Beauty and Cosmetics
The joys of an unexpected day off. What else is a girl to do when she has a handful of coupons in her hand, and nothing but a hair appointment scheduled for her day?
Why, yes, indeed, she does head to the mall.
Not to say that this wasn’t a planned out trip. It sort of was. I allow myself to enter the realms of Barnes and Noble at most once a month (unless something more dire comes up, but now that my time with the Academy is over, those needs are not so dire anymore.) I stopped to get my fill for the month of checking out new releases, new cookbooks, any self-help reads which catch my eye on occasion, any new Star Wars literature developments, any deals on Calvin and Hobbes comic books, and a whole slew of other things.
Trust me. My kids are going to hate the moments when mommy says, “Jump in the car, guys. We’re going to the bookstore.” It’s going to be like church when I was a kid.
There is only one thing on a kids mind when they are not allowed to run, jump, and scream at the top of their lungs (and you dare not disobey your parents. Back then, they were allowed to discipline me by giving me a small tap on my backside without fear of someone saying they were abusing me. Some kids need a good swat across the butt, if you ask me.)
Anyways, the bookstore is going to be their church. Hopefully they enjoy whatever their father does on Saturday afternoons. That way, they can bother him and I can have a few hours of quiet, blissful “me” time when the trials of parenthood become far to obnoxious.
Good thing I don’t need to worry about that any time soon.
One of my best deals of the day? Victoria’s Secret is having a handful of good sales happening at this time, and if you’re lucky enough to find something that works for you, you’re getting it for a steal of a price. I managed to walk out the door with a bottle of Gorgeous perfume (in the really cute old-school perfume bottle, too!) for $13.00. Originally, that same perfume, bottle and all, costs roughly $50.00.
Good steal? I think so. Every girl needs to smell good, too.
Snagged a pair of black heels from Maurices I’ve been eyeballing for a short while, especially when the pair of black heels I originally wanted to match a pair of brown ones I bought earlier in the spring are no longer offered on either the website or in store. And I have to get a move on with those zodiac charms before they no longer are offered. Tried to find them in the store, and they were nowhere to be found.
Thank goodness for credit cards. Sometimes.
“Success has many fathers. Failure is a mother.”
The thought-provoking words of Jeanne Phillips, thee advisor to America.
Stop and think about it. Where do we learn our best lessons? When we discover we failed at something. Not necessarily a massive, face-planting type of failure, but something where the outcome was not quite what we expected. I have lived through my fair share of failure in the last couple of months.
Yes, I had a huge crowning achievement in the month of May when I walked across the stage as I accepted my “diploma” from the Chancellor of my Academy, and taking my first real steps into the “real world” as they call it. Not only did I graduate, but I graduated with a double degree in five years. It’s sort of unheard of, but I did it nonetheless.
The sleepless nights, the nights drowned out in Rock Stars and other miscellaneous energy drinks, nights where I wake up with a small pool of drool coating the corner of my textbook, or going to bed only to set my alarm for 3 hours later so I can get up and continue with the horrendous paper whose topic seemed to resonate less and less with every word I typed, the nights where you successfully press ‘Save’ for the last time after reading more about religion in movies than you’d ever care to know on a regular basis.
Those nights were all worth it.
Now, how about the day of my last audition at my Academy? I was primed and ready to sing my heart out. I had my monologue down flat. I stepped onto the stage, introduced myself, and the first note played on the piano, I opened my mouth to let the notes fly….but nothing came out. The music stopped playing and I just stood there. I made the decision to move on to my monologue instead. I got out the first two lines, and then I jumped right to the end. When I know I’m screwing up, my hands start to shake uncontrollably from nerve impulses. When that started happening, I knew I was a goner. As I thanked the directors, I started to laugh and shake my head because I ended my entire audition package with, “That’s all for now because I seem to have forgotten the rest.”
Boom…Roasted on the very stage I wanted more than anything to perform on.
It came as no surprise when I looked at the callback list and my name didn’t appear on it. I would have peed my pants if I saw my name at all.
The thing is…I failed. What did I learn? Maybe I’m not cut out for auditioning for shows after all. Maybe my dream of being an actress isn’t going to happen. It caused me to take a step back and reevaluate where I’m headed in the next 5 years of my life, that’s for sure.
On top of that debacle, I came very close to have big girl jobs. I’ve made it to the final rounds of interviews, only to be told at the end that I’m absolutely perfect for the position, but they were going to give it to someone else.
But, it’s only pushed me to look harder to find where I’m going to be a perfect fit AND get offered the job. I’m getting interviews, so I know I’m someone worth looking at, and when I walk into that room for an interview, I own it.
Year’s of theater experience does come in handy, after all.
It’ all winding itself into one thing I’ve loved since Day 1 of my life: Summer. Summer is such a magical time. Maybe I won’t think so in 20 years or so, but right now, summer is pretty much my definition of freedom and ‘anything can happen’ mentalities. Look at what I’ve done in the last couple of months so far! Stories to tell, for sure.
Along with random shopping spree days, here’s a slew of reasons why I absolutely love summer above every other holiday:
– Cargo Capri pants (I’m not a huge shorts person, but I’m learning!)
– Cool Breezes (off the lake, especially!)
– Bike Rides
– Farmer’s Markets
– Birds Chirping
– Flip Flops
– Open Windows (such a soothing thing while you sleep)
– Jean Jackets
– Green Grass (under your bare feet!)
Tonight, I mark another thing off my summer bucket list by seeing the Dark Knight Rises with someone I’ve been seeing semi-seriously (if semi-seriously is even a thing when it comes to boys and girls going out together), but I’m pretty excited about it.
Not only will there be eye candy up on the screen, there will be eye candy beside me.
All in all, I’m a happy girl right now.
Anakin had it wrong.
The feeling of sand is wonderful. There is nothing better than pulling out a book or magazine in the dead of the heartless winter season and having a small pile of sand fall into my lap. It’s not too convenient when you’re laying comfortable in your nice, warm bed with the blankets wrapped perfectly around yourself and suddenly there’s a mess of grainy particles now mixed among your small piece of heaven.
But I still love finding it. I love finding those small reminders of summer every now and then.
Especially when its sand.
There is nothing I love more than a beach day. Sometimes its only for a few hours. Heck, sometimes it’s only for a few minutes because not every beach day is a day is paradise. The flies decide to bite. It’s hot on top of the hill, but once by the water, the wind chills you to the bone. There’s not a level piece of land without a crap ton of debris laying everywhere. Too many people screaming along with their children under the age of 6. The sand is so scorching hot on your feet that it literally hurts to walk so you have to run in the hopes of saving your feet (at least until you reach the water’s edge and can walk on the already wet sand.)
Anakin Skywalker had it wrong. Sand is not rough and coarse. While it does get everywhere, I tend to like it that way. Because if you leave the beach covered in sand for one reason or another, that only means one thing when you finally reach home. It means you can take a cold shower.
Hearing the words cold shower gives me all sorts of crazy ideas. I’ll keep most of them to myself.
This is the first weekend where I haven’t had a full day off, and on top of not having a full day off to collect my thoughts from the craziness of working the evening hours and trying to live like a normal individual, I have to return to work for a mandatory work meeting. From what I gathered from other individuals at this place of establishment, it’s basically going to consist of us being fed snacks while watching a series of training videos.
It’s seriously the weirdest weekend of my life, and if I could fast forward through this meeting.
Basically, summer makes me feel a lot of things, and according to an article I read in an old issue of Glamour magazine, summer makes us feel 10x better about ourselves in a variety of ways. We feel healthier, we feel happier, we actually look better (from all the sunshine and extra water we’re drinking because of the soaring hot temperatures.)
We’re also feeling sexier in every aspect of the word.
What can I say? Nothing looks better than a white bikini and a nice bronze tan. (I know a few guys who would agree with me on this one.)
“Old people do have sex and they have it a lot. They’re just doing it a little more slowly, which, come to think of it, is not a bad thing.”
Those are the revealing words from Estelle Getty, one of our beloved Golden Girls. They do say it gets better as we age. I wouldn’t know. I’m not yet beyond the age of 50. I’ll let you know when it happens, and weigh in on the subject at hand.
But, in all seriousness. It’s kind of funny how this season instills both a fear of one’s body and emboldens the need to show it off. As I was walking around the beach this afternoon, not only did I know I looked good (I know a thing or two about picking out the right swimsuit for your body type), but I was also berating myself for not working harder on slimming my thighs down, or mentally tallying how many more reps I’d need to add to my arm workout in order to start seeing muscle definition results.
My favorite part of the article I read from Glamour? We attract more men without even realizing we’re doing it. It’s easier for a man to find you attractive in the summer months. Why? We’re practically running around half-naked by choice.
Disagree with me? I’m sorry, but I’m most likely to be found wearing a skirt or sundress of some sort in these hot temps instead of a full-on pantsuit. More skin = more double takes = more ooh la-la for all involved.
I thought it was interesting logic.
Women aren’t alone in this. We all tend to feel a touch more adventurous in the summer months. There’s just something very invigorating in the air, pushing us to take that extra step, to try something entirely new.
Which brings me to my New Day Sunday. I discovered these things back in the month of June (yeah, I’m a touch behind), but trying something new is not something you set on deadline.
Produce:Corn on the Cob
Bakery:Coffee Cupcakes with Glitter Frosting
Canned Goods:Pork n’ Beans
Breakfast/Cereal:French Vanilla Flavored Coffee Grounds
Meats: Steak on the Hibachi Grill
Dairy:Potato Topper Sour Cream
Frozen Foods: Karmel Sutra Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream
Beverages:Woodchuck Hard Cider
Toiletries:Got 2 B Power-derful Hair Gel
Household:Marker Menu Board
Pet:Dog Bed made out of an End Table
Snacks: Dutch Crunch Steak-Flavored Chips
Misc: Heating/Cooling Eye Mask
Maybe something on here sparked your interest to start your week. It’s hard to believe the weekend is just about to see itself close. I do enjoy my weekends, even when I work more than half the time. What can I say…A woman has to do what a woman has to do.
And that, these days, is to earn a living.
Well…enough of a living to get by with the essentials and a few nights out with beer and friends thrown into the mix.
Not that I don’t appreciate the compliments. I really do. I probably appreciate them more in this state of being than when I actually put a lot of physical effort into my appearance before going anywhere. When you put more than an hour into your appearance, you better dang well get a compliment or two, otherwise what in the hell were you doing with your time?
Here’s how this afternoon went: I get out of the shower, blow dry my hair, straighten it…the usual routine when I’m going about a normal working day. I had the vision of what I wanted to wear to work all figured out in my noggin. I would wear my gray pencil skirt with my emerald-green satin top (the one with the black polka-dots and the black sash right under the bust), and my trusty black pumps. I slide on the skirt and everything is looking good. It’s when I slide on the top I start to feel less than stellar.
For one, my boobs must have grown 10x since the last time I wore this particular top. The black sash which is supposed to go underneath my bustline? It didn’t go under my bustline. It went right across the middle of my chest, cutting my twins in half. If you’ve ever seen this done to your set of twins, you know how highly unattractive a look it is. So, the logical thing? I pull the top down, hoping to adjust it to its proper place. It wouldn’t budge. So, I reached inside the V-neck of this shirt and adjust myself with my hands, thinking maybe this would do the trick.
Boy, did it ever. I suddenly had cleavage like never before. Sooooo not appropriate for the place I needed to be at in less than 20 minutes.
What’s a girl to do other than to rip off the green shirt with the black polka-dots and tear through her closest for the next best option for her attire? I put on my favorite gray short-sleeved suit coat…it made me look wide through the middle. I put on my favorite purple multi-tiered layered camisole with my black sweater shrug…it made my look pregnant. Tried to put together a simple all-black outfit…except all of them required to wear heels and with a wedding happening at my workplace, I wasn’t about to run a wedding marathon in the high heels I would have to wear with these particular ensembles.
Finally I reached the point where I had to put on some clothes or be really late for work. So, I grabbed the first two things I saw that matched each other, slid on my flats, and dashed out the door.
Rewind a little bit here, too. Before the whole “what do I wear?” debacle, I was complaining to my roommate how I have boring hair. Boring in the sense that I always wear it the same way. It’s either half-up with bobby pins to get my bangs out of my face, all the way up into a ponytail to get the hair off my neck, or it’s down in a simple straight ‘do. It’s so boring!, I explained. I need to learn how to put my hair up in fun ways.
Like, some girls can do a successful messy bun.
I can’t do that.
Some know how to braid the front parts of their hair in fun ways, and loop them around to their ponytail/bun up do.
I can’t do that.
Others know how to roll the ends of their hair up and around so they have this rolled/coiled look going on. Very classy looking, in my opinion.
I can’t do that.
So, as I stared at my lifeless hair after straightening it for the one millionth time in my life, I knew I wanted it off my neck. It was a warm day, and I was already sweating just thinking about the prep work I’d be doing once I arrived at work. My solution? The half-updo it was. My roommate saw me, and remarked, “We decided on boring again today, huh?”
Apparently, I’m a sweaty AND boring blob of a person. It doesn’t help that a giant M&M cookie is staring me in the face right now.
“One seeks new friends only when too well-known by old ones.”
In this instance, when contemplating the words of Madame de Puisieux, the French epigrammist, I know I need to find new friend with not just good hair. They need to have GREAT hair, and I need to find out their tricks of the trade.
Let’s be real here. It’s not just with their hair….it’s with their overall look. How they put simple, yet elegant outfits together in the blink of an eye and simply by pulling things from their closest. How they step out of the shower, let their hair do whatever the hell it wants, run a squirt of some magical hair gel through the palms of their hands and over their scalp, and voila! Magnificent hair!
I want to have hair like that!
I used to think my hair was capable of doing two things, and these things dictated the way I would do it. 1.) I would get in the way of my vision and could be detrimental to whatever I happened to be doing at that moment. If I’m returning a fast spin serve on the tennis courts, or sketching a nearby tree, or people watching at the park, or attempting to read a sign while driving down the highway so I don’t get lost in the middle of a giant freaking city. I could be in the middle of a massive lightsaber fight, but wouldn’t you know it? My hair gets in my face, I can’t respond to a move, and I’m suddenly without an arm for the rest of my life.
All because of my stupid head of hair.
Mostly because of my athletic tendencies, I always wore my hair up and out of my face. Plus, it’s really easy to do your hair fresh out of the shower. Especially when its a 100+ degree day in the summer time. Have you ever milked cows in a sweltering barn with your hair falling in tumbles down your back and shoulders? Yeah, I didn’t think so.
The second thing my hair is capable of doing? Seduction. If done and played with correctly, a woman’s hair can be the gateway to a man’s bare instincts and animatistic tendencies. You can drive a man wild just by the way you do your hair, or simply by sweeping your hair off your neck, revealing the vulnerable and lovely nape of the neck. Flirting with one’s hair….it’s still a technique I’m working on. I don’t think you can hate your hair 350 days out of the year and have this technique mastered.
On top of everything else today, I tied 60-some blue satin bows on the back of chairs needed for this wedding’s ceremony, and people only sat in them for 30 minutes. Once the ceremony was over, the chairs with my decadent bows were abandoned.
Ah, the fruits of ones labors.
I hope your weekends are going just as awesome as mine. Minus the feeling like a blob part.
I don’t wish that upon anyone.
While everyone else was out to the theater’s to watch the midnight showing of The Dark Knight Rises, I walked in to see a different movie which has been garnering great critical praise: Brave.
Brave introduces us to the first Disney Pixar princess, and I have to say, I fell in love with her. Probably because I could relate to her in every possible way. But, I fell in love with that fiery red hair, those dazzling clear blue eyes, and her sassy Irish tongue. She is a girl I’d be friends with, even if mostly we wanted to kill each other.
It was a traditional story of sorts: A young woman born into the royal family of her country (in this case, Scotland) is slightly be forced by the powerhouse mother of her’s to give up on the way she’s been living her life (carefree and wildly unacceptable by princess standards) to assume her title, but not before being betrothed to the one of the 1st born sons of the fellow Scottish clans which make up their great kingdom.
Her name is Princess Merida, and she is your typical tomboy…if tomboy was even a title back in the day of the Scottish brogue living in giant stone castles. She’s one of the boys. No, scratch that. She’s better than all of the boys put together! Merida is my kind of gal. Her bow is the most prized possession she could ever own, and when her mother forbids her from ever shooting a single arrow ever again, I honestly felt my heart-break. It’s the same as my mother telling me to go put my lightsaber away and never speak of Star Wars again.
It would be unheard of, and I most certainly would rebel.
It’s takes a strong spirit to be able to look both your parents in the face and say, “I’ll be shooting for my own hand.” Basically, no man is ever going to be good enough for me until I decide he is, so back off and I’ll choose my lifetime lover when I’m darn good and ready!
It’s going to take quite the special man to steal this heart of mine to being with, anyways.
“A grown woman should not have to masquerade as a girl in order to remain in the land of living.”
I love these words spoken by Germaine Greer, a screed writer. I hate this idea that the older we get in age, the more “respectable” we have to be as women.
Now, let me get one thing straight. I believe a woman should possess a certain amount of qualities. All the great ones do, anyways. She should be charming, know how to dress for her body type, have “her” particular scent/perfume picked out, have an opinion on one (if not more) major issue of her current times, be able to laugh at herself, have a drink of choice when out with the ladies, know what she likes in bed, and most importantly, not give a damn about what people think of her when she’s purely being herself.
Why should all these things change once we hit a certain age? Age ain’t nothing but a number, right? (When it comes to most living situations…not all dating situations, however, but that’s a different topic for a different time.)
The reason I like this so much? The mother in Brave is a criminal of Greer’s words. She passes herself off as one thing in order to be accepted as another. In all honesty, she gives up on her girlish nature because she’s worried about what’s considered “acceptable.” Yes, she is a queen of a larger and powerful nation. But she also has a daughter who is bound to follow a different path than she.
Could you imagine if Kate Middleton tried to walk down the same exact path and Princess Diana or Queen Elizabeth herself? My mind can’t even handle thinking about it. Yes, Kate Middleton entered the role of Duchess very gracefully and with much dignity, despite a few minor mishaps and scandals along the way. But even she had her “wild” days. Umm…the infamous see-through dress that she modeled in her friend’s fashion show where Prince William supposedly leaned over to his friend and whispered, “Kate is really hot.”
Or something like that.
Regardless, I don’t think our current Duchess of Cambridge gave up that daring and sassy side of her life once William became interested in her, and if she did, I may lose a tiny bit of respect for her.
Going back to Brave, the mother does come to realize it’s okay for girlish tendencies to be held onto. They make us who we are. If I went home and didn’t jump around on the round hay bales like I’ve done for 15+ years of my life, my family might think I’m insane. If I still didnt’ run around in my High School Musical t-shirt when it came time for me to put my pajamas on, they’d wonder if I hit my head on something and if brain damage of a result, even with the shirt now being a touch too small and with it showing off my bellybutton.
Just the other weekend, I came running down the stairs for coffee with my sisters before getting ready for the day, and I came downstairs in little booty shorts and a tight baseball tee. Hey, when I’m asleep, I like knowing if I have to jump out of bed I have clothes on without fear of them getting caught on anything as I dash out the door! (It’s a Jedi thing.) But, my oldest sister, who is 11 years ahead of me in life, looks at me and instantly says, “Go put some clothes on!”
I just laughed at her and said, “If I’ve got the body now, I’m going to show if off while I got it.”
The point is, I really hope I can hold on to this attitude. Not an attitude of carelessness, but of one that bares the air of “I don’t give a F*ck what you think of me.” Yes, it is easier said than done, but if I can hold on to that as I enter the older decades of my life, what a wise Jedi I am determined to become.
As always, it is Friday! Hallelujah and not a day too late! Although I don’t have a forseeable day off in sight, I am ready to have a few lax days to just get to be me for a while. I have big Saturday night plans….with myself. Sharing my Fabulous Friday’s with out is one of the ways I like to hold on to my younger self, while at the same time, starting to meld it with the maturing adult I hope I’m becoming. There are moments that call for a certain level of maturity. This is something I understand.
But there are also moments where you should be so blown out of proportion silly that no one can look at you straight without seriously considering how much alcohol you’ve consumed (PS – The big secret? You haven’t had a single drop!)
Here’s my Fabulous Friday —
Fabulous Midsummer Material:
Fabulous Summer Polish Shade:
Fabulous Start to the Morning:
Fabulous Reason for an Iphone:
Fabulous Accessory Every Girl Needs:
Fabulous Turn On:
Fabulous Crush to Share with your Mom:
Hope you don’t get too crazily out of control this evening, and remember, no one likes to see you running around with your pants off. Unless you’re at the lake. Then, by all means, if you’re taking your pants off, at least jump in the water.
Keep that inner girl fighting alive in everything you do. Mine always thought she was a Jedi, a warrior of sorts. Now it’s up to me to discover what I’m fighting for.
Let’s be honest here. I just rewrote this sentence twice after returning home from having a beer with coworkers. I promise it was only one, but seriously, I am beyond tired and should be going to bed instead of writing to you at this time and hour.
A face like this needs its beauty sleep.
It could be the beer, but this TV sounds really loud to me all of a sudden. I could simply be getting old, too. Ugh, whoever thought they’d see the day where I would utter something like that. Why I even decided to put on an unwatched episode of SNL is beyond me. I’m going to spend more time looking at that damn TV than to this computer screen. I can be a real dinkus sometimes.
It could also be my massive love and obsession with Bill Hader. Some call him absolutely creepy. Me? I’d jump him backstage in less than five seconds if given the chance.
This past weekend has got me going all sorts of crazy. It’s got me thinking about lots of things. Dating, guys, getting out into the country more often, actually eating something that wasn’t made on a deep-fried grill,the job search, wanting to move back home to help out for an extended period of time…and more about boys.
What is it about the country that drives the hormones crazy? The Pure Romance party I hosted for my sister’s Bachelorette Party didn’t help matters any. The weird thing? I ended up buying more beauty products than anything else after the Pure Romance segment was concluded. It’s fantastic. Not only did I buy a heated massager, but I also purchased this stuff called Dream, which is a pillow spray in the scent of rosemary, rosewood, and patchouli.
It smells so incredible.
If you want to imagine the smell, think of a legitimate hair salon that sorely uses Aveda products. Naturally, I adore Aveda (despite the price sometimes), and the smell just makes me feel like I am in heaven. Going to the hair salon once every three months or so just makes me lose myself from reality.
Everybody needs one, so don’t judge.
“When the grandmothers of today hear the word Chippendales, they don’t think of chairs.”
Oh, Jean Kerr…you are quite the dish dispenser. It’s a fact of our time era. Sex sells. Perfect example? The movie Magic Mike. Shirtless men with ripped chests and abs ripping their clothes off for money. You can’t tell me there isn’t at least one steamy love scene somewhere in that movie. Whenever somebody strips their clothes for money in a movie as a main character of the overall plot, there’s at least ONE steamy sex scene.
Trends don’t lie.
Recently, my sister and I made a list of things we will never, ever be able to talk to each other about despite how close we are, how close we’ve been, or how close we will become in the future.
What happens behind closed doors with boys is one such topic.
So imagine the look on her face (and everyone else’s faces for that matter) when the Pure Romance consultant walks into the room and tells us she’s going to open our minds to not only getting more pleasure in bed, but also with ourselves when the men in our lives “just don’t get it.”
I have never laughed as hard as I did that night by simply watching the reactions on my sister’s faces as the presentation continued. The beauty product version of everything went really well with people ooh-ing and ahh-ing when appropriate. I really wanted to get this perfume whose name I can’t recall at this exact moment, but it’s made with mostly pheromones so when it hits your skin, it mixes with the hormones in your body and it makes its scent according to the combination of pheromones and hormones inside everyone’s individual body. When initially rolled on, it does have a fruity smell about it, but after a few minutes, it starts to accumulate to your body’s specific chemistry. It’s perfectly named Basic Instinct.
I considered mine to smell almost like Bath and Body Works scent “Delicious,” but I was knocked off my high horse when my sister smelled my wrist and said, “Yours smells musty.”
Musty? Are you kidding me?!
Ah well, she was the guest of honor. I really couldn’t argue with her all that much. At least, not for one night anyways 🙂
On top of that, we filled out a card for her so she can improve her presentations from this point out based on what we had to say about our experiences with this particular time, and there was a question of “Out of the women with you in the group this time, which of them would make a possible Pure Romance consultant?”
Everyone, minus myself, wrote down my name.
Me? A Pure Romance consultant? Apparently I’m very energetic and open about talking about embarrassing topics. So, people think I could make a living talking about sex. Hey, it’s been a small dream of mine to be a guest blogger for the Cosmopolitan. You know the ones I’m talking about…30 Days of Sex, or 365 of Dating Tips,..things like that. Everything is anonymous, and no real names are mentioned, but the real, raw, but juicy fun details we all love to read about. It’s entertaining, to say the least.
And sex for 30 days straight? I could handle that. It’s the guy I’d have to worry about. It takes a special guy to actually take part in the blogging experiment experience, and not just go along with it because…well, because he wants nothing but sex for 30 days.
Nothing is ever as good as it seems.
But my eyes are really starting to get heavy now, so I’m going to leave you with a few uplifting parting words. Remember, the week is officially half way over, so here’s a little push in continuing to make it better.
– You have the power to make positive changes.
– Life is a menu with unlimited choices.
– Kick stress off your team.
– No one’s star shines brighter than yours.
– Setbacks are only temporary.
– No matter what chapter you’re on, you are a success story.
– Keep your eyes on the prize. It’s so close!
Who knew a body would need an entire week to recover from two days worth of wedding time party bliss?
If we were sitting in a visual setting right now, you’d see me sitting in the back of the room, head in my hands and shaking a furrowed brow at the table top. Not in disgust. In utter amazement at myself.
Okay, maybe a little disgust at my mental capacity to blank out of reality on a regular basis.
A small confession to make: I’m a little behind the times, and completely lost track of what day of the week it actually is. If you lived the schedule I have, you’d get your days messed up and confused just as easily.
So, my confession is quite simply this: I didn’t acknowledge that it was July until my supervisor walked by me at work this morning, chitchatting with me as she beelined for the bookcase behind me, and I slaved over my current project of the hour. She asked how my summer was going, and I replied with an enthusiastic, “It’s going great! So much is happening, and I’m loving the weather.”
Her reply to my statement: “I totally agree, although I feel like I slept through all of June. Where has the summer gone? It’s the 4th of July tomorrow already!”
She proceeds to walk away, and I stare at the bookcase she had been perusing mere seconds before. It’s July…July 4th in less than 24 hours…and I’m only realizing this now?
WTF?! What have I been doing for the last month of my life? I totally acknowledge that my birthday happened about a week ago, and I had been looking forward to that for some time, but what about the time that seems to have eclipsed since then? Apparently my brain decided time was going to stand still on the day immediately following my birthday.
If only I was so lucky.
So, summer is just about half over. If anything is going to throw a wrench in my day, that’s going to be it. This realization that summer is fully upon us, and what have I done with myself? It wouldn’t be fair to say I haven’t done anything. Not true. I have done a small amount of exciting adventures. Some I’ve told you about. Others are meant for only me to know until my dying day. What are they?, you ask.
I’m not about to tell you any time soon, so just stop asking already!
I do have to say I haven’t gotten out to the beach nearly enough this summer. I broke out of the gates right away when we had those ungodly nice days in May when I was fresh out of school, but I haven’t really been back since. A day here and there, but nothing substantial, and my skin color is starting to be the same shade as everyone else. Bronze, bronze and more bronze.
I need to be a part of the More Bronze category. Anybody else hear my competitive side kicking in, or am I the only one? I am who I am. What else can I say?
“The feminists took me as a role model, as a mother. It bothers me. I am not interested in being a mother. I am still a girl trying to understand myself.”
Isn’t that the understatement of the century? I barely understand myself. Hell, I have barely scratched the surface of who I am or who I’m going to be. You hear that, Louise Bourgeois, the lady credited with founding confessional art.
While July fills me with melancholy, nostalgia and grief that summer’s end is on the distant horizon, it’s also a great reminder that summer is here and it’s here to stay. Because I barely know myself, there are a few things yet to look forward to that I haven’t accomplished for this season of sunshine:
– Bonfire and Beer on the beach
– the State Fair! (I know, I know…not until August, the true ending of summer)
– Playing Frisbee on the beach
– Finding the perfect summer alcoholic beach beverage (and an inconspicuous container in which to carry it in)
– Adding a few more sundresses a la Kate Middleton to my wardrobe
– Cleaning out my closest to make room for said sundresses (saving that one for a rainy day)
– Four-wheeler ride through the hay fields back on the farm
– Watching ‘The Dark Knight Rises’ on the big screen on opening night (OMG!)
– Attend a summer street festival of sorts
– Go Camping!! (I have a new obsession I think.)
– Wake up earlier than the sun to watch it rise over the lake (coffee is definitely expected to attend)
– Find a new favorite walking path (preferably on the beach)
– Road trip down to the cities to reconnect with college friends and drink ourselves silly (aka SHENANIGANS!!)
– Jump into a pool with all my clothes on
– The One-Man Star Wars Show (still need to get my hands on tickets…and soon!)
And I’m sure there are a million other things I want to do, but this list could go on for a while, so I’ll just stop now.
My main mission tonight? Getting everything assembled for the pending Bridal Shower and Bachelorette Party taking place this weekend. YES! The time has finally arrived, and I’m very calm headed about everything right now. I have quite a few phone calls to make, and I’m procrastinating on them for what reason, I’m not too sure. Because I hate talking on the phone? My vote is yes on that one.
It’s all going to go swimmingly, and I just cannot wait. It’s going to be a night they are going to remember, that’s for sure. I only hope they remember this is for my sister, and it’s her night. Everything I planned is because I knew she’d enjoy it, and if they stop being prudes for more than three seconds, I know they’ll have fun with it, too.
Everyone is allowed a night where they can be a little naughty for once in their life.
What are a few things you have planned yet for your summer?
In case the temperatures are getting too sweltering for you, make sure to grab an ice-cold beer or two. Lots of water will help, as will your own personal fan. It’s scorching temps here, so wherever you are, remember to keep hydrated if you’re working extensively outdoors (and no, I do not mean have another margarita while lounging by the pool.)
H20, people, H20!
It’s the real Aqua de Vida.
Do we judge it based on how one feels the following morning? Do we judge it on how many times we smack ourselves in the forehead after hearing about the stupid things done? Or perhaps we can judge it on the amount of alcohol consumed. The times we laughed and cried, and continued to drink some more. I personally could measure it in how many times I ask for food. Alcohol is a tricky bugger like that. I think I’ve eaten enough to fill the caverns of my stomach before heading out for the night, and two beers later, I’m asking every individual I meet if they have any food hidden in their pockets.
Or I just have too many chronic cases of the munchies. Mmmmm Munchies…
Last night was a pretty good night. I’m not going to try to say anything I did was wrong or not worth it. It was a beautiful night to sit out on the porch steps of a friend’s house and simply watch people go about their business while we caught up on each other’s past week of living. Soaking in the summer night air. The only place it may have been better to sit and enjoy a beer would have been on the beach, but at that time of night, who knows how many crazy people were building sand castles of their own.
I may have been drinking, but I’m not an idiot. Crazy people are attracted to the beach at night.
I could continue at this point to talk about how my night went. In a nutshell, my friends and I went to late-night improv. I laughed my ass off because this troupe of people are really funny, especially when I sneezed super loudly while sitting in the very front row of the theater, cutting off the player who was about to give a zinger of a one-liner, and he simply pointed at me and the audience applauded me instead. After improv, we started to walking back to where we had started the evening but had to make a bathroom break. Of course, what do women do in the bathroom, but gossip and run into other women that we know. So, I ended up talking to an old coworker for half an hour before being dragged back out on to the street. Then, as we’re walking back to Point A, we see a rapper performing outside a kind-of down and dirty pub (one of our favorite spots, mind you), and we decide to stop and have a drink. At this point, I’m needing my food fix so I was all set to slap some money down for some nachos, but it ended up being stifling inside the place, so I stepped outside to scope out patio tables for our booties to take a seat. As I rounded the corner with one of my friends, I spot the shaved head and punk hair-do of two of my coworkers. Guess where I sat down? More talking and drinks ensued, and it was a very good night overall.
As I laid in bed struggling to swing my legs over the side to bring me to a standing position, I began to think a few things. One very big thought: Is this what my life as become? Drinking and being sick in the morning, and doing it all over again? I know I graduated not that long ago, so the lifestyle is very fresh in my being, but man, I just can’t do it anymore. It may sound lame, but more often than not, I prefer the nights where its me and the guy of the week sitting on his couch, watching a movie considered the “it” movie of the year 3 years ago, and sipping on a beer or two throughout the night.
Is this the sign of getting old? Oh, crap.
“There are two categories of women. Those who are women and those who are men’s wives.”
You tread a fine line here, Charlotte Whitton, a Ottawan politician. I believe a woman can be both herself and a wife to a very good man. The key word missing from my statement is “respect”. There better be respect in that relationship, otherwise, Whitton is right. You become the wife, and not a partner in crime.
As a partner in crime, I know I’m still going to crave these nights outs where I get a little loose with my words and laugh a little too loudly. But I also know I want to come home to someone on those nights and give them something to remember in the morning (other than my moaning in the morning about how icky I feel and how my head won’t stop pounding.) Even on the worst of days, I’d choose being a woman over a man any day. It gives me the extra edge I need when I encounter being treated differently because I wear high heels to work and have two round bumps protruding from my chest. When I’m told I don’t have the physical strength, or I’m passed over because they assume I can’t due to earlier stated high heels, that’s when I get rowdy.
It’s why I like the guy I’m seeing now. The other day, he suggested we head to a nearby park and go for a hike. I’ve been to this place before, so I knew what I was getting into, but wasn’t aware our plans for the evening would include scaling large rocks and hillsides prior to my arriving at his place. Since it was a ridiculously hot day, I hit up my closest for a skirt and cute shoes with a basic black t-shirt. As he said after I walked in the door, I looked “really summery, and it’s nice.” (Cue small blushing smile here.) So, we’re in the car, we pull up to this park, and he was like, “Oh, yeah. You’re in a skirt. Is that okay?” I jumped out of the car, and was all over this walk. I didn’t care. I’ve done worse things in a dress.
I grew up on a farm, and I’ve had the pleasure of chasing cattle in the middle of a corn field returning from a wedding reception before. Hiking a short distance in a skirt didn’t bother me one bit.
Needless to say, it was a fabulously good time and I kept up with him no problem. Skirt, cute shoes and all.
Having this sort of attitude is all in thanks to my parents, who celebrated their 38th wedding anniversary yesterday. How amazing is that? 38 years…it’s basically unfathomable in this day and age of 50% divorce rates. My parents are truly a role model to have when it comes to marriage. I love them to death, and couldn’t have asked for a better upbringing. Although, I’m sure my dad would have laughed at my skirt climbing adventures while my mom scolded me on being unladylike.
Whatever. They raised me to be this way 🙂
In the spirit of anniversaries, have you ever wondered about what gifts are deemed traditional for the first 10 years of marriage? I love weddings, so this is as much a treat for me to share as it is for you to find out (in case you didn’t already know.)
1st – Paper
2nd – Cotton
3rd – Leather
4th – Linen/Silk
5th – Wood
6th – Iron
7th – Wool/Copper
8th – Bronze
9th – Pottery/China
10th – Tin/Aluminum
That last one rings weird with me, too. As far as who made these landmark decisions, I’m not so sure, but that wasn’t my decisions to make.
Continue to have a wonderful weekend, and may all your wildest dreams come true (even if they only happen in your dreams…for now!)
This simple, tiny word describes more about my life in the past month than any other. And what a word to rely on to describe my life in a nutshell.
It’s all around me, and everyone else I’m sure. The worst kind of pressure is when it rubs onto everyone around you, whether you intend to pass the dark cloud over their heads or not. It sticks to you like the worst kinds of humidity. No matter how much you try to shake it off, drink away the tension, yell at someone until your vocal cords hurt, or punch your pillow until it’s finally bad to its rightful plumpness. It hangs over you like a cloud of skunk stench.
It comes in all shapes and sizes, and many, many different forms. Training for a mediocre new job. Choosing my career path. Getting applications done, proofed and out via virtual mail or the real thing. Relationships. Do I pursue. Let him pursue. Holding hands. What does it mean. Crashing on his couch. Paying for dinner. Taking a walk. Going out for drinks and getting tipsy. Sexual tension. Do we or don’t we. A simple kiss good night. A brush of a hand. Wanting more, but knowing better. Family. Get a job. With benefits. What are you waiting for. Wedding planning. Money leaving my wallet faster than I can count it. Food. Pure Pleasures Party. More food. Gifts. Is this the right bridal shower gift. Invites and RSVPs. Did I get everyone. Medical care. Am I healthy. Has it come back. Something doesn’t feel right. Take your meds. Those cost money, too. Renew a prescription. Take more meds. Explain health to guy currently “seeing”. Hope he doesn’t lose interest or hate me. Time alone. Thoughts collide. Pressure builds. Friends call. Missed texts. Anger is shown. Crap…I screwed up. Open a beer. Stupid decision. Extra pounds. Kiss him again. There’s a bed. Don’t do it. Not yet. Go home feeling confused. Lay awake. Can’t sleep. Too tired in the morning. Can’t focus. No interviews. Another resume. New policies at mediocre job. Watching your every step. Go home. Not hungry, but eat anyways. Bloated. Can’t sleep. Spend money on over-priced extra shot of coffee. Go to his house. Laughter. Fall asleep on shoulder. You can stay over. Should I or shouldn’t I. Can’t sleep. Wake up early for mediocre job.
The cycle goes on and on.
It’ a great thing, and a bad thing. If not handled correctly, it could implode everything you’ve ever worked for.
It’s the thing, it’s every day life. I’ve dealt with pressure as long as I can remember. It’s starts early for us women. Are we skinny enough? When will we grow boobs, and when we do, will they big or barely there? Cramps…they suck. No need to delve in there. I work out, but how do I work out without having too much muscle? I don’t want to look like a man…
This sort of mind talk starts early, and I was victim to it. Senior year of high school, I went on a very low-cal to barely eating diet. I worked out harder than I ever had in my life. For what, you might ask. So I’d look good for my senior prom. It was the first time I fit into a Size 4 dress with room to spare. I tried to keep it that way, but when I got too tired to walk across my farm’s yard to feed the cat’s their dinner at night, I knew I had a problem.
“Men are perfectly good. The trouble is that they are only good for one thing at a time.”
Michelle Lovric, a noteworthy novelist, you speak a truth about men. They are not great at multi-tasking and I have fallen victim to this male trait on more than one occasion. How do you get his attention away from COD? I could sit next to him naked, but we’ve only gone out on about 3 dates. How do I get him to respond to that text? Calling him will only turn him off. Try the rubber band effect. No good? Well, shit. Now what?
Look perfect. Never complain. Try to keep your opinion light and funny, but still sticking it to them. You’re too crazy. You seek what is not there. No, a gentleman of chivalry still exists. You’re too high maintenance. I wear jeans and t-shirts more often than not. Your hair is too nice. I’m sorry? We’ll talk later. No missed phone calls. A confrontation. “I’ve been really busy.” Bullshit. Tell me the truth to my face. Naw, I’ll just say I’ll talk to you later. Asshole. Back to square one. Here’s a nice guy…I think?
Some of it may be self-induced. Others parts, not so much. Before I cause you to sink into a fit of pressurized self-berating and tears, my Friday was sort of Fabulous, and here’s why.
Fabulous Fireworks Show:
Fabulous Semi-Healthy 4th of July Treat:
Fabulous Stage Moment:
Fabulous Love Note:
Fabulous Pet Care:
Fabulous Food Trick:
Fabulous Booze Infused 4th of July Treat:
Fabulous Disney Reality:
Fabulous Festive 4th of July Treat:
Fabulous Anytime Snack Food:
I hope your weekends are starting up the way they should be.
Officially a year older, officially closer to a landmark ago, and officially closer to this thing everyone keeps insinuating is going to happen all because I’m getting older. Apparently, I have to start acting my age?
What a total life. I know 40-year-olds who act less like an adult than I do. So I’m not too worried about anything pressing charges against me for occasionally acting like a 13-year-old still. In the last couple weeks alone, I can tick a few instances off my fingers of when I needed a slap across the face with a warning of “Act your age.”
I really need to stop getting up in the morning without the intention of having some sort of solid breakfast. The past week has seen me getting up, heading into the shower, getting my hair done, brewing a pot of coffee, put on my clothes for the day (or plan the clothes I need to wear later on in the day), pour freshly brewed coffee into my travel mug, and walk out the door to head off to whatever job I’m working that day. Insane me is still working 3 different jobs. Thank goodness one of them is based on the hours I’m available to work, or I might drive myself insane.
But changes might be on the horizon. Keep your fingers crossed for me. I should know within the next couple of days if certain changes are to be made to me current living style.
Since it was my birthday this past weekend, I’ve been a little behind the times. Escaping to a beautiful lake almost in the middle of nowhere has that effect on a person. Leaving you reeling and wondering what has happened in the real world since you left it. Granted, I was only away for 24 hours, but still. I hate coming back to reality sometimes. Reality tends to bite worse than most things, which I discovered not so shortly after my birthday has dropped its curtains.
While out at this lake, my parents were able to join me as well as a few other members of my family who I haven’t seen in ages. If there is one thing my family knows how to do, its prepare a feast not only for the eyes, but also for the stomach. What a perfect way to kick-off the official season of summer (In case you didn’t know, summer doesn’t actually start until June 22, so I’m legitimately a summer baby!)
Perfect day by the lake with a grill, that’s what my birthday was. Don’t forget the pontoon. Oh man, we grilled fresh hamburger on the grill with just the right seasoning. We had fresh corn on the cob, potato salad made by someone who knows how to make potato salad (it’s a family secret I have yet to be let in on), baked beans, a strawberry vinaigrette salad, my favorite Italian noodle salad, pickles from the garden, and of course, a chocolate cake with fluffy white frosting to spare.
I ate so much. I’m still feeling it three days later. If there is one thing I can’t resist when it comes to grilling like this, it’s corn on the cob. I could eat the stuff without taking a breath without a care in the world as to what it will do to my digestive system in the following days. Slather on some butter, a touch of pepper, and OMG.
It’s heaven on a stick. There’s an idea for the State Fair, isn’t it?
“Being in love with yourself means never having to say you’ve got a headache.”
After the spread I inhaled that evening by the lake, Ellie Laine who is quite the crowd pleaser, I should have been ready to belly flop on the dock and not move for the next 8 years. However, I know what she is referring to. The last thing that should have been on my mind that day was going back home to find me a man to spend the night with. In reality, I didn’t have to search. I had plans with one on account of my birthday.
Other than shacking up with a guy, the thing farthest from my mind should have been more food. But, coming from the family I do, if there is one thing we’re always ready to do, it’s eat. Bottomless pit is exactly what we are. I get it from my Dad’s side of the family.
Needless to say, I didn’t have a headache, but I did have a very full tummy when the evening started to draw to a close. For my birthday, my guy friend announced he was cooking me dinner. Not just any dinner, but a chicken stir fry dinner. Have I ever told you stir fry is one of my absolute favorite meals of all time?
Stir fry is one of my absolute favorite meals of all time.
Grabbed a beer, sat down with my plate of stir fry, and went at it again. It was so delicious. He knows what he’s doing with that dish, that’s for sure. He even went so far as to pick out my favorite flavor of ice cream to compliment the meal (and knowing how much I love the stuff), but I was so stuffed, I couldn’t even think about ice cream at a moment like that.
Coming from the bottomless pit, that’s saying something.
So, instead, we put in a movie that saw us both sink into a food come shortly after.
A pleasant end to the evening if I do say so myself.
However, one thing is left to do for my birthday. I haven’t taken myself on a mini shopping spree yet as a personal birthday present to myself. I know exactly what I’m going for, but there are a few other things to keep an eye out for, and I’m going to share them with you now.
– Gift for Dad
– Fishing and Camping Gear
– Men’s Cologne
– Summer Items
– Storm Windows
– Summer Clothing
– Building Materials
A few things here are a bit extravagant, but you never know when it’ll come in handy. A few others, I’ll look for them, find the perfect item, and remind myself, “In the future when you have a place all your own,” or, “In your wildest dreams, honey!”