Browsing Date

February 2015

guilty pleasures (or a ranking of the 7 sins)

feed me, things that will make you fat February 11, 2015

While some people are getting ready for 50 Shades of Whatever, I sit here this morning, feeling extremely guilty over last nights gluttony.

gluttony, 7 sins

Some people get their rocks off with tie me up-tie me down Mr. Grey stuff, whereas I get feeling good with a plate of fresh pasta and homemade spaghetti sauce. Oh yea baby. Fresh crusty garlic bread? Keep talking dirty to me baby… mozzarella and tomato salad? YES YES YES.

I will never be thin. I could be healthier. I could work harder to make my ass less planet like, but dear sweet baby Cheesus, I love food. I admit it- a glass of wine and a bowl of pasta is my idea of happy. I eat not to live, but to enjoy it.

I enjoy food. All of the food. Except for salad. I really don’t enjoy salad and it shows.

I probably need to work on this.

I probably need to get off my ass this morning and either go for a long walk OR press play on Tracy Anderson to atone for last nights gluttony.

Speaking of gluttony, I realized that gluttony is my favorite of the 7 Deadly Sins. Here s a ranking of the rest of them (Yes, my inner Catholic pops out when it suits.)

7 sins- Gluttony

Sloth? Yeah, in theory it’s ok, but not quite there. I mean, I feel kinda sloth like when I eat all of the pasta.

Greed? Not really. I mean, I greedily shove balsamic sprinkled mozz into my mouth. Is that greed or gluttony?

Lust, probably a close second for gluttony. Right now, I’m sitting here lusting after Tim Hortons. Sigh. It’s all about the food. It’s all about the food.

Envy- I envy people that don’t have to get off their asses and work out.

Wrath- I pity the fool that eats my last box of Girl Scout cookies. Um, did I just channel Mr. T?

Pride- Clearly I have none, otherwise, I wouldn’t have big ass and talk about it!

So, there you have it. I guess I will get up and do the video. I need to be able to wear short sleeved things in a near future, and I would prefer not to have my arms sway in the wind. Oh, wait…there is pride. Ok. Wrath is the bottom bitch. I’m so not a wrath like kinda person.

Aren’t you glad you read this today?



Sister calls her self a sexy grandma

manifestos February 3, 2015

Tonight, I had a much much overdue dinner with my best friend Caren. I’ve not seen her (or anyone for that matter) much lately. Unless I’ve been working with you, most likely, I’ve not seen ya lately. It’s just the way that 2015 has been going. Tonight though, I had the chance to sup with one of my favorite people on this spinning globe.

On my way home, I flipped on the radio and heard Tracy Lawrences “Time Marches On.” See, I love that song, and I’m 99% sure Caren wants to slit her wrists each time she hears it. I don’t know why, but it just makes me happy, and for some reason, tonight it rang especially true. Gone are the days of us drinking entirely too much Wild Turkey and Boyfriends (Captain and Cokes) and are now replaced with early dinners culminating with purchasing night cream. Oy. Time is sure as hell marching on for us.

In my life, I’ve been particularly lucky to have a robust circle of friends. Men and woman who bring something special to the table. Childhood friends, college buds, colleagues who I’m proud to say that I still laugh with on a regular basis and new friends. I realize that many people don’t have this particular gift of having a bad ass circle, and I am very aware that I’m really lucky.

I’m especially lucky though to have Caren in my life. She has seen me at my best, my worst and everything in between. We’ve been so broke that we’ve had to buy (and split) a pack of toilet paper, and on the flipside, years later, have a blast buying crap we don’t really need at Nordstrom. She has seen me through personal hell, health issues and countless job changes. Oh, the jobs we have had (and lost) together.

It’s somewhat fascinating to me that all of these years later, we still make our friendship work. We are not the same girls we once used to be, working idiotic jobs to (barely) pay the bills. Instead we both have carved out careers, moved out of the nasty apartments and into homes. Somewhere along the way, she met a darling man and married him, whereas I’m still waiting for Gilbert to cross the proverbial pond to declare true love.  We can go weeks without seeing each other, barely making time to send a quick “hey you old hag” text, but it doesn’t matter. We have proved time and time again that it’s not the quantity of time, but the quality.

Speaking of time, tonight, we both pulled out our calendars in an effort to make a date to go run away for the day. Used to be that we could get off of work, and just hit the road, destination unknown. Now, we have jobs, spouses, four legged creatures and budgets that have to be balanced. I rather miss the days of “let’s go to the beach” and 14 hours later we would end up in Florida. Or “lets go gamble” and drive from Austin to Bossier. That surely made sense, right? Now, it takes more time and planning, but it’s just as important these days to make the time to get in the car and cruise. The soundtrack to the road trips hasn’t changed much, but the feeling we get when we get on the road stays the same.

I’m fascinated by the passing of time and how things do change. Once upon a time, we literally lived paycheck to paycheck, nary a thought towards savings or budget. These days, we are focused on saving, paying off bills and pondering a retirement plan. Gasp. Who are these two old hags before our eyes?

The truth is that we are both counting on winning the Powerball to fully execute our dreams of becoming gypsies again. This time, our pack will grow- no longer a party of two, but instead, our little travelling troup has expanded. She a husband, a cat & a dog, and me with the black dog with the pink sweater.

One of my favorite memories of Caren is tied to a song. Ok, truthfully a jillion of our memories have been tied to a song, but this one sticks out more than anything. When I landed in Texas the first time, she picked me up playing this song, and years later, as she dropped me off to move to the east coast, we heard this song again. It really is the song of us…


thumper rule

manifestos February 1, 2015

“If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothing at all”

It’s not that I have anything snarky to say lately, really I don’t, I just have little to say in general.

I’ve been sleeping a lot lately. Partially because I’m getting my ass kicked at work. Partially because I’m just tired. Partially because yet again, I’ve been handed a plate of steaming shit and I just don’t feel like dealing with any of it.

So, here it is Superbowl Sunday, and for the first time in 15 years (at least), I could honestly give a rip one way or the other about the game. I am working right now, bouncing between a few projects, sitting in my quiet house and trying to wrap my head around last month.

I should probably clarify something- the plate of steaming shit (oh the illustration) isn’t actually mine. I had the divine privilege of getting looped into someone elses nightmare over the past two weeks. Their crap touched my life on the periphery, but it impacted me greatly nonetheless.

I miss my big yellow dog a lot more than I ever expected to miss him. I guess I hadn’t been prepared for the sudden loss, and the reality that my shadow is not there leaves a weird, weird gap. My black dog is doing a most exceptional job coming to her new reality, but it’s me that is still left with the nightmares and sadness. I really really wish the nightmares would go away. It’s weird- If I nap during the day I’m ok, but about 2 hours into sleep at night, there they are, just like every other night.

Work is steady and calm. I needed the calm right now and am embracing it. Doing a wee bit of Sunday consulting and that is good too. Ok, in reality, I’m working 15 hours minimum days right now, but it’s really ok. Gives me something to focus on. Allows me to channel the nervous energy into something productive and good.

Trying a bit to reclaim the me. Colored my hair this week. Getting back to what I feel is a happy head place. (Yes, literally). Been on the yoga mat more than not this week. Laughing as my black dog joins me for down dog. She really makes me smile in the mornings. Before the sun comes up, we are off, doing a quiet walk to get us ready for the day.

The reality of my impending birthday is odd. I’m going to be 38 this year. 20 years post high school. 2 years away from 40. 12 years from 50. It is an odd age that I never really imagined myself to be. I never really imagined this life in general, and the specificity of 38 certainly was not included.

For my birthday, I’m giving myself some time. Some time to work out. More time on the yoga mat. More time to sleep. More time to do what I want to do. Sometimes that may mean that I just tune out socially for a while. It’s nothing personal, I just want time to putter doing my things. Selfish? Absolutely.

For my birthday, I want to give back more. I’m working on a new volunteer project and I’m rather pumped about it. It’s outside of my comfort zone, it requires physical labor and I am hoping to get started soon. Details to be shared when all is solidified.

I’m starting to plan a feast of sorts. More details to come. There will be a laughter, food and drinks. Right now, it’s quietly in the planning phase, and may never move past that, but it’s a smile worthy idea if nothing more.

So, yeah. I’ve not said a lot to anyone lately. It’s not for any particular reason than I just don’t have much to say. This will pass, and then I’ll need to find a muzzle.

Until then…