The homeless gal appeared again today (I snapped a picture with my phone as she walked back up the street). She stood right by my car holding up her sign. She looked at me. I couldn't look at her and not give her anything, but I don't have any money. I didn't even have a dollar! I rolled my window down and dumped out what change I had in my wallet - all .63 of it - and handed it to her, apologizing for having no cash. I won't be visiting the vending machine today for lunch, but that's ok - my missing lunch surely doesn't mean I'm going to starve. I'm the idiot who can't seem to remember to BRING LUNCH to work.

After the dinner I had last night, I could do with skipping a whole DAY of eating - if not two days! It was a gluttonous feast. And besides, I'll be working out during my lunch break, so I won't even miss not eating today. I've had to resort to hamster life this week due to rain a few times and after-work baseball practices.

I worked for two days on a special dinner for my Valentine (I made the dessert and appetizers ahead of time). I'm pretty pleased with the way it turned out. Our menu was as follows:

Appetizer: seafood (crab and shrimp) stuffed avacados
Salad: bleu cheese salad (romaine hearts, toasted almonds, egg, bleu cheese)
Entree: filet mignon with balsalmic and red wine glaze, rosemary red potatoes and asparagus with an onion-wine glaze and sprinkling of parmesan cheese.
Dessert: chocolate truffle cheesecake

Hubby supplied the champagne and red wine.

After the kids went to bed hubby and I had our dessert (he had 2 pieces of cheesecake) and watched 3 episodes of I Love Lucy.

I have a very good life.

Stop and smell the roses!

It was a busy morning in my household.

I awoke at 4:00 a.m. to the sound of snoring. Unable to get back to sleep, despite repeated poking and prodding and moaning and groaning and shaking of the bed, I grabbed my pillows in a huff and stomped downstairs to the couch, where I fitfully slept until 6:30. Too late!

I rushed upstairs to get ready for the day, get Valentine's Day candies separated by family member, cards signed, workout clothes and clean towel stashed.

I rushed downstairs to the kitchen, a bag in each hand, doled out goodies to kiddies and hubby, sent the man cub to the basement to feed the cats and the fish, and was ready to rush out to the car (so much rushing!!). I grabbed my vitamins and coffee and was about to run out the door when I suddenly realized that I was being stared at. My husband and daughter were standing there with a "well?" look on their faces. "What?" I kept repeating. He and the woman-child only grinned. "What?" And finally, FINALLY, I saw. Right in front of me, and I mean right in front of my face, was an absolutely beautiful bouquet of a dozen roses - pink and lavendar, and another dozen stood in the middle of the kitchen table!

I dropped the bags and stopped - to smell the roses....

Yer it!

I got tagged or meme-d by mini.
The topic is 7 random or weird things about yourself.

Since pretty much everything about me is weird, it might take me some time for me to narrow it down to only 7!

1. I have 2 tattoos; only one of which is visible, and I hide that one every day because I have to play the part of a professional in a professional setting. (I sit on the other one, which is a yellow smiley face).

2. I once had my navel pierced (I took it out when I was pregnant) and my nose pierced. The nose piercing almost got me disinherited. but the parents never knew about the navel piercing. Such things are expected from people “on the other side of the tracks,” not from someone from “a good family.” Both piercings are long gone. No scar was left on my nose, but I can see one on my navel – a reminder of my feeble attempt at rebelling.

3. I’ve battled with disordered eating since I was in college because my entire family is obsessed with being thin. I learned it from my mother, who at 60 is a size 2.

4. I have all 55 Nancy Drew books in the original series. I’ve read them all multiple times. Nancy Drew was my heroine because she was the only smart, pretty, cool female who had the same un-cool color of hair as I did.

5. I hide my naked body from my husband because I’m so modest and ashamed of my body. I don't know why I'm this modest, but it's painful. I even get dressed in the closet in our bathroom sometimes.

6. I can’t go an hour without Carmex on my lips. I call it “lip crack,” and I’ve been known to wander the house for hours searching for it. I can’t sleep without it slathered on my lips. I have stashes all over – in my car, my purse, at work, in my bedside table and in my bathroom. I won’t let my kids use it because I’m scared they too will become a slave to lip crack.

7. I am mostly ambidextrous; while I can’t write very neatly with my left hand, I can do just about everything else with it.

I don’t really know 7 bloggers, but I can tag the ones I do trade stories with. And since I can’t re-tag the blogger who tagged me, that’s one less now... and so I tag only 4. While there are other blogs I read, I don’t necessarily trade comments with them yet.

Shanna
IronMary
Crumbs
Jessica

The rules are as follows:
# Link to the person who tagged you
# Post the rules on your blog.
# Share seven random and/or weird facts about yourself on your blog.
# Tag seven random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
# Leave a comment on their blogs so that they know they have been tagged.

Just the facts, ma'am

How do you tell your husband, best friend, lover that his ever-increasing stomach worries you - and not hurt his feelings?

Does one say it matter-of-factly? Nonchalantly? Does one hint around? Casually leave health reports about weight and diabetes, heart disease, hypertension, etc. lying about?

When I met my husband he had been jogging several times weekly for a time. He was slim and taut and had no love handles. I don't know what happened. Five years later, he NEVER exercises, he smokes too much, drinks heavily, and can stuff more food into his mouth in one sitting than I ever thought humanly possible.

I don't know what to do to help him, inspire him, push him. If I casually bring up his lack of exercise, or ask about when HE plans to run/walk/exercise, his response is "We'll get there." Whah? He says the same thing about quitting smoking.... "We'll get there." All that really means is "I'm too lazy and I don't care enough to change anything."

I love this man more than I have ever loved another person (other than my children), but I'm afraid of what he is doing to his body, what he is letting himself become.

In the meantime, I will keep on keepin' on. I am on a mission from which I cannot be deterred. Not for anything. Not for anyone. This one is for me.

Twenty-five years ago
they spoke out
and they broke out
of recession and oppression
and together they toked
and they folked out
with guitars around a bonfire
just singin' and clappin'
Man, what the hell happened?
Guess some were spell bound,
some were hell bound,
Some they fell down,
and some got back up
and fought back 'gainst the melt down.
And their kids were hippie chicks
or hypocrites
because fashion is smashin'
the true meaning of it.
So don't delay, act now!
Supplies are running out!
Allow, if you're still alive,
six to eight years to arrive.
And if you follow, there may be a tomorrow.
But if the offer's shun,
you might as well be walking on the sun.

Walkin' on the Sun - Smash Mouth

Squeak squeak squeak

Forgive me, father, for I have sinned. I have transgressed against my own rules of exercise.

Yes, that's right. The hamster wheel. *Bowed head*

I will be unable to run today after work - my man cub has baseball practice as soon as I get home from work....then it's homework, dinner, laundry, etc. And so I accepted defeat and became a hamster in the office gym. I cranked up the tunes in my ears and went for it. I squeaked around the ellipticalhamsterwheel for 3 miles and then switched to the treadmillhamsterwheel for 1 mile.

So here I sit at my desk red-faced and hot, but immensely proud that my workout is done.

Life is good.

Wave your hands in the air
like you don’t care.
Ride by the people as
they stop to look and stare.
Do your dance.
Do your dance.
Do your dance quick, mama.
Come on, baby, tell me what’s the word?
Word up!

Word Up – Cameo

Stranger

Sometimes I forget who I am.

I don't mean my name - but my person, my personality, my reason for being. Today is one of those days.

I've worn so many hats, so many masks, for so many people, for so long, I sometimes forget which one is really me. Or are they all parts of me? And if they are all pieces of me, then where is the whole? Who is the whole? And who gets all of me?

Well, we all have a face
that we hide away forever.
And we take them out
and show ourselves
when everyone has gone.
Some are satin,
some are steel.
Some are silk
and some are leather.
They’re the faces of the stranger,
but we love
to try them on.

The Stranger – Billy Joel

I’m a little bit of everything
all rolled into one.
I’m a bitch,
I’m a lover,
I’m a child,
I’m a mother,
I’m a sinner,
I’m a saint,
I do not feel ashamed.
I’m your hell,
I’m your dream,
I’m nothing in between.
You know you wouldn’t want it
any other way.

Bitch - Meredith Brooks


I never give money to panhandlers - we have so many in the city, and it's illegal. But this morning a young woman was panhandling on busy Peachtree Street. She looked dirty and tired and she held a piece of cardboard that had child-like letters scrawled on it, "Homeless and hungry." She walked slowly down the line of cars at the stoplight holding that sign. And there I sat in a Mercedes. I felt guilty. No matter that it's my husband's car, or that I only have $7 to my name until payday. I knew how I must appear driving that car, and I knew that I was on my way to a job, then to a warm and comfortable home where I would put dinner on the table. And so I rolled down the window and handed her one of my seven dollars. It felt good.

My mom used to say that I got a checkmark by my name when I was good and an X by my name when I was bad, presumably from god. I got a lot of Xs back then, according to her. Well, I no longer believe in any one single being called God, but I do believe in karma.

Anyway, maybe I got a checkmark today.

Mimosas!

Notice - new juicer



To me, there is nothing quite like starting a weekend morning with mimosas. These are not your average run-of-the-mill mimosas, either. I personally juiced 3lbs of fresh tangelos for these mimosas. You can't buy tangelo juice, but I have to say that if there is a heaven, it will be offered there. Along with an endless supply of champagne, of course.


And hey - after my third (or is it fourth?) of these I can barely remember the phone call from my parents last night.


It's always the same. The phone rings and the caller i.d. reads "PARENTS." I either groan and don't answer it, or I groan and answer it. I never actually want to pick up the phone when they call.



For the last year or so the only thing we seem to discuss is their dog. Or rather, my mom's dog. Her baby. And god, how she dotes on that dog, relaying every cute trick or event to anyone who will listen. What proud parents they are - of the dog. And what a lucky dog she has been!

I sometimes think that if my mother had paid half as much attention to me when I was a little girl as she has paid to that dog........ Well, who knows, but most likely I would be only half as fucked up as I am. No, huh uh, I have no resentment.

As life sometimes goes, the 7-yr-old dog was diagnosed with bone cancer in her leg last year. The dog was given 3-6 months to live. Thousands and thousands of dollars (for radiation treatment, medications, trips to multiple veterinarians for second and third opinions, a trip to a vet surgeon hundreds of miles away to see if the leg could be partially amputated and the dog fitted with a prosthesis) and 10 months later, the dog is still dying.

That's no surprise, of course. What is a surprise is all the money they've dumped into trying to save her when they've been told it was impossible. There seems to be an endless supply of money available for them to throw to the dog, but there wasn't enough to help out their daughter who was a single mother and in danger of starving. Yes, I did make my own bed, and yes I must lie in it. It's OK. I understand.

Oh no, don't be silly! I'm not jealous of a dog!

And "Well, how are you and the kids?" comes at the end of the conversation. The usual quick "oh, fine, great, blahblah" and "Well, I need to get back to dinner." Oh yeah, we'll talk again soon. Uh huh. Yeah, I know we need to come visit. Uh huh. Love you too. Buh bye.

My parents were sort of paradoxial role models for me. While I could never (would never) call them to ask parenting advice - for anything - ever, I most certainly learned from them. I learned what NOT to do and say to my children. I learned that everything you do and everything you say to your children affects them. I learned that words hurt more than beatings. I learned that words can never be unsaid, and that they can leave deep scars.

Well that's something. Thanks, y'all.

Damn these mimosas are good.