Making Real Friends as an Adult

The first thing I learned when I moved to Chicago is that it's difficult to make friends as an adult. I was 24 years old. Without the mixed community of college students or the built-in cousin-friend I had in Portland, I was confused. Luckily for me, many of my old college friends lived in Chicago, along with my ex-boyfriend who became my boyfriend once again. But for a while there, I was a bit lost. How do grown-ups make new friends? I met exactly one girl who was NOT a coworker, old friend, or friend-of-a-friend who I enjoyed spending time with. Then we faded out and went our separate ways. For the next 6 years that I lived in Chicago, I never did find a random person who was a total stranger who then became a real friend. It just didn't happen.

After my live-in boyfriend and I broke up, my lack of friendships became very obvious. Sure, I had people I talked to on the phone. Yes, my coworkers were some of my best friends. But you know how relationships are--the significant other IS one's best friend. When that is taken away, you realize how you've let other friendships lapse a bit. It's no longer easy to call someone up for dinner on a Wednesday night. Your friends have significant others, too.

Now that I'm firmly in my 30s, there are children. It was hard enough to juggle my friends' boyfriends and husbands. Now I have children to think about, too. So I've sought out people to spend weekday nights with that have older children. People who can go get a drink on a Wednesday night--not because I need a drink but because there is literally NOTHING else to do in Farmsville past 9pm. But over the years, I've had some serious struggles with some of the people I see on a regular basis. I feel there is something lacking in my relationships. I miss the sense of community, loyalty, and love that I felt from previous friend groups. And over the last 6 months or so, the differences between myself and the people I spend time with on a regular basis has opened up an extremely wide cavern. I find myself standing on the edge of it asking: "Who are these people?" And also: "Who am I?"

I've always been a person who wanders between many different groups. I have my writerly friends, my bloggy friends, my long-distance besties, my hilarious coworkers, and my bar fly buddies. My father always said I could walk into a room full of 100 people I don't know and come out with 10 friends. It's true. I make "friends" easily. I enjoy chatting with strangers. I like making conversation. But there is a huge difference between making "friends" and making friends. It's the latter that is the hardest. Finding adults who truly share your world views, interests, and care deeply about your feelings is a wicked seek-and-find mission. And just as it takes years to build a firm relationship with a boyfriend or girlfriend, it takes the same amount of time to figure out who your true friends are. You need to go through some sh*t with these people on both sides to figure out if you're good for each other's lives. Sometimes, you waste years caring about someone's best interests only to find that they do not care at all about yours. Lesson learned. Move on.

I claim to have a crusty, black heart on this blog all the time, but the truth is, I have a mushy, gushy heart that yearns to help people, listen, and try to make others' lives better. My father says I take on people as projects. Yes, I've been known to do that from time to time. I also tend to give people the benefit of the doubt. Surely, they are just having a bad day. Surely, they didn't mean to do that. But you know what? Sometimes they did. Sometimes it IS black and white--no gray. Sometimes, I have to acknowledge that I have wasted my time on people who weren't worth it. Cared for no reason. Helped without help in return. Only when I'm completely on fire do I realize I'm being burned.

Lately, I've been been realizing that some of the people I've put the most energy into are not worthy of that energy. The only person who can stop this is me. Shrinky would say I'm putting myself in these situations because I don't feel that I deserve any better. It's true. I haven't had much self-worth these last few years. I seem to have gotten into this place where chaos is the norm, so it feels normal. I do NOT blame it on living in Farmsville, though many people do. I've gotten into these same situations in other cities in my life. It's all about the state of my own mental health. If I value myself, I don't allow others to treat me poorly. When I feel good, I draw a line in the sand. Either you're in or you're out. I need to feel good. I need to take care of myself. We teach people how to treat us, and so far, I've been a bad teacher. It's time for that to stop.

Meanwhile, everyone else is out there taking care of themselves, too--and their families. So how to break into new circles and find people I can really gel with? It will be a challenge. I've tried many, many things over the years in an attempt to find people who I can adore. Even though it's exhausting, I'm going to keep trying. I want to find people to shower with affection and friendship. I like loving people and showing them that I care. And I'm going to remind myself that the people I find will be lucky to have me. Because you know what? I am a good person. And I am a good friend.

So instead of ranting and raving and having a grand old pity party for myself, I'm going to change my energy and focus. It's time to cheer Blondie up. Give her a pat on the back. Remind her that she IS worthy.

I will begin today with a new theme song for the summer. I'm a firework, people. Deal with it. (snickers)





Firework
by Katy Perry

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag,
drifting through the wind
wanting to start again?
Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin
like a house of cards,
one blow from caving in?

Do you ever feel already buried deep?
6 feet under screams but no one seems to hear a thing
Do you know that there's still a chance for you
'Cause there's a spark in you

You just gotta ignite, the light, and let it shine
Just own the night like the 4th of July

'Cause baby you're a firework
Come on, show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh"
As you shoot across the sky

Baby, you're a firework
Come on, let your colors burst
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh"
You're gonna leave 'em all in awe, awe, awe

You don't have to feel like a waste of space
You're original, cannot be replaced
If you only knew what the future holds
After a hurricane comes a rainbow

Maybe your reason why all the doors are closed
So you could open one that leads you to the perfect road
Like a lightning bolt, your heart will glow
And when it's time, you'll know

You just gotta ignite, the light, and let it shine
Just own the night like the 4th of July

'Cause baby you're a firework
Come on, show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh"
As you shoot across the sky

Baby, you're a firework
Come on, let your colors burst
Make 'em go "Oh, Oh, Oh"
You're gonna leave 'em all in awe, awe, awe

Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
It's always been inside of you, you, you
And now it's time to let it through

'Cause baby you're a firework
Come on, show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go "Oh, Oh, Oh"
As you shoot across the sky

Baby, you're a firework
Come on, let your colors burst
Make 'em go "Oh, Oh, Oh"
You're gonna leave 'em all in awe, awe, awe

Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon

Boo Hiss

This pretty much sums up the weekend I've been having. I tossed something up at the ceiling to hit a bug that followed me in last night and instead destroyed the light-fixture covering. Yep, good times. Total chaos. Also? There is a mole ripping up the flowerbed.

That is all.

Gardening Begins, Part 2

From this shot, you can see why I call them the Leaning Towers of Lilies, right? Anyway, this is the flowerbed once all of the guck has been removed.

There is something growing from last year in the middle here--can't identify what it is yet. Around it, I planted blanket flowers (which are also leaning) and celosia:


Purty blanket flower:


On the bottom, we have some half-dead red yarrow from last year. On the top, we have purple salvia from last year. Then I planted some AWESOME snapdragons:


They are a very faint pink/yellow. The picture doesn't do them justice:


Then more red celosia (love that stuff):


This purple thing is called graffiti. Have never heard of it before, but I'm giving them a whirl because they were cute:


On the end, we have the peachy impatiens. There is a small patch of dianthus coming up from last year next to them:


On the end is the ever-faithful hosta:


Here's the money shot. Two garden decorations survived:


Waiting for a new staircase, we have a passion flower and two hibiscus bushes:


The best part of the day? The whole time I was working, a certain little, brown goat was talking to me from the pasture. See him climbing the gate?


So I made you a video of him:





Now I just need to get some more soil and plant the seeds and I'm all done. Whew!

Gardening Begins

As you can see, my peonies are waiting to fully open until Memorial Day, like all good peonies should. And dude? The peony bushes are HUGE. Every year, they get way bigger.

As promised, I will show you some "before" photos. Be prepared--it's ugly. This is what the side garden looks like right now. Weedy mess. BUT the irises have bloomed, which is strange because in the four years I've lived in Farmhouse Villa, they have NEVER bloomed. Each year, they just grow a ton of leaves and that is that. This year? Yellow happiness:



Here are some of the flowers I am planting from left to right: snapdragons, celosia, fuschia, lantanas, some purple things I don't know the name of right now, and really tall creamy, peachy impatiens. In front, you can see a box of zinnia seeds and two boxes of dahlia bulbs. Love my dahlias:


This is what the flowerbed looks like right now. (the shame!) On the left, we have the Leaning Towers of Lilies, which won't stand up straight no matter what I do. A couple of plants from last year are growing, and then we have the large hosta on the right. The whirligig woman only has one fan piece left, and there are two other decorations in various stages of disrepair out there. UGH. Also? The poison ivy is back on the tree. Good times:


I am a lily. I will LEAN. LEAN I TELL YOU:


My stairs are going to be replaced because they are currently being held up by a sheet of steel. They have completely crumbled under that lovely Astroturf. (gross) So even though I'm going to have to move it, I put out the vining mandevilla plant. This year, I went for red instead of pink. On the right, you can see the rose bush keg holder thingie. I've decided that I'm giving up on roses. They always get covered in bugs and look horrible. Done. I think I might put a dahlia there. Still thinking about it:


Last year, I had pink celosia in these holders. This year, I'm going for banana-and-cherry lantanas:


Up close--so pretty. They change colors as they bloom. And they will get HUGE with time:


Just as I was getting on a roll, it started sprinkling. I still have all this and more left to do:


My favorite part this year is that I finally splurged and bought REAL flower holders for the fuschias. Usually, I put them in my tacky, plastic hanging baskets. Not this year. This year Blondie is going to have some purty containers, oh yes she is. They are small now, but they will also grow like crazy. Fuschias do well in shade, so hanging under my little window covering is the perfect place for them:



Hmmm. I see sun. I think I will go back out now. Stay tuned for the rest of the gardening goodies another day...

Gardening as Distraction

Last night, I wrapped up a contract that has gone on for over a year. It was a strange feeling--relief mixed with concern. I don't know when another big contract will come again. I have a few small ones that will keep me going for now, but the big ones are the true bread and butter of my freelancing life. But instead of freaking out today and spending all day emailing to look for a new contract, I'm going shopping. For garden stuff. FLOWERS!

My garden is a HUGE MESS. I haven't weeded anything. All of the dead things from last fall are still there. Pots are sitting everywhere filled with deadness that I forgot to toss out before the winter snows came. The exterior of Farmhouse Villa is looking a little rough. It's time to brighten up my world.

I've been to a lot of expensive plant stores over the last few years looking for beauties, but I've finally realized that some of the best plants come from the cheapest places. Today, Ma and I are going to take my father's pickup and go on a seek-and-find mission. I need flowers--lots of them.

I do have some seeds I can throw in the hard-to-reach places, but mostly I'm going for established plants these days. In the flowerbed, there is already a huge hosta, a bunch of lilies, and some plants I bought last year that I can't identify yet that are regrowing. Iris are all over the place. And my mother's autumn sedum are bursting to life. And oh yes, just in time for Memorial Day (HOW DO THEY KNOW???), the original owner's peonies are beginning to bloom. I love peonies. And they are OLD--this house belonged to my neighbor's grandmother and my neighbor was in high school with my father. You do the math.

I will be sure to take pretty pictures for you. I will also give you a HORRIFYING before-and-after of the flower bed. It will make you giggle.

Owning a Mom Car When You're Not a Mom

Even though there is absolutely nothing wrong with my car, Pa is taking it to the dealership today to get the engine computer (or something like that) swapped out because of a recall. Say what you will about Toyota Corollas, but I still think they are the best cars on the market. Mine only got recalled (I feel) as a safety precaution after all of those runaway Corollas made the news a while back. My Corolla has NEVER tried to drive without me. For reals. This is the first time my car has ever been in the shop, and it's a 2005. She's a champ.

I begged Pa to deal with this for me because he's a Car Guy, so they won't try to mess with him. I bought the car in Chicago and had to deal with all that crap that comes with being a single female purchasing a vehicle, so I didn't want to go there again. I'm not an idiot, no I'm not. No, I don't need that fixed. No, I don't need that upgrade. No, I'm not going to pay the sticker price! NO! I figured Pa would have an easier time with it.

So last night, I cleaned out the car, left it at my parents' house, and brought my dad's car home with me. (As I mentioned on Twitter, I'm waiting for the small-town rumors to begin that I'm dating someone new. And when I say "dating," I mean "bonking." People are VERY suspicious of random vehicles in one's driveway here. So for the record--that is my DAD'S car.)

Anyway, having my car go away to the car doctor is making me think of the past vehicles in my life. I had a blue Chevy hatchback Nova that was passed down from my father and sister. I had a black Chevy compact Nova from Pa. Then I got black Toyota Celica GT that had been completely wrecked and had a salvage title on it at one point. Pa took one look at it and could tell that it had been repainted. Could I tell? No. All I knew was that I was excited to have a Batmobile because it had flip-up headlights and fog lights. I was cool. The car was cool. After dragging it to Iowa City, Oregon, and Chicago, I finally had to sell it because I kept leaving it on the street in Chicago in the wrong places and getting $100 tickets. I still miss that car. (sigh)

After I lived in Chicago long enough to miss having a car, I bought the Corolla because I didn't need a fancy Batmobile anymore. I was a grown woman. I needed a practical car for Chicago. You don't buy fancy sports cars in Chicago because people will steal them, run into them, or bust off the side mirror 10 times on a narrow street. After only having stick-shift cars, I sprung for an automatic. My leg had fallen asleep too many times from riding the clutch in the crazy, Chicago traffic. I was also at the point in my life where I thought I was going to get married and have babies, so I wanted a car that could have car seats and last a long time. It has lasted just fine. Sadly, I've never had a child in it--not even Little.

People are very uppity about vehicles in Farmsville. Ever since I was a young tween, cars have been a status symbol here. You know who drives what and where they are and if they got something new and WOW it's pretty and RED. Especially the pickup trucks. Oh my, the trucks. I've been made fun of countless times for driving a "Mom Car." I roll my eyes. It's a f*cking car. Why does it need to be fancy? Bite me. But then there are the car appreciators who ask me how many miles it has on it and offer to buy for cash. It's black or white. Either you love my car, or you hate it.

Me? I've never felt the "connection" to the Corolla that I felt to the other cars from my youth, but I still have affection for her. I felt weird driving Pa's car home last night (mostly because I couldn't find the gear shifter, the headlights, the windshield wipers, or figure out how to lock the door once I got home). It was a little sad to leave Christina (that's her name) in my parents' garage. But she'll be back. And she'll (hopefully) be better than ever before.

Let's Talk About Casey Anthony

After years of waiting, I finally got my Casey Anthony trial fix yesterday, and BOY, was it a doozy. Yes, we are supposed to live in a land where you are innocent until proven guilty, but come on. She is so f*cking guilty. If not of murder, then of Extreme Lying.

Back in 2008, I waited anxiously (with the rest of the country) to find out what happened to Casey's daughter, Caylee. From the minute I heard the details of the case, I got a sour feeling in my stomach. Doesn't report daughter missing for 31 days, blames random nanny that no one has ever seen, claims to have job but doesn't, was partying whole time daughter was missing, repeatedly LIED to police about every single thing related to the case. Shady.

Casey's poor parents, George and Cindy Anthony, have taken the most heat from the public. They basically were harassed into craziness while trying to protect Casey from the hoards of people wanting to get "justice." I don't agree with the crazies who took their babies to the Anthony home holding signs that said crap like "Would you kill me?" but I do understand the frustration with a person who just keeps LYING about everything when you're trying to help find her 2-year-old daughter.

Anyway, I was anxious yesterday to hear what this magic defense was that they've had cooking for 3 years...

So I guess Caylee drowned in the pool because Cindy left the ladder in it. And then George helped Casey dispose of the body--oh, and he also sexually abused her from the age of 8.

There go BOTH parents, swiftly under the bus.

What? The? F*ck?

There was actually a news rumor in 2008 that Caylee died in the pool. In a jailhouse video-phone call with her parents, Casey laughed off that theory--see it here like 30 seconds in:




Why change the story now? Well, there's that whole Death Penalty thing going on. (sighs)

Let's give her the benefit of the doubt. Let's say George DID molest her (which I don't buy at the moment). EVEN if that was true, that doesn't excuse the rest of her behavior. Police were looking for the nanny for AGES, spending countless hours and dollars trying to find a mysterious-not-real-nanny named Zanaida Gonzalez. Casey lied lied lied lied for a month about where her daughter was. She made it sound like her own life was in danger if she said anything about Caylee's location. Like the mafia was after her. And the only time she cries seems to be when she talks about how all of this is affecting her.

Personally, I think she killed Caylee all by herself. I've downloaded and read endless documents and depositions about this case for the last 3 years. My working theory is that Casey wanted to be free, young, and rid of her daughter. I think she killed her and got rid of the body and that was that. I think she actually thought she could get away with it.

I'm rather surprised that many people I want to talk to about this case don't seem to know what I'm talking about. When I mentioned it to my parents last night, I had to explain multiple times who I was talking about, and they didn't seem to recall the case. It's possible that I'm just a crime junkie. I'm also still waiting desperately for Amanda Knox to be released from jail over in Italy because I think she is NOT GUILTY of her crime. Because I am the expert, yes? (giggles)

What do you think about Casey Anthony? Are you buying her defense?

Let There Be Sheep!

I peeked out the window this morning and saw like 10 sheep in the back pasture. YES! I've been waiting for them. The above photo shows sheep from a few years ago. I am too lazy to wander down there and take a photo at 6AM. But don't worry--I will. Just not right now.

I was worried the neighbors weren't going to get any sheep or goats this year. They usually have them by now, so I thought maybe they weren't coming. I never realized how much I adored these creatures until they weren't there.

Sheep and goats are somewhat hysterical. They do the strangest things. I've found them caught in fences, climbing fences, eating BARK, and running from invisible monsters. I like to take any stale bread or leftover food down to the pastures for them to eat. "Here goat, goat!" Then they come RUNNING! Their little bodies are so funny.

I don't know if there are any goats out there right now. I can't really tell because the weeds are SO HIGH. The best thing you can do when you have massive amounts of 6ft tall weeds is to buy farm life that will eat incessantly. I'm pretty sure that first pasture will be cleared in a few days.

I don't know why I am awake so early today. I wandered out of bed and into the kitchen to get some caffeine. There, in the early morning light, I saw them all huddled together. I called for Gretchen--she came running. I picked her up and pointed her at the sheep. "See the sheepies? What do you think?" She went into stalker mode, ears ALERT, body tense. It's a good thing she can't get to them, or she might turn into a full-blown dog. They look so pretty in this Iowa sunrise.

Small pleasures--I have them.

Thoughts on Britney Spears

There is something about the look on Britney Spears's face lately that concerns me. She looks so meh. There is no light in her eyes. I realize she is getting older and all, but shouldn't she retain some of the twinkle from her star-studded youth? Well, there was that whole Umbrella Incident. But that was many years ago, right?

The Internet is abuzz this morning about her lip-syncing her way through a few performances at the Billboard Music Awards last night. I didn't watch them. I was too busy wolfing down burgers on a warm, Iowa night with a bunch of Blondersons. But I don't think it would matter if I saw Britney anyway. I've seen her "sing" her tunes before. Well, I've probably NEVER seen her actually sing, but you know what I mean. (Even at the very beginning, Britney wasn't really singing.)

Since I've had my own mental health issues, I have to wonder why she keeps putting herself out into the public realm. If she's just phoning it in, why pick up the phone? With fragrance alone, she makes a KILLING each year. Why not just bring in those sales and the ones from her other lines and stay home with the kiddos?

I'm not saying people with mental health issues should hide away. That's not my point. My point is that she doesn't seem to be enjoying herself out there in front of everyone. At all. I chose the photo above to go with this post because that is the look in her eyes that I see in all of her photos lately. It's sad.

I suppose it's too late to go back and stop the Britney Machine all together. She's a part of our pop culture and always will be. But every time she steps up on a stage, I cringe a bit... because SHE is cringing.

So the World Didn't End on My Birthday

It turns out the Rapture did not, in fact, happen on my birthday. I checked the news to see if Jesus showed up and blew away Europe, but I don't see anything like that on CNN. Just more crap about Arnold Schwarzenegger. I think the Rapture would make for much more exciting news. Oh well.

So what I am doing to celebrate turning 34? Pretty much nothing. I need to run a few errands, and then I'm going over to my parents' house to have dinner and hang out with them. They wanted to know if I wanted to go to a big dinner uptown tonight? Hells no. I NEVER like to go to dinner on Saturday nights uptown. There are TOO many crowds. My anxiety SPIKES. I would much rather go to dinner with them on a random Tuesday or something, so we'll do that next week.

Birthdays are always disappointing, and today has been no exception. I woke up late, got a bunch of MEAN text messages from someone, and am now realizing I don't have any food to take my meds, so my brain will start zapping any minute now. I'm going to get dressed, get some food, and it will be OK, but I know the zaps are on their way. BOO ZAPPING.

BUT, there are a couple of good things. Let's focus on them:

1. Last night my lovely cousin Kira sent me a bunch of NICE text messages.
2. This morning, I got an adorable, super nice e-card from my godmother/auntie.
3. I know my Ma is going to make me a delicious, filling, awesome birthday dinner.
4. I know both Ma and Pa are going to give me hugs.
5. While I'm running errands, I'm finally going to buy the latest Harry Potter release and then I'm going to force my parents to watch it with me.

There, all better.

The Planets Are Keeping Me Up

Image c/o the rock stars (literally) at NASA.

I've decided that all of the planets aligning is totally f*cking with my circadian rhythm. I have had the most HORRIBLE time sleeping lately. Last night, I was up reading, watching TV, and tossing and turning until almost 4AM. Boo hiss grr.

Starting on May 10th, six planets decided to come into view from ye ole planet Earth in a nice, pretty row: Mercury, Venus, Jupiter, Mars, Uranus, and Neptune. If you are an early-morning person, you can go outside and see them all lined up in the night sky. (Wait. Maybe that's what I should have done at 4AM instead of pouting and annoying kittehs by tossing back and forth. Missed opportunities--I have them.)

Say what you will about the planets and how they affect us, but I believe they DO. My uterus, and the oceans on our dear planet, are 100% affected by the position of the Moon. Oh, sweet Moon, how you vex me. Pa informed me that the last full moon was the Flower Moon. That sounds nice, oh yes it does. What other full moons do we have?

• January: Wolf Moon
• February: Snow Moon
• March: Worm Moon
• April: Pink Moon
• May: Flower Moon
• June: Strawberry Moon
• July: Buck Moon
• August: Sturgeon Moon
• September: Corn Moon
• October: Harvest Moon
• November: Beaver Moon
• December: Cold Moon

List c/o Farmer's Almanac.

Anyway, enough already with these planets. I can't sleep! Whatever you are doing to the Universe, it's messing me UP! And I KNOW I am not alone because I have a lot of friends on Twitter, and they totally can't sleep, either. It has to be the planets. I've decided. And you all trust me as an expert on this, right? (snickers)

Anyway, have you ever wanted to see something other than a planet or moon or star that is REALLY COOL in the night sky? Every so often, Pa and I track the International Space Station across the Iowa darkness. Once, I made a bunch of people at the watering hole go outside to look at it right at the moment it was supposed to appear. It's fun, quick, and it shocks a lot of Farmsville people when you stand in the middle of the road and follow a moving object through the sky. No, that's not a UFO, that's a space station.

Anyway, if you want to look for it in your area, go HERE. It sucks for me because it's usually SUPER early in the morning, but every so often it's at night or a reasonable time. For the record, I do not blame the ISS for any of my sleep pattern issues. They are officially off the hook.

But the rest of the planets? BUSTED.

Revisiting the Girl Code

Well, well, well, I asked for thoughts about the Girl Code, and I got them. This afternoon, I went over to check the comments section on the BlogHer post, and I found that a bunch of women had dated--in fact married--their friend's exes. The little world I live in called the Blondie Bubble burst right open.

After reading the comments and thinking about it for a while, I realized that it makes sense to date someone who you are familiar with. It helps to know something about a person--or to have seen them in action in a relationship that is in your world. I realized that this line has gone through my head before: Dude, why is she so mean to him? If he were my man, I would totally appreciate him. Yeah, I've been that girl. So why should it be shocking to me if someone is interested in one of my exes?

Well, it's ego I suppose. A feeling of betrayal. I did write in my first post about this that I wouldn't deny true love if it happened with one of my exes and my friends. I still feel that way. Just because I couldn't have it with him doesn't mean no one should. I feel better about Types A and B knowing that some long-term relationships have come out of them.

I think I'm more concerned with the other part of the post that no one has yet commented on--sex with my ex.

What happens when they just have sex? Hook up for no reason other than the primal urge? How do you react then? Because sometimes, there is no happy ending for anyone. Sometimes, your friend had a bad day or something and stops being your friend after a few cocktails and goes home with your ex-boyfriend. Or sometimes she bones that guy you've been talking to and had a few dates with. I realize this is a little awkward to talk about, but it totally happens in real life. We all know it does.

It's true that if you don't care about your ex-boyfriend anymore, you don't care who he bones. But with your friends, it's a little trickier. So let's go there. How does the Girl Code apply in this situation?

The Girl Code

Let's discuss the Girl Code, shall we? It means different things to different people. For the sake of this post, I'm going to discuss three types of Girl Codes. (These codes can apply to women for women and men for women and men for men, but since I'm straight, I'm going straight for the straight Girl Code to keep things straight--got that?)

• Type A: You were in a long-term relationship with a man, and you talked to your girlfriends about what this man meant to you, how he helped or hurt you, and they were there through the whole thing and when it painfully ended.
• Type B: You were never in a long-term relationship with this man, but you thought about it. You talked with him--perhaps got some smooching in or had a few dates. Your girlfriends listened to you coo about him and offered advice about what to do. For whatever reason, it flamed out, but you're not happy about it. Or it is still flaming in some way--just slowly.
  
• Type C: You met a guy who was nice, but you weren't interested. Maybe you went on a few dates, but then you decided to end it. You're OK with it. Your girlfriends know this.

Is it OK for your friend to hook up with or date any of these men?

Personally, I only see ONE of these types that would allow for a friend of yours to date the man in question--Type C. I feel this way because I've known a few people in my life who have gone on to marry someone that a friend of hers dated at some point--when there were no hurt feelings or confusion about the topic. Most of these women are from the sock-hop generation, when people actually danced around in socks and were modest and virginal at all times. It's a little different here in 2011, but Type C can definitely still happen.

Regarding Type A and Type B--it's a no. No go. Off limits. Walk away.

These types of codes were much more clear when I lived in large cities. Now that I live in a small town where there are only so many fish, I see a lot more crossover with Types A and B. This creates a lot of hurt and feelings of betrayal. I think if you are a true, good friend to someone, you would never consider hooking up with or dating one of their exes. Right?

As with all things, there are exceptions. If something wackadoo happened and Person A's best friend fell in love with Person B and it was real and good and true and beautiful, that's one thing. Who can deny true love? But the last time I saw that whole "love at first sight relationship" thing was a looooong time ago. It's very rare. Usually, people fall in love at a slower pace. And things like Girl Codes usually keep these events from happening--especially if the girl has disclosed personal information about painful events that happened in the relationship to her friend. To use my own life as an example, usually, my girlfriends don't like my ex-boyfriends at all because they are on Team Blondie. F*ck that guy. He doesn't know what he had. He's an a$$hat. I don't need everyone to be on Team Blondie, but it feels good to know who my real friends are.

There are other factors to consider, such as time lapsed, physical proximity, and that lovely thing I like to call the Moral Compass. When you factor in a whole bunch of things, you can come up with some random algebraic equation to justify or not justify any actions. But many times, it's much more black and white: That's my ex-boyfriend and you are one of my best friends. WTF?

I've been accused more than once of being:

A.) a monster
B.) a goody-two-shoes

Since I've been told both of these things, it's often hard for me to gauge whether or not my "call" is right about certain topics, such as the Girl Code. Things that I think are obvious yes or no situations are sometimes the complete opposite of what other people are thinking. Usually, I don't care what other people think about my opinion of a topic. I get to own my opinion, and you can own yours. Amen. But I'm extremely curious as to what other people think about this, so I'm going for it.

The most amazing women I've met in the last 5 years have all come from the Internet. I value your opinions and enjoy hashing things over with you. So tell me your opinion on this one. Is it OK to hook up with your friend's ex-boyfriend? Hook up can mean either thing--having random sex with him or going for a long-term relationship. What makes it OK or not OK? And what do you do if it happens?

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UPDATE: This post got syndicated over on BlogHer. Read it there as Girl Code: Dating a Friend's Ex. Discuss in either place--the more the merrier!

It Was Good, Good Love

This weekend, I heard a song that reminded me of my Chicago ex-boyfriend and came to the realization that I'm never going to get over him, and that's OK. It will not stop me from living my life or loving new men, but he's totally going to linger in my mind until I'm creaky. Kind of like that old woman in the Titanic movie who still twinkles when she drops the necklace in the ocean.

It sucks to have an ex I still pine for from time to time. So many mistakes were made on both sides. And in the end, it was the right thing for us to break up at that time. We were in a very ugly rut. People break up and get back together all the time. We had broken up before. But that last time it was so final. Done. Ended. Over. Forever.

In having conversations with Shrinkydink and friends about him over the years, we always come to the same conclusion: I'm in love with the memory of him, not him. He's a ghost. Or I get lonely and it triggers me to miss him. Something like that. Sometimes, I think that is true. Other times, I think no, I just love the guy. For the record, I don't think of him every day. In fact, I can go quite a long time without thinking of him at all. But I did meet him at age 17 and lost him at age 29, so a large part of my life was spent as his friend or lover. You can't erase that much time out of your memory no matter how hard you try.

I think of him in flashes--there is a movie he would like, a book he would enjoy. I wonder how he felt when he heard about Michael Jackson or Osama bin Laden. I wonder how his family is doing and if he has any nieces or nephews--or a new great love in his life that will far surpass me in providing him with happiness. I will never know these things because he cut me OUT so completely, and I truly feel he will never speak to me again. It got very ugly at the end. I blame myself for that. I was so hurt, sad, overwhelmed, broken. I was very mean.

Shrinkydink always reminded me to not create "fictions" as to why someone isn't talking to me. I can create every scenario I want in my mind, but I will never know what the real deal is. Wasting time creating grandiose stories about how horrible I am won't help or change matters. I have to take it for what it is: he doesn't want to talk to me. And because I'm an adult and am not a stalker, I have to respect that.

I think we all have someone that we still think about sometimes though, no? Even when we are happily with a new person--perhaps have created a family with him or her--isn't there always some cutie from 2nd grade that pops into our minds from time to time? I know I'm not alone on this. Girl Talk has taught me that no matter how far removed you are, one good, late-80s pop tune can bring back the youthful image of an old flame--so real you could touch him.

But my feelings toward my Chicago ex go far beyond some musical memories. He helped create the person I am today. I was with him when my brain was still developing. I have photo boxes filled with years of our lives. Webster is still here--the skittish kitteh we brought home together. Art we bought is still on my walls. I still drive the car I bought the year we moved in together. I threw away many things that reminded me of him, but I still find little memories tucked away in drawers. Yesterday, I was completely out of clean T-shirts, so I threw on one of his old band T-shirts that was in the bottom of my drawer. I could throw away it all, but that would be throwing away 12 years of my life, and that doesn't seem fair. I don't want to pretend my relationship with him never happened.

Am I still in love with him? No. I don't know who he is now, so I can't be in love with him. But do I still love him? Yes. I remember him fondly. I smile when I have good memories. I get jolted by bad memories. It's all there inside of me in the big ball of life emotions/memories I carry in my belly. And even though I may never see him again, it will be there for the rest of my life.

I used to feel ashamed of this, but I don't anymore. I was LUCKY to find love. It's so rare. I had a best friend, lover, and companion for so long. We were a great match--while we still matched. So rather than try to hide my memories of him like some ugly stain, I've decided it's OK to celebrate what we had. Like when you try to celebrate the LIFE of someone you loved instead of the death. We had an amazing time together for many, many years. It's OK to remember that part of me/us and miss it from time to time. I'm not going to punish myself for it anymore.

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Want to hear the song that brought his face to my mind? OK, here it goes. Be prepared if you miss someone, too...





Stay or Leave
by Dave Matthews

May be different but remember
Winters warm there you and I
Kissing whiskey by the fire
With the snow outside
When summer comes
In the river
Swims at midnight
Shiver cold
Touch the bottom
You and I
With muddy toes

Stay or leave
I want you not to go
But you should
It was good as good goes
Stay or leave
I want you not to go
But you did

Wake up naked drinking coffee
Making plans to change the world
While the world is changing us
It was good good love
We used to laugh under the covers
Maybe not so often now
The way I used to laugh with you
Was loud and hard

Stay or leave
I want you not to go
But you should
It was good as good goes
Stay or leave
I want you not to go
But you did

So what to do
With the rest of the day's afternoon hey
Isn't it strange how we change
Everything we did
Did I do all that I could

That I should have done

Remember we used to dance
And everyone wanted to be
You and me
I want to be too
What day is this
Besides the day you left me
What day is this
Besides the day you went

So what to do
With the rest of the day's afternoon hey
Well isn't it strange how we change
Everything we did
Did I do all that I could

Remember we used to dance
And everyone wanted to be you and me
I want to be too
What day is this
Besides the day you left me
What day is this

Nie Nie Makes Blondie Bawl in a Good Way

I woke up this morning at 3:30am and never went back to sleep. It happens. I read for a long time. Then I gave up trying to go back to sleep and turned on the TV. I went to the 20/20 episode I had recorded last night and started watching. And then one of those funny things happened that made me remember how connected we all really are...

The story was about a couple named Stephanie and Christian Nielson who had been in a plane accident. Though they were both burned, the woman was far worse off. They had four children and a beautiful life, and it was all turned upside down in an instant. I was taken in by the story--the woman's eyes post-crash were just as lovely as they were before. She was vibrant, positive, and honest. Despite her scars, I found her stunningly beautiful. Something about her seemed eerily familiar. And then her blog was mentioned: Nie Nie Dialogues. A blogger? Hmmm. Nie Nie? No, it can't be.

I kept watching the show intently. They interviewed the young girls, who were originally afraid to see their mommy after the crash. She looked different--scary. But now? They jabbered on much like my own niece, Little. Tiny women. Silly girls. They still love Mommy--oh, yes they do. But yes, it had been a bit scary. I wanted to reach through the screen and squeeze them.

When the show was finished, I knew it had to be her--Nie Nie from BlogHer. I mean, come on, how many Nie Nies are in the world? So I went to BlogHer and looked at her photo--yep. That's her. I can't tell you how many times I've seen the headline "Show & Tell: Nie Nie Asks..." on BlogHer. I haven't read many of her posts because they usually ask questions about family time and kiddos and I'm lacking in those areas, so I don't participate. But I'd seen her posts. I'd seen her picture. And you know what? I'd NEVER noticed anything "different" about it. Only when I peered at the tiny BlogHer image did I see the woman I'd just seen on TV. Oh yes, there she is with those beautiful eyes.

I had a memory while I was watching Nie Nie speak of her children's original fears upon seeing her...

My mom had cancer when I was a little girl. I went with her to get a wig before her hair fell out from the chemo treatments. Ma always wore her wig--I didn't want to see her without it, and she didn't want to be seen. I knew that she took it off when she went to sleep. I also saw her in turbans. But I rejected seeing her all the way bald. It was too scary--too wrong and foreign.

One night, I got a nosebleed. I was prone to them at the time. Ma heard me crying and came to help me. I remember her turning on a light, and her bald head was silhouetted in the darkness. She had the wispy remains of what had once been long, red hair. The image of her head was even more frightening than my bloody pillowcase, so I cried that much harder. Ma leaned in and hugged me. She was so sorry she had forgotten her wig. She was sorry that she had scared me.

(My heart aches as I write this.)

(Pauses to cry a little bit.)

I was a child, but I also knew that my mommy was still my mommy. In that moment of fear, blood, late-night nosebleeding, and a mother's hug, I knew it was OK. I was scared of her--her appearance--but her hug felt the same. Her eyelashes and eyebrows were gone. Her skin was pale white. She was frail, sick, and no doubt in pain, but she came to me. To help me. She was still my mother, and her being alive to hug me was all I needed.

I don't like having this memory. I have a ball of ache in my throat right now. Part of the sadness is coming from the raw fear of that moment that is still with me to this day--the little girl's fear of her mother's imminent death. Part of the sadness is how bad I feel for making my mother feel ugly or scary-looking when she had no control over the situation. I begged her to never take off the wig. When she realized she didn't have it on, she felt horrible. I feel awful for having made her feel that way. (I realize I was a child, so I no longer hold myself accountable for it--kids are kids. I just feel sorry for my sweet Ma if I ever hurt her feelings.) And the last part of the sadness is relating to Nie Nie from the perspective of an adult and a child. I know it must have been hard for her to feel rejected by her own children, but at the same time, I remember being that child. So many mixed emotions.

But there are always hidden gems in these life experiences, no?

After that night of the nosebleed, I was never afraid to see Ma without her wig again. In fact, I began to annoy her by pulling it off randomly when she was sitting on the couch or something. After a while, I even got in trouble for doing it! Years later when she had cancer again, it was less scary. I knew the drill. Kids are very adaptable--resilient. I learned that she was still my mother, despite her hairstyles. She survived the cancer and now has beautiful, buttery-platinum hair. I know Nie Nie's children may have been scared of her at one time, but they aren't anymore. To them, she will always be their mommy--and that is the most important thing.

The next gem comes from Nie Nie directly in a post titled "Beauty" from April 2009 (roughly 6 months after the crash). She writes:

"I love beautiful things. I love to surround myself with things that radiate happiness and beauty. Jane came home from school one day with a large branch of cherry blossoms. The colors were vibrant and gorgeous. Simple things like that allow me to feel special, happy, loved, and most of all... my favorite... feminine.

We are women of a God who delights in his daughters to feel beautiful and adored. Whatever that is to you personally, don't let it go undone. It is in you safe and warm and no one can take that away from you...no one."

Nie Nie wrote those words next to a photo she had taken of herself--a reflection in a window. I hadn't cried the whole time I watched her story or when I was reading her blog archives. But something about that little passage got me all choked up. What a strong, amazing woman. I'm proud to know who she is--and I hope to meet her in the future.

So in a strange way, my early morning experience with a random 20/20 episode has changed my life. It's reminded me of bad times and good times. To appreciate what I have. To adore my mother in a childlike way as much as I want to even though I'm now an adult. To admire my father for his strength during Ma's illness. To forgive myself for being a child and not knowing any better when I lashed out in fear. And to let myself appreciate my feminine beauty--which is the hardest one for me right now. I'm going to write down Nie Nie's quote and put it on my bathroom mirror. I encourage all my sisters to do the same.

Remembering My Young Self

Just when I was starting to worry about what I would do when my current contract ended, TWO new contracts landed in my lap.

Scratch that.

They didn't land in my lap. I made them happen. By being a good freelancer, networking, and busting my a$$ for years, I opened the door to new opportunities. Yes, I did. And I'm TOTALLY bragging about it. So there. (Shrinkydink would be proud.)

(Given, they are short-term contracts, and they mean I will be working 3 jobs through the end of May all at the same time, but whatevs. I will be able to pay the rent.)

Over the years, I've spent a lot of time on this blog wallowing about wanting full-time work and the instability of freelancing. Now I just don't care. For reals. I've learned that there is ALWAYS a new opportunity right around the corner. I just have to keep looking for them. Putting in the hours of research, networking, and sending out my resume to hundreds of people. Part of my job is always looking for a new job. I've been lucky to be with the same company for over a year, and I'm hoping to get another long-term contract with them soon. But these jobs are all about timing. It's a waiting game. You have to wait for big projects to get rolling. In the meantime, you do the little jobs. A lot of little jobs.

My life is so different from what I thought it would be like in my early 20s. Back then, I had goals to own my own publishing house, have a giant, glass-windowed office at the top of a tall, city building, and wear power suits. (pauses to roll eyes at self)

Isn't it amazing how much our needs, wants, and dreams change? Life experiences teach us that we might be wrong about what we want. We might be really good at A but not B. We might need to go for L instead of any other letter in the alphabet. We might have been wrong. About many things.

I wish I could go have a Guinness with that 24-year-old Blondie. We would have such a funny conversation. She probably wouldn't listen to me at all and would think I was a loser. She would gossip about me to all of her friends. But I wouldn't try to squash her dreams. Oh no. I'd let her believe she could do anything she wanted to do. Because she can.

The Prison Problem

This morning, I'm thinking about jail overcrowding because of--you guessed it--Lindsay Lohan. Because Miss Lohan annoys the crap out of me, I want her to go to jail for a nice, long visit. Alas, I don't think it is to be. She's going to keep getting out of every single jail stay EVER because of "overcrowding." What exactly is the "overcrowding" problem?

According to jailovercrowding.com:

"Adding prison, jail, and probation populations together, the U.S. corrections population exceeds 7 million people – or 1 in every 32 U.S. adults"

1 in 32? Wow.

Since I live in a small town, I know people who have been arrested for a variety of reasons--public intoxication, domestic situations, probation violations, and being simply stupid. They aren't bad people per se, they just make bad choices sometimes. (I heard the words "drunk tank" so many times growing up that I thought there was actually like a pressurized tank you went into at the jail or something--like the kind you go in when you have the bends. I have since learned from reliable sources that there isn't. There is just a room with nothing in it. No toilet? Nope. No toilet for a drunk person?? Whatevs.) I don't believe that everyone who commits a crime should suffer in a jail cell forever. But letting them out without paying their dues just because the place is overcrowded? Boo on that.

There has to be a better way to solve these problems. Since many people go to jail over drug charges and just have RAGING DRUG ADDICTIONS, why not divide up jail between drugs and hardcore crime? Put everyone who got arrested ONLY for drugs in one system and everyone else in a different system? Something like that. And then implement programs according to needs at the various prisons. It can't be that hard, can it?

One thing that totally annoys me about the US legal system is that we can't make broad changes to ANYTHING. One state will say something is legal and the next day someone else overturns it and then it gets overturned again and again. Just look at the gay marriage kerfuffle. WTF? LEAVE IT LEGAL ALREADY! (ahem) Something looks constitutional and then people decide it isn't. Something passes at the state level and gets turned down federally. I don't understand.

But anyway, we are all p*ssy all the time because we have no jobs and everything is made in China, but I think we could start to turn that around if we paid attention to our own people who have fallen to the bottom rungs. If we cleaned up that drug addict who is 1 of the 32 people in the United States, 7 million people could help us.

I mean really, it would cost less to send that person to the community college up the road than it would to keep him or her in jail for a year.

(pauses to let that sink in)

I watch enough murder shows that I want certain people to stay in jail for the rest of their lives (or be executed--yes, I believe in the death penalty). Those people are evil, psychopathic criminals who do a variety of horrid things, including but not limited to murder. Yes, those people need to stay in prison. But that dude who broke into a store because he didn't have any food and now can't post bond because he didn't have a job to begin with? That just seems crazy.

So I SUPPOSE it's OK to let Lindsay Lohan out of jail time in lieu of a hardcore criminal. I do kind of want her to suffer, but that's just because I think celebrities are too pampered and privileged in this country. I'm so annoyed with her that I want her to go down hard. But I am willing to put my personal feelings aside on this one if we can have a serious talk (that means you, politicians) about how to figure out our prison mess.

(Sadly, I think we all know that is never going to happen.)

Loving on Bethenny

I first fell in love with Bethenny Frankel when she opened her crusty, black heart to the world on the Real Housewives of New York. BAM! She was raw, hilarious, and perfectly flawed. It was love at first sight. Then a bunch of CRAZY happened, and she left the show. I was so disappointed to see her go. But then I got Bethenny Getting Married? and Bethenny Ever After, so I'm all good. I get my B-Fix without having to worry about all of the other ladies, so it's even better than I expected.

I do shamelessly love on certain celebrities. (cough) But I almost don't see Bethenny as a celebrity. She is more like a real person with extra sparkle. I feel like we could split a bottle of Skinnygirl Margarita on the porch of Farmhouse Villa and she would fit right in--well, I'd have to strip her of those 4-inch heels and give her a John Deere T-shirt, but you know what I mean.

What really gets me about Bethenny is that I first encountered her on my television when she was (Pauses to do math--RHNY started in 2008. She is now 40. Hmmm. Um. 36?) something like 36. At first, I couldn't figure out why she was on the show because she was not a housewife. She wasn't married or anything, and she worked like a champ. (Now like half of the Real Housewives aren't married, but whatevs.)

In the beginning, Bethenny lived in a tiny apartment with Cookie (her dog) and was dating a guy I didn't like (because my opinion of her men totally matters). She was a little on the abrasive side. I loved her, but sometimes I cringed when she said certain things. But you know what? That's what makes her human. If I had a dollar for every time I shoved my own foot in my mouth, I would be able to buy Bethenny and put her on my bookshelf.

So anyway, in the last few years she went through some major changes. She met a wonderful man, moved into a new condo, got preggo, got married, got sucked into the world of in-laws, wrote some bestsellers, birthed an adorable baby girl, almost won Skating with the Stars, was in her own TV shows, and sold Skinnygirl Margarita to Jim F*cking Beam.

(Did you get all that? And here's the best part--I left a bunch of other stuff she did OUT.)

I couldn't be Bethenny. Oh, no I couldn't. My sister probably could be. Bethenny and Dorothy are both Type A. I'm Type Z. So I definitely could NOT go 150mph through life Bethennystyle. Honestly, sometimes I feel like curling into a ball and hiding when I see how much she is doing. But I admire her because I relate to this specific part of her life: doing it later.

Bethenny got her dreams fulfilled later in life. She found that perfect man and rocked the business world and popped out the kiddo in her 39th year on this earth. This month, I'm turning 34. Most of the time, I feel "behind" and "left out" and "spinsterish." But then I think about Bethenny. She did it. Why can't I?

I just had to wipe away tears of joy when I watched the Bethenny Ever After finale. Yes, I did. For reals. They showed clips of her back when we first met her on RHNY. Oh, look at how far she's come! I felt like we had grown up together. Yes, I got freakishly mushy about it. (Whatevs. I enjoyed it.) I felt pride and happiness and HOPE. I wanted to shamelessly come on my blog and gush my Bethenny love all over the place because it was just that good. I can't wait to see what she does next.

I love finding women in my own generation who are interesting. Bethenny Frankel and Lisa Ling are saving my life.

I Picked a Gift

The other day, I was fretting about what to get myself for my birthday. Right after I wrote this post, I sat and pondered it for a while. The two things I want the most?

• dishwasher
• laundry machines

So I decided to go for it. What am I waiting for? To move out of Farmhouse Villa? Because I really don't see that ever happening until I'm forced. And if there is one thing I hate above everything else, it's doing dishes. Everyone who has ever known me well or lived with me (*sheepishly smiles at Kira*) knows this.

So after researching counter-top dishwashers for like a year (yes, I've been peeking at them for that long), I decided to buy the Haier HDC1804TW 4-Place-Setting Tabletop Dishwasher. I will place it in my itty, bitty kitchen. Will it work? I hope so. In theory, you just stick it on the counter, plug it into the sink, and turn it on. I've read it can take a while (like hours) to use these things, but I don't care. Noisy? I care even less.

I wasn't planning on spending $180 on my own birthday present, but I did. And I'm super happy about it. It was something I wanted.

Letter to My Mother

Dear Ma,

Here are some of the important lessons I've learned from you:

• When I was in college and I got my grades back, if I did really well, you told me to buy myself a little treat--like a great piece of chocolate or something. I still reward myself for hard work in this way. I like it.
• You taught me to buy little decorations or candy to celebrate every holiday. I still remember the Irish coffee cups and green milk from when I was little. In college, you sent me tiny Valentine's Day streamers and silly things like that. I don't decorate enough--celebrate enough. I'm going to try harder because it always made me smile.
• You taught me that if I want something from a man, I have to tell him. For example, you like cheap bouquets from grocery stores rather than grand gestures. You tell Pa this. It's taken him a while, but I think he caught on. You taught me that even if men forget everything (much like Pa), that doesn't mean they are bad people. They can still be good men even if they are forgetful.
• By watching your relationship with Pa's parents, you taught me that I can create a new family if I lose my own. Your relationship with them was so beautiful, and I know their deaths hurt you just as much as they hurt me--in a way, it was lovely. They were not your parents, but they were.
• You taught me that people can beat cancer.
• You taught me that parents never stop being parents. It goes far longer than 18 years.
• You showed me the beauty of nature from when I was a wee tot. I remember gardening with you next to the house--snapping peas on the back steps. And recently, you've given me the beauty of flower gardens and birdies. It's a brave, new world, and I love it.
• Despite the fact that I never do it, you taught me how to cook yummy things. I have recipes from you all over my house.
• You taught me how to open a savings account when I was in grade school. You showed me how to put documents and special items in a lock box at the bank. You reminded me to take care of myself financially--independent from any partners.
• Most importantly, even though the world around me often doesn't reflect this AT ALL, you've shown me that you can still love the same man after almost 40 years. I see the way you twinkle about Pa. I know you adore him. Above all else, this is the most precious lesson you've given me: love can last.

I will see you soon for Sunday Night 24. I love you.

XXOO,

Daughter #2

Birthday Shopping for Yourself

My birthday is this month. When I'm single, I like to buy myself a gift for holidays or my birthday. It's a nice way to treat myself. But this year, I'm having a serious problem. I can't find anything I want.

For a few weeks now, I've been making the rounds to sites I enjoy. Nope. Nothing popping out at me. Usually, I have an idea of something I might want, and I save the idea for the right time. Now, I don't even have anything "on hold" in my brain. I'm fresh out of gift excitement.

I have pretty much officially given up on garden decorations because the weather has a tendency to destroy them. I just got new orchids, so I don't need those. I bought myself earrings for Valentine's Day, so I really don't need more jewelry. I don't need anything, in fact. So why bother trying to shop?

Well, I think it's important to treat yourself. Holidays and birthdays are hard enough as we get older, and part of being single means you have to remind people it's coming if you want anyone to know about it. I thought maybe I could get away with no one knowing this year. But then the other night at the watering hole, someone mentioned their birthday was a few days before mine, so all of the sudden Sprinkle was adding my birthday into her phone's calendar. Crap. This year my birthday is on a Saturday, which means there is added expectation. What kind of wild, fun Saturday night are you planning? Um, I'm not.

I'm going to be 34. I just don't care about my birthday anymore, folks. I know many of you don't care about your birthdays, either, so I feel fine about that. Most of the time, I can't even remember how old I am anymore. I started saying I am 34 about a month ago because it's easier.

But even though I don't want to make big plans or do anything special, there is always a sense of letdown when nothing actually happens. Know what I mean? Like no matter how hard I try to not get my hopes up, I think I secretly hope that something magical will happen.

I know at some point in my life I had a really, really good birthday, I just can't remember when it was. I had to have had a great one at some point, right? RIGHT?

(crickets)

So what to get for myself? I have been looking at books, jewelry, purses, orchid stuff, Etsy, housewares, gardening tools, and home decor. Nothing is really popping out at me. I have peculiar tastes, so I sought out all of my favorite wackadoo stores as well. Nope. Nothing I need there...

But birthdays aren't supposed to be about what you need. They are supposed to be about things you don't need but want. Treasures. Fun. Surprise. I love buying gifts for other people. Maybe that's why buying for myself is getting a little old. It's really hard to surprise oneself. I'll keep trying. Maybe something magical will fall into my lap.

The Joy/Awkwardness of Being Single

A few times a week, I like to scour Amazon for any books that might interest me. A while back, I somehow found The Joy of Being Single: Stop Putting Your Life on Hold and Start Living! by Janice Harayda. At first, I totally laughed at the cover, title, and concept. Then I came back to it a few times. Finally, I caved and bought a used copy for like $2. It arrived a few days ago, and it's been staring at me from the kitchen table. I don't have time to read it right now, but I like to THINK about reading it.

Especially this chapter:



I like to pretend that I offer myself all of the joys of singledom, but I don't. I don't make grand meals that I would love to eat whenever I feel like it. I don't take solo vacations (but that is only because I can't afford it). I don't fully take advantage of my free time. I could do more.

In general, I am a relaxed person, so filling up my time with activities just to be doing it is NOT something I would enjoy. But there was a time when I regularly scoured the paper to find events I would like to go to, and then I actually went to them. When I fell back into the haze of depression this last year, I did less and less for myself. I was just going through the motions. It totally sucked.

So I bought the book in an effort to jump-start my Good Singleness again. I am amused with myself for a number of reasons:

a.) I don't like self-help books.
b.) The book was written in 1986.

But I must admit, just the chapter titles are cracking me up. For example, I can read about "Minding Your Money (What Money?)" or "The Art of Being Single, or How to Pass for a Grown-up." I couldn't have said it better.

I am having a love-hate relationship with this book. I don't want to read it in order to better my life, but I do. I want to be fine with being single, but I'm not. But then when I think about dating, I sigh from the effort. Oh, sweet Gemini, how you vex me.

If nothing else, I hope this book gives me a gentle kick in the a$$. Because summer is finally HERE, I already feel better. It's much easier to get out and about when my driveway is clear and the sun doesn't set at 4pm. I already feel more vibrant. I recently bought summer shoes and painted my toenails, and it put a little kick in my step. Oh yeah, I'm a woman.

And who knows? Perhaps I will become so successful at being fabulously single that I will write my own damn book about the topic. Lord knows I have enough experience.

My Assisted Suicide Post on BlogHer

Yesterday, I wrote a post for BlogHer called Suicide Kits Stir Euthanasia Debate. If you don't have a BlogHer account, feel free to leave your comments here.

The Week of Technical Thinking

In an effort to broaden my freelancing options and learn myself something new, I recently took on a small job editing html. Up until now, I knew NOTHING about html. Yes, it's true. Sure, I can look at my own html, and I often do in order to copy/paste photographs that upload in the wrong places, but I had no idea what the code meant. OK, so I knew the paragraph code. That was about it.

The Blogger format is so easy to use that I got away with not knowing any code for the last 5 years. I also got away with not understanding what "RSS" meant. A long time ago, a reader asked me to make a feed, and I had no idea what he or she was talking about. I casually mentioned there that there was something at the very bottom of this blog that appears to be a "feed" of some sort and left it at that. When I thought of "feed," I thought of a big sack of feed for a goat.

My, how far I've come. I now understand the basics of html. I was even smart enough to set up Google Reader to track my favorite bloggers, who got lost when a virus ate my blogroll. It's a little annoying to go around to everyone's sites and find their feed links because I am still a bit tech-challenged and have forgotten a bunch of blog names over the years, but I'm making progress. I have about 15 of you in the reader now. Baby steps.

So while I was at it, I thought I'd see what Blogger could do for ME. Presto magic! At the end of posts, you can now email them, tweet them, and whatever else those little buttons mean! Also, if you look to the right, you will now see exactly where you can subscribe to posts or comments. WHOOT! LOOK AT ME GO!

Now I just have to get back to that long-awaited goal of tagging everything in my archives...

The B*tchy Things People Say

Recently, I ran into a girl from my youth at the watering hole. She was with some of her friends and remarked how she hadn't been into the bar in a long time. She asked if I came there often? I said yes, that I work from home and live alone, so I like to get out a few times a week. She said something back, and I didn't hear her. I leaned in and asked her to repeat it. She said:

"I said, 'Hand me the rope.' I would hang myself!"

Yes, she was being totally serious.

I remarked back (nicely) about how some of my mommy friends actually crave some alone time. She clearly didn't. Then I went back to talking to someone else.

I've been thinking about this comment quite a bit since I heard it. This woman has never liked me. I don't care if she likes me. She is married and has a slew of children. I'm sure it's difficult for her to imagine living alone and working from a home office in the country. I get it. Every time I've seen her since I've moved home, she's said something nasty to me. I'm sure I did something mean in high school that I'm still paying for without knowing it. If she wants to go there, fine. No skin off my back. So why am I letting her comment bother me so much?

a.) She is saying my life isn't worth living.
b. ) She is insinuating that a life without a man and kids has no purpose.
c. ) Hands down, it's one of the rudest things anyone has said to my face that was not part of a fight.

One of the other women who was with her has no problem with me. We chatted about work and life, and it was quite nice. I was also sitting next to an actual friend, so I had other people to talk to. And then, just as quickly as they appeared, they were gone. But that comment stuck with me. Oh, yes it did.

Sure, I often ponder what my own life's purpose is, but I really don't need other people to go there. In person. I'm going to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she'd had a rough day. Maybe she is COMPLETELY LACKING in social skills. I'm pretty sure she just hates me and likes to insult me, but maybe she just isn't bright enough to think before she speaks. Anything is possible.

But because it's been stuck in my mind, I decided I wanted to write about it on my blog. Vent it out and get 'er done. Wash my hands of the whole affair. For myself.

My life does have purpose. I have helped hundreds of thousands of children learn how to read. I have made friends smile and laugh. I have hugged family members and brightened their days. I have contributed meaningful dialogue on this blog that goes all the way around the world and back. I listen. I really listen. I try to make the world a better place. I am loved.

So take your rope and shove it.

XXOO,

Blondie