16 Things About Me - Redux

A friend of mine, Beth Adams, sent a note out to folks on Facebook asking them to write 16 things about themselves, and then to tag others to do the same.

This has been a year of soul-searching, and this was what I could muster at the time:

1. I am a proud aunt to a beautiful little girl, Lily.

2. I have two dogs: Pepsi, who is 11 and may be starting to go deaf; and Bruiser, who is 6 and went completely blind over the course of two weeks this year.

3. I can instill fear into people's hearts by raising my left eyebrow.

4. I live to shop.

5. My favorite Christmas movie is the original Miracle on 34th Street.

6. A ring intended for my finger will also fit perfectly on my thumb.

7. In 1969, on my birthdate, The Who released the rock opera "Tommy."

8. Any time it is on television, I will watch the movie Jaws. I seriously can't not watch it.

9. When I was little, my dream was to be an animator for Disney.

10. I do not have any tattoos, but I would like to get one when I turn 40.

11. I may be the only girl on the planet who thinks The Three Stooges is a riot.

12. I can't get the song "Ironman" out of my head. I've been humming it constantly for months.

13. I was born a geek. In my baby book, it says one of my favorite songs was the theme song to Star Trek.

14. I would go back to Paris in a heartbeat.

15. I am fascinated by body oddities.

16. Mushrooms and seafood of any kind make me sick.

So, if I had to re-do the list, I would add the following:

1. Lily rocks. There's no re-do on that.

2. My parents and my sister rock, too.

3. Divorce really sucks, but it has its benefits. I found out I am stronger than I thought I was. I know who my friends are, and that I've been blessed with many. And, I know that all is not lost in love - that it was right around the corner. LITERALLY. (Manfriend is really cute and sweet and located within a stone's throw from my house...)

4. Miscarriages suck. There are zero benefits associated with this event. I secretly named the first child Abby Rose and the second one Michael. I have no idea what their genders actually were, but in my heart I knew their names.

5. I want a tattoo, but I don't think I'm going to wait until I'm 40 to get one. I'd like to either get an anklet tattoo, or angel wings on my right shoulder. With either one, I don't believe there will be any sagging skin issues when I get older.

6. I want to be a mom, and want to have the experience of giving birth, but I am terrified of having another miscarriage.

7. I want to get my doctorate in I/O psychology.

8. I don't feel guilty about forgiving my ex-husband, nor do I feel guilty about sending him a Christmas card (because it's the season and that's what Jesus would freakin' do). Nor do I feel guilty about not wanting to talk to him.

9. I worry about too much and I tend to overprocess stuff in my head. I'm okay with that.

10. I want to make a difference in the world. In what section of the world, I have no idea.

11. I am ticked off at myself for procrastinating on the book I've been wanting to write.

12. When I was little, I loved watching Abbott and Costello movies and Creature Double Feature with my Dad. Channel 48 rocked my world, until I discovered MTV.

13. I love to cook. Baking is another story.

14. I can make people laugh, and I cherish that talent. Granted, I'm no Robin Williams, but I can still put smiles on faces.

15. I hear Tuscany is pretty. I want to go visit and eat pasta with the peeps there.

16. The orginal "16 things about me" still apply.

And So The Christmas Season Begins...

Three men died on Christmas Eve and were met by Saint Peter at the pearly gates.

"In honor of this holy season," Saint Peter said, "you must each possess something that symbolizes Christmas to get into heaven."

The first man fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a lighter. He flicked it on. "It represents a candle," he said.

"You may pass through the pearly gates," Saint Peter said.

The second man reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He shook them and said, "They're bells."

Saint Peter said, "You may pass through the pearly gates."

The third man started searching desperately through his pockets and finally pulled out a pair of women's panties.

St. Peter looked at the man with a raised eyebrow and asked, "And just what do those symbolize?"

The man replied, "These are Carols."


And So The Christmas Season Begins . . .

Epiphany by Way of Lilly Pulitzer

This week, I had an e-mail exchange with my ex-sister-in-law. She and I get along very well, so it wasn't a 'grrrowl' kind of conversation. It was more of a 'hey - haven't talked to you in a while and wanted to see how you're doing' type of conversation. Admittedly, I haven't reached out in a while. I've been somewhat happily distracted with trying to restrain myself from buying every baby item in sight for my niece Lily (and failing miserably), and with the growing relationship I have with Manfriend.

During this pleasant e-mail exchange, I found out that the ex will be hosting Thanksgiving at his house. This elicited three reactions from me: surprise, laughter (because I can't imagine the ex getting together any sort of holiday feast) and a lot of hurt feelings. The third reaction caught me off-guard. It was a very 'when Harry met Sally' moment. I sat there and stared at the words in the e-mail and thought to myself in all the years we were married, I can't really remember a time where he actively wanted a family gathering at our house. Then I realized - that's because he didn't want holidays at our house. He wanted them at his house. With his family.


For every moment I feel like I'm on track and that I am past all of the heartache, something like this surfaces. And, peeps, I gotta tell you: It sucks.

I needed something to pull me out of the funk, and as fate would have it, retail therapy helped me. On Saturday, I went with my cousin's wife and her friend to the Lilly Pulitzer warehouse sale. I've never owned a single piece of Lilly Pulitzer clothing. The line is very bright, and laden with pinks and greens. Very girly-meets-golfpro. I'm feminine, and very much like being a girl, but I wouldn't describe my style as preppy in the least.

The warehouse sale opened my eyes to a new perspective. Sure, there were the pink-and-green-paisley-flowery-overloaded pieces, but there were also bold, feminine solids and prints, too. I was pleasantly surprised, and managed to walk away with some really nice pieces for myself, as well as for my niece (yep - failed to restrain myself) and for my friend's five year old daughter.

I also walked away realizing it's okay to be sad. It's okay for me to be irritated. But it's also time to turn over a new leaf. Why wallow in the past, when the past wasn't that great? Why live there and get angry over things I can't change?

I can't say I was instantly 100% yippie-skippy happy, but I know the last five years did not look good on me. Sure, this new time in my life isn't what I expected. But...it's looking pretty good.

It's That Time of the Year Again!

WOW! It's cold outside. Of course, it is late November. (Seriously, where did this year go?)

Thanksgiving and Christmas are right around the corner. While we'll be enjoying many holiday feasts, there are many who won't be as lucky, which is why I love WMMR's Preston and Steve. For the past several years they have hosted the Campout For Hunger campaign. All donations benefit Philabundance, a terrific organization.


Click here for further details: http://www.wmmr.com/pages/pages.php?page=97.

There are two ways to donate this year:

• Donations will be accepted Monday through Thursday from 6am to about 9pm, and Friday, December 5th from 6am to 10am, at the Metroplex Shopping Center in Plymouth Meeting, PA.


• You can also donate throughout November if you can't make it to the Plymouth Meeting location with the Camp Out Head Start Program.

Acceptable and most needed non-perishable food items include: (Pop Top Lids are always welcome) Canned / Shelf Stable Tuna, Canned Beef Stew, Canned Chili, Canned Pasta, Beef Ravioli, 100% Fruit & Vegetable Juice (Shelf Stable, Cans or Plastic Bottles only), Creamy Peanut Butter (Plastic Containers only), Jelly (Plastic Containers only), Mac & Cheese, Canned Pork & Beans/Baked Beans, Canned Green Beans, Canned Corn, Canned Fruit Cocktail, Breakfast Cereal or Hot Cereal, Boxed Sugar and non-perishables that won't go bad too soon.

For the past three years, I've gone and dropped off bags of food. The Giant in the Metroplex makes it easy, too, by making up $10 bags you can purchase and drop off at the Camp Out site.

If you're in the area, I hope you'll stop by and make a donation. Not only is it for a good cause, but it's great big fun, too. Last year: I saw Jedi Knights.

Surviving the Talky-Talk

I know, dear readers, you may not be able to understand this, but I am not so good with expressing my emotions and feelings in person. Not good with the talky-talk at all.

On this blog, it's easy. There's no human face I have to confront. It's merely a computer screen. I can get as angry, silly or expressive as I want, and feel safe. Words flow through my fingers onto the screen. I can take it all out on the keyboard. Ahhh. There is relief.

In person I have Talker's Block, especially when I feel upset. When I'm feeling hurt - even if I know the issue is minimal or completely stupid - it means there is an opportunity for me to lose control. There's also that fear I will lose the other person's love, respect, or friendship. I don't like being out of control, or being vulnerable. So when I am upset, I shut down.

I did that during the last five years of my marriage, and being unhappy took a physical and emotional toll on me. I swore I would not allow that to happen again, and speak up if I was upset about anything.

Embracing the talky-talk requires a lot of bravery. It's a challenge, with the Talker's Block. The talky-talk gets stuck in my throat, and fear takes over.

I am trying not to do that with Manfriend. I find it to be difficult, to have that voice, to say things like "I'm disappointed" for fear the person to whom I say it won't give a shit. Or that I'm not worth it to finish the conversation.

Right now, my talky-talk voice sounds more like me being short and wanting to pick a fight, when the last thing I want to do is pick a fight. Because I hate fighting. Because fighting requires talky-talk. Combine the Talker's Block with Auntie Flow, and I become downright moronic.

Luckily for me, Manfriend is a smart boy. He is intuitive. He's also kind-hearted and patient. I got called out of line when God was handing out intuition and patience, so I'm fascinated when I see it in other people.

As I said in the previous post, I slurped down a great big giant bowl of Brain Fart during Auntie Flow's last visit. I was moody. Over nothing. Well - that's not true. I built something up in my head (and, damn it was fantastic) and when it didn't happen I took it out on Manfriend by being short on the phone, in instant messaging and by being snarky in general.

Cynicism has been in my arsenal of tools when building emotional walls, so it's readily available 24 by 7.

Smart boy that he is, he called me on it. And we talked. And he had the words for all the things I had difficulty in expressing.

You know what? It was like a mini flood gate. I actually was able to form words, and get out all the emotional stuff.

You know what else? It felt good.

You wanna know what else?
Huh?

No one got hurt in the making of this discussion.

I survived the conversation. I found out things about us, too, that were all good things. I found out that as much as I was disappointed, he was, too. That as much as I had looked forward to the thing in my head that I wanted to be reality, he did, too. That he's a talker, and I need to talk more. (Ok, that wasn't much of a revelation.)

So, I made it through my first foray into the talky-talk. And, God! Am I happy. Who knew talking could make things better?

Yeah, yeah - you all did. I know.

Shut it.

Attack of the Brain Fart...

Auntie Flo sometimes brings many visitors with her, as I've explained before in this blog. Remember Uncle Cranky? Eat Everything in Sight?

Yeah, well...I forgot to mention one other item that accompanies her: Brain Fart.

Brain Fart makes me either forgetful or stupid. This month, it made me a big bowlful of stupid. And I slurped it up.

I warned Manfriend I would have my crazy moments, and I unleashed a whole bunch of it tonight on him. And now...he wants to talk about it. Oy. I'm good at putting words to paper. Sometimes a little too good. And I made a mountain out of a molehill tonight. Actually, I made a mountain out of an imaginary molehill. Not so good with the talky-talk. I'm grateful he is, and I'm sure I'll be listening most of the time and trying to beg out of the conversation with offering all the food I have in my house to him.

How about coffee?

Diet coke?

Pepperoni?

Provolone?

Pickles?

American cheese wrapped in plastic?

All I can say is...it was a weird night. I was feeling a little insecure, and thanks to my big bowl of stupid, I unleashed a by-product worse than any fart either of my dogs could produce, the green-eyed monster:

O, beware, my lord, of jealousy!

It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock

The meat it feeds on.

I am happily smitten with Manfriend. He knows this. I know this. And then...Auntie Flo plants the Brain Fart bowl in front of me. Slurp.

So, Manfriend...you were warned I would have my moments of insanity. Thank goodness you are level-headed.

I'm glad Auntie has packed the last of her tricks for this month and is on her way out, because I need a break from the Brain Fart. It has made me a bit addle-brained, and I'd like to be the intelligent, reasonable human being I normally am most days.

Wife Moved On...with Cake and Friends...

I had a nice time on Saturday with girlfriends and family in officially saying goodbye to my previous life.

And I did it with cake! Mmmmmm...chocolate chip...

Doesn't this cake look awesome? Well...it was. Despite my best efforts of sending large chunks of it home with guests, I still had a bit left. I just finished eating the rest of it last night. And I loved every sugar-coma bit of it.

The moment of being with friends and saying goodbye to the bad part of my marriage (especially the end) was just as sweet as the cake. There was nothing bitter about the moment. No angry moments. I think it's because I'm reaching happy.

Well...yay, me!