aaron Spelling and mother of Tori, has taken time out her own family feuds to write an “open letter” (meaning public) to Paris. In it she tells her that she’s worried about her, calling her courtroom explanations “silly excuses”, and hoping she’ll find a “Paris somewhere between 'heiress' and a character on The Simple Life." While it seems these two family’s have known each other for a little while, I wonder if this is a step over the line. How does Kathy feel about Candy’s public “mothering” of her child? How do any of us feel about stepping into a parenting role with a child that is not ours?

We’ve all had a situation like this, even if you aren’t a “biological” parent yet. Your at the mall shopping in your favorite store carefully looking through a rack when out of the corner of your eye you see a small child, alone, yanking shirts off their hangers. So you glance around and try to find a mother and maybe you see her at another rack throwing her child’s name threateningly over her shoulder but basically ignoring the problem. What do you do? Do you: step over the mess and walk away...it’s not your problem; say something to the mother like “Your child is sort of...” and gesture at the pile of clothing and hangers; or say something to the child using their name (which you now know) with hopes that a stranger’s criticism will hold some weight. Personally, I learned from my growing up with my mother, and have developed a glare that could knock you into tomorrow or at least send a child scampering to their mother’s side.

I would want someone to say something if my son was acting out in public. I am only human and while I can say I’ll never turn my back on him my husband has already stopped him from playing with an outlet that was two feet from where I was sitting at the time. There is the old saying: “It takes a village to raise a child” and sometimes I’m pretty sure that’s true. You just want to feel good about what the members of that “village” have to offer your children.

My neighbor doesn’t have children. He and his wife are our age but he is a touch controling...ahem... and I don’t think a child will fit into his sterile lifestyle. Anyway, we have a family of many children, I’ve never really been able to keep count, who live behind us and cut through our two yards to get home from school. Now we both have asked them on separate occasions not to cut through the property but they are kids and the part they are crossing is really more wooded than a part of the actually yard. So I really don’t want to make a big deal. My neighbor on the other hand has threatened, accused, approached the parents, approached their landlord, he may have even gone so far as to called the cops, I’m not sure. Last weekend he and the neighbors on his other side (who also don’t have kids) put up a wire fence and “NO TRESPASSING” signs. And when I say wire fence I mean those kind they have at the animal preserve where you stand and look out across a wooded and area and wait for something to appear since the tour guide insists there’s something in there...deer or prairie dogs. So now, when the kids drop a ball or something beyond the fence they can’t retrieve it and I have to put something up too...not because of the kids, but because I don’t want to stare at an ugly fence when I’m sitting in my yard.

I’m not saying his choices aren’t right, just anti-kid and really what are we teaching them? If their parents aren’t doing the right thing and teaching them about boundaries, then we need to keep at them, treating them as though they can learn not to walk on our property, without fences. Treating children, any children, as if they are capable of becoming better is important because they are growing up in the same world we are and as adults we will need to coexist in our “villages”. Wouldn't it be nice if these children became people who had children who didn’t trample across our yards or act out in public? It has to start somewhere.

So, hopefully Paris will learn something from her time in prison and when (and if) she has children they won’t drive without a license or worse, drunk. And maybe a public chastise from the likes of Candy Spelling will hit home Paris’ situation. Although, I really think it would be more effective coming from...well almost anyone else.

Welcome to the Human Race

2007-05-08T13:06:00.000-05:00

Last week David Hasselhoff added his name to a list of actors who have pulled weird parenting maneuvers. For the three of you living under a bucket, he told his 16 year old daughter to video tape him if he ever fell off the AA bandwagon. So, she did and we have been inundated with images of David laying on the floor trying to eat a hamburger while his daughter threatens to never speak to him again. Ok...his first mistake was probably making a video because somewhere in Hollywood is a “vault” that holds famous people having sex, getting arrested, and verbally abusing the paparazzi...if it’s been taped it will get out. Just ask Alec Baldwin. His angry voicemail to his 13 year old daughter has placed him on some people’s “Bad Parent for Life” list. And while I think calling your child a “pig” is a bit out of hand, I have to ask...haven’t I done worse?

One of the first things that happens when we hit puberty is we start to realize our parents are not the super heros our 7 year old selves thought they were. Most the time, in the teen years, they’re just wrong. But then sometime in our twenties, maybe after we have children or even before, we stop thinking they’re wrong and begin to define them as human. My big thing right now is feeling ”adult”. When does that happen? It didn’t happen when I graduated college or got married. It defiantly didn’t happen when I got pregnant...as I stood in the shower after reading the home test results trying to overcome the “pregnancy=bad” equation I had gotten so use to. I may have gotten a small glimpse of it after giving birth, but any glimmer of hope that gave me was wiped away 5 minutes ago when I told my toddler “No!” and he smirked in my face. So really for me the line between child and adult is highly blurred. I think we need to redefine ourselves as “small human” and “big human”. Because even as a big human I make mistakes.

I’ve already talked a bit about my son’s finger incident and let me tell you, if someone had been filming that moment...they would have taken my child away. Let’s not talk about the mumblings I say to myself behind a closed bedroom or bathroom door on a bad day. Words that as a small human would have gotten my mouth washed out with every type of soap my mother could find. If those were tape recorded and played for the public it would ruin me as a mom and a person.

I think one of the only things holding the wall up between big human and small human is self control. The fact that nine out of the ten times that I want to scream bad words at a situation I know enough to walk into a bathroom, bedroom, or just away helps to define me as an adult. Where a child might say to someone who is annoying them “You are a poopy head, and I hope you die!” as an adult we must censor those comments for more appropriate times. And guess what? Sometime we’re going to fail. We’re going to slam that door at the wrong time, say those hurtful words or even take that drink. Here comes another “support beam” for that “wall”: what matters is what we do next. Can we pick ourselves up? Apologize for our mistakes? Take responsibility? And learn from them?...or do we drown in it as if the world just ended.

David and Alec have a lot to overcome, but then don’t we all. And each stumble back into the world of small human only means a few more steps to return to big human status. Maybe that’s what is meant by the term “human race”: the steps we take or retake on the way to the finish line aren’t easy and involve a few hurdles now and then. And nobody wins and nobody loses...because hey, small, big, tall, short, fat, skinny, rich, poor...we’re all just human in the end.

Play the Hand You're Dealt

2007-05-01T09:58:00.000-05:00

Every morning I get up and accomplish a number of tasks: wake my son, give him a bottle, wake my husband, check my email, have breakfast, wake my husband, pick up my son’s toys, wake my husband, feed my son, read him a book, put him down for a nap, and exercise. These are not necessarily in the same order every morning but one thing stays the same: my exercise. Why? Because I love to do it every morning while watching The View. For those of you who don’t know each episode starts out with about 20 minutes of what they call “Hot Topics” which are current events...everything from Bush’s latest misstep to who got kicked off American Idol. Let me be clear I haven’t always watched this show, but ever since Rosie O’Donnell has joined the table I’ve been unable to miss a morning. You can love to love her or love to hate her but one thing is for certain, she brings things to life. I’m sure you have been unable to miss all the fall out from her thoughts and ideas...the media loves to cover, and twist at times, what she said about everything from Donald Trump to asian people to 9/11. But most recently what the media is gabbing about is her leaving the show after only one year and the “whys” of it?

Well, it’s obvious that many people would like to take credit for Rosie’s leaving...even though she has said that she never planned on being there for more than a year and really what happened was negotiation for a shorter contract on her part fell through since ABC network wanted her for 3 more years. People like Trump have said she was fired or that she and/or the network buckled under pressure from certain individuals for her to take her leave. And though Rosie has said that none of these people have had any affect on her decision, I wonder? Not that I doubt her truth. I am just thinking about how much the negative attention she's gotten helped tip the scales.

When I left my job as Events Manager at a local arts center the main reason was because I had met my husband and with him working 6 in the morning to 6 at night and my working 5 in the afternoon to 2 in the morning pretty regularly the relationship would never have truly had a chance and lets just face it, after 3 years of keeping those hours, I was exhausted. But that doesn’t mean that my boss pressuring me to be at the center an average of 60 hours a week with no raise in pay, adding many of his responsibilities to my work load, and reminding me that I “really wasn’t qualified” for the job in the first place didn’t add an extra level of ease to my resignation. And of course I would be ignorant if I didn’t realize that was part of his intention. They completely changed the job after I left. The girl who has had it for the past 6 years is known as Assistant Production Manager...oh and did I fail to mention my boss was the Production Manager?

Why do people do that? Make each other’s lives to uncomfortable that only a masochist would stay in that situation. Why can’t we offer critique without criticism? guidance without glib? or opinion without opposition?

Even after several years and at least 3 other jobs I look back and wish I hadn’t let him get the better of me. I feel a bit like I failed because there was so much about that job that I was great at and loved: the company’s I worked with; the planning and execution of concerts, galas and large corporate events; the pulse that comes along at 2 am after a night of crazy mishaps that never surfaced to my boss because I handled them. All these things are pieces of the feeling that you are a part of something, an important part. I let him take that away to an extent. If I had been in a different situation, maybe a little older and it hadn’t been my first “adult” job maybe I would have stood my ground a bit more and understood my rights as an employee better. But I have to admit that in the long run I’ve moved onto bigger and better things that would not have been possible while working in that job with those hours.

Maybe that’s what Rosie is saying to herself...she’s been here, done it...twice, and probably wouldn’t have to work a day for the rest of her life if she didn’t want to. And with small children at home and charities to run do you really need to put up with nosey media and self righteous individuals trying to drag you into unnecessary confrontations? Way to “trump” the hand! I guess now I'll have to find something else to distract me from my exercise monotony...hmmm...

Think Fit?

2007-04-23T17:36:00.000-05:00

I am a magazine-aholic. My husband keeps saying that it would be cheaper for me to subscribe to all of them than keep picking each up on my grocery store visits. And yes, I know he’s right but there is one downfall with that idea. I don’t buy the same magazines every month. They have to call to me. Something on the cover has to catch my attention. Take, for example, this month’s Glamour. The largest story on the cover of the May issue is “The New Sexy Body: Healthy, Strong, & Real”, so I just had to read this issue. Not because I consider myself healthy, sexy or strong...but I would like to think I’m real so I bought it.

One question that went through my mind as I’m standing in the checkout line staring at the cover is that the “new” sexy body is healthy and strong. When I was in school women like Christie Brinkley, Daisy Fuentes, and Gabriella Reese were these uber-goddesses with curves. Kate Moss was an odd, eighteen year old Calvin Klien ad that was not the norm. So isn’t this just a return from the alien planet of skin and bones?

The first thing that caught my eye was in their “Do’s, Don'ts, News, and Views”. There’s a section that’s titled “Pregnant and Proud? That’s a Do” and of course that is a “do”, right? But then the section goes on to talk about famous women who were dumped right smack in the middle of their pregnancies. Now I’m thinking if Bridget Moynahan can’t hold onto her man pregnant, what hope is there for the rest of us as we get bigger and bigger...(I’m not announcing anything here...mom.) And for those of you who think it only happens among the famous and vain, I have a girlfriend who could tell you otherwise.

Anyway, they lead you through all these articles that show healthy at every size, the right bathing suit for every body, and even a spread of famous women at every figure scantily dressed. All these leaving me as an average sized (12) woman feeling pretty good. But just as I thought they had done a successful layout...even the ads featured more womanly shapes than usual...I find an article written on one page hidden between ads for got2b hair care products and Toyota Camrys. The article was titled “When Diets Don’t Work” and is an interview with science writer Gina Kolata who has written the book “Rethinking Thin”. The author talks about how some people can’t and probably won’t get thin no matter how hard they try. What? Her theory is that weight is carried in the genes and that you will only be as thin as your body lets you. So now, not only is my body the bane of my existence, it’s actually fighting against me.

I, like many other mommies, am struggling with my baby weight. It took me a year to realize that I was not loosing it, no matter what I did, and after asking my doctor I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism. Yay! Now there’s a reason and I have a magic pill that will make things better. No, no...I’m still on my stair stepper 6 days a week climbing with the hopes that at the top of this endless flight will be a smaller woman who looks like me. It’s not completely in vain since I’ve lost an inch in my waist....an inch? Are you kidding me? And now I find out that maybe I’m not going to be that woman because my body says so.

Yah know...I really hate feeling that the truth behind this entire issue of Glamour was to make you ok about your weight because...hey you’re stuck with it! Yikes. Please don’t get me wrong. I really think that varying body types are important and can be sexy...as long as you don’t always dress it in sweats and Mickey Mouse t-shirts. But I hold myself to a double standard. I think certain sizes are ok for everyone else and can find beauty in others but when I look in the mirror I struggle with accepting all my lumps and bumps. Why does it all happen at once? I’m turning 30, I’m a stay-at-home mom, and I’ve misplaced my girlish figure. In a body conscious culture that shuns aging and defines you by your occupation, I’m feeling like the bottom of the pile.

But am I ready to throw in the towel? No...no...because I believe if I did it will be a slippery slope to denim jumpers and “comfortable” shoes (you know which one’s I’m talking about). My desire for a healthy body will work to overcome my secret yearning for a skinny one. I will keep climbing those stairs and counting calories. I will wage war on my body’s plan for me, proclaiming to the world that I will not be defeated by a pair of genes....Jeans? Don’t even get me started on those.

What Will it Take?

2007-04-17T12:17:00.000-05:00

I really hate to address two very serious things in a row but as a mom I can’t let the events that took place on the Virginia Tech campus yesterday go without recognition. For those of you who don’t know...all 3 of you...yesterday around 7:30 am a 23 year old Korean student walked into a dormitory on the campus of Virginia Tech and shot 2 fellow students to death. Just when you thought it couldn’t get worse approximately 2 hours later the same student entered a classroom building across campus and proceeded to go from room to room killing anyone he set eyes on. Then he took his own life, making the death toll number 33. In my mind all I can think of is the parents, spouses, children, friends, extended family that these victims leave behind, including the shooter. My thoughts are with them as they wake this morning to a very different world.

What frightens me is that this is a symptom of a bigger problem. In this country...oh god, nothing good starts with that generalization...we don’t believe in prevention. Our way of life is always reactionary. Preventative measures only come after horrific events: murder, terrorism, disease, most crises. Important “givens” are overlooked or tied up in the red tape this partisan government keeps well stocked: Gun control is a joke; health insurance and healthcare are barely affordable and only really helps if/when you get sick; the war we are fighting in response to the events of 9/11 is about 1500 miles south west of the war we should be fighting. Even our food is being set up to not fair well against crisis. This year we faced several food contamination issues. Many got sick, including our pets. It’s only then that we asked the necessary questions and realized that food inspection is handled by something like 5 different government run and funded organizations. Why and when was this allowed to happen? And I’m not going to touch Katrina...that’s a whole mess in and of itself.

Organizations that are crying out for our rights as Americans are taking away our rights as human beings, like our right to not be shot at school or malls with semiautomatic weapons, the right to not get sick if possible, the right for our children to not be sent to fight a war of uncertainty. We are empowering people to speak for us only to have them ignore the needs of the people who put them in their jobs. And really isn’t that what “senator”, “governor”, and even “president” is? a job? What if instead of changing the Amendments of the Constitution to allow or disallow gay marriage or allow or disallow abortion, we change the Articles to reflect new ideas about the job descriptions of the people in government who seem to hold all the cards.

These students were just trying to get through Monday. You know Monday, right? The day that starts a week of work or, for students, tests, papers, classes, and college food. Why were they faced with the decision of jumping out a second story window or being shot? Why were the older girls of the Amish community in Georgetown, Pennsylvania forced to ask to be shot first with hopes to save the younger ones? Why where the students at Columbine were forced to use flimsy school desks as shelter against pump action shotguns? All I can say is...“An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” Because what is really going to cure these losses is that something is done to prevent the chance of this happening again.

Free-Dumb of Speech

2007-04-10T10:10:00.000-05:00

So, as Imus is facing suspension from his show for spitting out what can only be called ignorant rants about the Rutger’s girls basketball team and reality “star” Jason Wahler, from “The Hills” and “Laguna Beach” just posted bail for his third arrest in six months after getting wasted and calling a white police officer the unspeakable black slur, I think we need to pause to reflect on the past year of influential people with verbal diarrhea that has filled our ears with prejudicial and racial remarks.

In July, Mel Gibson was stopped by police on suspicion of drunk driving, and if that wasn’t enough as he was being officially placed under arrest he began shouting anti-Semitic comments. Most news stories didn’t even get to the part where he made an obnoxiously sexist remark to a female officer when they brought him to the station.

While on the campaign trail in August, Sen. George Allen “inadvertently” called a young, Indian-American man, who was filming him for his opponent’s benefit, a “monkey”. Now, he later said the word was gibberish and that he didn’t know it was a slur for African immigrants. But frankly, while I believe in accidents, I also believe that the coincidence in this case was too high...so did the voters apparently since he lost his bid for senate.

October found Grey’s Anatomy actor Isaiah Washington throttling costar Patrick Dempsy on the set for defending fellow actor T.R. Knight’s recent disclosure about his sexuality against Isaiah’s gay bashing. This event was dragged into the new year when Isaiah took the opportunity of the show’s Golden Globe win to rehash the event in public this time, reusing the slur. What can I say, timing is everything I guess.

Michael Richards, in November, while performing...badly...at the Laugh Factory threw inappropriate black stereotypes at hecklers from the stage. I guess it can be dangerous for sitcom stars to try to be funny without the help of a room of writers.

And last but never least, Miss “What are you famous for again?” herself, Paris Hilton was caught flinging the “n” and “f” words around a party. In February a video emerged on the internet with Paris and her sister Nicky dancing at some event using these slurs as if they were an acceptable part of everyday dialogue. Their parents must be proud.

Now I have to ask...What is going on? These people, however they got there, are paid money to entertain us, lead us, influence our children...and as a mom all I can say is yikes! This kind of behavior is inexcusable and a published apology from a representative or a visit with the major leaders of the insulted community shouldn’t be the only answer. Fortunately, the public has spoken on many of these situations...except one. While Mel’s star has lost it’s sheen, Sen. Allen has lost his job, Michael has become a joke and Isaiah better pray that Grey’s Anatomy never ends because so will his career, Miss Hilton is still “like”ing and “whatever”ing her way into the hearts of teens across this country. And as a mom, this scares me.

When I went through high school umpteen years ago uttering these terms were not only labeled as taboo by the adults around us, we as teens wouldn’t stand for anyone using them either. However, recently I was visiting a friend who is a teacher at a local private school...note private school, future leaders of the world...and I was surprised to overhear a student describing something as “gay”. As I was recovering from the jolt of that ill-chosen wording, I heard another teen joking with a peer about them being a “fag”. This is crazy. The lines are becoming blurred when it comes societal proprieties and we don’t want the one’s for racism and sexism to fade with them. Insults are insults and how you use them doesn’t change their effect. If we downplay the power of certain ideas or terms in casual language we risk raising a generation of people who have no concept of personal and public boundaries. We are so clear and mostly unified in our response to these slurs and comments when they are being directed at someone, that’s easy. It’s the everyday talk that is hard to control and takes the individual effort...

Ok...now I have to get down and find a new place for my ever growing soap box.

The Female of the Species

2007-04-04T08:46:00.000-05:00

“My twenties were about exploring love and being a wildflower and trying to figure everything out. Now I’m not comfortable being that happy wildflower anymore, but I still don’t feel like a woman. I wonder when that moment’s going to hit. Am I going to be making eggs in my kitchen and all of a sudden it’s going to dawn on me that I’m a woman?” Drew Barrymore, in her recent interview for the April issue of Glamour magazine, doesn’t hesitate to share how she feel’s now that she has broken into her 30’s newly single. But I was so shocked that my 16 month old son could have knocked me over. Drew Barrymore feels the same way I do. Even with all the glorious pictures of her on red carpets dressed to the nines and looking sexy and perfect, she still doesn’t feel like a woman. I used to think that I was missing something...but no, Drew seems to be missing it too. So, if being dressed by the likes of Oscar de la Renta and made up by top stylists doesn’t make you feel like a woman....what does?

I have a theory that hit me the other day as I was walking through a local department store looking for “the” purse. Let me first explain about “the” purse. I am not someone who changes purses to match my outfit because let’s face it as a mother of a toddler, I just have too much stuff to switch over and I would never get out the door. So instead, I allow myself a new purse twice a year: one for the fall and winter seasons, and one for the spring and summer. And I do research. I look at all the latest trends before making the final decision, trying to blend many of the appealing ones together into one perfect purse...aka “the” purse.

So, I’m walking around this store on a Tuesday afternoon watching the women around me. Some were combing the clothing racks, some trying on endless pairs of sunglasses, and some on a similar quest for their purse. This lead to the question of why I shop...why we as women shop. I took a moment there among the racks of handbags to ponder what I was feeling in that very moment. What was this purse going to do for me? Because, let’s be honest, you don’t check out trends and hunt through shelves of designer purses if all you want is something to carry your stuff around in. No, what I and many of the other women around me were on a quest for was that item that was going to make us feel like a woman. It’s going to make us feel pretty, thin, put-together, taller...I could go on. And when we find “it”, whatever “it” is, we take “it” home and try “it” on but in the non-flourescent light of day, “it” doesn’t do the trick. We don’t like the way “it” fits in our own mirror or the husband doesn’t notice the way “it” makes us look (or smell because perfume holds the same expectations). Or maybe it’s ok but we still don’t feel like a woman. So, we head back to the store for another hunt.

Another symptom of this search is beauty treatments. The industry that dyes our hair, paints our nails, breaks and resets our noses, and even waxes our pubic hair has us convinced that this next step will make us more womanly. Carrie’s comments on an episode of Sex and the City about feeling like walking sex after getting a Brazilian wax, had many women running for their local salons. We want that feeling so badly that we’ll try anything once...well almost anything.

In a world of designer shoes and botox, how do I find my inner woman? Is it that the search is the thing that makes us women? Where many men are loathed to buy new underwear let alone change careers mid-life. Women are in a constant evolution of fashion, careers, and home decor. The concept of “a woman’s prerogative to change her mind” rings true in all aspects of life and we should be proud of it. It means we are open, to new ideas and ways; we can judge for ourselves whether something is worth it or not; we can listen to our little voice (aka women’s intuition) and let it lead us down new paths. In our lives we can be everything from a young ingénue to a doting wife to a strong career woman to a nurturing mother. All roles I think Drew has played before the age of 30. But we can play them all too, we don’t have to choose.

Now, being a woman myself, I know what many of you are thinking...”Yes, but did you find ‘the’ purse?” Yes, I did. But not in the department store. I found it online and if I open the box when it comes and it doesn’t have the right look or hold enough stuff, it will go back and the search will begin again. But then isn’t that my womanly right?

Who Hit the Mute Button?

2007-03-29T16:43:00.000-05:00

I want to live in Port Charles, where beautiful men are in abundance, stylish clothing are a part of the everyday wardrobe, and everyone’s schedule is loose enough to fit in a good conversation in the park. General Hospital is my soap opera...thanks to my sister. I think most females have had one in their lives. Whether you discovered it in college or late night on SoapNet, they’re like these never ending novels that you can put on the shelf for awhile but then drop into the story anytime you want and basically catch up in a few pages, or episodes. This town has everything; coffee shops, glamorous hotels, a hospital that heals most, even it’s own little mafia war. But the most amazing thing this town has is men who communicate. Be they doctors, District Attorneys, cops, or gangsters, they all love to talk. This is how I know the true fiction of this show that keeps women tuning in for decades: men who love and tell their women daily the passion that they hold inside for them.

Here’s a secret I’ll share with you, when I met my husband I thought he was gay. This was not because of any stereotypical, “limp-wristed” behavior. The fact that we met at a party being held by one of our “fabulous” friends, Cris, probably added to the misunderstanding, especially since after our initial conversation that evening Cris took me aside and ask me what I thought of him. My response was “He’s perfect for you”, to which Cris said “Oh, honey, he’s not gay...unfortunatly.” Anyway, the main reason I thought he leaned that direction was..he was nice. I was in the middle of the end, the very long end, of a dead relationship with a very self involved man, we’ll call him Bob. Mind you, I didn’t say self absorbed, because he wasn’t cruel about it he was just very focused on his relationship with himself. Bob didn’t talk to me about anything that was hard. Looking back, I wish he would have just told me that he didn’t want a future with me. It would have been easier than the crazy ride we went on...all to avoid a simple conversation.

So, back to my husband, I was unprepared for a nice guy to be straight, let alone interested in me. But that night, he was polite with an easy smile, offering to refill my drink as he got one for himself. Later, I accused him of trying to get me drunk. An idea to which he responded with a sly smirk. But it was a refreshing encounter. A feeling that continued through our time dating and much of our engagement. I would find notes on my car when I came out of work; get messages on my voicemail “just to say hello”. He would share in doing the dishes and we would talk...about everything and nothing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a complete imbecile. I know about the “wooing” period when everything is wonderful and has a glow. But it does settle into a “normal” where the interaction is still there.

Flash forward to today. We just had our fourth wedding anniversary, and I was lucky to get flowers. There were no grand statments of love, not even a Hallmark card. Now I know many of you are saying “Fourth? Just you wait till [insert number here]”, but I do think it’s pretty instantaneous after you walk down the isle. And it seems to be a universal marital problem. He just stopped. This is not to say that we don’t talk, but we don’t communicate unless I make the “world” pause and bring up the issue at hand. We all find our own way of doing this. Some of us go out to dinner so that the men are trapped and can’t raise their voices. There are those who simply wait for the commercials or the end of the game. My mother bides her time until long car trips so my dad can’t get up and walk away. Soap opera men wouldn’t lay that burden on us. They are always pursuing their women and telling them exactly how they feel, in the most manly way possible. But come on, is there a manly way to tell someone that they hurt your feelings? I’m pretty sure any reasonable discussion of emotions was beaten out of most men during their formative years, if not by siblings, by peers. Nothing in the life of a boy-child tells them that it’s ok to be in touch with their feelings. If they are...they’re considered “babies” or “wusses”. And when they’re older, they’re either trying to get “into a woman’s pants” or they’re gay. It just seems socially unacceptable. Wow, I was feeding into a stereotype.

Maybe what we need to do is use soap operas as tools to teach our men that it’s manly and cool to be in touch with your feelings and share them with us. I mean, some businesses are allowing a nap time and even providing a room for it. This just seems the next step: taking time out of your work day to educate yourself and enjoy the dramatics of life in Port Charles. Let’s start a petition.

Crisis Averted...For Now.

2007-03-20T17:25:00.000-05:00

I guess everyone has mid-life crisis, even Hollywood big shots. Mel Gibson has turned weird sharing his true feelings about faith and jews. Brad Pitt screwed around on his wife and is now adopting...the world. Even Tom Cruise decided that with age comes wisdom and the freedom to force that wisdom down everyone’s throats, along with his new 28 year old wife. Gone are the days of the young actors taking roles that endeared them to us: Martin Riggs, Joe Black, and Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell. Or how about Joel Goodsen (Hey, Good-son...that’s the first time I noticed the irony); the defiant son who’s sudden need for cash inspires him to become a pimp. But hey, we all can’t dance around in our underwear forever. Or can we?

Since I am facing my thirtieth year in this world I am also facing my own mini-crisis of sorts. I hear I’m entitled. As my son’s world is expanding I feel as though mine in narrowing. I joke with my husband that I am starting to feel like a supporting character in other people’s stories, not a leading character in mine. It’s freaking me out a little because you start to notice that in any good book or movie the mom dies off first for dramatic effect. Anyway, I am looking back over the time that I was the lead and remembering my big moments: graduating from college, getting my first “adult” job, and renting my “single” apartment. This is something I would recommend to anyone. The temptation to move in with friends or better yet a boyfriend is really strong, I know because I lived with two guys before I got my own place but then I kept it that way for a year or so. And that year was great.

The apartment was in a old mansion and, as far as I could tell, was the library of the home. It was a studio with a huge, I mean “walk into it” huge, fireplace that had built in bookcases and leaded glass windows on either side. The ceiling was all wood with beams that crossed in both direction. The outside wall had a bay window that went to the ceiling and each window had two sets of pocket shutters. Needless to say, it was beautiful, like living in history. But even more beautiful was feeling that this little corner of the world was mine and I had the key. I could eat what I wanted, when I wanted. On my day off, I didn’t have to get dressed out of some obligation to those around me. It was glorious. I was thinking about this the other day as I spent some needed alone time in the bathroom when I was rudely interrupted by my son banging on the door until it opened. This proving my earlier point about supporting characters...we never see them in the bathroom. Fortunately, I was very quick in getting the pants up and zipped before his smiling face appeared. Now, I had been warned about the complete loss of privacy in a mother’s life, but in this time of “crisis” in my life it didn’t seem fair. He needs me constantly, going from happy to sad in an instant. Up, down; touch, don’t touch; come, go. It all starts to blend my life invisibly into his. But then there are the glimpses of hope...

Yesterday, as I was getting his oatmeal ready in the morning I was dancing around to the french music station I listen to on my itunes every morning (I’m convinced that I am a cultured, french woman trapped in the body of a middle class, american mom). And yes, I was in my pjs. When out of the corner of my eye I see my son watching me with a big smile on his face that I assumed was in response to the potential of food. So, today as I was doing more of the same, he walked over to me, grabbed my leg and started bobbing up and down. When I started to laugh he did too. With that I picked him up and started whirling around our kitchen and dining room to the bellows of some french jazz singer. Let me tell you, of all the times I danced around my apartment all alone, none were so much fun as this time. The cries of glee that my son let out as he threw his head back gave me hope that while I was a supporting character in his life he was a supportive character in mine. Some one who laughs when I laugh, cries when I cry, and notices if I disappear from sight for even a minute. This isn’t the cure for my “crisis” but for now, it’s a good drug to get my through.

So, here’s hoping that everyone out there who is dealing with a crisis in their life, be it personal, spiritual, or even just your run-of-the-mill mid-life, has a “pill” that helps them out. Sometimes it’s not always within reach and you have to look hard for it, but it’s there, smiling and offering you the support you need to get through that moment or step. Giving you the oomph that will keep you going. But be careful not to take the wrong one, it just might land you amoung the ranks of Isaiah Washington, Rush Limaugh, Mark Foley, and yes, Mel Gibson.

Lesson the Blow

2007-03-18T15:34:00.000-05:00

There she is, in a beautiful turquoise gown, at one of Hollywood’s hottest spots, sitting on her ass in the middle of runway at Max Factor’s Salute to Hollywood Celebrity Fashion Show. I can only imagine what Carmen Electra was thinking...probably something to the extent of “I should have worn different shoes”. But maybe she was also examining this event and filing it in the folder of most embarrassing moments. I wonder where it fits in? This most likely depends on how she rates them: most publicity, most dramatic, most personal. We all know she has a few to deal with...her stint as a rapper, her marriage to Dennis Rodman (Who looked better in the wedding gown is a debate that will go on for years), and her recent divorce from Dave Navarro...who spent that period oogling female contestants on the reality competition Rockstar Supernova with her ex-boyfriend Tommy Lee. I think we all have a running tally in our heads of embarrassments, big and little, to help get us through the current one we are experiencing. So that we can say “Well, this is not as bad as the time when I...” Whatever helps, right?

Those moments are hard to live down. When we are younger they seem life changing and sometimes ending. But as we grow up at some point we decide to learn the lesson they teach us and move on. This week I think I experienced my most embarrassing moment to date. During a second of frustration I let my “mother of a toddler” guard down and accidentally slammed the bathroom door shut on my son’ pinky and ring finger. Now note that I said “slammed” and not “pulled” because our bathroom door doesn’t catch unless you use great force. Let me back track to say that I was rushing around to try to get going with some errands I needed to run and my son, who is into everything these days since learning to walk, was following behind me basically undoing everything I was doing. Well, needless to say, I was horrified and quickly grabbed him and flew into a tizzy of ice packs and paper towels. But as the blood seemed excessive I knew my destination was changing from the video store to the ER. I know, where’s the embarrassing moment?

We got to the hospital and I walk in with my purse flung over my shoulder and my shoeless son on my hip and the women behind the counter asked me “What happened?” and I had to tell her that I was a bad mom...that just for a second I let my frustration at his natural curiosity get the better of me and that was enough. Now, I really didn’t say that. I think through my sobs I said something like “I...um...closed the bathroom door...on his fingers..(sniff)...really hard...” All the time my son’s smiling at the nice ER people. And I then had to tell people over and over that it was my fault: the doctor, the x-ray tech, my husband, my parents. It was embarrassing to have to admit my guilt not only to them but to myself. If he was a little older, I’m pretty sure I would feel obligated to buy him everything and give him anything he wanted so I guess it’s good we learn these lessons early in parenthood.

Do you want to know the most ironic part? Nobody made me feel badly for what I had done, in fact it lead to every story possible about children falling down stairs or off changing tables and fingers in car doors. And isn’t that the truth about all of our embarrassing moments? Embarrassment is usually self inflicted. We feel awful about it while others comfort us with worse stories or big hugs. I mean, sure there are those who laugh or sneer at us, but they aren’t the ones who opinions matter. No, I am really the one pointing and whispering behind my own back, layering guilt with burning cheeks and a sinking stomach. But to get past it I needed to acknowledge the lesson it had to teach me. I needed to grasp the fact that I do have a short temper and sometimes it leads me to complete distraction. The goal is to get a better handle on that as I move forward on this motherhood venture. Besides, there’s going to be a little scar on his right pinky finger to remind me for the rest of my life.

Unfortunately for Carmen there are photographs and news archives to remind her of this embarrassment. And that is the downfall of fame: while you make lots of money and hoards of men adore you, everything that ever happens to you gets flaunted in public. So these photos too shall pass with the today’s tabloids into the trash. And hey, even if they exist forever on the web, there are also photos out there of her looking amazingly confident and naked in the pages of Playboy. My guess is that those will always trump these.

"Situation" Comedy

2007-03-14T09:39:00.000-05:00

My poor husband. I have this bad habit of not being able to fall asleep in silence. I think it was passed down to me from my father. So, going against every sleep specialist out there we have a TV in our bedroom and I fall asleep with it on. And what do I watch as I do that? Nick at Nite: the best thing any station has ever come up with. I love the tv shows of my youth...The Cosby Show, Roseanne, Growing Pains, and even Full House. They bring back such nostalgic memories. The times when sitcoms taught us a lesson at the end of their half-hour time slot. When kids were kids and adults were....adults. Don’t get me wrong I watch the new ones: The Class, How I Met Your Mother, and the recently ended Everybody Loves Raymond. But they are about adults learning to be adults. And while I think that those shows are important too, I’m am parent now and I am ready to learn how to handle problems with my child as they arise. Who am I going to turn to now that all my role modes are in reruns?

I know what you’re thinking and I do ask my parents for advice. But let’s make this clear, I ask for advice about the rash on his bum not how to handle my husband being too tired at the end of the day to stay awake long enough to have an adult conversation after our son goes to bed. And those who have gone before me, like siblings and friends, are good for a laugh about your child putting toys in the newly discovered toilet but when it comes to the important things the answers usually sound like “You think it’s bad now just wait until...”. I think we all have a bit of a competitive nature in us that keeps us from saying “This is really bad and I need your help” out loud. So, we look things up on the internet or in books written by specialists with resumés of experience. They say things like “Listen to your child.”, “Teach them to make the right choices by giving them options.” and teach us about things like “Time outs” (I think this is the new “Go to your room!”) and the reverse psychology of punishment (instead of being mad about an action, reinforce your being happy about when they did the opposite...huh?). All of these thing may be effective for some children but come on...how fun are they for the parent?

Roseanne always knew how to handle things with flare. When her son DJ started skipping school, she started walking him there dressed in overalls and a flowered hat with bright red lipstick on to give him a big kiss. Or when her kids started getting overly nervous about their embarrassing parents, she and Dan would take it above and beyond in comments and behavior without talking down to them. Cosby handled things through a little tough love and a little “lead by example”. When Vanessa went out and got drunk at a party they sent her to school with her nauseous hangover and played a drinking game when she got home using what she thought was alcohol but turned out to tea. These sitcoms where so different in their premise: one an upper class family living in Brooklyn Heights, the other a working class family in the suburbs of Chicago. But they both sent the message that parenting is interactive and that kids shouldn’t be allowed to have a smart mouth and control the relationship they have with you. That the word “No” is effective and “Your grounded” meant that child was staying in his technologically arrested room for however long the parents says. That parenting doesn’t always have to be a chore or that if we fail at times the child won't be ruined for life. They taught us to trust our instincts as people and no matter what our background or place in society our children can be happy and fulfilled.

Now, that’s not to say I’m sitting up at night and taking notes on how to deal with my child. I am coping just fine for now and still call my mom if my son coughs funny. It’s just nice to remember a time when the entertainment industry valued families and parenting. A time when overweight, balding father’s didn’t say stupid things to pretty, skinny wives and sarcastic children barely ever got the final word. May Cosby’s famous words ring through our ears for generations to come...”I’m your father. I brought you into this world and I’ll take you out!”

I'm Going to Be Brutally Honest...

2007-03-10T13:56:00.000-05:00

I have a confession to make. I watch American Idol...much to my husband’s distress, although I think he secretly likes it too. I love seeing who will sing what and which celebrities are going to show up in the audience. Also, trying to predict which insult Simon will throw at what singer this week, is fun and we have often have thought that we could turn the number of times Randy say’s “daug” into a drinking game. However, there is a part of the show that isn’t so entertaining and at times is downright wrong. The audition episodes make me want to crawl out of my skin and into the nearest closet to hide from the embarrassment that some of these people suffer. Actually, most the time I change the channel. I’m sad at the idea that many of them truly believe that they have talent and this is their dream. Then the three judges sit and pick them apart and nothing is off limits. Everything from their clothing to weight to “glowing” personality is up for scrutiny. And the judges are merciless...including the guest judges who I thought were there to bring the nice back but didn’t. Jewel. I’m sure they do it for ratings which means that we are all watching it and calling it entertainment. When did manners go out the window? When did the pain of others become entertaining?

During my time working at the arts center I interacted with many people who thought highly of themselves. Some had the goods and some didn’t but in my opinion, either way, they didn’t have the right to treat those working for their betterment poorly. And I’ve seen it all: “Why are you looking at me?”, “Where’s my....?”, “When I ask for something, I want it now.” I employed students since the arts center was at a local university and they worked with these people as well. So they got a first hand look at this rude and sometimes underhanded behavior. What happened to people in positions of leadership and power being role models or...gasp...idols? Graciousness and manners get you everywhere in this world. Words like “I’m sorry” or “Excuse me” are on the verge of extinction. And people who work the service jobs are feeling it the most. I’ve sat through dinners at restaurant with work associates who treated the waiters worst than they treat their pets. I watched performers of high quality and stature lecture catering staff about the amount and types of fruit available to them sending that person on a hunt for the “right” fruit only to not touch a piece of fruit all night. Where does this get you?

I know where. It gets you to a place in life where you think you deserve everything and owe nothing. A place that leads our children down the path of emulating and idolizing people like Paris Hilton instead of Katharine Close...for those of you who don’t know, Katharine won the 2006 Scripps National Spelling Bee and is the first female champion of this century. Look, I love celebrity gossip, as you can tell, and am a huge movie buff and now that my reality show addiction is out of the bag I have to admit to feeding into the Hollywood glitz and glam that leads this world around by the nose. But there is a line that needs to be drawn about what is real and appropriate and what is just beyond acceptable. Randy, Simon, and yes, even Paula have the right to tell someone that they are not the best singers or if they have a future in the entertainment world or not, but they are not hired or qualified to judge someone's mental state or physical weight. Nor do they have the right to be rude. There’s the line.

Oh, and here’s hoping that someone down the road tells Paula that she’s too “plastic”, Randy that he’s too “stereotypical” and Simon that he’s too “British”. Or maybe someday...that they are all just too old because hey, if they learn the lessons we’re teaching them well at least we will be able to count on future generations to tell us the blunt and ill-mannered truth.

It's a "One"der...

2007-03-06T09:31:00.000-05:00

All it took was a bodacious, 27 year old blonde by the name of Holly to potentially turn the key and lock the ball and chain around the ankle of the the world’s oldest and most famous “playboy”. Hugh must be getting nostalgic and maybe a little senile in his old age because after the last divorce I was sure he was going to die single. But alas no, he has decided that he will take another plunge before he takes the final one...if you know what I mean. However, let’s talk about Holly for a minute. She is currently one of 3 blondes living in the mansion and calling Hugh “boyfriend”. How does she know he meant to choose her? I mean, maybe he was hoping for Bridget but didn’t have his glasses on. The inside source that revealed the information to the New York Post said “Heff sees that she’s the most dedicated.” Is that really the reason someone wants to be proposed to? Wouldn’t you want Hugh to look you in the eyes and say “Of all the playmates over all the years you’re the one I’ve been waiting for.”? But then again, are any of us married to “the one”?

I’m not sure there is such a thing as “the one”. It’s a nice concept...the idea that there is one person out there that you are destined to be with. But is it realistic? I was engaged twice in my life; one I didn’t marry and one I did. Why this one and not that? I don’t really know...I think I wasn’t ready the first time. I had just graduated college and was working at my first “important adult” job. He was still in college and was dealing with family issues. We just weren’t in the right place in our lives and honestly, we weren’t dedicated enough to hold on until we got to the right place. Now that I am married, I’m so glad that we didn’t hold on, because if we couldn’t get through the tough times then, how were we going to get through the hard times now? Don’t worry about him though. He went off and met a very nice girl in Michigan and they are now married and are buying a house and things are good. But this brings me back to the question at hand...Why did I marry my husband? Is he my “the one”? Why Holly and not Bridget or Kendra?

One of the things I hold over my husband’s head on a regular basis is our proposal story. No roses or candlelit dinner or skywriting...No, us getting engaged was a result of a fight. We were living together at the time and I had just gotten out of the shower. I don’t know how the conversation started but it came around to him saying something to the extent of not wanting to get married until he had all his “ducks in a row” (i.e. debt paid, job secured, etc.). He wanted to come to the marriage ready. To which I responded by reminding him while that was fine and sensible, I was never going to be able to get rid of all my problems (ailments that are chronic and lifelong) so that wasn’t going to be fair...he was going to be perfect and I wasn’t. And really, who ever completely has all their ducks in a row for more than...a minute. Then suddenly he said...”You’re right.” (I think that was the last time he said that) And tah-dah...we were engaged all while I was standing there with my hair dripping wet wearing a green bathrobe.

I think it’s because we were ready. We had both hit a stage in our individual lives, me at 25 and him at 33 where we were ready to have some permanent companionship to help carry our loads. And I really think that is it. Why? Because, I’ve loved other men in my life...I had a high school boyfriend from the age of 16 to 21 and no...he wasn’t the other fiancé so you do the math. And I know my husband loved other women, so it’s not just love. Also, I’ve always been better friends with men and my husband had women friends galore when I met him. So it can’t be just friendship. It really is a matter of being in the proverbial right place at the right time. And isn’t that the luck and destiny we all like to refer to?

So maybe Holly being dedicated is the right thing for Hugh and that makes her feel needed, which, come on ladies, there is a little of that in all of us. And she was in the right place...aka the Playboy mansion....at the right time...aka Hugh’s twilight years. And I’m sure that it doesn’t hurt that he doesn’t have to monogram new initials on the towels.

A Different Perspective....

2007-03-02T16:01:00.000-05:00

Ok, so they’re getting another one. I read today that Brad and Angelina are adopting a Vietnamese child which I think is great...for the child. I am glad that this country’s overpaid, Hollywood elite are using their vast fortunes to better the world...I cried at the Oprah special. But I cannot imagine having 4 kids under the age of 6. I know that it won’t inconvenience the Pitt-Jolies since they have all the help their pockets can afford. It seems their goal would be to adopt a child of every nationality. I wonder how Brad feels about being the sperm donor for the American one? But that’s a whole other discussion...

No, it seems that the couple doesn’t have a problem fulfilling their professional responsibilities as well as their private needs, otherwise known as alone time, since I have heard from a reliable source that they still get their adult “coffee talk” time down in their new home town of New Orleans. This is something that normal parents are struggling with. As a mom of one, count him one, 15 month old boy, I can barely find the time to sit here and type this post. Not that I don’t have physical time it’s just between the meals (which have become so much fun since he’s developed an opinion about food), the diaper changing (which has become fun for similar reasons), play time (which includes throwing the toys and playing with things that aren’t toys) and him simply wrapping himself around my legs while doing that wonderfully annoying fake sobbing most parents experience, I don’t have the energy to sit down and have coffee with my husband, let alone consider adding another small person to the mix. I admire parents who are able to put aside their daily wants and desires as adults to give their child/ren their whole focus and attention. Leaving adult time for sporadically scheduled date nights that, unless you have your parents or other relatives living in close proximity, cost more than just the meal and the movie ticket. Cause lets be honest, baby-sitters make more than they did when I was one.

On a side note, do you think Angelina’s nanny looked at her and said “No way, miss. I ain’t raisin no more babies!” I mean, do nannies put the number of kids they are willing to care for on their resumés? I think that might be a necessity if your interviewing at the Pitt-Jolie houshold...oh and the Ritchie homestead as well.

Back to the main point...I think. I’m starting to understand the divorce rate in this country. I used to think that it was because everyone was cheating. But cheating is a side product of a relationship lost in a sea of dirty diapers, parent-teacher conferences, soccer games, doctor visits, bills, etc. Seriously, my husband and I discuss 3 things: politics, paying bills, and poopie. When my son was a newborn we used to sing to him but instead of the real lyrics we would change them to work the word “poopie” in. Sounds weird but there’s nothing like laughing at three o’clock in the morning while hearing your husband sing “He’s just a poop machine and he won’t poop for nobody but me” in the next room. But isn’t that the point? Isn’t that the way that we discover new things about our spouses? By throwing them into a new situation. It’s one of the only ways he can surprise me now. I know he likes cream and four sugars in his coffee. I know he likes to sing Jim Croce songs in the shower. I know he thinks George W. is an idiot. What I don’t know is how he’ll handle my son failing a class or wanting to learn how to drive stick. What will he do if our boy, god forbid, falls out of a tree or shuts his fingers in his bedroom door? These are the things that make up a real person. Not our income, how many people we slept with or whether we have the second home in some “randomly important tropical location”, but how we handle being the people our families make us.

I’m happy for Brad and Angelina and respect the world they are trying to create. I just hope that they take the time to see each other through each of those children’s eyes. The time to learn from them, not because of the culture that child has left behind or the path they could have taken if it had not been for the couple who saved them from it, but what each child has to give a parent and a family. Because that's how children will change the world...one adult at a time.

This is Your Wake Up Call

2007-02-26T16:49:00.000-05:00

I can relate to Britney Spears. Not in that “Pop princess with masses of adoring young fans and a body that make most men go running for a cold shower” way. Not even in a “Married 2 of the wrong men, shaved my head, and entered rehab” way. And I don’t feel sorry for her. We all make our decisions in life and we are the only ones that can change our path into something we can actually walk down, not stumble. No, I guess the part that I can relate to is waking up to your reality.

The other morning I opened my eyes and rolled over in bed to stare at my light blue ceiling which I only painted a year ago but is already chipping. I sat up to see the pile of laundry sitting in a basket in the corner of the room that needed to be folded and put away. Just as that task was leading to the day’s “To-do” list that appears in my head on a daily basis...no need for a Blackberry here...a little yelp of glee comes from the room next door to remind me of at least 6 others thing to be put on that list. My 15 month old son is my first and only. When I say only I mean he’s the “everything” all wrapped up in a 33 inch long, 29 pound body. Currently I am a stay-at-home mom married to a kind man who is 9 years my senior and works 6 days a week shoeing horses for various members of the local animal loving community. This is fine but it’s not what I once was. You know what I mean. We all have that thing...many of us have more than one thing... that sits in the back of our mind and it fills in the blank contained by the sentence “I used to be________.”

Five years ago I was a vivacious 25 year old and events manager for one of the areas larger arts center. Not only was I dealing with B-list and local celebrities, but also with breakups, make-ups, dating, and bar-hopping. All the things that would make a good episode of “Sex and the City” only I wasn’t in the city and compared to those ladies there was a limited amount of sex. Anyway, then I did what most of us do, found the “One”. I fell for him, moved in with him and married him. Somewhere in the mist of this my job became too time consuming and demanding so I quit. We were still cool people, apartment dwellers with 2 dogs and meeting our friends for a beer and a song at the local karaoke bar. But then we got pregnant and needed a house in the mist of the housing boom so we could only afford a small brick ranch on a street where I am the youngest adult in a four block radius. All the individual steps made sense at the time but when you are sitting amidst piles of dishes, bills, and recycling while squabbling with your neighbor about who gets what on-street parking you have to ask yourself “When did I become my mom?”

Back to Ms. Spears. This is the time that if I was her I'd get on my lan line to a lawyer about a divorce, call my mom on my cell to come pick up the kid and IM to ask my BFF where we are meeting tonight to get wasted. But no, I’m me and I really like my husband. And while my mom loves her grandson she’s very clear about how long she will watch him. And my BFFs are too busy with their own husbands and children to meet me to get wasted. I’ve gotten my tattoos and no, they don’t stop you from becoming an “uncool” parent like you thought they would, not that I don’t want to get more. Also, don’t worry. I’m not about the shave my head and haven’t gotten further than the front door before I realized I forgot my undies.

So,what now? What do I do to move forward in this my 30th year on the planet? I don’t know. They really don’t have a rehab for people who have lost their goals without the assistance of mind altering substances. For now I will just do...stuff, anything that interests me, including blogging. This is a new thing for me, which I have to thank my BFF, Linda, for introducing me to. It’s like having a magazine column without the fashionable ads or the editor. If you’ve found me and gotten a laugh from it...let me know and come back. Anyone who knows me knows that I have a TON to talk about and while I’m spending a majority of time with a person who is incapable of understanding and talking back and frankly doesn’t really care about how I feel about issues beyond milk, naps, and toys...I’m counting on the blog to keep me company through this process...since it seems Britney’s not available right now.