Cravings

I have been craving greasy, bad-for-you foods for 3 days straight now. No matter how hard I tried to forget how delicious they are. I woke up this morning wondering what time the pastrami spot by my house opens up. I wanted one before 8am. This is how I know I could never be a vegan. I'd be depressed as hell, lol. So I made a quick run to Chipotle about 10 minutes ago and now there's nothing but crumpled up foil on my desk. I devoured that chicken burrito. The ENTIRE thing. And I never eat a whole Chipotle burrito in one sitting. Now I'm sitting on swole. But I'm so content :)

Marilyn

Have you ever looked at a picture of someone and tried to imagine who they really are? Not who they appear to be or pretend to be but who they are when no one is looking. Look at these two pictures of Marilyn Monroe and how different she appears in each one.

The shot before she entered Hollywood is remarkably different from how she appeared once she became a movie star. She looked so sweet and normal when she was Norma Jean.

The other night I watched the movie “Some Like it Hot” and read a few blurbs online about her, and it seems that she lived a life where she was never “off-stage” once she began making movies. And center stage, at that. I think it shows in every picture she took as "Marilyn." I’m sure this is true for a lot of celebrities today, but I can’t think of anyone who is as famous as she still is today. Her screen persona became who everyone thought she really was so in a sense she was living in a prison. But the blonde hair, the beauty mark, the doe eyes, and breathy voice clearly were for show, all of it fabricated. Some have said that she was extremely vulnerable and troubled underneath all that, stressed over too much movie-making, conflict in her personal life and a miscarriage she’d had. They say she popped pills regularly just to fall asleep and quiet her raving thoughts. Looking at the transformation in these pictures, I am intrigued with knowing what she thought of herself. I think that she was probably high on drugs in many of her most famous photos, hence the droopy, “seductive” eyes. She wasn’t in film or Hollywood for very long, dying of a drug overdose at age 36, but she left a VERY lasting impression. I’ve heard stars like Megan Fox, Lindsay Lohan, Beyonce, Scarlett Johanssen, and others say that she is their idol and you can see just how much she has influenced some of them.

The original blonde bombshell, sex goddess was once a telephone operated with dark brown hair and buttoned up blouses. She became larger than life in such a short period of time and the pressure of it all became her demise before she reached the age of 40. But the publics’ fascination with her may never cease.

The Operation was a failure

A friend and I went out last night. It was just a day or so ago that I was complaining to my mother, saying that I felt like a certain somebody had stolen my youth and caused me to miss out on some good fun having times. Last night I realized that I aint missed shit. So the original plan was attend a celebrity charity function at My Studio in Hollywood. Our "way in" told us to meet him there between 8 and 10. Sounds simple enough. I was ready, the perpetual planner that I am, by 8:30pm. My friend wasn't ready until after 10:30pm. She asks me to drive to her house so we can take her car there. Since I drive a regular old car and she drives a sporty new Mercedes, I figured this would be a good idea. Boy was I wrong. We got to My Studio and, naturally, our "way in" isn't trying to disturb his groove and come outside to get us and my friend does not want to stand in line. So we waited out in the cold for approximately 40 minutes, me in an itsy bitsy sequin mini skirt, tank top and quarter-length sleeve jacket (we saw d-list celeb, Samantha Mumba with a tacky homegirl, too, by the way). He told us, via text message, to let the guys at the door know that we're on his guest list. My friend felt that was beneath us. We ended up next door at Geisha House having a drink and working on Plan B and Plan C.

Plan B was supposed to come and pick us up in a cab. He never showed. Plan C was this super thirsty Persian guy who has allegedly been trying to get naked with my friend for quite some time now. He and a friend of his, also Persian, showed up in a very nice Audi to pick us up. The four of us drove down Hollywood Blvd. to a club called "Playhouse" where they play nothing but techno music. The oontz oontz kind. I don't typically go to places like this but I was optimistic and since everything was free, so far, I was ready to make the most of the night.

Now I was fully aware that the guy who wanted to make sexy time with my friend was hoping that his friend would play wingman and keep me occupied but there really wasn't any sort of love connection popping off whatsoever from the jump. He clearly was expecting someone of latin descent and quite possibly a size 2-6. I'm an 8/10 with meat on my bones. Anyway, we were both good sports though, so we entertained each other a bit, for our friends' sakes. He told me he'd been doing a lot of traveling lately and hadn't had much time for fun. "To where and for what?" I asked, in so many words. And he replied "Southeast Asia, mostly, for business."

He also made mention that the Audi his friend was driving was his. Fast forward and I'm getting my groove on the way I know how and it's apparently attracting attention because Persian guy #2 shimmies on up to me and starts trying to get more familiar. He whispers in my ear that all the women on the dancefloor are watching me. I hadn't noticed. I was in a zone as though I was dancing in my living room, really letting the music feel me up, ya know? So then I opened my eyes and spotted a trio of women dancing next to me, staring, just like he'd said. I was flattered. So the night went on, more oontz oontz oontz and I've practically danced a hole in my soles. I'm ready to go. Look at my watch and it's a quarter to 2am. My friend is drunk off her ass, or at least pretending to be. Persian guy #1 is thrilled and clearly plotting to get her in his bed, stat. Persian guy #2 is slyly copping feels on my sequined booty and repeatedly running his fingers through my hair looking for a weave track, lol. I find this funny so I run my fingers through his hair a few times and this fool loves it. He comes up behind me a few moments later and bites my shoulder! I'm like wtf!@? He's making crude comments asking me how many husbands I've bagged "white, black, persian..." and I say none. He says "so you just fuct the shit out of them and sent them on their way?" I laugh, like "how dare yOU!" and say "not all of them." He asks me if I'm left or right handed. I say I'm ambidextrous, which I'm not. And he says "well, which hand do you prefer to slap with?"

"My right," I say. To which he replies "faces and asses?"

He thinks he's cute. He bends over so I smack his ass. I think he fantasizes about being dominated by a "sista"

So finally, 3 am and I'm beat as a dog. I tell my friend that either I'm going to go to valet and pick up her car and drive myself home without her, or she can come with. It's her choice. She pretends to not comprehend. Next thing I know, we're back in the Persian guys Audi and he's promising us he'll drive us to valet to pick up the car...after we get something to eat. He says we need food in our drunk bellies. I insist that I'm not drunk, despite their best efforts to get me there. He's not listening. He speeds through Hollywood and the next thing I know, we're in FUCKING BEL AIRE! The first thing that hits my head is that movie Taken with Liam Neesom in it. If you haven't seen this fantastic flick, Liam's teenage daughter is taken by some foreign thugs and forced to be a sex slave. It's intense as ache-ee-double hockey sticks. I'm in that backseat plotting my escape, memorizing street names and twists and turns up the hill to this beautiful house that I couldn't give two shits about - I wanted to go home! Persian guy #2 makes a point to mention that it's his house, not his friends. His friend is flossing for my friend. So there we are, the two of us, my friend and I, sitting in this pretty house on a hill behind a remote gate, looking at each other like "what to do now?" I whisper to her that I'm trying to get home, gotta get home. She whispers back to me "Okay. Let me just go in the room with him for 10 minutes of (she makes sexual sounds here) and then he'll drive us back to my car."

They go in that room for 30 minutes without a peep. Persian guy #2 tries to make his move on me :( It's not remotely appealing, and as much as I'd love some sex in my life, I was feeling nothing but mortified and "rhet to go" (c) Wanda.

He rubbed my thigh. He told me that he'd made the guest room up for me. He studk his hand down the back of my skirt to feel the top of my ass crack. I asked him to call me a cab. He realized I was adamant about leaving so he did. When the taxi pulled up, I was out of there so fast he could barely keep up to walk me to the gate. Then, he tried to kiss me but he ended up licking off ALL of my lipgloss instead, lmao! GROSS!!!! I felt infected with germs all the way back to Hollywood, where my plan was to pick up my friends car and split.

But guess what? Valet was closed. It was 4am. The taxi ride was $45 (not of my own money but, still). I asked the cab driver, which was a lady, thank the good Lord, to drive me to my mother's house in L.A., where I spent the night next to her in her bed, comfy and cozy.

The next morning I had my cousin drive me back to Hollywood to meet up with my friend so she and I could pick up her car and go back home. She claims that she fell asleep on Persian guy #1 and he was disappointed that he didn't get to have sex with her.

So now I'm home, still recovering from lack of adequate and consistent sleep, about to take a shower and decide if I have the energy and wherewithall to drive down to Santa Monica for drinks with an out of towner and a few other folks.

My goal was to find a date last night but the date that found me was not what I'd had in mind. And the guys that I fancied were all colorstruck. But what's new?

I think God was trying to tell me something - for one, I didn't miss anything in my twenties, and 2, I really don't need a date as much as I thought I did. Oh, and 3, that you can't plan a fun night, especially in Hollywood. If fun happens, it's by sheer luck.

Giving to the needy

I get to get dolled up tomorrow night and it's not even my company's holiday gala yet. My friend and I are attending a celebrity charity event with the son of a super celebrity. I'm not exactly sure what it's all for but she's geeked and dragging me along with her. And since I haven't been out since the disaster that was my Vegas trip in early November, I'm going. And I'm aiming to look fierce. I just hope my hair cooperates. And I hope there are some good looking, eligible men there who would just love to take a girl like me out on a date. Before my last relationship, I was doing absolutely fine being abstinent. But now? I feel like a crack fiend with morals. Life would be so much easier if I didn't have any :(. But I do, so I'll have to really deck myself out tomorrow night and come with my A game if I hope to someday SOON relieve myself of this love jones.

I'm not sure what I'm going to wear yet but I'm thinking "low cut," "form fitting," and "stacked!" I can't lie, I'm pretty stoked about this shindig, too. Especially about the possibility of getting my own needs met. I'm actually going to pray on it tonight. I'd appreciate it if you did too. Thanks in advance.

It's one of those days...

*sigh

This Sunday's Musings - My Big Break

There was once a time when I wanted to be a contestant on The Wheel of Fortune. This was shortly after I had given birth to my son and began to consume large amounts of television programming as a hobby, since I was pretty much confined to the house with no sitter and nowhere to go. Every day I’d watch Pat and Vanna from my rocking chair and one day I figured I’d had the game down to a science, even how to spin the rigged wheel just right so as not to go bankrupt. I called down to channel 7 and was told that in order to become a contestant I would have to call back early in the morning on the first day of every month until they had enough contestants for the month. For about 4 months I did this, lol, never getting past a busy signal for hours. It’s funny to me now that I actually did this and was so hopeful about it and was trying so hard. I really wanted to be on that show. I thought it would be my big break. At the time, I couldn’t see or conceive of a better way to improve my life. I was trying to ice skate up hill, lol. These days I appreciate what time has given and taught me.

I’ve always had sort of a pioneering spirit. I inherited that from my mother and my grandmothers. I blogged once before about my paternal grandmother literally saving up pennies in order to buy her first home. How’s that for determination!? When I was in elementary school my neighbor and I tried our hand at a lemonade stand, like the white kids did on T.V. Turns out that folks don’t buy much lemonade in the inner city. Then in high school I sold candy bars that I was given as payment for volunteering for an organization. I made enough money to buy myself a couple of Esprit outfits and a book bag from TJ Maxx. Nobody could tell me jack! Haha. In eleventh grade, my English teacher asked me to join a young entrepreneur’s summer program at USC, but that same year I had landed a cool job selling merchandise at Disneyland and had just gotten fitted for my shoes and uniform. Naturally, I was torn. Disney was paying me, the summer program was not. So, it was a tough decision to make but, even though I was really proud of my interview for the Disneyland job, I thought the entrepreneur’s thing would be much more interesting and beneficial in the long-run. So I bid Mickey ado and spent my summer writing a business plan, learning how to invest in and follow stocks, shopping wholesale downtown and bought a bunch of stuff in bulk to sell at the flea market. I opened my first savings account, and pitched my business idea to venture capitalists for a micro loan when the summer ended. But by then I had also met a guy who commanded much of my attention. Fast-forward about two years later and there was my stint with sewing. My boyfriends’ sister taught me how to sew so I made a few smocks for work and got a couple of my coworkers to pay me to make them some, too. I was a new mom and hustling harder than ever. I still have that damn Bedazzler that I just knew was going to make me some money, lmao. So embarrassing. Anyway, for years I’ve dreamt of starting a business and working for myself. I’ve devoured many, many books on the subject and even had a business license and online store once upon a time, but something always got in the way of my plans. That ‘something’ has become a "9-5" habit now, a sort of safety net, but my grandiose childhood dreams still linger. I think if I was ever really going to do it, now is the time. I’m older, wiser, more established…and more frightened than ever! But I’m toying with the idea again, nevertheless. Maybe this time something will stick and end up being my big break :)

Lazy Sunday

The boys birthday was a hit. I cleaned the house up spic and span, ordered a big ass pizza (28 inches), bought a red velvet cake from Auntie Em's bakery (yummm!), let them stay up and act wild until 5am, took 4 of the 6 of them to see the new Harry Potter movie (it was great), and then made a breakfast of french toast, cheese egg-whites, turkey bacon and oj. My boy was happy. And I'm pretty proud of myself :) I am a kick-ass mom.

I want a shower bench. I'm tired of being a shower contortionist, trying not to cut myself while shaving my legs and jumping around on one leg in order to make sure that my feet get super clean. I want to be able to sit down and handle my business with patience and care. So I surfed on over to amazon.com, my go-to for all things unconventional and comparison shopping, and I think the bench that I found may be just what I need. Only caveat is I'm averse to its hundred dollar asking price. So it's sitting in my shopping cart while I ponder the strength of my ducket$ and my true desire to sit while I shower.

I've been wanting to remodel my kitchen since the day I first toured my house. It's been two years now and I've watched enough remodeling shows on the DIY channel to know that I don't and won't have enough money to do what I want for quite some time. I figured I'd need either a hefty raise at work, or a spouse to help me pay the bills. That is, until I started surfing the web for pictures of 1920s and 1940s bungalow kitchen remodels to lust over and found a government site that offers restoration grants for old homes :) There's hope! I'm planning to research the hell out of these programs and hope to God that I can get some free money to build my dream kitchen and mud room/laundry room.

I haven't done a thing today and I'm okay with that. At some point I'll climb out of bed and wash the dishes, wash my hair and body, and run an errand or two...before coming back home to climb right back into bed and continue my lazy Sunday.

Last Years Adventure to Walmart on Black Friday for a Hachi-Tachi-5000

(I wrote this last year and decided not to post it. My mood has changed so here it is)

I hate black Friday. To me, it's one huge rip off and scores of people fall for it each and every year. My mother fell victim this year and she and my step-pops camped out in front of Kmart after Thanksgiving dinner so that they could score a Hachi Tachi 5000, aka BIG ASS TV. She wanted the Sony 1080p Walmart was advertising but when they drove by Walmart after dinner "the line was wrapped around the store and down to King (Blvd)!" she told me.

A scuffle almost broke out in the line at Kmart twice. First, some lady bribed my step father, who was at the front of the line from 11pm until they opened at 6am, to save her a place in line in exchange for free breakfast when the store opened. My mama was mad as hell at him for agreeing to that after they'd slept in shifts and skipped a few nature breaks in order to maintain their position in line. Meanwhile, this woman was at home sleeping comfortably in her own bed with her place secured at the front of the line. 6am rolled around and the lady showed up as promised, all fresh and rested with two McDonald's breakfast platters for my Step-pops and the man behind him. Step-pops got thoroughly cussed out by my mom as a result.

Then, some other woman decides that she's not going to stand in line at all. She goes to the very front of the line and just stands there waiting for the doors to open, proclaiming that she "just wants to get in" and "has stuff to get" No shit, bitch! someone in the back yelled out. "We all 'just want to get in and got stuff to get!" She, too, got cussed out and almost beat up. My mama was riding hard on her, saying stuff like "What, you think we all just stood out here all night for fun?! blahblahbitchblah!" Eventually, the woman couldn't take the heat and went to the back of the line. Thank goodness because from the sounds of it, things might've gotten out of hand and it could have been a repeat of Walmart 2008 ending with somebody seriously wounded at the hands of an angry mob. The lengths Americans will go to for a sale, smh.

So moms and Step-pops were the first ones to make it into the store and only spent 100 dollars more than they'd wanted to spend. But they got their BIG ASS TV, the intended prize in all of this. Black Friday is like a sport, and I think the thrill is more in who can last the longest outside in the muck and end up saving the most. I stayed out of the streets until 6pm that evening, when I was sure most of the die hards were fast asleep at home, and I still won when I walked into Ann Taylor and found the blue dress that I had been drooling over for months on sale for $30, down from $120 :)

(I may do that again this year, actually)

Happy Labor (anniversary) Day to me!

It’s been a whole year already! This coming Friday my offspring, the fruit of my loins, my beautiful progeny will be turning 16 years old. Wow, how time flies! This year we’re having a simple slumber party with Red Velvet cake from Auntie Em’s Bakery and a 28 inch Giant Pizza from Two Guys. The plan is for all six teenaged boys to come over on Friday and spend most of the evening camped out in my living room with their sleeping bags, pillows and blankets while playing video games on the big TV. I’ll bake cookies (I bought a big tub of cookie dough from Costco the other day) and provide goodies and keep them from getting too unruly. We’ll eat the ginormous pizza, sing Happy Birthday, eat cake and stay up late. Then, on Saturday I’ll make a big breakfast before carting them off to the mall for a movie and to hang out. I think I’ll go see “For Colored Girls” while I’m there.

This year, my “big baby Huey” is 6 feet and 1 inch tall, wears a size 12 shoe, has a teensy bit more facial hair than last year, weighs about 180 pounds and is quite fond of his muscles. The other night he said to my mom “The beach is that way, I got the mountains right here,” referring to his arm muscles (I never said he wasn’t corny).

And still, “Owen loves his mama” © Mama, in Throw Mama from the Train.

I can hardly believe that in two more years he’ll be a full grown man…and I will have been a mama for 18 years. Two years from now will also mark the beginning of my worldwide travels! J I will officially have no more major responsibilities keeping me rooted to one place! Yippeeee!

Sunday night musings

- I should be sleeping.

- What causes that flat booty w/ the lump on the top? I saw a lady with this the other day limping across the street. Her ass cliffed and then sloped :( I fear this. What is that?! muscle loss? too much sitting? oh, dios mio, I pray I am never afflicted with it.

- it's kind of refreshing when you realize that someone you used to have a major crush on is now a dork. No, this is not a reflection on me and my choice in love interests because I was fooled into thinking he was the business. But uncovered he is essentially a doofus :) and that empowers me because I used to feel so intimidated. HA! Not anymore jack! Kiss the ring, sucka!

- I have a good kid and I encourage him to speak up and express himself. He's not as vocal as I am, which might be a good thing, lol, but he's not a passive pip squeak either. I bought him a new phone for his birthday and he has programmed it to say "What's gooood, n*gggggaaaaa!?" from the cartoon The Boondocks, every time he gets a text message...which is often. I'm conflicted. I probably wouldn't be if I weren't sick of hearing that sh*t.

- I need a few new friends. I feel myself slipping away from some of my current ones who are either behaving too young or too old. For instance, one does nothing but play games on Facebook all day, needing four more pies or what have you for her virtual bakery, and the other does nothing but behave like a 22 year old. I don't tweet and crocheting puts me to sleep. Then there are the friends who actually are still wading through their twenties so they behave thusly and have no clue about beans. What am I to do? Don't get me wrong, I love them all dearly. I just need some like-minded folks to vibe with every now and then.

- This new chick at my job has stirred up a fashion frenzy within me. She comes to work everyday put together so...cute, that it has inspired me to actually put some effort into my look daily. Whereas before I worked with nothing but slobs who don't know fuchsia from mauve, a blazer from a suit jacket, and never inspired me to be anything but comfortable. I was one step away from petitioning to HR to wear sweats to work. Yes, it was bad. But then along came this racially ambiguous chick with great style and a fantastic manicure and voila! I'm pulling out 5 inch heels that I usually only wear on very special occasions and rocking them all day at work, pinstripes and blazers and cigarette skirts, oh my! She has invited me to go thrifting with her one day and I think I may have accepted a bit too eagerly, lol. I hope I haven't ruined what could prove to be a very beneficial new friendship for me. I've been trying to play it cool ever since, lol.

- Serioulsy? Like... I need a handsome penis with a very nice man attached to it. It'd be nice if he could look like Don Lemon from CNN and be handy in the kitchen like Chef Ramsey. What? A girl can dream.

- Okay, it's 10:43pm...on a Sunday. I really ought to try to be sleeping right now. Good night.

What’s on my Kameela-Ass-list (KAM)?

It’s funny how whenever I’ve come to the end of a relationship with a man I feel an incredible sense of freedom, the sun seems to be shining just a little bit brighter, I have an extra pep to my step, and the road ahead seems endless and ripe with discovery and opportunity. It’s an odd mixture of jubilation and sadness though. It’s always disappointing when something you tried to do doesn’t work out. But for the most part I’ve always welcomed being alone with myself again. With this recent breakup, however, the sun isn’t shining as bright. I enjoyed being a unit even when he got on my nerves. And I honestly tried with him but, at this point in my life, I know exactly when trying is futile. So the other day I sat and thought about what I want in a man. I’m sort of pessimistic and think that finding my “list” is going to take more work that I care to put in. Therefore I’m preparing myself to be alone. Here’s some of what I came up with:

• Must not smoke cigarettes, crack, marijuana, dope of any kind, legal or not. I might be willing to budge a little on the cigs and weed, as long as I can't smell it.
• No alcoholics.
• Must be at least 5’6 inches tall
• Cannot be a control freak. I want a partner, not a boss.
• Cannot be overly traditional. I don’t want to be domestic servant.
• Must have integrity and be faithful
• Has to be family oriented and respectful of mines
• No ex-cons, regardless of the crime
• Must be hardworking and employable
• Must be relatively self-sufficient, considerate, and kind
• Cannot dress ghetto-fab, no socks with sandals, no track suits/linen suits/jumpsuits, no velour or velvet (unless it’s a very fashionable sports coat/blazer), nothing cheaply made, no knock off tennis shoes, no high-water pants, etc.
• No gold teeth or chemicals in the hair
• Cannot be a cheap skate
• Has to be in a position to pay for dinner/movies/most dates
• Has to be intelligent
• Has to be able to make me laugh and have a great sense of humor
• Must be down to earth, have confidence but not be a cocky-asshole
• Must be driven

I think this is a good start. There’s more that I can’t think of right now, but I’ll know it when I see it.

me shooting me

I bought a new Nikon Coolpix camera that I just love. It's compact (my old camera was not), fits snuggly in my clutch, and it has a touch screen that is way cool (c) my teenage niece. Way more bells and whistles than that old clunker I've retired. It's the bee knees, basically.

This is me playing around with it a bit

It wasn't working out

So I've decided to be single again. Conflict of interests. Unresolved bullshit. Finito. Over. Kaput.

This might be premature since I haven't officially told him yet. As I type this we are texting one another back and forth, nearing the end of our communications. However, unless there is a surprise turn of events, I already know the ending to this story and I've accepted it. He will disagree and try to weasel his way out of facing the truth (currently taking place via text). I will shove said truth directly in his face and pin it on his forehead (done). He'll deny, deny, deny, despite the truth staring him right in the face (starting to happen now). I'll remain calm and resolute. He'll eventually relent, realizing there's no way out. Peace will resume and life will go on. I predict this will play out all afternoon. There's no telling when peace will actually show up. It depends on how invested he is in protecting his lies. But as far as I'm concerned, I am single.

About two hours ago, I showered, curled my hair (the entire HEAD! And it was CUTE!), put on some eyeshadow, mascara, bronzer and lip gloss. Then I poured myself into this really cute spandex striped dress that gathers on the sides (ruched?), put on some high heels and strutted out of my hotel room...only to strut right back in an hour later, disgusted. It's midnight and I'm in my pajama's, on the computer. Any other Saturday night this wouldn't be an issue, except this Saturday night I'm in Las Vegas, the city that never sleeps. But guess what I'm about to be doing in, oh, about 20 more minutes? Yes, sleeping.

I'm so disgusted. And I'm never doing this again. We were supposed to go dancing, just like last year, and have a good time. Just like last year! But instead they wanted to go downtown and gamble. I hate downtown Vegas. It stinks, usually. It's depressing and full of bums. And I'm not big on gambling either.

I feel like I've wasted a weekend. Who goes to Vegas and doesn't party? Ugh. Nobody better not ask me to drive home tomorrow, either. I'm putting in my ear buds and listening to my ipod all the way home. The ice grill will be cocked and loaded.

Good night. I hope your Saturday is better than mines.

The trip is BOOKED!

Flights? - Check!

Hotel? - Check!

Central location in San Fran? - Check!

Excited? - CHECK!!! :)

So far, three of my pal's have agreed to join me on this "Girls' Weekend/Birthday Celebration Trip."One is booking her flights tomorrow, same as mines, because she doesn't want to fly alone. I have a fantastic itinerary planned, too. I really did my homework :) Happy Birthday to me! (in January)

Rhyann's 1st Halloween :)

My favorite new appliance

I swear we made some Breyer's with this little gem :D

Sooooo easy and sooooo delicious! Get one and create your own ice cream flavors. You won't regret it.

With Grace (thinking aloud this morning)

On the side of my face, directly above my right temple, is a lone wispy gray strand. It reminds me that I’m 35 years old and it prods me to smile, relax and age gracefully; I’ve led a pretty good life. Every morning when I look in the mirror I see it and it helps me get on with my day, with my life. My guy friend comments on it from time to time, asking when I’m going to pluck it. I told him that I am not, and that I’m happy with it, I earned it. He doesn’t seem to understand. I’m not twenty-five anymore and haven’t been for a while now, I’ve accepted that and I’m satisfied with who I’ve become. I’ve wrapped up twenty-five and raised it with another ten years of living. And this little gray hair, along with all of the other things I’ve acquired over the years, is what I have to show for it. With the poker hand that I have now, I’m going all in, no bluffing. I’ll still continue to construct To-do lists for my life, as I can’t seem to break that habit, but I’m okay with that, too. I sometimes need to be reminded of what I’m doing here and what my motivation is. I remember when my 28th birthday was approaching and I went into a panic, taking stock of my then life and feeling like I hadn’t lived up to my own expectations and that it would be too late by the time I turned 30. Ha! As if 30 was the age of retirement to porch swings and crocheting, waiting patiently for death to stop by for lemonade. Imagine my surprise when 30 came and went and the only thing that changed was my values. Sure, I lost a few things, gradually, during the transition but I gained a lot too. I’d like to think that I am much wiser than I was, gray hair notwithstanding. I have more wealth and independence than before, and I’m no longer antsy over the future so much that I can’t enjoy the now. In my twenties, I spent so much time planning and writing a myriad of to-do lists, and focusing on where I was going rather than enjoying where I was. I can’t get that time back so I’m not going to waste any more.

I booked my flight to San Francisco for my birthday in January and I am really looking forward to it. I’ve wanted to go to San Fran for my birthday for more than 10 years now, and every time I had made plans to go with someone, that someone, whoever it was at the time, somehow wouldn’t come through for me. First, it was my ex, then it was my friends (a few times), then it was my family. I told a new friend (I’ve known her about 3 or 4 years now) about this, her birthday is the day after mines, and shortly afterwards she sent out a mass email inviting everyone she knows to her birthday weekend, telling me that I could come along as long as I followed her rules. Now aint that a bitch?

It’s the most recent event that reminded me to stop waiting on other people to live my life, and on my terms. I’m planning my own long-overdue trip and inviting a handful of people that I know to come with me. Or rather, to meet me there since I’m not waiting on anyone, anymore. I’ve already booked my roundtrip flight and started planning my itinerary. Of course, I’ll be more than fine with doing things that whoever accompanies me wants to do while we’re there, it’s only fair, but we’ll cross that bridge if we get to it. As for right now, I’m going to San Francisco and will do and see all of the things I’ve had on my To-do list for over a decade now. I’m excited and have so much to look forward to.

Broken friendship

Looking for the exit row

The slightest infraction and I’m ready to jump out of the plane, mid flight. My guy friend has been staying over every weekend for months and this past Sunday I wanted to kick him out. Cohabitating is hard. Some mornings I’d rather not wake up to football on the television, or be asked, “what’s for breakfast?” because sometimes I’d rather just have a simple bowl of cereal and some HGTV. Some mornings I don’t want to get naked (some mornings). I’d like to wake up peacefully, get up, get dressed and go for a brisk walk, or a bike ride around my neighborhood, instead. And this past Sunday, at 5 o’clock, he asked me why I hadn’t started dinner and that’s when my eye started twitching. I wanted to relax and enjoy my Sunday, not get nagged about doing a chore. Who starts dinner at 5pm, anyway? I politely told him that I had planned to start dinner at 6:30 and that I’d like to enjoy my Sunday, just as he does, and he seemed to understand where I was coming from. But that put me off all day and, combined with something else that I won’t mention here, I’ve been slightly annoyed with him ever since. I cook dinner just about every night around the same time, on my time. I guess it sort of felt like he was trying to boss me around and if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s to be bossed around. Control freaks need not apply. He also asked me on Sunday why I didn’t want to sit with him and watch football and I explained to him that football just wasn’t interesting to me. He smirked and shook his head, saying that I’m the only person who doesn’t like football and that makes me an oddball.

“That is absurd,” I said. “I know plenty of people who don’t care much for football, and there is nothing wrong with any of us.” To each his/her own. I could say that since he doesn’t care much for literature that makes him an oddball but wasn’t in the mood for ridiculous arguments. I don’t understand why it is so difficult for him to accept that I’m not going to agree with everything he says or does or likes, that I’m not and won’t ever be a carbon copy of him…with a vagina. It seems to me that he is trying to make me into his perfect “Stepford Wife”. Everything to suit him and no appreciation for my differences, wants or needs. I’m ready to call it quits but I’m not sure if I’m overreacting or not. He has many other good qualities that I appreciate, but I don’t appreciate him trying to sneak his agenda in on me. A friend says that I should simply disagree with any and everything that I disagree with, don’t be accommodating if it’s at great expense to me and, if he doesn't like it, let him quit US. Its passive aggressive in a way but I like it J