Sitcom Moment 3,846: Muesday Much?

I have often said that my life resembles a sitcom, even a dramedy on certain occasions.  These “sitcom moments” are things that happen in real life that would be hysterical if you were watching them on TV…those moments that are so embarrassing or awkward or funny that you would never think that they would actually happen in real life.  But sometimes fact is stranger, and funnier than fiction.

Take this morning for example.  It started out a bit like a Monday (even though it is Tuesday).  Everything just seemed to be going wrong.  My father didn’t want to get out of bed…which means I was late into the office (or later than I wanted and was planning on getting to the office).  Much like a toddler who doesn’t want to get up and eat breakfast, many times my Dad has to be coaxed.  This is time consuming and a bit exhausting.  And then there was no more coffee for that 2^nd cup.  Hmmmm, will have to stop on the way to work to grab a cup…

Meanwhile, there is a special review meeting that I should be at my desk to Skype in to join, but since running late getting Dad up and eating, I’ll just dial in…except it isn’t the normal dial in.  This meeting is only a Skype. I don’t have Skype on my mobile.  No problem, I’ll download it. My efficiency cannot be stopped. I am on a roll and  run out of the house, not even taking the time to grab a jacket for the cold morning.

I manage to download Skype for Mobile while driving to QT for coffee.  In the parking lot I complete the many sign in, verification, notification, etc. steps to initiate Skype (I think about 20 in total).  Finally, able to join the meeting!

While on mute on I walk in the store and manage to fumble through the coffee making process…except that there is no sugar canister, they ran out.  GREAT. They do have the little packets of sugar – the ones that contain a half a baby teaspoon of sugar in the large by comparison packet. But I always feel bad about the 25 or so packets I have to put in my coffee, so I avoid the guilt altogether by pouring out the coffee.

As I toss the cup in the trash there is a pivotal moment in the meeting….my boss thanks me for the hard work I have done on my assignment…and there is a pause, for me to say something, anything, some kind of comment back.  Except I cannot find the home screen for Skype to unmute the mic and say thank you…and more silence…then someone says an awkward comment about maybe I cannot join the conversation….and I am frantically searching and pounding on my touch screen phone, cursing under my breathe.  Surely onlookers thought I was having a seizure. After what seems like an eternity, the moment passes and the meeting moves on.

After blowing my moment in the meeting, I reenter my car, no coffee in hand, and notice a loud smell.  Cigarette smoke. My man generously took my Dad to the doctor’s office the day before, but did not air out the car well before parking it for the night.  OK, no problem.  I’ll drive to work with the windows down. In 34 weather. With no coat.  Well, at least I won’t need the coffee to be fully awake.

After prying my frozen hands off the steering wheel, I walk into work with a windblown hairstyle that could have only been inspired by a mad man with an electrical outlet. It was truly an awe-inspiring mess. There are a few double takes from co workers as I pass them and smile, holding my windblown head up high.  If you are going to be a mess, at least be dignified about it.

I imagine a young Goldie Hawn or Kristen Wiig pulling off a scene like that, not something that would be in my life. And that is my Muesday (Monday + Tuesday) Sitcom moment.

I can hear you laughing.

The Quirks of Works

Into every working life some quirks must fall. And let’s face it, no job is perfect.  First, I love my career as a writer.  I still get the biggest thrill – I mean butterflies in the stomach thrill – when I say that I am a writer.  And I love my job.  It is very enjoyable with just the right amount of challenge to make sure I don’t get bored. But there are a few quirks.

Like we can’t talk. Conversations with our coworkers are greatly unappreciated, even if it is about work.

Now I am a very talkative person.   If you are close to me, I am talking to you.  I remember always getting in trouble for talking in homeroom during high school.  And the teacher would move me to a different seat…except that did not work because i talked to everyone.  I talked to them if they were doing something interesting, wearing something interesting  or if i thought they had something interesting to say.  And if they didn’t, I did.

So when a co worker mentioned that it was a thing that we don’t talk at our desks, I was in sheer horror.  How can you learn about your new position if you can’t talk to people? How can one even exist like that? Ninety percent of what you learn (or what I learn) is from communicating and asking questions. And the irony that I am on a team that writes training materials – much of which are group and brainstorming activities- and we are not allowed to brainstorm, is not lost.  Take a minute to let that sink in.

So, I must go down this road alone, with my co workers right beside me.  I did notice the break room and rest room are full of chatty people, so there is hope. On the bright side it is great for editing or having to concentrate…because it is so quiet.  It is like what I imagine it’s like to work in a library.  Complete with hearing the faint sounds of whispers every now and then.

The other quirk is our style guide. This is used to make sure all writers go by the same standards so there is consistency in the way things are written for a company.  Most are based loosely on AP or Chicago style. Not us.  We are based on….well, I am not exactly sure.  Pronouns are not used.  At all.  Do you know how hard it is to write training material, or anything really, without the use of pronouns?  Things get rather wordy.  They say you often want what you can’t have.  Well, I want pronouns.  I think they may be my favorite parts of speech (Only fellow writers or grammar people get that last statement).

Another variation from the normal…are our rules when it comes to a bulleted list.  Most of the time the first word is capitalized, and there is a period at the end if it is a full sentence. Nope.  Neither one of those.

Do you know what writing is without punctuation?  Anarchy.  Pure and total anarchy.

I can barely breath thinking about all those poor words, stranded on the page, just sitting there in black and white.

All in all, I have a wonderful life, an amazing career and a great job.  But there are still some quirks.  Which makes for good writing. I can hear you laughing.

 

 

Sitcome Moment #2,549: Life is a Bathrobe

You should always make sure there are no escape routes for house cat to escape, or you might end up chasing said cat all over yard  – in your flimsy bathrobe,  on a windy morning.

Went out to feed the little stray that has been staying around the house when my ca jumped and ran outside.  This is not good, as I had to leave in about 20 minutes so I had to get him.  But I was in my little bathrobe (was feeding stray in garage where neighbors could not see).

Had to jump out, on the lawn, on a windy morning. In my little bathrobe, calling this cat trying to get him to come to me.  Running around chasing this cat, who thinks it a fun game to run fro his human, while holding my bathrobe closed in the wind….

I felt like a was trapped in an I Love Lucy episode. Because my life is a sitcom.

Yes, I can hear you laughing.

Sitcom Moments: Don’t Leave Home Without Them

It was a regular morning, just like any other.  I crawled out of bed, put on some pants and drank a delicious cup of coffee. Little did I know it would soon be a sitcom kind of moment day.

I got ready to take my car down to the dealership for it’s regular maintenance and my sister was picking me up from the dealership. The plan was to grab a quick bite at the donut shop across the street and head back home to hang out and catch up.

It was on my way to the dealership that I realized what had happened…in my half asleep haze and hurry to get to the coffee pot, I slipped on my yoga pants…with no underwear.  Not a big deal one might say. Except that, not being a morning person, and my brain not being fully functional early on a Saturday morning, it did not occur to me until it was too late to turn around and go back home to fix this commando faux pas.

Oh well, I am just going to the dealership and the donut shop drive through…no real big deal, right.  Except my sister wanted to stay and eat at the donut shop. OK, we’ll go home from there.  Nope.  Then, while waiting to hear back about my car, she suggested we go thrifting.  Yay!  I love thrifting.  And it’s not like you have to get dressed p to go to thrift stores, so it should be ok.

And then she saw some cute pants for me to try on.  OK, here is where I had to draw the line.  One simply cannot try on thrift shop pants sans the proper dress, so to speak. So I had to confess.

Me: I can’t try them on today…because (in almost a whisper) iamnotwaeringpanties…

Sis: {small pause} Bahahahahahahahahaha!  My sisters laugh could be heard throughout the store…How can you forget to put on underwear??

Me: Well, I was half asleep and just needed enough clothing on to get to the coffee pot without flashing the neighbors…and then I was still kind of asleep when I left. And I just forgot.  Then realized on the  way to drop off the car…oh shit!  But we were going back home right after the donuts, so didn’t hink it wold be a big deal…

Again she laughed…and was thoroughly entertained the rest of the morning and afternoon, as she picked out more activities to be done before heading home. Indeed, I negotiated trading in my car at the dealership after my next oil change. Then there was the bead shop, where it was everything in the world of beading and making your own jewelry.  Then it was several antique shops, and buying some small pieces of jewelry for new outfits.  And last but not least, there was the wine tasting…and tasting and tasting.

I mean, if I had known all of that was going to happen I would have worn pant(ie)s!  Don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of letting the lady breath and be free just as much as anyone.  But a bit of planning is unusually involved.  There is nothing quite like an accidental day of commando.

Yes my life is a sitcom…or an SNL skit.  I can hear you laughing.

My Sitcom Life: American Tashedy Story

We all have those days where everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Otherwise known as Murphy’s Law. That was my morning yesterday.

I set a pack of chicken out to thaw the night before in preparation of cooking a favorite recipe.  Those who know me know that I foster rescue kitties… So I get up yesterday  morning and what to my wondering eyes does appear? But the sight of pieces of chicken breasts, half eaten and scattered far and near. So the morning was spent tracking down what remained of the chicken. And let me just say that stepping on a piece of chicken early in the morning before even having coffee is not fun.

After the chicken was all cleaned up I got ready and it was time to leave. As I leave I realize it’s trash day. So I lean in to put my things in the car, and put my knee up on the seat. As I try to get out of the car…I notice the heal of my stiletto shoe is caught in the hem of my dress. So there I was, bent over, half way leaning into the car, hopping on one foot while reaching around to unhook my shoe. Finally got untangled.

Then it was time to get the trash can out to the curb. The very heavy trash can. And I tried to walk this very heavy monstrosity down a very steep driveway in 4” heels. And thought several times I might get run over by momentum of said trash can.  Legs can only go down a steep incline so fast in heels…and the trash can was gaining speed. Suddenly I saw my life flash before my eyes as I imagined the headline:

American Trashidy: Death by the Can

Forget Grandma getting run over by a reindeer, try singleton gets run over by the trash… the headlines would find ever clever way possible to frame the events that led to my death.  Thankfully I was able to steer over to the grass where I could dig my heels in (literally) and the trash can did not roll so easy. But it was a close call and I thought the trash can was going to win.

I am sure these events were very entertaining to my neighbors to say the least.  They were probably drinking their coffee and laughing that the new girl was dancing around and trying not to die a trashy death.

The rest of the day went surprisingly smooth, after I actually got out of the driveway. Such is the life of a clutz.

I can hear you laughing.

When a Klutz Mows the Lawn

There is nothing quite like experiencing life as a Klutz. Take it from me, nicknamed The Pinktank since I was a child. Life is a series of missed steps, wrong-in, bad outs, embarrassing moments, almost disasters, slippery treads, delightful trips, spills and fumbles…and that’s just for starters.

For much of my adulthood, I have been banned from using my  parents riding lawn mower. It’s much like my eternal ban from snow-skiing – there are just certain things which in which a klutz should never partake.

So a few weeks ago when I was at my parents house, helping out because my father was so sick, the idea of me mowing the lawn came up. And it was passed that yes, at the tender age of 41, I would finally be allowe3d to used that elusive riding lawn mower. As my father shgowe3d me how to use it, where the gears where, what they did and when to shift, I was almost giddy I was so excited.

And then, it was time. My father handed me the keys, smiled a half wistful, half OMG-I-hope-she-does-drive-this-thing-iunto-the-water look.  And as I climbed up on the powerful machine, I felt like an adult. I turned the ignition and felt the horse power. this was going to be fun.

And indeed it was.   That little lawn mower could go, fast. I remember watching the TV show Home Improvement with Tim Allen. There was one episode where he and his Tool Time co-host did some kind of race with riding lawn mowers. I did not understand how this could be fun or exciting until I got on one  myself. And it was full throttle. I was zipping around the yard, mowing the long over grown grass, having a blast. I was doing donuts around the trees and loving it.

And then.

And then something happened. I thought I left enough space, but I didn’t. I felt a jar as it happened, then I turned around to see it. And t here is was…the water pump I had just run over, water spewing out of it about a foot or so high. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I just sat there, lawn mower running, for just a moment, staring at the water pouring out of the broken pipe.

Crap. (not the word used) I ran over the water pump. I will never live this down.

I ran in  and got my Dad, his immediate question of “what did you do??” ringing in my ears.

“Well, at least I didn’t drive it  into the water,” I said, smiling sheepishly.

And hour and a half later, with the help of my wonderful father and amazing boyfriend, the water pump was fixed. We had to turn of the water to the  house – during the hottest part of the day – saw both ends of the broken pipe to make sure it was a smooth “Break”, get new piping, put glue-stuff on it, and attach it to the old piping. Piece of cake. Thank goodness my dad was around to tell us how to do it.

And that is what happens when a klutz mows the lawn.

I did gt back up on the mower and finished the yard, without incident. I went slow and did no more donuts around the trees…but man it was worth it, having all that fun. And sometimes you just have to have fun anyway, live a little, enjoy the moment and do donuts around the tress and such. Make a fool of yourself, laugh out load and just say the heck with the rules. Just make sure you don;t run over the water pump in the process!

I can hear you laughing.

Sitcom Moments: Adventures in Travel

I have many times said that my is a sitcom. And nothing seems to prove it more than traveling..

Sunday morning I slept a little elate, got up, made coffee, cleaned up and got everything ready for the trip. There were some last minute things to throw into the suitcase, but I was actually 10 minutes ahead of schedule. Until….

The plan was to get gas, catch the Marta train to the airport and head out of town to Vegas. I would have an easy hour to roam around the airport.

Moment #1 – Since I am in the new house, I had to plug the Marta station into the GPS…But it could not find the satellite. Try Google Maps. And Waze. Neither of them worked. Crap. (Not the word I used)…After fiddling with the 3 GPSs (what is the plural of GPS…GPI?) I unpacked my laptop, go back in house, turn on laptop, get address, get and print directions. I grab a cup of ginger ale on the way out (this is important for later). Only 20 minutes behind schedule.

Moment #2 – Go back out to the car, packed up laptop again. It’s beautiful outside, so open the sunroof for the drive…COLD cup of ginger ale that I placed on top of car, is now in my hair, in my lap, on my favorite jeans and green shirt and all over the car. Crap! (not the word I used). Run back inside, change shirt and pants…except everything that currently fits is packed in suitcase. Finally find something. Go back to car. 45 minutes behind schedule.

Moment #3 – Go to gas station, only to see that purse was left at home. Get $6 worth of gas with cash I have in car, go back home, find purse under seat of car where it landed when took out the laptop. Finally leave the house an hour late. Go directly to airport.

Arrive and fly out without incident. Land in Vegas 1.5 hours ahead of my friend and travel partner. After his flight gets in, we spend another hour tracking down his suitcase that arrived on another plane. After getting into hotel, we decide to have a drink in the bar. It’s good to see him after so long and catch up before going to bed.

Moment #4 – Get up to use the bathroom. On the way, I fumble around in the very dark room…and SMACK my nose on the corner of the wall. Crap. (Not the word I used) The noise from the smack is so loud, it wakes up my friend who asks if I am OK. “I’ll tell you in a minute.” Go into bathroom, discover nose is bleeding profusely. Crap! Crap! (not words used). Come out ?? minutes later after bleeding stops. Then upon returning, I cannot stop laughing at how ridiculously humorous the situation is.

The next day I fully expected two black eyes, but thank goodness, all was fine, though my nose was very sore. What is it about me breaking bones while traveling?

Moment #5 – Manage to go the entire day without incident, until walking in botanical gardens filled with cacti…and loose my balance while reading one of the little plagues….fall into a small cactus. Thank goodness there were no spears.

The rest of the trip was great, and will write about that later. Yes, my life is a sitcom. I can hear you laughing…

The Turture Store

Technical skill comes easy for some, others, like me, have to work at it. I love technology, work in the industry, and can make the internet sing. However, some of the more basic hardware issues, like which cord, adaptor, plug-in thingy (yes, that is the proper technical term, at least in my dictionary) works with what, is beyond my capabilities.

I love computer gadgets and power tools, I just don’t know how to use them. I go to the tool section of the hardware store and my mind just whizzes with all of the possibilities…it’s like going into a magic store. These things make other things work.  OOoooooooo, ahhhhhhhhh……

Don’t get me wrong …I can change my own oil, change my own brake pads, calipers, spark plugs (when I had a car that actually had them), change and even rotate my tires, and a few minor tasks like that. I can paint a wall, use a big monkey wrench to take apart the pipe thingy under the bathroom sing to fish out a lost contact lens (not that that has actually happened…just hypothetically speaking). I even changed out the plug on my dryer, hooking up the red, green and red wires….

But don’t ask me to change to ringtone on my iPhone, or set up my wireless router, or get my TV to connect to my wireless network…Or, know which connector/chord/adapter thingy is required to tether my two monitors together at work. It is simple, I was told…just get this one kind of adapter…

Apparently it is hard for the guys at the computer store too…because I now have to go back for the third time to get the right connector/cord/adapter thingy. I hate going into computer stores because most of what’s in there looks like ancient torture devices.  I start getting dizzy, can’t breath…I think I may be allergic.

The first thingy was a DVI-A, when I needed a DVD-D. Except the store doesn’t carry those. OK, could I connect one through the port and one through a USB? Yes!  This made me very happy…until found out that the USB<->D89 adapter is the wrong one.  Again.

So, I am actually going to carry the cords that the two monitors would be connected with if they went that way…and maybe that will be easier…And hopefully my next trip to the torture device, eerrrr, I mean, Computer store, will be the last one for this task.

The Art of the Move

They say that movement is an art – if you have any doubt, just watch someone do ti-chi. But what about the art of moving? You know, all that is involved in packing and moving? I am convinced that this too is an art…and maybe should even be considered an Olympic sport.  After all, you have things like packing weight in appropriate boxes, box wrangling (the art of finding free boxes), Creative packing (example: packing collectable with sweaters, using towels to secure plates so that they do not move or break). There is the art of speed packing (how fast you can pack when moving day is here and there are still 1,001 things still not packed). And Deep packing (just how much CAN you fit in a box before it implodes and falls apart?)…

Then there is all the labeling. Most are fine with simply writing the room -Kitchen, Master bath, living room…but not me. No, there is an art to this too.  For those of us who truly believe is raising the bar…not only are the boxes labeled to the room, but they are numbered with a general list of contents. Then there is a master list written in a notepad that lists, in detail, in numerical order, exactly is in which box. No more wondering where the paper towels or coffee pot are, no more going through 15 boxes just to find the toothpaste, or clean sheets. No, just go to the boxes numbered and grouped for that room, and go t=down the itemized list of contents.

There is skeezy neighbor dodging – us girls are especially experienced in this area. For example, I got a text from my next door neighbor tonight asking if he could help me pack…at 11pm. I politely said thank you, but it was late and I was done for the day, about to go to bed. Then here it comes…The (and I kid you not) answer: “If you are tired can I give you a good massage am very good. And you are moving and I don’t know if I will see you again and I like to have a beautiful memory of…you. :)”  More like he wanted a beautiful memory of my vagina. Um, NO.

Seriously? Men, let me help you out and give you a little advice here: If your neighbor has lived next to you for 3 years and has Never shown an interest in your what-so-ever…save yourself from the embarrassment of the “Hell will freeze over before That ever happens!” response…and just don’t do it. Choose to be a nice guy who just offers to help move – no other “offers” attached. M’kay? Good.

Next is the Friends Drama Frenzy category. Because one cannot have a big move or life change, without drama from friends. So the trick is knowing which ones to cut, and which ones to keep…kind of like Kenny Rogers in The Gambler. Because there is normal Everyone-is-just-tired-tired-from-helping-you-pack drama, and there is the W-T-H-? Drama. Drop the ones who bring the WTH? ones…you don’t need them. Stop. Drop. And Run. Like the wind. And don’t look back.

And we cannot forget my personal favorite category of moving..The I-am-a-klutz-and-am-trying-not-to-trip-and-break-my-neck-or-anythng-in-the-boxes category. Yes, my name is Ada (middle name Grace) and I am a Klutz. And during this packing marathon, I have tripped over boxes, tape, kitchen things, piles of clothes, bubble wrap, dishes, the contents of drawers, the cats, the floor, my own feet (well the last two I trip over even when I am not moving)…

Last, but not least is Drink and pack…that involves the amount of wine that can be consumed while packing, and still have the items still effectively packed and protected. In other words – does it look like an adult packed the box, or a 5 year old? While wine (and chocolate) help make everything better, it may be time to cut back if it looks like Santa’s very young elves packed your Grandmother’s china. Not good.

So the art of moving is just that…an art. Truly. So, even though it is a time consuming hassle, enjoy it, make it fun and try to to break anything…

 

Spanx For Playing

We should open a store called Forever 39 and sell wine and Spanx.

Being a curvy girl is a wonderful thing. And I have found that I truly love my new-found curves. Because you are soft, curvy, feminine and very womanly. It’s great to have hips, but, thighs and boobs.  And it’s great that I little invention called Spanx helps keeps everything from spilling out and bulging over in the tighter fitting knit styles that are so popular today.

What is not wonderful? Trying to wiggle, squirm, squeeze and contort to get into these Spanx – especially every time you have to go to the bathroom.  I think I’ll pass up the gym today – I’ve already had my workout. Anyone who has ever worn them, or even seen these tiny things come out of the package, has wondered how in the heck are these going to fit? You know what I am talking about.

There are 1 piece top and bottoms, then there is the one piece – which I have – that smooths everything, tummy, belly, hips and thighs. It is perfect if you have a long-ish outfit. Basically it takes an act of congress to negotiate out of the one piece Spanx. No matter what you are wearing (today it’s a dress) you have to take all of it off just to get to the Spanx. So you better hope the stall has enough room to get undressed. After you take your clothes off, then you have to take off your panty hose, if wearing them. Ok, that’s easy enough, just takes time. Then you get to the magic that keeps everything the place.

You have to do the Out-of-Spanx dance, that makes you look like you are from Outer space. First, you get the straps over your shoulder, and slowly suck in as you peel the Spanx off of your upper torso.. Then you wiggle to get the Spanx off your waste…and then…it’s the hips. If you are like me…and you have lot s s O’Hip…this is a challenge. You suck in, wiggle, woggle (yes, that is a word) stretch and eventually they will slowly start to budge.

After you get them off, then you have to contort, wiggle and dance to get them back on. You have stretch the Spanx beyond what it seems their capacity to be and smooth them out to make sure everything is in place underneath and nothing is bulging in the wrong spaces. Once everything is in place, you can put your clothes back on and step out of the stall.

So men, if your girlfriend, who looks fabulous in that dress, is taking a long time in the bathroom, changes are she may be stuck in Spanx. (Think of the episode of Friends where Ross gets stuck on those leather pants…). It’s also a bit like Bridget Jones wearing the panties that make it more likely to have sex, unless the dress comes off….but so be patient– it takes a lot to look this hot. But don’t worry, we’re worth it.

Adventures at the Dentist

We all have those doctor’s appointments we wish we could skip. Not many things make me cringe as much as going to the dentist. Even my annual lady’s appointment is a walk in the park compared to the dentist for me. My teeth are extremely sensitive and I just about nearly come up out of the chair when they try to clean my teeth and go poking around. The dentist is the worst doctor’s appointment ever – of course I say that before having had my first mammogram (coming up next month), so I reserve the right to change that statement at a later date.

I can take the optometrist poking me and blowing puffs of air in my eye – no problem. The gynecologist and his partner in crime, the speculum – piece of cake.  The endocrinologist sticking me with needles to get blood samples is fine. The cardiologist and those sticky EKG thingies…But put me in a dentist’s  chair and I freak out a bit. My mouth gets dry and my palms get sweaty.

And this morning I had my first dental appointment in many years (let’s not say just how long…). I had a bad feeling from the moment I walked in, but just that it was me being anxious. I got into the chair and told them to put me on the gas.

And then the bomb was dropped.

They didn’t have the gas. WHAT?!? What kind of dentist does not have the gas? The gas is the best part of the appointment and the only thing that keeps me in the chair and not running out of the office screaming.

This was not good news.  A dentist visit with no gas? Nothing to dull the pain of them poking, picking, pulling, pounding, sucking and pushing?? I tried to swallow but my mouth was too dry. My mind was racing and my heart was bouncing between my throat and my stomach. I knew I was in trouble when the technician looks at me and says, “When this hurts, just remember I am not being mean, it just may be uncomfortable. “

Excuse me? I laughed nervously and barely was able to say that that statement was not very re-assuring.

Why the heck would you say that to someone who is visible about to fall apart in the chair?????

After about 30 x-rays, chomping down on whatever-thing-that’s-way-too-big-for-my-mouth, it was time for the dentist. She steps in and I realized that I really had to pee.

After a brief discussion about how long it had been since my last visit (all of the sudden I felt very Catholic, and like I was saying how long it had been since confession). After a bit of poking she announced just how bad my teeth were and proceeded to try to sell me all kinds of procedures. Not just your garden variety root canal either…I mean the high dollar stuff. It’s been a while since my last visit, but I do know I have good teeth and do not need $25,000 worth of dental stuff. If they want patients to agree to such things, they really need to have the gas.

Needless to say I got out of there as fast as my non-nitrosed bum could go. I just had a bad feeling about it from the start, and when I checked them online  – which I should have done before hand – they were known for “selling” their services when not needed. They have many complaints against them.

And now…I have an appointment at a reputable dentist, who does sedation dentistry. I go in, I go to sleep, I wake up and it’s all done. Shame we can’t have all of our doctor’s appointments like that.

The moral of the story? Always trust your gut feeling, whether it’s about a dentist, a date, a job, a co-worker, whatever. Your guts are good to you. That little voice that warns you of those red flags…listen to it.

Now, excuse me while I pass the gas mask…

The Life of Family

When you have family living with you, life changes a bit from living on your own. You see it in movies, and it’s true. There are all kinds of interesting and funny moments. And considering at any time in the past moments I could have had 5 people and 7 cats, the soil has been ripe with opportunities for comedy moments. Take the typical day:

I wake up to the purring and kitties looking for attention, giving  me kisses, poking my face for attention and trying to sleep on my face. Then, at another point before sunrise, I hear my sister get up and get ready. Then I hear the beeping of the alarm system as she leaves.

After the sunrises, I get up to an entire bed full of cats. As I am in the shower, I hear the familiar cry of the kittens who don’t like me going where they can’t go – the shower being one of those places. I stick my head out several times to so they can see me. Inevitably, this leads them to think, once again, that may be able to squeeze in between the drops and not get wet. Wrong. They try to come in, discover the rainstorm, panic and run out.

Then I notice that the cream rinse is gone…the 7 bottles of shampoo are there – but the one bottle of conditioner is missing. Must be in their bathroom since they ran out (note to self pick up more conditioner at the store).

As I get out of the shower, they have recovered and are now jumping up trying to catch the towel as I wrap it around my hair with playful eyes and little sharp claws.

Next is the sink…and trying to brush my teeth, wash my face as they jump in and out of the stream of water…and then they get bored with that. And as I reach for my toothbrush…I notice one of them chewing on it. Time for a new toothbrush! But the seemingly endless stash of new toothbrushes that are (were) under the sink are gone…Great. (Note to self: buy more new toothbrushes. Hide them.)

If it is a morning where I take my nephew to campus, after trying not to trip over cats racing us down the stairs, we gather our things downstairs, make our lunch and fix our coffee before the ride. There is quite a bit of hustle and bustle.  Lots of tripping over cats, feeding them, and making plans for what do to for dinner. Then it is off in the car, listening to classical music, and discussing things that make me feel very intelligent…mostly.

At the end f the day, when everyone is home, it’s either a sit down dinner, where all the events of the day are discussed, jokes and made and wine is poured. Or a “fend for yourself” evening where we all grab what is yummy out of the fridge. We congregate downstairs by the TV, watching the Science Channel, or up in my room, they sitting on the bed lightly talking while the TV is on and I am at the desk writing. Or I will be in my sisters room, in her bed, she at her desk, and my nephew coming in to discuss things as he thinks of them.

There is laughter, plans discussed and made and just good family time. And many moments that make a house a home. A happy home.

HAve Fun to Be Happy

There is a saying that all work and no play makes for a dull life. That certainly could not be said of life recently.  Summer has wrapped up, fall is in the air and fun is everywhere. The last few months have seen so many wonderful adventures, first tries, new experiences, new friends, lots of laughter, so many memories and lots of smiles.

This past weekend almost a blur of activity with wonderful friends. There was a bike ride on a friends Harley, hot tubbing, dancing, singing, brunching, and topped off with a night of incredible music filled with so much soul it brought one of my friends and I to tears. I haven’t danced like that in a few years. And some of the best places to dance are redneck bars – where many on the dance floor have already taken off their shoes. Club dancing is fun – if you have on a super hot fabulous outfit, if you want to see and be seen, and if you want to meet models…but for just plain, fun, don’t care how I look, just want to have fun dancing, you need a red neck bar. Trust me on this.

Riding on the back of a bike is wonderful. To be that free, to have the wind rushing past you, is amazing and the best way to travel. And with someone trusted it is pure fun. And to do something just for the pure fun of it is something we forget to do as adults. We have responsiblities and haven;t the time for such nonsense. What. Ev. Ah. Always be curious.

Then there was a the roller derby – a friend had extra tickets. Having never been to a roller derby, and being the adventurous type that is always up for trying new tings, I said yes before i could lace up the roller skates.  If you never been to one and ever get the chance to go, do it. It is so much fun. It’s like going to a hockey game. Except it’s on skates. And it’s girls. My nephew loved it and thought it was the best thing since the National Cheer-leading Competition cam to Atlanta. Sitting with friends, drinking cheap beer while in a packed stadium, watching girls on roller skates zip around the track and push each other around was a total blast.

Next was going to a dirt track and watching all the races – formula cars, mustangs, more kinds of cars and races than I can remember.  Don’t go for the beer – they don’t serve it, but it’s a great family atmosphere with lots of cars that go fast and make a lot of noise. Perfect for a father/son outing. Or just a couple sisters hanging out with a friend. And I almost  managed to NOT smile anything. Almost.

In the past month I have also worked quite a bit in a friends shop. I remember my dad having a hue shop and doing a lot of woodwork. As he would work, I would hear the loud sound of the saw, smell the saw dust then hear the hammer or sander. So it was so much fun to go into my friends shop and watch as he worked with the wood and metal, instructing me what to do and how to do it. I helped build shelves.  Yes, I had done this before, but not in many years. And I stained the shelves. And then they were put up in his house, where they will be used and loved for many years. It was a great feeling to have made something out of nothing. To have it be tangible, useful and pretty.

And I have gone swimming in a river, in the woods, where only the locals go. Again, something I have grown up doing, but not for a long time. And I have ridden in a truck, with the windows down and my feet either on the dash, or out of the window, in true, southern style. I have driven miles and miles, gone hiking, listened to the rain on a tin roof, felt sound and been exhausted from pure joy of life.

Yes, I have worked very hard during this time, but in the spirit of keeping things balanced I have done something new. I have played just as hard as well. I have taken pause and time to take care of the playful in me. I have indulged my curiosity, sung at the top of my lungs, listened to the crickets and watched the magic of the fireflies.

And I have let my emotions go as well. I have cried when I felt like it instead of holding back. And even when it was scary, I was vulnerable, and let others comfort me in my tears. I have known the pain of too much tenderness. And in morning, when the sun rose, there was always a new chance.

So play as hard as you work. Take as many chances as you can, as many new experiences as you can stand and drink them up like a sponge. Because you will never get that day, that chance again. And you never know just what treasure you may find.

live authentically., live honestly. Live passionately.

Aaaand, Im Back!

Ada Lamar has been dark for over 6 months as I took a break from this blog. The time away has been wonderful and filled with much magic. Life is filled with long walks, long talks, lots of family, hope, dreams, love, hand holding and wine. There has been much writing, a career I love, meeting great people, making stronger bonds with old friends, midnight gardening by the moonlight, travel, sunburns, house cleaning and warm sheets. Along the way there has been good news, bad news, tears and laughter. Lots of desserts, plans, saying goodbye and many hello’s. Prayers, fights, triumphs, motorcycle rides, roller derbies, boxing, running, playing and working. Sweat equity, painting, organizing, consolidating, planning, building staining hammering, learning and eating.

And every step pf the way, every heartbeat along the road, for everything I have carried and all that I have let go, I am happy and life is good.

And I look forward to writing about many more adventures to come!

Old Picutre, Great Memories

A friend sent me these OLD pictures…dating back to High school to about 5 years ago. Hysterical!

The Gang posing. age 19

What was I thinking with all those bangs?? Age 15

Again, whats up with those bangs? Age 16.

Homecoming. Age 17

THe Gang again. Age 19

Yeah, I thought I was a model, Haha! Age 14

Promo radio shot with my then morning partner. Age 27

In NYC. Age 30

Very tired girl. Age 16

Junior in high school. Wow, was my hair really that long?

On the beach with my BFF

Halloween 1992, age 19

Me back in my radio days. Age 29

The famous “ass shot” taken when modeling in NYC

Kiss me…again, what’s up with the hair?

Short hair, Age 34

Long hair again, Age 33

Me and Mom, the pick ladies, Age 33

Best. Revenge. Story. EVER!

This is the BEST revenge story ever. Hysterical! Enjoy!

After 37 years of marriage. Jake dumped his wife for his Young secretary.His new girlfriend demanded that they live in Jake and Edith’s multi-million dollar home and since the man’s lawyers were a little better he prevailed.He gave Edit…h his now ex-wife just 3 days to move out. She spent the 1st day packing her belongings into boxes crates and suitcases.

On the 2nd day she had to movers come and collect her things.

On the 3rd day she sat down for the last time at their beautiful dining room table by candlelight put on some soft background music and feasted on a pound of shrimp a jar of caviar and a bottle of Chardonnay.

When she had finished she went into each and every room and stuffed half-eaten shrimp shells dipped in caviar into the hollow of all of the curtain rods. She then cleaned up the kitchen and left.

When the husband returned with his new girlfriend all was bliss for the first few days.

Then slowly the house began to smell. They tried everything cleaning mopping and airing the place out. Vents were checked for dead rodents and carpets were cleaned. Air fresheners were hung everywhere.
Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters during which they had to move out for a few days and in the end they even replaced the expensive wool carpeting. NOTHING WORKED.

People stopped coming over to visit. Repairman refused to work in the house.

The Maid quit.

Finally they could not take the stench any longer and decided to move.

A month later even through they had cut their price in half they could not find a buyer for their stinky house.

Word got out and eventually even the local realtors refused to return their calls. Finally they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to purchase a new place.

The ex-wife called the man and asked how things were going. He told her the saga of the rotting house. She listened politely and said that she missed her old home terribly and would be willing to reduce her divorce settlement in exchange for getting the house back.

Knowing his ex-wife had no idea how bad the smell was he agreed on a price that was about 1/10th of what the house ha been worth, but only if she were to sign the papers that very day. She agreed and within the hour his lawyers delivered the paperwork.

A week later the man and his girlfriend stood smiling as they watched the moving company pack everything to take to their new home.

INCLUDING THE CURTAIN RODS.:)

How Being a Misfit is Good

I have a confession to make. And it’s pretty big, so you may want to sit down. Here it is: I am a misfit. Yep. Totally. Absolutley.

According to the Briggs-Meyers personality test, I am an ENTJ, which for those people who know me in reality, describes me to a T. And I am also quite a bit of a misfit. I am clumsy, often put my foot in my mouth, my entire life is a sitcom of embarrassing and Bridget Jones type situations. And my lack of ability to spell on this blog puts me in rare company. Let’s face it, anyone who manages to drop their drug test pee cup in front of a super hot guy, or trip over a couch in a furniture store just has to accept the fact that they are different.

But everyone else is different too, that makes me normal. Kind of.

Being a misfit is not all bad. Many people and companies can benefit from the “misfits.” These traits are what also make me creative and able to write so well. These traits are what give me the ability to communicate with such a huge cross-section of people about such a wide array of topics. These traits are also what get me into trouble from time to time.

Details are very important. and they are the bane of my existence. I am horrible at details. When I was in school, I could do the math in my head, but hard a hard time getting the right answers when I worked  them out long hand. Want to see both a frustrated student and teacher? Try a student who can only do the math in her head, and a teacher who can’t get the student to get the right answer worked out on paper. I couldn’t explain how I got it right, but the teacher knew I wasn’t cheating because I did not have access to the answers.

Which is more important though, the ability to pay attention to detail, or the ability to concentrate? Not sure. I do have great concentration abilities. Which is good because I am so bad at details. I have to concentrate very hard to be meticulous. And it works. I often uncover details in my research that no one else can find and am able to put the information together in ways others can not connect.  And the great thing about being an adult and not in school is that you can just call it “instinct,” and then you don’t have to explain it on paper.

Listening is also a great ability to have, but it is one that does not come natural to me either. That is because many times my brain is going so fast with ideas that I miss out on what the other person is saying. I have to concentrate, once again, on slowing down and make a conscious effort to listen. That takes an effort. So what it boils dow to is this: If I care about you I will listen to you. If I don’t, I won’t. Because if I don’t care about you, why would I care what you have to say? It’s not very politically correct, but that is the reality.

What I have found about listening  is that it’s an intensely intimate act. To quiet your own thoughts down enough to hear the other persons voice is tremendous. To really take in what they are saying, comprehend the meaning behind it, and listen to what they are not saying as well. Listening is an act of compassion, caring, empathy and love. Because just the single act of listening creates connection. You cannot truly listen to another and not feel a connection, whether positive or negative.

Listening also forces you to take a step back and consider other possibilities. I am a bit of a control freak, but if I listen to what someone I care about wants, and it is different from what I want, I have to let go. I have to give up control and let the other person in. Listening forces you to let go, because if you care about the other person, what they want and how they feel, you want them to be happy. Others cannot be happy if you are always in control.

Another thing that makes me a misfit? The fact that when I am in my car I have conversations in my head. I think of how the best way to handle meetings, conflicts and conversations. I plan out what I need to say and how. That is how much of a control freak I am. So listening to others helps me stay connected with others. Listening helps me let life unfold on it’s own, without my interference.

Those are the big things that contribute to my misfitness. There are also the issues of my extreme clumsiness, my inability to grow houseplants without killing them, the fact that I must walk on my tip toes when happy or when going up stairs, the extreme need for a daily fix of chocolate and a ridiculous work ethic.

But looking around, many others have those issues too. So maybe we can all be misfits, together.

Rules for Christmas

I saw this on a friends Facebook Status and had to share!  Please enjoy and get ready to laugh!!

 

1.Avoid carrot sticks. Anyone who puts carrots on a holiday buffet table knows nothing of the Holiday spirit. In fact, if you see carrots, leave immediately. Go next door, where they’re serving rum balls.

 

2. Drink as much eggnog as you can. And quickly. It’s rare… You cannot find it any other time of year but now. So drink up! Who cares that it has 10,000 calories in every sip? It’s not as if …you’re going to turn into an eggnog-alcoholic or something. It’s a treat. Enjoy it. Have one for me. Have two. It’s later than you think. It’s Christmas!

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3. If something comes with gravy, use it. That’s the whole point of gravy. Gravy does not stand alone. Pour it on. Make a volcano out of your mashed potatoes. Fill it with gravy. Eat the volcano. Repeat.

4. As for mashed potatoes, always ask if they’re made with skim milk or whole milk. If it’s skim, pass. Why bother? It’s like buying a sports car with an automatic transmission.

5. Do not have a snack before going to a party in an effort to control your eating. The whole point of going to a Holiday party is to eat other people’s food for free. Lots of it. Hello?

6. Under no circumstances should you exercise between now and New Year’s. You can do that in January when you have nothing else to do. This is the time for long naps, which you’ll need after circling the buffet table while carrying a 10-pound plate of food and that vat of eggnog.

7. If you come across something really good at a buffet table, like frosted Christmas cookies in the shape and size of Santa, position yourself near them and don’t budge. Have as many as you can before becoming the center of attention. They’re like a beautiful pair of shoes. If you leave them behind, you’re never going to see them again.

8. Same for pies. Apple, Pumpkin, Mincemeat. Have a slice of each. Or if you don’t like mincemeat, have two apples and one pumpkin. Always have three. When else do you get to have more than one dessert? LaborDay?

9. Did someone mention fruitcake? Granted, it’s loaded with the mandatory celebratory calories, but avoid it at all cost. I mean, have some standards.

10. One final tip: If you don’t feel terrible when you leave the party or get up from the table, you haven’t been paying attention. Re-read tips; start over, but hurry, January is just around the corner. Remember this motto to live by:

Quote:
“Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand and wine in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming “YEE-HA!!! WHAT A RIDE!!!”

The Benefits of Being Sick

Flu season is here, now, just in time for the holidays. Chance are that if you don;t get sick, you will know several people who do. Coughing, sneezing, blowing your nose, and feeling like crap is no way to spend Christmas, or anytime for that matter. But, as irritating as it might be, every cloud has a silver lining, including being sick. continue reading for the upside of feeling sideways.

Only when you are sick can you be as crabby and ornery as you want…and people just smile, pat you on the head, say you really must be feeling horrible and the give you more chicken soup.

Dress any way you want. You could come around the corner wearing polka dots and paisley, and no one would say anything. You could wear the most baggy, unflattering outfit, and again, people just smile and give you more chicken soup because you obviously don’t feel well at all. I love wearing my ugliest, most comfortable pair of pajama’s and my fuzzy fish slippers. If I am going to be sick, I am going to also make everyone around me nauseous with my ugly PJ’s.

You get to work from home. You can also show up late to work and most people just appreciate that you tried to show up and work. If you look really bad, they will beg you to go home and feel better soon.

You get to indulge in really bad day time TV Let’s face it, Day time TV is horrible. Except when you are sick. Then, somehow, Judge Judy, Cops, Jerry Springer are all your friends and are great TV. Under the influence of cold medicine, almost any horrible daytime TV show can seem Emmy worthy. So just sit back and enjoy…indulge in your guilty pleasures.

You can eat what you want. No one questions what you eat when you are sick. You could have a diet of nothing but chocolate, and as long as it makes you feel better, no one will complain or say anything. So get to know Ben and Jerry a little better…I know you want to…

People do things for you. When you are sick, people are willing to make you tea, bring you hot soup, make sure you are comfortable, enjoy it while you can, because as soon as you feel better, it will be back to normal.

So, while being sick is o picnic, enjoy the perks. And take your vitamin

Stop. It’s Snuggie Time

It’s that time of year again, when the nights are cool and another blanket gets [ut on the bed. The air is crisp with the promise of the season. You may say it’s winter, you may say it’s the holiday season, you may say it’s Christmas, and you would be correct. however, there is another season that is often overlooked, though highly celebrated by many. What season is that?

It’s Snuggie Season!  That’s right, the celebrated blanket with arms. You may laugh now, but there is nothing like wrapping up in the sweet softness of the Snuggie. And you have many choices of colors and patterns. My coveted Snuggie is the basic blue…but you have orange, pink, even leopard print to choose from. And if you are a sports fan, you can choose you favorite team as well.

So go ahead, wrap up in the warmth and comfort of the Snuggie…you know you want to…

Me in my Snuggie

The Best Things About Winter

There are many things to love about Spring, with all the warm weather and new leaves. Summer is the season of fun and fall is when we finally cool down and enjoy the colors of the leaves. But what about winter? I think this season gets a bad reputation. Don’t get me wrong, i do hate to be cold, but winter is wonderful. Don’t think so? Just read continue reading.

hibernation: Suffering from a bit of overexposure after all the summer pool parties and fall festivals? Winter is the time to relax, rejuvenate and hibernate. Read a good book, watch your favorite movies, do those home projects you’ve been putting off. It gets dark sooner so it’s perfect for sleeping. And girls, take a break from shaving…yes! (girls, don;t even try to deny it, you know you’ve done it) We can also gain a few pounds since we’ll all be covered up on sweaters anyway. So go ahead, have that extra piece of pie. Yum!

Warm blankets and hot chocolate: They just go together like peanut butter and jelly. Wrap up in something soft and warm and drink that wonderful hot chocolate to heat you up from the inside out. Maybe even put a little Baily’s in it for some extra snap. Warm fuzzy socks are also great for the season. Along with warm, soft sweaters that guys love to see us girls wearing. Just be careful if you are a klutz like me and try not to spill really hot chocolate all over your favorite sweater…or your favorite guy.

Christmas lights and holidays: We get a lot of time off during the winter and see family (which, lets face it, can be good or bad). In between saying hello to creepy Uncle Bob and Dodging Aunt Nancy, we may find ourselves catching up with family we actually love and miss. We get to go shopping, sing Christmas carols and see all the wonderful Christmas lights. To me, they are magic. I love them and they make me happy. And if you don’t like the holidays…then boo to you! I’ll talk to you in the Spring thaw.

Fireplaces: Not too much beats the warmth and great sound of a fire. And I love to hear that wonderful crackle. Unfortunately, I have a gas fireplace, not a log burning one. It’s jsut not the same…Roasting marshmallows, having a glass of wine, laughing and long conversations are all made perfect by the fireside. Just remember, don’t drink too much by the fire…or you may fall in (not that that has ever happened…)

Snuggle weather:  One of the best things about winter. Cold nights make for wonderful snuggling, and what better excuse to get cozy with that cutie you have a crush on than to keep warm? From cold nights to sitting by the fire to kissing in the snow…winter is made for love. As long as you don’t have the flu or have been near anyone who has been close to anyone who has the flu.

Boots: Nothing says winter like a great pair of boots for the season. And guys, you know you love when we wear them too. And they are made for walking away quickly should you encounter anyone with the flu.

Snow: Here in the south we don’t get that much snow, but when we do it’s a lot of fun…as long as you don’t have to drive in it. You don’t have to work and you can just stay home, make snow angels and snow men. And if it doesn’t snow this year, I plan to take a trip to the mountains to play. It is my goal to be kissed in the snow this year as well. I just have to find some mistletoe.These are just some of the great things about winter. As the season goes along I am sure there will be many more things to list. So get out those warms blankets and soft sweaters.

Day 5: Not in Sandy’s Path

In the spirit of being thankful for something each day this month, I am thankful for where I live and that Sandy did not hit us like it did up North.  This area could just as easily be damaged by a strong storm. Funny that we think skyscrapers and big cities are indestructable.  A few years ago a tornado came through Atlanta and did a lot of damage to the buildings downtown. I can only imagine what hours of a strong, slow moving hurricane could do.

The power outages when it is so cold, the flooding and homes that were destroyed, the tempuratures dipping down below freezing, the gas shortages, long lines and generators that are on empty. Many times when our lives are easy, we forget that there are others still dealing with what happened. Seeing the news and hearing how gas is being rationed, hearing from my friends who tell me how they are doing, and the things that the news doesn’t report…it makes me so very thankful that I am OK, that I have power, that gas is not at a shortage, that my house is dry and I am safe.

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On a lighter note, I am also thankful for No Shave November, and all the men that have facial hair. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE facial hair. It makes me smile. 🙂

How to Survive the DMV

I had to go to the DMV this morning, otherwise known as Hell.  While no one has an enjoyable trip to the DMV, there are things that can be done to minimize the affect. Please learn from my mistakes.

Go early: The only lines that might be longer at the tickets sales lines for a science fiction convention. But don;t count on it.  Arrive early, maybe even the night before with a sleeping bag.

Always wear make up and have hair fixed: Never run out of the house and go to the DMV without looking your best. Because as soon as you do, you will find out they need a new picture. I ran out of the house this morning, hair pulled back, no make up, not even showered. Yep. I am now the proud owner of the worst drivers licence photo. Ever. And I am a vain woman.

Bring coffee: I know the sign says no food or drink, but if I have to get up early on a Saturday morning, because the DMV did not mail the licence, then they can prey the container of caffeinated goodness out of my cold, dead hand. That coffee is the only thing standing between me and sanity when they tell me I need to fill out another form and go to the back of the line. Again.

Bring a book: Or make sure your smart phone battery is fully charged. Or your kindle. Or a deck of cards. Or a  portable tv.

Bring every kind of paper work: Old licence, passport, social security card, fitness club card, red cross card, library card, all your mail from the last month, your mother’s birth certificate and proof of your fathers blood type. Carry a suitcase in if you have to, but have all paperwork with you. They will ask for it, especially if you don;t have it with you.

Wear comfortable shoes: You will be standing in line for quite a while. Also make sure you wear warm clothes if it is winter as you may be standing outside because the line is stretched out half way around the block.

Bring snacks: They come in handy when waiting in line for hours and hours. I pack cookies because I get irritable when hungry. Don’t make me stay hungry, you won’t like me when I am hungry.

Flirt: Whether you are a man or woman and whether they are a man or a woman, if it helps move you through the line faster, work what God gave you. Just sayin’

Follow these tips and you will make it through the experience of the DMV. Good luck!

House Gremlins Part II

Again the House Gremlins are back.  And this time, it’s personal.  At first I thought it might be my cats who were responsible for all the little things going wrong around my house…then I realized they don’t have opposable thumbs, and thus could not actually do much other than run in front of me as I try to make it down the stairs in the morning before coffee. Little things in my house keep going wrong.

Last night while cleaning my messy kitchen, the garbage disposal again stopped working. I did get to work again by a magic combination of the broom handle. cussing at it and praying. We shall see how long it lasts. I may just have to bite the bullet and get a new one, but I am putting that off as long as possible. I hate having to have my wonderful friends and landlords replace things. They have always done so without questions, but I still feel bad.

Then two of the three toilets are running…a marathon.  I can get them to stop, but it is very aggravating. They don’t run all the time, just when I am watching my favorite TV show, or reading and then notice that it has been running for the last 5 minutes.

Oh, and let’s not forget about the garage door. Again. This morning I was awakened by the sound of the garage truck…and realize I had not put the garbage out.  I ran, jumped into my cloth robe and quickly headed to the garage to get the garbage out to the curb. Except…the garage door would not open. Again. I pulled the little string thing that I could barely reach (because I am only 5’2″) and still nothing.  I grabbed the unidentified piece of it that fell on my car trying to figure out where it could go, and how I could get up that high…when I heard the garbage truck drive away…Oh-well, there is always next Friday.

Then there are the house projects that I need to do. I want to hang the dart board and will no doubt make a trip to Home Depot, looking very confused as I ask for help describing what I want to do, and answering their questions.   Planning to watch the rest of the Harry Potter films this weekend has me also wanting to hook up the surround sound.  Maybe they will have instructions online? My bed frame needs to be tightened, and eventually I want to also paint my bedroom (that will have to be after the first of the year though).

I am a very smart woman. I can do math in my head, am crazy good at research, am a gifted writer, and think very fast on my feet. But put me in front of something mechanical and I suddenly get a bad case of the blondes. I just have no clue. We all have to accept our own limitations. Not being technical and mechanical are mine. Also being clumsy. And having the worst sense of direction in the world…but I digress. I will either have to hire these projects done, or bribe someone to help me/do it for me.

Most people are familiar with the question If you could have any super-power, what would it be?  That’s easy – I would be Fix-it Woman, able to fix anything broken!  A magic monkey wrench and invisible set of pliers at my command, I could rule my world, one broken thing a time.

So in addition to watching movies and writing on Sunday, I will also be asking friends for recommendations on a handy-man or someone that would not mind spending a few hours getting his testosterone on and making a girl happy. (doesn’t fixing things for women make men feel good, strong, useful and manly?)

And as far as those house gremlins go, I must remember those two rules – never get them wet and NEVER feed them after midnight!

Hello, My Name is Ada and I am a Klutz

For those of you who know me personally, or who read this blog, you know I am a klutz. In life we all must accept who we are and our limitations. And for me, I really have no choice but to accept my clumsiness  and not only admit to it, but own it. When you absolutely cannot hide something, own it. It makes things a lot easier.

The latest adventure in my life as a klutz was at lunch today. I am in the breakroom heating up my Lean Cuisine culinary frozen delight, when a gorgeous man comes in. We exchange pleasantries, no big deal. He is waiting to use the microwave. When my dish is done, I get it out, grab my drink and…and…

And something goes terribly wrong. It happened so fast that I have no idea what exactly happened. One minute I was walking, the next minute, there was Lean Cuisine all over my shirt and down my front. For those who wear darker colors because they don’t show stains…let me assure you that even the blackest shirt is no match for Lean Cuisine.

I felt my cheeks burn and I am sure I was scarlet. I looked around for anything big and heavy to crawl under. Nope, nothing. There I was, Ms. McClumsy in the break room with Mr. Mcgorgeous.

And as if spilling my lunch all over myself in front of gorgeous man is not enough, then I nearly fall when I slipped over the little bit of said lunch that is on the floor and not on my shirt. Yep. 4′ stilletos and slippery lunches do not mix, in case you ever wondered. The man was very nice and helped me clean it off the floor. He managed not to laugh while I was there, though I am sure that he busted out laughing as soon as I left.

If I have to be clumsy, why can’t it be in front of someone’s grandmother? A nice little old lady? I can hear you laughing. And in life, we must not take ourselves to seriously. We must be willing to laugh at ourselves. Of course for someone as clumsy as I am, laughing at ones self is a daily accurance.

More Confessions

Tonight was a great night. Tonight I reclaimed my house. I cleaned, disinfected, swept and vacuumed. I cleaned all of the remnants of the RMFH (roommate form hell) out of my house.  And it really needed to be done…there were some rather scary things under the bed. The dust bunnies were about to start a war with the tufts of cat hair. It was ugly. I have seen things tonight, horrible things. And then I broke out the bleach.

There is something cathartic about cleaning when someone leaves your life. It is a reclaiming of sorts, and it is closure (yes, I used the C word). Every room smells clean and fresh, even the sheets have been washed. But the best part? I get all my drawer space back!

I have a confession to make. You might want to sit down. I am Drawer/Closet Hog. That’s right…I use all the closet space in a house. Some people hog covers, I hog closet and drawer space. All of it. It’s mine. I have 2 huge closets in the master bedroom and both are overflowing. One with clothes, one with shoes and frilly, lacy delicates. Clothes fill all the drawers in the master suite and there is a full bedroom set in the spare bedroom, which now, once again, are filled with my clothes too.

It is odd that the most exciting thing to me tonight was the fact that I got to use all the drawers in the spare bedroom again?  I am a girl. I love being girly. I love the fact that my house is once again my house. And I love the fact that I am unappologtically a drawer and closet hog. And now, as I sit on my bed with nice, fresh. clean sheets, watching Sex and the City, this city girl needs some sleep.

Beautiful Illusions

In life there are things that I call beautiful illusions. They are those things that we really, really want, or think we want, because they look or seem so perfect. But when we get a closer look, we realize things are not always what they seem. It could also be called the quick-sand effect, depending on how far you step down into it. What kinds of things qualify as beautiful illusions?  So glad you asked.

Those Shoes: Oh yes, I see them in the store, those beautiful 5” stilettos and I must have them. I try them on, they fit. I walk around a bit in them in the store. Yep, perfect. Then I get them home one wear them the next day to work. And my feet are in Hell. But they look oh so good. That is why I may be barefoot at my desk. Beautiful Illusion.

That Man/Woman: You know the one – he is tall, dark, handsome, successful, smart, blah, blah, all-the-things-that-make-you-melt, blah. And then you go out with him. And Wow. And then you get to know him better. And wow he is a mess 6 ways to Sunday. He is the man who looks good “on paper”, but is a mess in real life. But you have to get to know him a bit first – past the paper façade and into the every day nitty-gritty part of life. Beautiful illusion.

That Job: Wow, it is right up your alley, is in line with your career goals, great pay, benefits, co workers, location, etc. And then you get in and start working it. And at first it is all that you though it would be…and then you slowly start to see that you are in the bottomless pit of the Twilght Zone and things are not what you thought they would be. Schedules, pay, benefits and expectations are shifting. Maybe more overtime, maybe bad projects, maybe your co-worker that sits closest to you needs a shower…whatever it is you see that it was a, you guessed it – beautiful illusion.

That relationship: You have liked them for a long time and knew that if you could just get together, you would be perfect and live happily ever after. Then stars line up, and fate smiles down on both of you as Cupid’s arrow strikes. And then…things are awkward. schedules are mis-matched, they have bad habits, ideologies that you assumed were them same are not… and what is going on with the their bad table manners that you never seemed to notice before but now you can’t stand? Did they always smack that loud when chewing?? Nope they are not horrible, but not the person you thought they were and that Happily-Ever-After escaped on Prince Charming’s white horse named…Beautiful Illusion. Which sometimes leads to…

That Ex: you know the one…it’s the one who got away. The one if you could only have another chance with, both of you could make it work. And then you get that magic chance, and you know, just like getting the magic shot in the last few seconds of the game – you’ve got this one covered. It will be the story book endings to end all story book endings. You shoot, the ball goes in a straight line for the basket, it hits the rim and…then…all of those same issues that broke you up are still there, staring the two of you in the face. And they brought their friends. Holy crap, you don’t remember any of this in the Let’s-get-back-together-contract. The basket bounces off the rim and into the hands of the other team. Beautiful illusion.

That recipe: Oh you saw it in that cook book or magazine, and it looked so yummy!  You could not wait to try it out. So you even create an occasion for it, tell others that you care going to cook this great new recipe you found. You go down the list, buy all the ingredients, get all the measuring g cups out, and you are ready. You mix it, mash, bake it, cook it…and…it is awful! WTH? You look at the recipe and go over the ingredients again. Making a mental checklist of everything you included. No, you did not leave anything out, all the measurements were correct, cooking time right as was the temperature. So why does it taste like dirty gym socks soaked in vinegar? Beautiful illusion.

It happens to all of us, even the best of us. No matter how smart we are or how smart with think we are…we cannot escape them. They are lessons learned and funny stories to be told with friends over dinner and drinks. They are the hiccups in life that keep it from being too boring and predictable. After all, if everything worked out the way we thought it would…where would the excitement be? And think of the stories and people we would miss. As long as we learn from the experiences we have, then nothing is truly ever lost.

A Dose of Hope

Hope is defined as a belief in a positive outcome related to events and circumstances in one’s life. It is the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best.  When times get tough, many say that it is Hope, Love and Faith that get them through.

Hope has a very rich history that dates back Greek mythology (called Elpis).  When Pandora opened her box, she left out all evils but Hope. Throughout the ages, Hope has been called one of the worst evils as well as one of the greatest gifts of the Human spirit.   Philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche states in Human, All Too Human that hope is the evil of most evils, while Emily Dickson writes “Hope’ is the thing with feathers– / That perches in the soul–.”

But how does Hope pertain to  life now?  And is it good or bad to the condition of the human spirit?  Maybe it is as subjective as art, after all someone in history must have thought the Mona Lisa really was not all that beautiful.

In one of my favorite movies Shawshank Redemption, Andy Dufresne defines Hope as “Something inside… that they can’t get to, that they can’t touch. That’s yours.”  I guess that is what I have always considered it -something that comes from the inside and bubbles up and out like a cool natural spring. That no matter how bad life or circumstances get, that there is always a belief that you can triumph. Some may consider hope as bad, keeping us hanging on for something that will never happen.  In the same movie, Red tells Andy that Hope is a dangerous thing and can drive a man crazy…in the end though he learns that hope is a good thing.

In this day and age of high unemployment rates, drug wars, bad politics and broken hearts, does hope have a place any more?  Yes, here and now is when it makes the most sense.  We have to have something that motivates us to keep going in the face of challenging times.  Even with all the motivational strategies out there, it all boils down to one thing: Hope.  The hope of a batter life, a better job, of falling in love or obtaining that dream.

The law of Attraction, The Secret, manifesting and even meditation, all lead to hope, and making our hopes turn into reality.  Maybe hope is actually The Secret – or rather not losing it.  And if we do lose hope, where do we find it again?  That is a question that can only be answered be each one of us.  I find hope when I look deep down inside myself…where I am too stubborn to say that life has got me down, even on the worst of days.  It is that place that is all mine; like my own personal cool underground spring.

Maybe that is Mona Lisa’s secret and why she has been smiling all these years.  She has found a way to never lose hope. And maybe that is why so many people have found her so beautiful throughout the ages.

How do you define hope? Is there a poem, phrase or prayer that helps you through tough times? What do you do when it feels like too much? How do you reach out to others—and let them reach out to you? Is there something specific that gives you comfort?

My Addictions and Vices

A good girlfriend of mine and I were talking last night about our addictions and vices. Everyone has them…those things that get us through, that we cannot live without. Here are mine.

Chocolate: Addiction. No big surprise here, I am a girl. There just is nothing quite like good chocolate ice cream, or biting into a truly decadent piece from Godiva. Or my absolute favorite, a Cadbury Cream Egg. Truly amazing and something I absolutely cannot live without. I must have it.

Music: Addiction. I blame this addiction on my parents, as I learned it from them.  They always had music playing when I was a child. Whether classical, rock/pop or country, it was always around. And then I got into radio…a place to feed that addiction to music and make it grow even bigger. There I was right in the middle of everything. And it was wonderful.

Musicians: Vice, bordering on addiction. I love musicians, always have. Not the scruffy, starving, I think I can almost play a guitar type. I mean the real deal, the ones who truly have it in their soul and truly are talented and play beautifully. I seem to have a thing for guitarists and piano players. I just love watching them play, it is like magic.

Wine: Vice. I am not sure if it is the wine, or everything that comes with it and surrounds it. There is nothing like having a really good glass of wine while I soak in a bubble bath. A glass of wine with dinner can make it truly a masterpiece, or just enjoying a glass of wine with great conversation. It could be with my best friends, or a man, either way, I love wine.

Kisses: Vice. Though if a man is really good, it could become an addiction. And I especially love being kissed in the rain. The. Best. Love those slow, sensual kisses, that are almost in slow motion. A girl doesn’t get kissed like that often, and when she does, she remembers it (that would be a big hint guys). And I love when a man either cups your face in his hands, or brings his hands around the back of my neck and grabs a bit of my hair. A good kiss and I am nothing but quivering jello.

Writing. Addiction. I have to write. Almost every day. If I do not get my fix, I am crabby and just feel off. Sometimes I have writers block and may go a few days without writing anything, then others times (like now when it just pours out of me. I cannot control it and I could not stop if I wanted.  Even when I do not write publically, I have on online journal and a handwritten journal as well. I am always writing.

Romance: Vice. Whether it is a sappy chick flick, or a man I am dating giving me flowers and saying cheesy things, I love romance. Because I am a sap. No matter how I try to deny it, there it is, staring me in the face.

Men with facial Hair: Addiction. It is sexy and manly…and a man who knows how to use it is deadly. The best thing? When they run their facial hair all over my body (did I just write that out loud??). OMG. Heaven. And there is a little spot on my neck, that  will make my knees go weak. I get chills.

My Smart Phone: Addiction. If I am away from my phone for too long, I suffer separation anxiety. I don’t know why, but I have to have my smart phone with me at all times. Even if it is off, or on silent, it still must be close.

Books: Addiction. Again, blame this one on my family who started this addiction with me from an early age. Everyone in my family reads. And growing up, my mother read to us and had more books than a public library. Books give me comfort and make any room feel warm and welcoming, I think. And there is nothing like curling up with a good book on a cool rainy day.

Yes, for good bad, or indifferent, these are things that make my life a better place. That help me get through the day, and help me function. These things  make me happy, keep me There are other things, like prayer, Faith, God, family, love, my friends, but those are necessities.  Now excuse me, I have some chocolate that needs attention.

Politically Incorrect Confessions

In everyone’s life a little political incorrectness must fall. And Happy Monday!  Here are some politically incorrect confessions…may they bring you a smile on a Monday.

Flight Attendants: I really like my flight attendant to me female. I know, it’s horrible and I am a horrible person. But I also like my plumber, my mechanic and my AC guy to be a man.

Discipline: I really think it is OK to spank a child. Not abuse them – there is a difference. I also think that is it Ok to put kids on restriction, take away their TV, iPod, computer, iPads…or whatever if they are not respectful and courteous. I think kids should say Yes Ma’am and No Sir, they should do their chores, and get good grades in school. And I think that if kids are never mad with their parents, then the parent is doing something wrong. Parents should actually be parents, and that means being the authority figure and telling them no sometimes. But I also think kids should be treated with kindness and respect as well. They should be allowed to express themselves and their opinions as long as it is in a respectful manner. And I do believe they should be spoiled…but taught to understand that they are very fortunate to be spoiled.

Manly: I want a man who is manly. Meaning, I want him to have facial hair – because it’s manly (love, love LOVE). And yes, I want chest hair and lots of it. Why do men shave their chest? It feels like you are snuggling up to a Brillo pad…really, guys, don’t do that. And I want them to sweat, that is manly too. A deep voice, oooohhhh, yes please. No fru-fru hair products, manicures, pedicures, whatever metro-sexual thing going on. Rugged. Manly. Afpha-male. Thank you.

Pants: I really don’t like the whole show your boxers thing the boys are doing these days. Really, what’s up with that? I get that it is a fashion thing, doesn’t their ass get cold? Especially in the winter? I mean down south you really don’t have to worry about it as much, but what about up north? And what about…shrinkage? I just can’t uunderstand why someone would, especially in the winter, volunteer to do that. And they say women go to extremes to look good.

U: I remember when I was on the online dating sites (never again!) I was surprised by the amount of men who sent me email to introduce themselves using ‘U’ and ‘R’ and ‘N’…if you are trying to impress a woman, especially if she is a writer…please, please, pretty please, spell out the words “you’, ‘are’ and ‘and’. Thank you. And no shirtless shots please. We know you have a chest…and that picture falls under the TMI category, kind of like a girl telling you all about her cats on the first date.

Baby Daddy: What is up with the whole Baby-Mamma, Baby-Daddy thing? When did that slang become part of American Main Stream English? Maybe because I am a writer, and prefer proper grammar (though I am not perfect at it), but this term just bugs me.

Payment: I really like the man to pay on dates. Always. Yes, I know this is not a popular opinion in this equal rights world, but I am an old fashioned girl and I want to be courted, and I want the man to pay the tab. Thank you.

Sitcoms and dramas: This is very politically incorrect, but I really love sitcoms and dramas much more than the reality TV. There are a few good reality TV shows out there, but I think most of them pander to the lowest common denominator. Give me something inspirational, smart, or where I can learn something, and I will watch it. But watching someone with a bad northern accent get drunk and fall over…not so entertaining.  Give me the Big Bang Theory, Bones, Two Broke Girls, How I Met Your Mother, Criminal Minds, CSI Miami, NCIS…something with interesting characters, witty banter, smart retorts, and hysterical situations…and I am a happy girl. I will even put down my book.

Being a Housewife: Here is the biggest politically incorrect statement of all…I would love to be a housewife. Yes, there it is, I said it. Yes I have a very successful career, love what I do, have a great fulfilling life, and I do not need to be rescued from anything…but I would still love to not have to worry about being the breadwinner, take care of kids, write when I wanted and be taken care of otherwise. I would do that in a heartbeat. Most people who know me would be very surprised – they think I am wildly independent, single hearted, never get married type. They could not be more wrong. The most fulfilling thing I could ever do, I think, is be a stay at home mother and wife.