Now Boarding

When I travel, I people watch in the airport, I am well aware of my surroundings for obvious reasons.  I watch, I take note, I listen and then while waiting to board after a 40 minute flight delay I write things down.

• The whistler with Burberry jacket has 2 carry ons, one carry on that is most likely older than I am.  He is pacing, he hates lines.  He is whistling what sounds to me like a Frank Sinatra song ‘in other words please be true, in other words I love you.’
  
• The IT woman, who takes up the entire back row of seats against the window at the restaurant to spread out her items, her laptop, her purse, for a conference call.  Yes, I heard everything.
• The Jersey haters who imported to California
• The woman who is sitting on the airport floor plugged in and on the phone, the same woman who took forever to find her seat on the plane and get her stuff out of her carry on before she sat down.
• The phone scroller
• The guy in line who wants to make eye contact to complain to someone to join his cause
• The guy who starts stretching his calves in line against the windows.
• The other guy in line who sees this, starts to stretch against his carry on luggage.
• The chatty Kathy - the one who needs to talk to someone in line.
• I’m realizing now that its too late to get out of line and get another drink.
• The guy who was trying to leave the airport since this morning, how do I know this, he told the story to three different people who were willing to listen.
• The conversation I wish I didn’t overhear when the guy said he wore the same underwear on this flight back because it didn’t matter since he was going home.
• The Richard Dryfus doppleganger

I am beside myself with the twitches, the habits, the need to talk to break complete silence in a line of strangers, the need to make small talk with someone you may not even be sitting next to on the plane.  The need to find others to join your cause, the need to take up the space in the waiting time in line.  Keep doing it, because I’m the girl with the notepad taking notes, listening to what’s around her and using it on her blog.

Not in a Box, Not From a Can

Not in a box

Not from a can

I do not like store bought goods, Sam I am.

I do not like them in a box.

I do not like them from a can.

I do not like them store bought

I do not like them Sam I am.

Would you eat them in a box?

Would you eat them from a can?

Would you eat them from a store?

Not in a box.

Not from a can.

Not from a store

I would prefer to use a pan

Instead of from a box

From a can

From a store

I will not eat baked goods from a store

I would not eat them here or there.

I would not eat them anywhere.

I would not eat it if its store bought.

I would not eat them, I’d be distraught.

You may like them.

You will see.

Even though they are unhealthy!

I would not, could not, its not made by me

Not from a box! You let me be.

I will not eat them in a box

I will not eat them from a can

I will not eat them from a store I will not eat them that’s for sure.

Random Texts from the Ex

I’ve heard people talk about receiving the ‘random text’ from an ex, or even someone you went on a date with once or twice and never heard from again.  I’ve also received random texts from the guy I went on a date once, who only text me on holidays at closing time at the bar. (I haven’t gotten one of those since I moved.)   I do think it’s amusing when you receive a random text, I mean completely random, not sent on a date with symbolic or historical meaning from the person in that past relationship.  Not sent because you were two freight ships passing by and looking the other way, not sent because he’s Facebook stalking me (I assume).  Completely random on a Friday night, without any meaning to me at least, not having spoken to each other in about 3 + years – just random.  So I will use this opportunity to tell you, my readers exactly what happened. J

I had just finished playing a co-ed softball game on Friday night, walking back to my car my phone text message alert goes off, I think it’s my boyfriend but no…it’s my ex-husband.  Out of the blue, completely random he sends me a text.  At first it made no sense to me since we haven’t spoken in 3+ years AND it wasn’t a symbolic or historic date in our past relationship.  Obviously something must have triggered a memory or triggered me to his memory, but something prompted him to send me a random text.  Seems even after all these years he still has no idea what the true reason for our divorce was or stemmed from.  I wasn’t about to respond back with the list of the series of events that led us down that path to remind him.  I wasn’t about to start hashing out the past.  It’s the past, I’ve moved on and he should too.

I can’t say I’ve ever written this way before about what happened to that relationship, other than I wasn’t number 1 as every wife thinks they will be once they put a ring on it.  I can’t say I’ve ever felt so angry before either, how this text made me so mad, mad at the fact that he hasn’t moved on and that he consumed a portion of my Friday night.  Then I laughed, I laughed pretty hard actually.  So I write, because now I feel better knowing that at least in the virtual world I have closure to what the dry ink says on paper.  A chunk of my life is gone, it’s in the past, it had its great times and it had its ending.  Knowing that in my current life, my happiness is what matters, my life is complete now and I’ve moved on and have grown up from the random texts (but they still make pretty good stories).

Surviving the Big D: Wedding Photos

13 years later I’m going thru my wedding photos.  I’ve been divorced 8 years, I don’t need all of these.  I paid for a crazy amount of photos, photos I thought would mean something, photos to look back on.  Well those are in the wedding album I had made, that I never got back from the ex.  Thankfully the photographer gave us 2 sets of proofs, plus now I have the negatives. 

 

I’ve had all of these albums plus the video (VHS) I never wanted done in the first place in a box, taking up space in my storage area.  It was time to go thru them.   In sorting thru all of the photos I began to realize how angry they make me.  Not because I got divorced and all those painful memories are coming back, but because of things that happened, or things missing from the albums.  I’ll start with things that happened.  First off, if children are part of the wedding, the mother should speak to the bride to be sure about what attire to put them in.  I was left out of that conversation.  My ex-SIL decided to go buy a dress for her daughter, and not consult me.  Secondly, children should not be at the reception.   These pictures reminded me of how angry I was to continually get interrupted on the dancefloor. I’m sorry, but that was my day, they should have been in bed.  I love my niece and nephew like crazy and would be happy to pay for a sitter.  Thirdly, my parents are divorced, my mom remarried, I have three families.  These albums show 2 ½ families.  I’m missing a whole side of the banquet hall with that side of the family and friends.  I know they were there but key photos that could have been taken on that day would have meaning now.  Especially now that my father has passed away.  I have enough photos to remind me of that day with him, but being the organized, detail oriented person that I am, I think I had pretty good instructions for the photographer.  I am grateful for my friends that day who shared with me their photos, a lot of them are better than what I paid for.

 

Other things that set me back 10 years of flooding emotions, my bridesmaid pictures, at least I have one good one of just us, and not with the children.  My sister and her new boyfriend at the time, where are they?  Had it not been for a good friend of mine at the time, I would have never seen the video recorder tripod set up in the corner, which I did not want.  Yes I watched the tape once, in fast forward it is hysterical, and you actually see her telling me about it and pointing to the set up.  I didn’t want to cut the cake, but somehow they wrangled me into it.  A lot of things that went on that day even though it came out of our pockets, it still had some influence from one side of the families.  All of that will not be repeated if I ever decide to do this again.  It’s the couples’ day, not everyone else’s.

 
I’m going thru the 2^nd book of proofs now, and I’m still angry.  I’m mostly angry on how much we paid for all this, how many photos show me with a ‘fake’ smile.  Which I now have seen for myself in many photos that were taken.  It was a reaction to the amount of photos being taken and the fact that I had to be a bride and be an organizer at the same time rallying everyone to the main picture taking area.  What a PITA.  What was I paying people for?  Anyway, the garbage men are going to get an eye full if they even look at my recycling pile.  I have no idea who that girl is in the white dress anymore, she is long gone in a life far far away.  The memories I have with my family that day cannot be repeated in photos, they are snapshots in time for only me.  Photos that could have been taken.  So I write this as closure to tossing out the past yet again and knowing the next time, if there is one, this anger will not exist because I know better.  

Happy Easter - The Adult Version

Easter cannot compete with Thanksgiving because Thanksgiving is one of the most vulgar holidays of the year at the dinner table.   Even so I still keep my notebook handy with a pen and take notes.  Yes I take notes at the dinner table.  Conversation = great quotes.  You can judge all you like but it makes for good conversation besides politics, cars, gun control and sheep.

Here’s some snippets from my table to yours:

-          I’ll do you

-          That’s head cheese

-          We had pickled pigs feet in lots of vinegar

-          Sniffing that alone will make you cry

-          Split rear

-          What’s better than make up sex and learning how to drive a stick?

-          I should have punched it before I left

-          Gotta let it rise two times til its just above the rim

-          See the bones and pull them out

-          Roll your fingers

-          Roll your index finger and then your thumb

-          She uses too much pressure

-          They are so small, they will fit in my hands

-          Then there are the big ones that you need two hands

-          Before you put it out you have to open it up

-          Open it half a turn

-          That’s good eating size

-          Taste like chicken

-          If they’re delicious then look at all those wasted meals

-          There was a squirrel hanging by his cohones

-          Don’t feed and pet the animals

-          Chitty chitty bang bang

-          Who knew that Julie Andrews was so sexy?

-          Imagine being at a nudest camp while being next to a donkey farm?

 

And there you have it.  Unfortunately I never saw the “unicorn jumping over a rainbow while farting” nor did the creepy bunny make an appearance.  All had a good time followed by homemade desserts, babka and Opici.

 

Minor Setbacks

We all have a few of those bad days, and unfortunately mine turned into weeks.  I had a mystery illness that caused me to gain 6 lbs. in two weeks, have trouble sleeping but have all this energy.  Here I was willing to accept the consequences for diving into the French Onion dip after New Year’s Eve.  That wasn’t the case.  My clothes didn’t fit, I lived in yoga pants and leggings for weeks.  I refused to buy new clothes, I knew this was temporary whatever it was.  It was also frustrating, it was painful to workout. I was on the brink of losing it, my doctor was baffled.  He put me thru blood work, pregnancy test, x-rays, and finally an appointment with a specialist.

 

I eat healthy, I stay away from processed foods, soda, white flour, fast food.  Yes I like my carbs, I like my French fries and the occasional piece of chocolate cake (as long as I know what it’s made with).  I don’t overdo it with supplements or those over the counter gimmicks.  I drink detox tea, water like it’s going to run out and keep a regimented workout schedule.  Maybe my body had enough, it was telling me something.  I know what the feeling of being ‘burnt out’ is and this wasn’t it.  Something was wrong.

 

At the Specialist I get to hear those great words people of my age want to hear or don’t want to hear depending on how you look at it: “You’re too young to be going thru this”, and the ‘this’ was still to be determined. Now the Specialist is thorough,  he asked me a ton of questions to diagnose and at the end of the appointment I now have another appointment for more testing a week later.  “Now I’m a guinea pig, he has no idea what the problem is.” I think to myself, another $60 co-pay I’ll never get back. 

 

There’s never been 4 weeks I’ve gone without exercise of some sort, I was frustrated, angry, actually getting bored since I caught up on my recorded movies, Netflix and magazines, and getting organized around the house.  Things I’ve put off for a rainy day that would get done eventually.  Preparing for the tests was interesting, I had to have my last meal a day before the test.  Chicken, ½ of a sweet potato and left over Orzo pasta, if I wasn’t going to eat for that long I better carb up.  Now three hours later I have to drink this stuff that tasted like watered down lemon jello, by the gallon.  Yum!

 

I try to sleep in, and since my appointment isn’t until lunch time I still can’t eat anything or drink anything but water.  I’m cold, I’m freezing at this point, and it is February but for me to sleep in sweats and walk around in a robe and blanket during the day is nuts.  “It’s almost over” I try to remind myself.   In the waiting room I now realize I’m the youngest person in the room. Lovely.  Now I’m counting the hours since I last had something to eat, I’ve got a slight headache, I’m freezing, just get this over with.  It was 24 hours since my last meal, so of course when the nurse calls my name next and asks me how I’m doing, the first thing out of my mouth is “Feed me!”  It’s not her fault I’m here, but it made her laugh, she said no one has ever said it that way!  She was great, we actually had a nice chat because somehow in the midst of me answering questions I brought up I was going to write about this experience.  She was a great nurse who made this comforting and I probably made her Friday. 

 

She puts me thru another pregnancy test (this is test #2), let me just clarify that I’m on a pill that I could get my period or could not get it so dates are never accurate.  Just to be sure, yet again, I have to go pee in a cup.  Now that’s over with again and they put an IV in my arm and I’m being wheeled into another room where the Specialist is and so is the anesthesiologist.  Here’s the best part, they tell me I’m going to get Propofol and that my vision is going to get a little blurry and within seconds I’m out.  When I wake up, my first words to the nurse are, “What are you doing in my house?”  I guess it sounded like I left the TV on and fell asleep, I have no idea, it was funny, I still laugh about it.  I might have made her Friday as well, she did say I had an attitude about it.

 

Now I wait for results, otherwise I feel great.  The 6 lbs. are gone, no more French Onion dip just in case.  I have learned a few things thru the last 5 weeks.  Never be afraid to talk to your friends when something is not right with your health.  They are your biggest supporters (and uplifting card senders, texters).  When your doctor conducts a pregnancy test, at least for my insurance the cost is $45 a pop, $5 of which is not covered by insurance.  Setbacks, are just that, a minor setback.  Nothing should get in the way of your goals. Just keep going, get over that obstacle and continue the routine.  It might be frustrating to start slow, but every little bit helps.  It takes more motivation for you to get off that couch and get moving than to just sit there and press the next button on your remote.  Results don’t happen overnight, everything is a process we work hard at, we strive for.  And I don’t falter easily, I just felt that something was being taken away from me (like a child whose toy is being taken away).

 

So I wait a week to start exercising and on day three I break my toe.  I banged it pretty good, but that’s not stopping me, I can still do most of my work out until I can run comfortably.  Just another minor setback that I cannot blame on the French Onion dip.

The Power of 'No'

Many of you may be offended by what I have to say and I truly do not care what you think.  This is my life, I only have one to live and I’m going to live it.

 

I’ve spent the past few years with regrets, most of which because I had to be responsible for making a choice and having a double booked calendar.  Thinking in the fall my team would have enough girls, and those girls would remain healthy I registered for running and cycling events, when later those events I could not participate in because I had to step in as a coach and play for the injured.  Events that were non-refundable.  This happened multiple years in a row and this year, because I turned 40 nothing, besides the weather, was going to stop me.  My goal from May thru November was to run and/or cycle in one or more events per month.  So I may have missed a graduation party, a birthday, I may have missed another softball tournament and practically a whole Sunday season (which I planned ahead for and had someone else manage the team).  I may have said, “No, I’m sorry, I have an event this weekend”, when you invited me to your bbq, or to go to a local wine tasting event. Thing is, I said “No” and by saying “No” empowered me to conquer my goals this year.  I cycled 62 miles, and ran my first 10K and those are two huge accomplishments for me this year.  How many others at 40 can say the same?  I put myself first, for the most part, this year, because honestly the events I was invited to and said “No” would not reimburse the money I put out.  I did this for me, for my competitive spirit, because this is who I am, I compete, I play hard, I still strive to be the best version of myself at 40 years old.  I hate to brag but I am the only person from my varsity team still playing softball.  

 

Many of you may argue that I have all this time to train, compete and play because I do not have kids.  That is true, but I always vowed if I did, I would never lose sight of who I was, how I got there.  Never again would I lose who I am for someone else.  I work nine hours a day, I commute about two hours and 10 minutes round trip on a good day, somehow I make the time.  I’ve always been a firm believer if you lose who you are, what you enjoy, you will lose your sense of self.  You will lose what drives you, what makes you tick.  I tried to live with no regrets until the regrets were costing me money, and another year older made me think I may not have much time left to compete like this.  Saying “No” is empowering, it enabled me to have an enjoyable year so far.  We do not always have to do what is socially expected, we do not always have to follow the crowd, we do not always have to do what we’ve done the same time every single year and we do not have to live a life someone else is dictating.  So I choose to say “No” this weekend, and snag another bib number to my wall of fame.  Don’t hate me for saying “No” because I’m choosing to conquer my goals, support me by wishing me well and not crossing me off the list of invitees for next time.

 

People have this FOMO (fear of missing out) syndrome, when in theory the only fear they have is missing out on their own life as it continues right before their very eyes.  We only have one life to live…so live it as you wish.