Live your life in such a way that when your feet hit the floor in the morning, Satan shudders and says "Oh shit, she's awake."

Thursday, December 30, 2010

My New Years Resolutions...mostly a recycle of last year's list...

Ahhhhhh…New Year’s resolutions, the thing we all love to hate. I am having a hard time deciding what my resolutions will be for 2011. I hate to make promises I am clearly not going to keep. However, there are a few things that I need to work on in 2011, so I will do my best to give you my current list, many of which were on last year's list...who says I'm a quitter???

1. I resolve to not let my ass become the size of a truck. The size of a bicycle is my limit.
2. I resolve to work harder at being patient with stupid people. (After all, patience is what Santa was supposed to have brought me this year - it must be in my stocking SOMEwhere.)
3. I resolve to not sweat the small stuff. Instead, I will obsess only about the really BIG stuff that hasn’t yet occurred.
4. I resolve to monitor my wine/alcohol intake, and keep it at a respectable level. (Now you can take two ways – either I will NOT up my level to that of an alcoholic, OR, I will keep drinking enough to be classified as an alcoholic. Hmmmm…I love when I have wiggle room on these things.)
5. I resolve to not spend more than one hour a day on the Internet. (Of course, I'm not much of a clock watcher.)
6. I resolve to be more appreciative of the little things in life. So, the next time my cockatoo craps on me, I will refer to her “present” as “love drops” instead of “bird sh$t”.
7. I resolve to work with neglected children, namely my daughter.
8. I resolve to stop sending Bill text messages while I am talking to him on the phone.
9. I resolve to give up at least three clothing items that are circa late 1980s to early 1990s.
10. I resolve to buy clothes in another color besides black.
11. I resolve to stop obsessing about any newly formed lines on my face. I can barely deal with the old lines that have accumulated thus far.
12. I resolve to do less laundry and use more deodorant.
13. I resolve to give up chocolate...completely...ok, no I don’t.
14. I resolve to always wear clean underwear, just in case.
15. I resolve to not laugh at anyone who is clearly an idiot.
16. I resolve to spend more time with family, until they irritate me to a point whereas they become completely intolerable.
17. I resolve to stop comparing myself with skinny women under the age of thirty. Instead, I will only compare myself with overweight women over the age of fifty, which is bound to lead to a much healthier level of self-esteem.
18. I resolve to finish every bottle of open shampoo in my house before I go out and buy more. (I probably won’t have to buy shampoo until sometime in 2012.)
19. I resolve to not be a drunken idiot…in public. However, I cannot promise anything as far as what goes on in the comfort of my own home.
20. I resolve to breathe in deeply, exhale slowly, enjoy life more, worry less, stop being obsessive, love passionately, laugh with utter abandon, and dance at least a little, every day, no matter what.

Happy New Year’s…may you be blessed with good health, strong family ties, security, and lots and lots of love.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Three years and counting...

Today is the anniversary of my first date with Bill, and he just sent the most magnificent bouquet of roses, peonies and lilies I have ever received. He’s never sent flowers before, and this one is bigger than most funeral arrangements I have seen in my life. When he does something, he certainly does make a statement. I cried. Flowers always make me cry.

So let me give just a little history. Our relationship was not of the traditional variety, but then again, very little about me is ever traditional. We did not meet in a bar, or at church, or through friends. However, the whole bar thing intrigues me, because Bill's collection of pickup lines is, well, nonexistent. Watching him try to pick me up in a bar would make for some great storytelling, I am sure. But we met online, and we were complete strangers. I had posted a profile on yahoo, mostly for the hell of it, and he had sent me an email, probably also for the hell of it. Why send me an email, you ask? Well, anyone who knows Bill will tell you his very favorite pastime is offshore fishing. I had put in my yahoo blurb that I had been offshore fishing a couple of times, so he just had to send me something, anything, and it was a diatribe. I wish I had saved it, but somehow it disappeared from my emails a while ago. It was a masterpiece though, specifically designed to melt my heart…and it did. I wrote him back, we chatted online, we talked on the phone, and we laughed a LOT. Magic…

The one thing I can remember so very clearly is opening my front door to see him standing there. And it was that first time I saw him that I knew I was in trouble. He was really cute and really really sweet. He was kind, and humble, and such a gentle soul. Me? I was damaged, recovering from a toxic relationship that shattered my trust in men. But he was persistent in his mission to win me over. We ate fried dill pickles, laughed some more, and played some pool. I tried to be coy, but was unsuccessful. I was smitten, and I’m pretty sure he knew it. That was the beginning…

Fast forward to today, this very moment. I can’t stop staring at these flowers. He called a bit ago, and the sound of his voice continues to melt my heart. I am still completely smitten. Our three years together have not been perfect, but they have been the best three years of my life. We rarely argue, and I feel like I’m missing my right arm when he’s not around. We never run out of things to talk about. At the same time, just sitting together with him in silence is better than most any conversation I’ve ever had with anyone. I can imagine myself growing old with him, spending the rest of my life with him. He truly makes me want to be a better woman, a better person.

Every day I am grateful that he sent that email. Some things are just meant to be, I suppose.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

All I want for Christmas is...

Dear Santa,

I hope this letter finds you, Mrs. Claus, the reindeer and your elf staff in good health. I know it must be an awfully tough time of year for you, seeing you’re not getting any younger. I must say, though, I've always admired how you keep that rosy glow in your cheeks. You must let me in on your little secret. The only way I seem to be able to get that sort of glow is an over-abundance of makeup, or a few too many vodka and sodas.

Concerning the matter of my Christmas Wish List, I’d like to say I’ve been on my BEST behavior this year, but I’d be lying. I have, however, been better than in years past, and I feel as though that should at least count for something. I did TRY to behave appropriately, but sometimes situations dictate otherwise, if you know what I mean. That being said, I haven’t been overtly mean to anyone, and I’ve tried to keep the bitchiness factor down to a minimum. Yes, there have been moments, and I do apologize for that. I’m sure Mrs. Claus is not always the picture of gentle femininity either. Lucky for you, you have a workshop full of elves that are probably all too happy to share a few beers with you and lament the challenges of dealing with a spouse who is feeling “less than lovely.” My Bill is very understanding when I have those moments, I must say. I feel very blessed to have such a wonderful and considerate fiancĂ©. I also understand why he drinks.

Anyway, I’ve thought long and hard about what I would like for Christmas this year. (By the way, you can cross off the red cowboy boots, as those are my gift from Bill.) My fondest desire for Christmas this year would be to find a healthy dose of patience under the tree with my name on it. I know you are well aware that I’ve always been a bit challenged in that department, and I have decided that I would really like to work on that, particularly my level of patience with stupid people. Is it my imagination, or do there seem to be WAY more stupid people in the world now than, say, twenty years ago? I don’t know about you, but I am literally TRIPPING daily over clueless people who are not only happy in their ignorance, but seem to revel in it. While I am able to refrain from physical confrontations, such as a well deserved smack upside the head, I seem to be unable to keep my big mouth shut, and often deliver a stinging sarcastic remark, although honestly, they never seem to “get it” anyway. I know not everyone is interested in what I have to say, but I feel compelled to at least try to show these idiots some guidance. I only wish they could see through their stupidity to understand that I only have the best of intentions. Alas, I am often misunderstood in my motives. Do you think if I switched over to the “smack upside the head” approach, I would be more efficient at making my point? You’re right, probably not. It might be fun to try it though. Just sayin…

So please, dear Santa, if you could just spare a LITTLE patience for me to exercise in the coming New Year, I would be so very grateful. And I promise, to use it wisely. Indeed, I will save it for only the very dumbest and most annoying individuals. The rest, well...all I can say is I’ll do my best.

I’ll have the milk and cookies waiting.


Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Vodka on the a snifter please...

Someone who once held a very special place in my heart died a few days ago. We were once the closest of friends, as close as sisters. But betrayal and circumstances showed me a very different side to her, and I let the relationship go. For years I felt anger and resentment, and eventually I felt nothing at all. To be honest, I hadn’t really even thought about her in quite some time. So when I heard the news I was a bit stunned. She was in her late fifties, and had always been the life of the party. But cancer took that life. I felt a bit sad for her family, and maybe a bit of regret that our friendship was never healed. More than anything, though, I still felt nothing.

Her death did give me pause about my own mortality. When you’re in your 40s and people start to pass away on a regular basis, you always stop to think about how many days you have left on this beautiful crazy planet. I hope to have many many days, but we all know there are no guarantees. Tomorrow is promised to none of us. I’ve always said “life is short, order the cheesecake” and I often joke with Bill, telling him if I die he should have me stuffed so he can prop me up in a corner, dressed to the nines with a martini in hand, wearing all of my jewelry and, of course, a really great pair of shoes.

I’m not afraid to die. Watching my father die right before my eyes cured that fear in me. While his death was gut-wrenching and incredibly emotional in ways I never even imagined, the one thing it was not was scary. He simply slipped away, surrounded by the love of my mom, my three siblings and me. His passing changed the way I would look at death from that moment on. But still, when someone moves from the world of the living to the world of the dead, you take a moment to reflect. I worry about my family, my menagerie of animals, but mostly about my Bill and my daughter, Tricia.

I would hate for any of them to cry-- to me that would go against everything I have stood for, and how I have lived my life every single day. I want them to celebrate my life, and the fact that I lived every day on my own terms with no excuses and no regrets. I want the wine to flow and I want the music to be loud. And I want there to be laughter, lots and lots of laughter – the kind that makes your sides hurt, and tears run down your face. Hell, I hope they bring in a comedian for the occasion just so they can roast me like Pamela Anderson. I'm absolutely sure I've provided enough material during my 45 years so far on this earth, and there is bound to be more in the future. I want the people I love to be happy that we had such wonderful times together, and I want that happiness to live forever in their hearts.

I won’t be going to Patricia’s funeral tomorrow. To do that would make me feel like a hypocrite, given the way our relationship ended. But I will have a cocktail in her honor when I’m out this weekend...probably a vodka on the rocks in a snifter glass, since that is what she always drank. Wherever she is, I’m sure she will notice and comment about what a lucky bitch I am that I’m able to enjoy that cocktail.

Safe travels to you Patricia. Cheers.