Month: August 2012
Here’s to the husbands who’ve won you, the losers who’ve lost you, and the lucky bastards who’ve yet to meet you.
Well, what do you know? It’s another Friday, and is it sad to say that I’m sort of dreading it? My work day isn’t going to be all that bad. I have the office all to myself again, and I have an event in the middle of the afternoon where mostly I’ll sit, wave, and clap to those walking through a Welcome Line. The I return to my office to finish up a few things, head out for the day to home and throw a few clothes and my toothbrush into a duffel, jump back into my car to head off to my part-time job. When that is done, I jump back in my car to drive 3 hours down to the cities because tomorrow I am getting my day at the State Fair.
I can taste that deep-fried candy bar already. Mmmmm-mmmmm good!
While I know that one food indulgence takes care of my calorie count for the entire week, I don’t care. It’s the State Fair. You’re supposed to consume more than three times your normal food intake, feel terrible about yourself, and then go home and rave about all the things you ate.
I don’t feel guilty about it at all. In fact, I’m officially joining a gym on Tuesday, so I’ll be raring to get those extra 2000 calories off my behind and sweating onto the gym floor.
I do have to share this one little funny story. It’s kind of ironic considering the state of bliss I was in after being swept off my feet by Josh Groban in Dreamland the previous night, but my sister and I stopped at our old apartment for the last time. A desk I inherited from her previous roommate free of charge still remained in my old bedroom and it needed to be moved out to the dumpster yet. After tipping it every which way to find the best carrying position for it, we managed to rip it apart more than a little bit. If you’re thinking about buying a desk, one thing to keep in mind: How hard it is going to be to move? This particular desk was not well-thought out. Awkward, heavier than heavy, and none of the doors stayed shut (maybe why I got it for free?).
Us two girls managed to get it out to the trash and shoved into a dumpster ALL MY OURSELVES! (Hear us roar!!!!) I must not have dusted the thing ever. Once it was in the dumpster and out of our hands, I looked down at my sweatpants and there were streaks of gray and fuzz all over the place. (Not going to lie…dusting furniture is not always a #1 priority with me.) Anyways, we continued to get the last few things moved out and I was carrying the top compartmentalized portion of the desk (which we managed to rip off…YES!) This was no small piece of shelving. Not that it was heavy, just slight cumbersome.
I’m struggling to get the door and miraculously do not lose my footing walking down the steps, and start walking to my car. Suddenly, I look up and a nicely dressed guy is grabbing his bag out of his car. A small buzzer goes off in my head, saying, “You know him! You know him!” He starts walking in my direction, and his face lights up when he sees me. He greets me rather enthusiastically, and I respond in kind. “Hey hows its going?” “Hey there! I’m doing pretty well!” We go out separate directions.
The entire trek to my car, I’m asking myself how I know him and from where. Then it dawns on me. He’s the guy I met randomly at a bar about a month back while checking out a band with a work friend of mine. He’s the one who approached me and tried holding a conversation with me when the band was blaring so obnoxiously loud, and I couldn’t hear a word unless he literally stuck his lips on my ear and spoke. So freaking loud! After awhile, he bought me and my friend a couple of rounds of drinks and eventually we left where we were sitting so we could actually talk elsewhere in the bar. I didn’t know at the time if I thought he was attractive because of the tequila I’d been downing or if I genuinely thought he was cute.
Anyways, after getting back to the house, I just had to text him to see if it was him. Sure enough, it was and he had recognized me, too. We chatted for a bit, and I brought up the fact he had asked me for drinks about a week or two ago, but I had never heard from him since. If I remember correctly, he was out-of-town one week and then seemed pretty swamped with work the following. But whatever. I never heard from him, and just assumed he lost interest or was really busy. I could deal with that. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve also been swamped.
But we have a potential date for next week. He’s no Josh Groban, but hey, it’s a date, isn’t it?
“Don’t waste time trying to break a man’s heart; be satisfied if you can just manage to chip it in a new place.”
The tempting words of Helen Rowland, a modern maximist.
I can’t say I left him drooling and dazzled at my charm yesterday enough to make him regret not getting a hold of me sooner. I was covered in dust fuzzballs, gray chalky dust, make-up smeared, and hair half-thrown back hazardously. In my professional opinion, not cute at all. But that’s my opinion.
Sometimes, I tell myself to stop trying to figure out life. The Force will guide me one way or another, but it will not steer me wrong.
Trust in that. Trust in that.
And because I’m now obsessed with this song….Happy Friday!
Dreams are always too delicious.
I didn’t want to wake up this morning. I did not want to get out of my bed. What I really wanted to do was slip back into slumber and return to the ah-mazing dream I was having before my alarm clock decided to be a total party pooper and rouse me from dream world AKA what should be my reality.
“They were kind of dirty looking pebbles. I didn’t know. I’m used to seeing diamonds shiny and in a box. These are the kind of diamonds I am used to seeing.”
I have to admit, I think Naomi Campbell, the supermodel, makes herself sound more than a little silly here, when asked about accepting the gift of diamonds from an African dictator. But, if we think about diamonds here as if they were dreams, I would have to whole-heartedly agree with her.
Some dreams suck. More than suck. They are downright frightening and terrible.
Others? They make your heart soar higher than any caffeinated beverage ever could.
I love dreaming. Not just in the fantastical sense, but also in the REM sense. They are so interesting. I’m a firm believer our dreams are the gateway to what is happening in our live. They make us look at ourselves in a new light and force us to confront what we refuse to when our eyes are wide open in daylight. I’ve learned a few things about myself through the interpretation of my own dreams, and it’s utterly fascinating.
In other words, yes, I am that nerd who will be found looking at dream interpretation books at Barnes and Noble (although I have to admit I find Freud to be incredibly frustrating when it comes to dream interpretation. Just because I dreamt about a blue Laz-E-Boy chair does not mean I have a repressed sexual urge of any kind.)
You know what? I don’t care if you see me. I like what I like and there is nothing you can do about it!
So, what was this dream that made me momentarily hate my real life? Let me tell you…
Myself and a few unknowns (but I felt their presence about me, so I knew I had friends with me)were attending a rather intimate concert of none other but Josh Groban. So, he is up on his stage, sitting on a bar stool of sorts and doing his thing. He finishes his song, and he starts talking tot he audience. He asked us, the audience, to shout out the reasons we decided to come to his concert that evening. Much closer to the stage than I had earlier thought, I jumped up with my hand in the air and shouted, “It’s my birthday! I tweeted you about it. Did you see it?”
His reply, “You also sent me a card, didn’t you? For my birthday?” I nodded quite vigorously (I must have been nodding in my sleep, too, because my neck is just killing me this afternoon!) He smiled that boyishly charming smile of his, and told me, “I thought so. I actually kept the envelope, so I knew how to find you.” Ever so coy, I tucked my hair behind my ear, and said, “Well, I’m right here. Guess you found me.” He held out his hand to me, and I took the stage with him where he wrapped me in the warmest hug I have ever experienced. (Seriously, I am getting goosebumps just thinking about how great that hug was!)
Next thing you know, he’s leading me by the hand backstage, out the door, into his limo, and we’re back at his hotel suite. His room quickly became the gathering ground for his fellow band mates and they soon were creating new music for us to listen to. What were we doing? Cuddling on his bed, listening to his friends create new music on the spot. Very much an improv music session. We sat and listened to the music for a short bit, but then after a short time, while a sweet looking dude with long Jamaican dreads started tapping away on his metal-topped drum, he whispered in my ear, “I have something to show you. Let’s sneak out of here.” No one even looked up when we quietly stood up and slipped out the door.
Still holding hands, we walked quickly down the hall, stealing glances at each other and giggling the more and more we walked (honestly, this part reminded me of the scene in Titanic when Rose and Jack quickly duck out the back door of Rose’s stateroom after Lovejoy decides to stop by and try to crash their party, and they quickly, but calmly, walk down the hallways in the opposite way of Lovejoy’s soon-to-happen discovery of them.)
Anyways, he whisks me out the hotel’s front entrance, despite rampant staring from people in the lobby as we passed. We escape the rotating door, and like he can’t resist a moment longer, he grabs me around the shoulders and waist, and pulls me in for a deep, deep kiss. (Siiiiiiiiiiigh!)We pull apart for a moment, start to laugh….
And that’s where my dream ends. Do you understand why I didn’t want to return to reality? I mean, I was making out with Josh Groban! That’s a dream come true in so many ways.
Good thing I have my Josh Groban station going on my Pandora.
Thinking about it at this moment really makes me wish I had a guy to run home to and kiss until the sun set. (In case you haven’t noticed, I am a hopeless romantic…and yes, my heart is pitter-pattering at the recalling to mind of this dream.)
I have a feeling I know what Freud would say about this dream, and I would really want to tell him to shut it. Yes, a relationship is always at the back of my mind, but at the same time, I just don’t know. Currently, my love life consists of seeing a cute guy at Barnes and Noble or at a work reception, I smile, lower my eyes, and scurry past as soon as my legs will carry me.
There’s no hope for me…but there is for you and I hope you grasp those opportunities with all the muster and might you can with both hands. In case you need a little uplifting, here are my weekly words of encouragement to lift your spirits:
– Every dream starts with a first step.
– You are someone’s hero.
– Easier times are ahead.
– Give yourself some applause.
– Love will fill your heart if you let it.
– One positive thought can set a whole new future in motion.
– You’re a star. Let yourself shine!
Do you think Mr. Groban will appear in my dreams again tonight? I’m keeping my fingers crossed.
Until I find myself getting ready for some deep shut-eye, this little diddy will have to do.
As promised, here is a double-whammy of Fabulous Fridays from the last two weeks that I have failed to update and post.
I hope you enjoy, and take heart from Heidi Klum, the model for millions, and her wise words she offers:
“I jumped into the water with forty-five sharks without a cage in the Bahamas for a Discovery Channel show. That was a really good experience. I’m not saying that everyone should swim with sharks, but sometimes you have to jump over your own shadow in order to learn something that you will never forget for the rest of your life.”
Without further adieu, here is my deluxe Fabulous Friday!
Fabulous Decor Idea:
Fabulous French Detail:
Fabulous (Flat Belly) Snack:
Fabulous Halloween Idea:
Fabulous New Hobby:
Fabulous Baby Outfit:
Fabulous Table Decor:
Fabulous Highway Freak-Out:
Fabulous New Pair of Shoes:
Fabulous Coffee Accessory:
Fabulous Bridal Bling:
Fabulous Lion King Lesson:
Fabulous Bridal Party Memento:
Happy Midweek! Almost to Friday once again!
Basically, I packed up my entire apartment and found myself moving.It wasn’t an unexpected move by any means. No, not at all. I knew I was moving, and had been packing up all week. But the weekend came much sooner than anticipated, and now I can happily say I’m moved into my new bachelorette pad.
What else does a girl need? I have a bedroom, a living room/work space with a couch and (hopefully soon to be operating) TV with DVD player (my first Big Girl purchase!) I have a walk-in closet that I am almost embarrassed to say is already plump full with clothes, and this is after going through and donating a good chunk of things to Good Will. I need to do it about three more times, except I cannot be present to argue why I should keep that stretchy blue sweater in my wardrobe. I just can’t be, otherwise nothing will be taken away.
And being a woman, I only know more clothing items will call my closest home before I find the next place to move into presently.
I won’t be staying in this bachelorette pad long-term. Sadly. it’s really starting to become my space and I’ve only been there for 3 days! When you take away the fancy words of ‘Bachelorette Pad’ and ‘Walk-In Closest,’ you will discover I’m living in the basement level of my sister’s house which she bought with her fiance a few weeks ago. Since starting my new job, the wedding coming up in a few months, and the chaos of moving, I really didn’t have a ton of time to track down potential roommates or a place of my own to move into. For the time being, I’m living with them in their basement, which they have graciously allowed me to inhabit.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. Isn’t it going to be weird when you move back when they become newlyweds? Yeah, maybe a little bit, but guess what? I have a door that I can escape out if I start to hear awful noises above my head…and by that time, I’m hoping to have bought a new music sound system so I can blast Hans Zimmer whenever I feel like it and just get lost in my own little world.
It’s really fun having my own space to decorate and play around with. Sadly, I’m not being allowed to hang any of my Star Wars posters or inspirational quote boards on the walls. Nail holes would only wreck their new walls. Oh, and did I mention my level is the only one that has carpeting? It’ll be nice once winter hits. I’m thinking the hardwood floors are going to get awfully cold in the winter time, but I guess we’ll see. I’ve only been in the house for 3 days, and I already spilled a touch of Rockstar on the carpet. Shhhh, don’t tell anyone. All I can say is Thank God it wasn’t the red-colored one I usually tend to get.
Watch, I’ll go home tonight and there will be the ugliest stain I’ve ever seen i my entire life. Of course I spilled it while getting my shampoo out of its moving box in the wee hours of this morning, too. FML sometimes. (By the by, whatever happened to saying FML?)
“I suppose that if you want to be famous, and suddenly it happens and you don’t like it, it’s nobody’s fault but your own.”
How many present-day celebrities need to hear this? I wish they were as wise and clever as you Margot Kiddar, the film phemon back in the day.
At the same time, one could look at this and decide that it all comes down to attention given from actions taken. If you don’t want people talking about you three weeks later after that one amazing part that absolutely everyone was going to be at, then you probably shouldn’t make out with every other guy you run into while you’re there. Don’t want annoying people you half-remember calling you for booty meet-ups at midnight every other night? Don’t give you your phone number like a drunken idiot.
The opposite could also be said. Want people to notice you? Go out on a limb and try something new (without embarrassing yourself, of course. Keep your best interests at heart!) Sometimes, I just don’t know what I’m getting at. I haven’t done anything completely and ridiculously crazy as of late. Could be a good thing, could be a bad thing. I haven’t decided yet.
The most daring thing I’ve done in the past seven days? Jump into the lake when it felt like the Atlantic Ocean in the middle of December. Just because it’s 80 degrees on the sand doesn’t mean the lake is the same temperature, people. It’s the beauty and curse of the water.
A part of me is also yearning for that next relationship. It doesn’t help living with newlyweds, that’s for sure. Yes, I could have tried super hard to find my own place to live in the last month, but knowing myself, I would not have been satisfied with anything so quickly available in a month’s time, and I’m not daring enough to live in the ghetto part of town. Sorry, I’m just not. I probably could have done a lot of different things, but in the end, I moved with my sister to her new house. 1.) The house is really cute, and I wish I had a picture to show you to prove it, 2.) My sister is my best friend. It’s nice knowing my best friend is just a floor above my head instead of all the way across town (even though eventually, this will be the reality of things), and 3.) I already don’t deal well with change. When we started moving things on Saturday morning? Oh, it was bad. I was crabby, I didn’t want to lift anything more than I had to, and I wasn’t ready to say good-bye to Apartment #9.
I’m still not ready to say good-bye.
My mind kept jumping to the final episode of Friends, when each one of them gives up their key to that apartment with the purple walls and it sits empty of every piece of furniture we spent 10 years loving. Like Monica said, “This is harder than I thought it would be.”
A lot of great things happened in Apartment #9. Moments I’ll hold on to for time to come, I’m sure. But like everything else, it too shall pass. It’s time to move on.
A new residence means a new turn of events in my life, right? Fingers crossed. I mean, it’s still the year of the Dragon. It’s still my year to shine and have good fortune smile upon me. So far, I’ve got the job, the sweet home hook-up. Now, the romantic side of things can start to heat up. I miss being in a solid relationship. Sure, one-night trysts are all fun and good, but eventually they’re going to lose their excitement value, too.
I’m still holding out for engagement by the age of 30.
(Since I have missed two Fabulous Fridays in a row, expect a deluxe version of the two missed weeks tomorrow! My special treat. No ramblings or wonderings. Just a quote, and the amazing, Fabulous things I’ve come across in the last two weeks prior to the big Moving Day 🙂 )
I haven’t written in a few days, and I feel terrible.
And to make you feel even better, this post is going to be fairly short. In fact, I’m writing this today (Wednesday) and it might not be posted until tomorrow (Thursday). I’ve been a little busy and preoccupied. (And wouldn’t you know it? It’s actually Friday when I’m posting this. Woooow…this week has been Cray-zeeee!)
Like I said, I feel terrible.
A little recap of what’s been happening over the past couple of days (really, I’m recounting the few days that took up the previous weekend)….
Last weekend I headed down to the cities to see my best friend. See, the last time me and this friend talked, she was calling to inform me about how she and her boyfriend/fiance had broken up. Well, okay…I do what any best girlfriend would do. I had the weekend off, so I told her I was going to jump in my car and come see her, spend the weekend with her. To make sure she is okay and all that.
Little did I know, I’d get there only to find out they got back together the next day. Ummm what? How is that possible? “It’s too much time together to just throw it away.” While, yes, I agree, I honestly think she does need to spend some time on her own. She is a year younger than me, has been dating him for 5 years, and I think about myself and I know I would have said hasta la vista to him the moment we broke up. She needs to experience other guys in her life. A person changes quite a bit ion 5 years. Trust me, I am an expert at that.
Look at the type of girl I was 5 years ago, and look at me now. Leaps and Bounds of difference and change.
Anyways, so they got back together literally the day after she called me, breaking down in tears, telling me it’s over. Does she bother to tell me they got back together? Not at all. I found this out over turkey sandwiches and peaches with her parents that weekend. Wow…thank you for considering me a good enough friend to break the bad news, but when it comes to this? Not even a text message.
I worked my last day of work at the KGC, and it was utterly fabulous. I know to this very day they still haven’t hired anybody to replace me. Maybe by the time I post this tomorrow (really, on Friday), they may have someone. I sort of doubt it heavily.
But, as a token of farewell and good will, I was allowed to pick one thing off the entire menu to enjoy as my last meal with the club (my last supper, if you will.) I chose the château briand, and on top of getting to eat this delicious piece of steak with béarnaise sauce and the loveliest mashed potatoes you ever did eat, our club was graced with the presence of quite the celebrity on my last day.
Who, you’re probably asking yourself, who is this mystery person? None other than Laura Linney, whom I fell in love with when she was in Love Actually. I had since followed her into her days of playing John Adams wife in the TV series John Adams. So pretty and much taller than I suspected. I held a short conversation with her, and had the instinctual moment to grab a napkin and a marker, thrust them into her and politely demand an autograph, but I held back. I didn’t want to disturb her for an autograph when she was clearly there for a family event, or as some call it, a groom’s dinner.
“I have been treated as a freak, rather like the fat lady at the circus.”
I didn’t want to treat Ms. Linney like this on her visit to the KGC. I’m sorry for the way you felt, Margaret Patricia Hughes, an English sportswriter. But at least I hope you were treated differently because you stormed into the men’s locker rooms for the stories and quotes needed for the best of sports writing. And not just for the job, but also to catch a glimpse of those abs on them athletes which I know they were sporting.
Hey, once a single woman, always a single woman (in the mind, anyways.)
Along with the excitement I have detailed already, I also started my new job, and I’ll have to dish on that more later. I have already stayed 30 minutes past what I’m scheduled to work on a daily basis to get this done (since I am still without a laptop), so I shall leave you with my Midweek Smiles and get the heck away from this office. I mean, I’ll be here 40 hours a week. Why spend more time here than I need to!?!
– This day is filled with small joys just waiting to be noticed.
– You have the strength you need.
– Everything will be all right.
– See yourself as you truly are: amazing.
– Dream. Create. Achieve!
I’ll need these reminders as much as the next person in the upcoming weeks ahead. I fly solo in the office already on Monday. MONDAY! I will only have a week under my belt at that point. Start crossing your fingers now, folks. It could be a bumpy ride.
I’m currently vacating my mind and the city I call home for the weekend to spend some time with a best friend of mine, and catch some R & R before starting my new job on Monday. Look for updates either Sunday or late Monday. I just need some time to regroup and prepare myself for the next chapter in my life.
Trust me, I couldn’t be more excited!!!
I’ll fill you in on everything when I return to the blogging world in the next 48 hours.
May the Force be with you!
“You’ve got a friend in me.”
Name that song. If you don’t know it, you are almost pretty much dead to me.
Nah, I’m just kidding. It’s the theme song from none other but the orignal Toy Story, and the song was written by the wonderful Randy Newman. In case you don’t believe me when I say he’s wonderful, also check out “Strange Things (Are Happening to Me)”, also found in the first Toy Story movie. That is certainly one movie I will love with all my heart until the day I can no longer sit in one place for the duration for the entirely of a 1.5 hour movie (Let’s face it, the bladder is going to lose function at some point during my old age.)
Woody the Cowboy and Buzz Lightyear. Whoever thought they could become friends, let alone the best of friends? They come from two entirely different backgrounds, and they live in opposite settings of each other. A ranch versus a space ship. Moon boots versus cowboy boots. Yee-ha versus To Infinity and Beyond!
You get the picture. But when they got past that original sense of hesitancy about each other, they not only had amazing adventures with each other. (The scene I’m thinking of…”Buzz, you’re flying!”, “This isn’t flying. It’s falling with style.”, “To infinity and beyooooond! Hah hah hah!”)
As other holidays rolled around and Andy grew older and older until it was time for him to go to college, Woody and Buzz remained best of friends through all the changes taking place.
I can only hope I can say the same about some of the people I’ve befriended in the past year or so as new changes not only rock my world, but theirs as well.
For instance, I’ll be leaving the job I’ve worked for the past 1.5 years, and I’ve gotten to know pretty much everybody on the staff here. Some are friends, others mere acquaintances where we say ‘hello’ and ‘good-bye’ when appropriate while making other polite small talk. A handful of others I would say have become good friends of mine. Be it a good work friend or an actual We-Talk-About-The-Big-Stuff sort of friend, we’ve connected on a level that goes beyond work mates. We’ve hung out, we’ve called each other to vent, we’ve done lunch/drinks/dinner, we’ve started drinking in the middle of the afternoon and continued well into the night, we’ve seen movies together, and we text more often than we should.
How much do you want to bet most, if not all, of these things will change the day I start my Big Girl Job?
“Friends are just enemies who don’t have enough guts to kill you.”
You’re words ring too true in my current state of being, Judy Tenuta, a lethal lampooner.
One such friend, upon learning from me that I got the job I’ll be starting next week, she had very specific words for me: “I want to be happy for you.Really, I do. But I’m going to be mad at you and hate you instead.”
This is also the same friend who bailed on grabbing drinks on my the eve of my birthday because she needed to “go home and bake. Yes, I’m an old person. But I don’t want to be tired in the morning.” I’m sorry, but it was 9:00 pm and you could have had water with lemon, especially after promising me for the entire previous week you’d come out with me. Or, how one night we decided to go out for drinks after work because we wanted to catch up with each other, but then she decided a beer on her porch would taste better. Instead of even doing that, she then agreed to go out with other coworkers for beer instead of going for a drink with me (which could have been a beer. I didn’t care what we got, I was just excited to spend time with her. Guess I was wrong again.)
From that point on, all I’ve received is attitude from a handful of reasons. When I voice a concern or make a comment about how I can’t do something because I have a handful of tasks to do, the response I most often get is, “No one cares. You’re leaving, anyways.”
Again….thanks so much. Don’t complain about me then when I never make an effort to call or text to try to get together. If you didn’t care about me in my last days as a coworker, you’re sure as hell not going to care about my well-being if we’re actually friends outside of where we work.
I’m sorry I’m moving on and making changes to my life after complaining about my current situation. Get off your butt, and make things happen instead of waiting for them to happen because you “deserve it.”
I’ve deserved a lot of things in my life, but did I get them? Not every time. Did I take it out on my friends? Maybe at first with a few sarcastic remarks, but if what happened (or didn’t happen) wasn’t related to them in any way, shape, or form, I didn’t bother them by taking it out on them. I’m sorry life isn’t what you wanted it to be like at this point in your life, but I, nor my friends, had any part in that.
Don’t burn the bridges before they’re capably built.
It doesn’t help that about an hour ago I caught the ‘Friends’ ultimate finale on TV while eating dinner, and watching them all say good-bye to each other on the show (and in real life, as the show was ending its 10th and final season) made me tear up more than once in 10 minutes time. They were all moving on to new chapters in their lives, and now, so am I.
With that in mind, I want to spread a little Vogue-spiration that bears this thought in mind:
“Want to know a secret? Obsessing about your age, and your “flaws,” is never chic. Don’t-give-a-damn is the most fashionable quality ever known. A seventeen-year-old from East L.A. with a strict budget and a stellar sense of self can be just as fabulous as a 36-yeaer-old Parisian style-maker with a charge account at Colette. She knows how to fully embrace this self, this day. She knows what shade of turquoise or amber brings out her eyes.
In this Vogue-spiration, we give you: One thirteen-year-old wise to the ways of the Chanel atelier. One 96-year-old in a leather jacket. Four 20-something cousins with shoulder-high legs and a penchant for Mugler. Mega-sequins and shearling for the under-30s; mega-sequins and shearling with an over-30 spin. Two hundred and twenty-eight pages of inspirations that span the generations.
Age? Sure, it’s just a number. But that doesn’t mean you should pretend you’re a number you’re not. Dressing like a club-hopper when you’re a woman of substance undermines your own power. Being a conformist when you’re in your 20s would be a sin.
When we write about dressing through the decades, we’re advocating that you embrace the individual. Take possession of your unique personal style. Because how many women can be you?”
To sum it all up? Seize the day. I can’t help it if my friends don’t reciprocate when I reach out an invitation to get together. If they deny the chance, I can at least say I’m doing my part in this friendship. See, that’s the tricky thing. Friendships are two-way streets. Don’t complain to me about how I’m going to be the one “too busy” or “too whatever” to have time to hang out or see you.
The more you put the blame on me before it’s even happened, the less I want to put in the effort.
Seize the day. Pick up the phone, and stay in contact. On both ends. Be the woman (or man) you’re meant to be.
As Mufasa would say, “Remember who you are. You are my son, and the one true king. Remember who you are…”
I have committed a very serious sin against the season known as summer and every spirit that makes her as magical as she is, right down to the sunsets.
My bathing suits? Not worn nearly enough.
Not worn enough while soaking up the sun on the sandy beaches, not worn enough while floating on kid-sized floaties in the big lake I like to imagine is a giant ocean parked in my backyard, and not worn nearly enough while frolicking in the water whether I’m cooling down or actually swimming for exercise/any sort of daily activity.
“There are two kinds of swimming suits. If you are going to swim, wear a water bathing suit. But if you are merely going to play on the beach and pose for your camera friends, you may safely wear the dry land variety.”
A girl needs to have a small arsenal of swimsuits in her collection for a variety of reasons, and Annette Kellerman , who was busted for wearing a one-piece before its time, speaks to this completely female need.
I have my different reasons for going to the beach. About 80% of the time, yes, I am going to enjoy the warm sunshine on patches of my skin mostly hidden away during the winter months (and where I live, that tends to be 9 months out of the year).
The other 20%? It could be a variety of things. When the waves are ragingly high for this lake, I like to indulge my adventurous side and go wave diving. Especially when they get so high and you get off shore far enough, you look behind you and can;t see the beach over the cresting waves. With the flood that happened about a month ago now, there could be anything in that water. Logs, dead fish, and other clunky debris. Every time I take a dive under a giant, rolling wave, I could be headed for disaster.
Literally. If there’s a log under the water, and I dive right into its path: Headed for Disaster. Ha. It’s sort of funny…Never mind…
Every once in a while, I go to the beach to enter a certain frame of mind I like to call ‘Paradise.’ I go to the beach, I lay on my anchor-patterned beach towel, but when I get hot, I step into the water to cool off. If I’m with someone, maybe we’ll wade into the water up to mid-calf height, and toss a football or a Frisbee around. Catch on the beach is a must.
If I’m feeling really ambitious? I’ll suggest finding a net to play some beach volleyball. Or we’ll pretend to have a net. This allows me to indulge in my current Olympic beach volleyball fantasy. (And yes, my teammate is probably Misty Mae-Treanor.)
Of all the situations I’ve just described, each of these moments at the beach requires a different sort of bathing suit. It might sound excessive, but I’m not going to wear a string bikini when I’m jumping, falling, and running around diving after a ball when playing beach volleyball.
If I’m merely soaking up some rays (or, not really exerting myself while at the beach), I’ll wear a tinier, more exposed swimsuit to allow the sun to hit as many areas of skin for even tanning as possible. This also allows for less tan lines (and yes, I am wearing sunscreen. Calm down already!)
If I’m wave diving, I’m wearing a swimsuit with more support than the lounging bikini. If I’m diving under some gnarly waves (some surfer speak for you!), I want my girls to stay in place and not hanging out all willy-nilly when I come back to the surface. No, sir. I do not want that beach mishap on my beach record if I can help it.
If I’m more in between, like yes, I *might* go in the water, but I’m going to spend a good portion of my time on the sand, I have a nice in between bikini for that situation. Or I mix and match the two mentioned from above. When you’re slightly more chesty than the average girl, I tend to worry more about my upper regions than my lower, and I like my legs most of the time, so why not show them off a bit more?
If I’m going to play some beach volleyball? It’s the most athletic bikini I have in my collection. I am not falling out or losing anything while going for the next big dig or lunging upwards for that spike. My girly parts are NOT going anywhere. I might not be the best eye candy at the beach that day, but I’m quite okay with that.
I don’t need to be known as the girl who flashed an entire beach full of children and adults alike.
Ladies, don’t let anyone tell you that you ever have too many bikinis. As long as each one serves its necessary purpose, you’re allowed to have as many as you want. Plus, you want a couple of extras in case you’re going out and wearing a wet swimsuit all day long just sounds terribly uncomfortable to your ears (and bum.)
It is uncomfortable.
Just thinking about the beach makes knowing this week is half way over puts a smile on my face. Adding to the feeling that I have only 3 more nights at my soon-to-be old job only adds to my happiness.
In case you need more of a push, here are my Midweek Smiles:
– Look how far you’ve come.
– Give a dream a makeover. Believe!
– Life never runs out of joys.
– Smile more. Stress less.
– Nothing can hold you back now.
– You don’t have to wait to be great. You already are!
What’s getting you though the rest of the week? Knowing I no longer have to work evenings on a consistent basis is keeping this smile plastered across my face.
Nothing like a little Backstreet’s Back (Alright!) to get my day moving a little quicker 🙂
I was finishing a week where I worked 57 hours between both jobs, and I was just plain tired coming off the 4-day rounds of doubles I put myself through. Not entirely my fault, since I don’t have a say in my schedule at one such job other than to say here is my availability, now please schedule me. I didn’t have to agree to help out when our other part-time evening desk clerk quit, but what can I say? I’m a team player and don’t like leaving people hanging when I can help it.
With that in mind, I walked through the door of my apartment and had nothing on my brain other than wanting to relax with nothing to bother me. The last time I felt super relaxed was when I zoned out (and eventually konked out) in front of the TV was after I allowed myself the luxury of taking a bubble bath. That’s right. A bubble bath, and not just any sort of bubble bath. When it comes to this sort of relaxation (and my body needing to just be for a solid amount of time with no stress whatsoever on it if I could help it), you have to properly set the mood.
Setting the mood might sound like something you need to do if you’re planning on sharing a bath with your special someone, but guess what people. When you’re taking care of yourself, you need to spend extra time taking care of you as much as if you were trying to impress that certain someone. Don’t sell yourself short, especially after putting yourself through almost 60 hours of work in one week.
So…setting the mood. I grabbed a variety of candles, poured the bubble bath into the running water and let myself inhale the soft lavender scent. Creating the right atmosphere for relaxation should take a little work, but not a ton. Like the candles. They offer enough light so I can read a nonsense magazine while I’m soaking in the bubbles, and they offer a really soft, sexy light to everything in the room. My clothes now laying on the bathroom floor appeared to have a naughtier tale to tell while basking in the glow of candlelight compared to how they looked when bright flourescent overhead lights flood the room.
I don’t usually take baths, so it’s a fun little experience every time I run myself one. While the tub fills with the hot, sudsy water, I like to take the time to put my hair up in a bun or ponytail, just something that gets the hair off my neck. I recently found this really super soft headband at Pier 1 I like to use whenever I take a bath. It’s tight enough to keep those pesky loose hairs off my neck and shoulders (I have a shorter hair-do, so when the hair goes up, it doesn’t necessarily all stay in the hair binder unless it has a little help via bobby pins or a lot of hairspray), but not so tight it gives me a headache in 5 minutes after putting it on. After putting my hair up, I’ll find a soothing movie score to put into my music player (funny enough, the Amelie soundtrack is really great to listen to while soaking in the tub) or I’ll just turn on the radio and listen to the random conversations DJs always have with their listening audience.
Once the bath is ready, I’m in heaven. I’ve modified the process for now, but when I put a bath tub in the house I’m eventually going to grow old in, there is going to be a padded section at one end of the tub for when I take bubble baths like these. My head and neck need a place to lean against and the hard, porcelain rim of the tub is not the ideal place.
If I’m not reading a magazine or a book while in the tub, I’m probably closing my eyes and letting the music take over the thoughts consuming my mind. Let’s just say that’s not always a good thing…OR you coul say its a very good thing.
“Just because I don’t do bad things doesn’t mean I don’t have bad thoughts.”
I’m taking your words for a sexier spin, Ms. Kristin Kreuk, a small screen starlet.
Like I said, there’s just something about candlelight and the glow it casts about the room…or the people in the room. Plainly put, candlelight is sexy. Maybe there’s a reason ‘sexy photos’ always have a ton of candles adorning the room where the action happens. Certainly doesn’t help when certain men are on the mind, either…Oh, Ryan Lochte, you’ll never be far from my mind whenever I immerse myself in water.
It also helps with the sexy feeling when you step out of the bathtub and rinse yourself off with a quick shot of cold water to get any leftover bubbles off your skin. Immediately after that? Slip into a silky robe, and maybe have a glass of wine (or water, whatever your fancy) and continue to lounge. No worries, no cares…and if you’re feeling like getting a little saucy with that special someone, be sure to do it while the sexy mood continues.
Otherwise you’ll just fall asleep on the couch like I do every other time I’ve let myself enjoy a bubble bath.
But if self-therapy isn’t enough of a way to cause you to relax, maybe a little retail therapy would help with that. Cue up your laptop, top off that glass of wine, and let the online shopping spree begin! Here a few things to watch for during the rest of August if the shopping bug has bitten you:
– School Supplies
– School Clothes
– Summer Clothing (specifically bathing suit and sandals!)
– Linens and Towels
– Lawn and Garden Equipment
This week has joined itself with the previous weekend, and I am just stuck on trying to remember what day it is.
This is what happens when you work too much. Get some relaxation in and…I dont know…let the sexy reign.
Due to the hectic-ness of my past weekend, I once again neglected to share with you my Fabulous Friday’s.
Believe me when I say my Friday was quite wonderful, and they are only going to get better when I start getting into the swing of things with my new job. I can’t believe I am about to start the next big chapter in my life. A week from today I will leave the current job I’ve been working for a 1.5 years, and I will be starting an actual career job…at least a job that will give me an edge in the type of career path I imagine myself on. A week from today! Ahhh I can’t wait!
But the countdown has begun on when my last day at my current job will be. T-minus 4 days. I couldn’t be more excited. Every evening will not be dedicated to answering a phone or showing people where to go for dinner while they get to enjoy their evening out. I won’t have to worry about random people running in through our doors thinking we’re a church with handfuls of money to handout for their well-being and assistance. No more working parties where everyone is plastered within the first hour or so, and then the men continue to hit on me or try to catch a glimpse of something more down the front of my shirt.
No more, I say! Most of my evenings will be my own, as will be my weekends, and certain plans are already being set into motion for some Big Girl adventures now that I have available weekends. Let’s just say every adventure should be filled with passion of the heart, and let yourself experience it all for what it is and never, ever look back.
I’m growing into my adulthood, what can I say.
“I have often thought that I am the most clever woman that ever lived, and others cannot compare with me…Although I have heard much about Queen Vctoria…I don’t think her life was half so interesting and eventful as mine. I have 400,000,000 people dependent on my judgement.”
Those are the exciting words of Empress Dowager Cixi, a 19th century notable. Can you imagine ruling over that many people? Four hundred million! I can’t even grasp how large that number is in my head. If we’re talking dollar amounts, I know I’d be set for life with that large of a sum.
Come on, lucky lottery ticket!
The only royal I feel I can relate to (or at least pretend I know enough about in order to relate) is the Duchess of Cambridge herself. I know there’s more to being princess than always looking perfect, welcoming foreign visitors and political dignitaries with humility, gracious manners, and courteous smiles. It’s not about the clothes or appearing to be happy in the public eye. It’s volunteering, it’s putting a face to a much bigger cause.
It’s more than hospital visits, opening child care centers, or breaking dirt and being the center of a photo-op. Kate Middleton carries the burdens placed upon her well. I wouldn’t be complaining about a front row seat to every single Olympic event you wanted to attend. So what if she isn’t smiling in the photo plastered to her all-access pass? It’s protocol!
While i have no doubt Middleton leads a very exciting and eventful royal life (seriously, I’m super jealous of her Olympics access), but there are a few things she can’t do without it being labelled with a huge red stamp of SCANDAL. Me? Sure, it’ll be a scandal most likely, but I can get away with it and not have it splashed across the cover and Page 6 of every major publication in the world.
For now, at least.
Anyways, without much further ado, and it’s Monday so no one likes to read a novel length posting on a Monday, here are the reasons my latest edition of Friday was so freaking Fabulous:
Fabulous Office Space:
Fabulous Start to the Day:
Fabulous Summer Lunch:
Fabulous Starbucks Complex:
Fabulous Wedding Gift:
Happy Monday, boys and girls, and may you be treated like kings and queens of old in your relationships with those whom love you.
Challenge accepted? I sure hope so!