November 11, 2009

Quirkyville Quips: Lizard people

The scene: We are watching V, ABC’s remake of a popular science fiction mini-series where lizard-like aliens disguised as humans visit our planet. (The remake is a full series, not a mini-series.)

Fiance: (Arbitrarily to the television) What part of “don’t trust anyone” did he not understand!?

Me: If aliens came to our planet, would you trust me?

Fiance: No. You couldn’t trust anyone.

Me: But what if I was one of the nice aliens who just wanted to be peaceful and marry a human?

Fiance: How would I know that? In that situation, you really wouldn’t be able to trust anyone.

Me: But that would mean that I am a lizard now.

Fiance: Are you saying you are a lizard?

Me: No, but in the hypothetical lizards-take-over-the-world-future, I want you to be able to trust me.

Fiance: Well, I don’t think I would trust you. But it probably wouldn’t matter because we aren’t important enough that we would have the information that the aliens are dangerous, so maybe I would.

(Fiance wanders into the kitchen. Clearly he is not as phased in this potential wrinkle to our future marriage as I am…)

Me: (Shouting into the kitchen) Maybe we should include something about the lizard invasion in our vows, that way you will trust me….

Fiance: Sticks his face back into the living room and rolls his eyes.

Me: What? I’m serious.

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November 10, 2009

Bendy Straws – every good story needs a sidebar

IMG_1074

If you’ve been following Part I & Part II of  Have lasso. Will love again, this is a side bar to the main story. The scene: a month before the fiance winked at me on Match.com.

I was dating two guys at once.

As a girl raised to believe dating was for the sole purpose of finding a spouse, and anything else was a complete waste of time and energy, this was a huge milestone.

Dating for fun. What a novel concept.

I was having a blast.

One day, after returning from an appointment with my attorney (those were always a good time,) and picking up some fast food (ah, the days of the post-divorce weight-loss. When I could eat anything and not gain weight…) I returned to my desk to discover a terrific prize inside my paper bag.

A bendy straw.

Oh, how I love bendy straws. They make an ordinary soda into a fun look-at-the-liquid-bend experience. Plus, you can play with the straw — crink. crink. crink. —  bending it back and forth. (My co-workers love me.)

I decided to hold a little contest. I sent the same text to both guys at once. [gasp!]

“Aren’t bendy straws the greatest thing ever?”

I was hoping to see who would respond first. The thought being that the guy who could come back with the first witty response totally “got” me. He and he alone was man enough for my quirky.

Send.

I waited.

And waited.

No response from either boy.

hmmmmm….strange but ok. People are too busy to play my stupid game. Fine.

A little while later one of the guys responded with something stupid about how they are pretty good, but not the greatest thing.

Eh… probably a sexual innuendo in there I purposely overlooked.

Boo.

Months later, I discovered that KCFilmGuy not only loved bendy straws, he had recently purchased the ultimate DIY Drinking Straw from ThinkGeek.com. In true nerd-boy fashion, he showed me a world of bendy straws I didn’t even know could exist.

He was marvelously perfect for me in every way.

And I don’t have to text another guy to figure that one out.

Stay tuned for Part III of  Have lasso. Will love again.

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November 9, 2009

Have Lasso. Will Love Again. Part II

Part II of Have lasso. Will love again. Part I.

Call me a Match.com conservative, but I would typically respond with a wink back to my winkers. Put the ball in their court and see if they could string a sentence togehter. (You would be so surprised at the level of writing that was out there.)

There was something different about this one. I took a gamble and sent a note.

Within a few hours my phone vibrated, alerting me to a response.

He  had me at cheese. Specifically one of four question in his first e-mail to me: cheddar or Swiss?

I love a man who can talk cheese. I responded with a  diatribe about the intricacies of cheddar and Swiss with the moral that Swiss often gets stuck between wilted lettuce and soggy tomatoes and cheddar gets all the glory.

Ok, so boy could write, boy was attractive and boy spoke cheese, but there were still lingering questions. He was 28. I was 30. Why had he winked at me? I could tell by his profile that he was only interested in women up to 30. Had he not seen that I was pushing 31?  He claimed in his first note to me it was a moot point. But I had to press the issue…

Thanks for squashing my insecurities about being 30. I feel old often, but I think it’s because I re-entered the singles scene and find myself out until 1 a.m. with 23 year-olds who don’t yet want to saw their feet off at the end of the night when wearing a killer pear of stilettos. They also don’t go home and smear on Oil of Olay nor do they have five different kinds of sunscreen for different parts, but I digress…

Yeah, way to be sexy, Stephanie…

Back and forth we went. Witty banter at its finest. I grew more ridiculously happy with each e-mail that was exchanged. For some reason, I wasn’t holding back with this one.

Soon the e-mails moved to texts and became more frequent. Two days after I received the Match.com wink, I was laying out by the pool, exchanging texts with KCFilmGuy, and my phone rang.

It was him.

After letting out some Jr. Highesque squeals, I clicked the green connect button.

“Hello?” (As if I DIDN’T know who it was.)

On the other end was the fastest talker I had ever heard.

“Idecideditwouldbeasiertopickupthephoneratherthankeeptexting.”

<blink. blink.>

Huh?

Eh, go with it. So he talks fast. Big whoop.

Two hours later, I was flushed with sun and infatuation. He  asked me on a date. It was Friday afternoon. We would go out on Sunday. The plan was to hit up Dave & Busters. I thought it was the most genius first date ever. (Later, I learned I wasn’t the first girl he’d taken there, but whatever. I was the last. That’s what matters.)

We talked late Friday night and again on Saturday night. I have no idea what on earth we could have discussed in all that time on the phone, but new relationships are so exciting.

There is one conversation I will never forget. In fact, I will probably be 95, sitting in a rocking chair, embarrassing my grand-kids with the tale of the make-out talk with Mr. Quirky.

Ah, making out. Love it. And during my Crazy Time, I may or may not have instigated making out with random guys. It was harmless, usually in public and always when drunk.  Good times.

Two weeks before I met the fiance, there was a very legendary make-out incident with a stranger in Virginia. It was fantastic.

It turns out, KCFilmGuy also liked to make out with virtual strangers. It was kind of his shtick too.  As a self-proclaimed nerd, he enjoyed flexing his confidence and approaching girls with a single question, “wanna make out?” Some responded with horror/walked away, but sometimes it worked. He wasn’t trying to take these ladies home, he simply wanted to enjoy the contact of kissing an attractive woman.

I liked his style and his confidence.

We exchanged stories.

Then I made the comment that it’s weird that people wait until the end of the first date to exchange a kiss. Why not get it out in the open? I mean, really, there is no sense in going on if the kissing is bad. We all know that.

The conversation ended there. The tension was building and the date was 24 hours away.

D-Day – I went to the pool, picked out my outfit and dinked around online. Nothing terribly special. I was nervous, but more excited than anything. There were certainly not worries of running out of conversation points.

I wore a sheer short- sleeve sweater with a shimmery silver thread and silver wedges with good “butt” jeans.

He was the first guy I had met on Match.com that I allowed to come pick me up at my apartment on the first date.

(Side note: I later found out that he found my apartment the day before so he wouldn’t be late to pick me up. That could have gone either way on the creepy scale, but seeing how things worked out, I now find it adorable.)

My phone rang. He was outside. I scratched Gertie’s head and told her to be good, grabbed my purse and was out the door.

He was unmistakable standing outside my gate. Slender build, red curly hair, freckles, charming smile. I saw a bright mix of flowers in his hand.

I swung open the heavy iron gate and he handed me the bouquet.  Awwww…while I was looking at the flowers, I didn’t quite catch his question, “Wannamakeout?”

To be continued…

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November 8, 2009

Quirkyville: Kickin’ it Sunday Style

Have you ever woken up with absolutely no plan and suddenly you have a list a mile long of things you want to get done?

That was me today. I woke up at 9 because Gertie was pacing around the bed and putting her snout up on the bed in the most pathetic manner.

Suddenly I wanted to do it all. Drink a good cup of coffee, go for a run, make a football feast for the fiance and pick up some things from Wal-Mart. The Chiefs game began at noon, and I knew he’d be up by 11:45, so there was no time to waste…if I wanted to be ready in time to serve him some game food.

I could combine the run and coffee if I ran to get coffee.

I picked a route that would take me just far enough to feel like I had exerted myself, but not too far to be a lot of work. (It was lazy Sunday, after all.) Then, I hit up a local coffee house…one that I knew had a little patio so I could leave Gertie while I went in to grab a latte. As I approached the shop, I could see there was another dog on the patio.

Uh-oh. Last time there was a dog there, it didn’t work out so well considering the dog was barking and growling so much,  it scared Gertie to the point that I didn’t feel comfortable leaving her for a few minutes to go inside. No coffee for me.

Awww man, that would put a damper in my plan.

But then I heard someone call out “Hey Stephanie and Gertie!”

The dog belonged to my good friend Jessie and her boyfriend. Oh fun! Not only did I have someone to hold Gertie when I went inside, we got to sit on the porch and catch up over coffee, an unexpected but pleasant diversion to my plan.

Once home, I decided to skip a shower and just run out to get the stuff I needed from Wal-Mart,  plus the ingredients to make the wings, rotel cheese dip and homemade ranch I was formulating in my head.

Only I couldn’t find my keys anywhere. So the fiance was recruited from bed to join my search party all over the house. Nope, no keys. (This is not an unusual occurrence for me. He wasn’t too thrilled about being co-captain of my search team either. Oh well, he’d get over it when I served him piping hot crispy, tangy hot wings.)

There was no time to lose though. I took the fiance’s car while he continued to scour the house for them. (They were in his coat pocket from an evening where I wore his coat outside. Who knew?)

I was back  in 45 minutes…kind of a record for me to go to the grocery and Wal-Mart. But wings were at stake.

I found this recipe for baked buffalo chicken wings. It was super tasty. The only thing I would modify is I would be sure to spray my baking pans with non-stick so that I didn’t lose any bits of the crispy chicken skin. Other than that – perfection. You won’t even miss the fryer.

Then, I “winged” some homemade ranch dressing. Here’s what I came up with:

8 oz of mayo

1 cup of buttermilk

1 tablespoon of Worcestershire sauce

1 large clove of garlic finely, finely diced

2 tablespoons of fresh chopped parsley

2 tablespoons of finely diced green onion

1 tablespoon of Dijon mustard

1 tsp of onion powder

1/2 tsp of black pepper

salt to taste

I whisked it all together. The end.

It turned out pretty good, a little runny, but that’s how I like ranch.  You could probably thicken it up with more mayo or some sour cream. But I didn’t have any more mayo and I was out of sour cream.

Despite my feast, the Chiefs are losing and the fiance is downstairs yelling at the T.V.

My work here is done, folks. I’m hitting the bathtub with an army of bubbles.

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November 8, 2009

F & W: The roasted garlic & Bitch edition. (Read it, you’ll see.)

Have you ever roasted garlic? I highly recommend it. It’s so delicious, and it gives oldie but goodie recipe from Cooking Light – Roasted Garlic Potato Soup a rich flavor. It’s so good that you do not in fact, miss the fat that is left out of this recipe, and traditionally found in most potato soups.

Well, the fat that is left out unless you end up topping your soup with sharp cheddar cheese and bacon, like we did….but um…it really didn’t need that, we just really like any excuse to add cheese and bacon to something.

And, I have a huge announcement: the fiance who doesn’t  like potatoes, unless they are fried and dipped in ketchup even ate some of the soup and said it was good! Honestly, the garlic changes everything.

I’m not going to lie. I was scared.

FIVE heads of garlic? That seemed a bit over the top, even for a garlic lover. I read some of the reviews and it seemed that most people said it didn’t need five. I decided to cut it down to three.  I was really just looking after DD Girl, Roomie and the fiance, but then they were all, “oh, you could have totally used five and it would have been great.”

Le sigh. You can’t please these folks, you just can’t. (Geez, I’m such a bitch! — that’s foreshadowing, folks.)

The recipe seems like it might take all night  what with the hour of roasting time for the garlic and all, but don’t let that scare you. Here’s how it all timed out:

[Roasted Garlic-Potato Soup Recipe from Cooking Light, May 1995]

You’ll need

  • 5  whole garlic heads – like I said, I used three, but don’t be chicken. Use five. Do it. Do it. You know you want to.
  • 2  bacon slices, diced – um, ok, so here’s my confession- I cut up five slices so that we could have bacon bits to crumble over the top of the soup.
  • 1  cup  diced onion
  • 1  cup  diced carrot
  • 2  garlic cloves, minced - I know what you are saying – what? MORE garlic? But the thing is that roasted garlic and minced garlic have different flavors. So just go with it. This recipe has been around longer than my 1996 Maxima, which is like totally ancient. Trust it. It’s probably more reliable than my car.
  • 6  cups  diced baking potato (about 2 pounds)
  • 4  cups  low-salt chicken broth
  • 1/2  teaspoon  salt
  • 1/4  teaspoon  pepper
  • 1  bay leaf
  • 1  cup  2% low-fat milk
  • 1/4  cup  chopped fresh parsley – I used Italian b/c it’s what I had on hand.

Here are my modified instructions with timing. Because really, isn’t timing like the hardest part of cooking? I think so. Thank you for agreeing with me.

Preheat the oven to 350. Then, while it’s heating, take your knife and cut the point off the top of the garlic heads and peel the papery outsides off as much as you can. Wrap each one in foil and place on a cookie sheet and stick in the oven. Set a timer for 60 minutes, or else you’ll totally loose track of how long they have been roasting.

Dice the onion, carrots, parsley and garlic. Then, peel and chop the potatoes. If you are as slow as me, this has burned at least 20 minutes of the hour. Then, chop the bacon up.

You are about 25 minutes into the hour now, so go ahead and put your large saucepan on medium heat and add your bacon. If you make this the QoQ Fire & Wine night way, remove about 70% of the bacon once it’s cooked and set aside in a bowl with a paper towel to soak up grease. Then remove most of the bacon grease from the pan and add your onion, carrots and minced garlic and saute for five minutes.

Ok, now it’s been at least 35 minutes. Add the potatoes, broth, salt, pepper and bay leaf and bring everything to a boil. This took about 8 minutes. Reduce heat and simmer for 20 minutes. At some point while this is simmering, you’ll pull the garlic out and set it aside to cool. [I think I simmered for a little longer than 20 minutes, because we were outside on the porch talking for a while and I jumped up at one point and said, gotta go blend!]

Take the roasted garlic out of the foil and start squeezing it into your blender (which thanks to DD Girl, who brought hers, I actually had one for this!)

Fair warning: this might really gross you out because it looks like popping a giant zit. And the warm garlic goo comes out looking a bit grody. Just remember, it’s still garlic and you still love it even if it’s having a bad-looking day.

Take two cups of the potato mixture out of the pot and add it to the garlic goo in the blender. Then blend it and add it back into the soup.

Mmmmm creamy. Pour in the milk, add parsley and stir it up.

I served this with sourdough bread. I meant to have butter on hand for the bread but I guess I didn’t need it because we all just started dipping our bread into the soup. Fire & Wine night really isn’t a classy affair.

Now, I usually don’t talk about the wine we have at Fire & Wine night because it’s usually nothing special. We’re all on a budget these days and rarely do we splurge on good wine for Fire & Wine night. We know that whatever it is, it’s going to be consumed in mass quantities, anyhow.

But on Monday when I was out browsing, I found this bottle of wine that just seemed to say Fire & Wine night:

[Image from K&L Wine Merchants.]

Bitch

Bitch wine. Awesome.

Cute gimicky name, right?

But it’s actually a really nice Grenache from South Africa made by R Wines. It had an almost blackberry finish  and went surprisingly well with the creamy garlic soup.

I expect both the wine and the soup will become regular fixtures in my kitchen. (Which still kind of smells like garlic.)

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November 6, 2009

Have lasso. Will love again — my personal dating after divorce story Part I

old StephanieSome days, I look back and it all seems a bit like a dream.

<==== Here I am in 2005 — right around Valentine’s Day to be specific. My ex-husband and I were going to enjoy a night on the town and a free room at the Marriott downtown that I had won at a work event.

I thought I was reasonably happy back then. Life was pretty predictable (or so I thought.)

I had no idea that only four years later I’d be channeling my inner goddess of truth…

Wonder WomanI never really thought of myself as a super hero before.

I never really had to.

But things happened and like many women who suddenly find themselves faced with a very different truth than the reality in which they were living, I had a choice – pull myself together or don’t.

The latter didn’t seem like a very productive option.

And just a month after my separation, I decided to test the dating waters and joined Match.com on a whim, hungover one Sunday morning after a night out with the best girlfriends on the planet.

I figured I could always bail, if the waters got too weird or rough, but why not? After all, my soon to be ex-husband had already more than moved on (and in with)  his relationship. Why shouldn’t I?

Well, we all know there were probably a few good reasons why I should have waited a tad bit longer, but look, doing things the “right” way isn’t exactly my story. Besides, if I had waited, I might not have been around at the right time to meet my now fiance.

But I wasn’t quite ready for him yet…I needed to date. You know, casually date for a while.

And so, I sent my friend Kristin a text telling her that I just signed up for Match.com. Was I crazy?

No, she responded. Absolutely not.

I love Kristin because I knew that was going to be her response, and that’s probably why I asked her and not my more cautious, logical friend, Jessie.

Selective advice seeking, folks. I’m good at that.

Wierd.

Match.com was a weird and wacky place. But still, a fun place for someone who is testing the waters of dating after seven years of being off the market.

Soon, I found myself on my first date. We met at The Blue Koi, one of my favorite restaurants in Kansas City. I was dog sitting for my friend D who lives just around the corner.

As I was standing there waiting for my date, my stomach felt like it was in my toes.

“This is what it must feel like before one jumps out of a plane” I sent that text to Jessie and Dawn.

What was I doing here?

I hated all the other people sitting at the tables. They were all probably married, I thought. They didn’t have to stand here and wait for a strange guy to come in and then wonder if they would have anything to talk about and ohmygodwhatifhekissesme?!

I was seconds from walking right out the door. This wasn’t worth it. I wasn’t ready to go on a date.

But soon, this guy walked in and smiled at me. Thank GOD he looked like his picture, maybe even better than his picture.  Nice eyes. Nice smile. And we didn’t run out of things to talk about.

That was my first date after separation. There were more, of course. With him. With others. I was a wild woman – dating multiple men.

I had to fight my urge to want to get serious with the guys I liked. I fought the temptation to angst over texts unresponded to and get overjoyed by texts I did get.  When I started to try to imagine a future with each guy, I would get right back on Match.com and respond to my many “winks” and e-mails.

Sure, there were moments of weakness when I would gleefully tell my co-workers how big my crush was on so and so. They would roll their eyes at me.  But seriously, I’d say. He’s sooooo cute. Just look at this text he sent!

No, I told myself. This is fun time. Don’t get serious. I clung to my copy of  Crazy Time like it was my Bible.  The book told me that it was ok to feel and act a little crazy during my separation, and even up to two or three years after my divorce.

Oh crap, I thought. Would it really take that long to feel normal again, I wondered.

I knew none of the guys I was dating were “right for me.” Sure, they were good guys, but was I really going to be happy with a landscaper by day, soccer coach by night who was still playing the field at age 37? Probably not. And it was painfully obvious I did not share his love of hunting.

And the very hip and attractive 40-something salesman who was legally separated from his wife but had no divorce date in site? No, not really a good idea, Stephanie.

I’m going to pause and say, I’m so so glad I didn’t have any children. This story would not be the same if I had. I know I’m one of the lucky ones – lucky to get out of a worthless marriage of five years without spawn, lucky to not have that lifelong connection with my ex-husband and lucky to only have the responsibility of a needy Vizsla Lab mix.  I admire my friend Ms Single Mama and all the other single moms out there who weren’t so lucky.

When I wasn’t going on dates, I was enjoying my new apartment, reconnecting with old friends on Facebook (I never had an account when I was married.) and, trying to blog about my divorce without upsetting the settlement process with my ex. Needless to say, I was very careful what I posted here.

I was starting to really enjoy life. Sure, I was really, really sad sometimes. And there were a lot of “firsts” of being back on my own.

But these were part of the healing process.

And then one day, I got a call from my attorney that the divorce was final. It was the weirdest feeling. And a celebration with friends was to be had. (Truth be told, I had my fire engine red party dress ready to go at the drop of a hat.)

And the very next day after a night of wine and many toasts to my future, this guy calling himself KCFilmGuy a self-described “nerd with social skills” winked at me on Match.

He had red hair and a charming smile.

His profile said he loved the Muppets and The Princess Bride.

I had to know more….

(To be continued.)

[Editor's note- after I wrote this, I realized my title was a little too close to The Pioneer Woman's From Black Heels to Tractor Wheels title for her love story with the MM. Completely unintentional, of course, but a correction worth making. ]

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November 5, 2009

The ultimate. And I mean ultimate. PMS aid.

sfb-cbalmond

[Photo courtesy SharffenBerger.com]

There were a few goodies in the Blogher Food bag. A lot of them went into the food bank donation tub at the conference. But I’m really, really glad I kept this one.

I’m going to preface this post with two things – 1. The chocolate bar I’m about to wax on about was a free  sponsor gift at Blogher Food, however no one at Sharffen Berger asked me to write about this gift. I do so out of my own newfound personal passion for this product. 2. I’m not crazy about chocolate.

In fact, when Sharffen Berger sponsored a mid-morning break and handed out lovely bags full of even more of their product, I declined the bag. No sense in wasting their product.

But there are about two days in every month when I suddenly need to eat something sweet. Usually I send the fiance down to Quick Trip to pick up a small pint of vanilla ice cream. The damage is done. No one gets hurt. It’s all good.

But yesterday, when I got home at 5:30, he asked,  “I’m going to run down to QT. Do you need anything?”

Stupid, stupid me said “no, I’m fine.”

Because at 5:30, I couldn’t possibly imagine anything in the world I could want from a convenience store.

By 8:30, I changed my tune.

OhmygodIneedsomethingsweetnow.

But it was chilly out, and he had already done the dishes, so there was just no way I could ask him to go out again. Especially because he offered to get me something so nicely when I first arrived home.

(Also, I knew if I even so much as murmured that I wanted ice cream, he would have done it, and I just don’t want to abuse my power that way.) Mwah ha ha.

Oh what do I have? I wondered.

I rummaged through my kitchen and found a stack of items and papers from Blogher Food.

What do we have here? I picked up the chocolate bar.

I took it back to the living room where I was watching Cougar Town, in eager anticipation for Top Chef (which turned out to be a reunion show to stall us out until next week — boo.)

I bit into a triangle from the bar…hmmm good milk chocolate. Nice and creamy but not overly sweet. Good crunch and texture with the almonds.

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

Then suddenly, a hint of salt? Yes, salt. Sea salt, my favorite of all the salties.

Oh heavens to Betsy, this was a dream come true, I thought as I snapped off another triangle wedge and watched Courteney Cox dive into a pool wearing a bikini to show off her perfect, well-toned body.

I pulled my Gap Body red Scottie Dog  elastic-band flannel PJ pants up over my bloated belly with a snap. I hate her.

Oh, who friggin cares?!

Melty bite. Crunch. Salty finish.

The fiance (who would probably like you to know was working on the computer and only watches Cougar Town with me because it comes after two of our favorite Wednesday night ABC comedies – The Middle and Modern Family, and there is really no use finding something to fill a half hour time slot before Top Chef) was slightly amused at how much I was enjoying this chocolate.

And maybe a little jealous at how much satisfaction it was giving me in that moment…

Babe. I said, with a mouthful of chocolate. This is really good.

I took a swallow of the glass of Malbec I was drinking.

Oh gawd….

So good.

Truth be told, I didn’t even eat half the bar because I just needed a few tastes. (And why not save more for later?!)

But ladies.

I don’t care if you are a chocolate lover or not. Please take my word that having a bar of this in your pantry will turn your next PMS induced hormonal mountain slide into a gorgeous ski run in the Alps. You’ll want to get right back on that chair lift and do it all over again.

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November 4, 2009

Punching my demons in the you-know-where and filling my glass (of wine) half-full

Warning: lots of cheesy “get real” lingo to follow, including but not limited to terms such as “loving myself,” “self-talk” and “co-dependency.” I can’t help these things. I had three years of therapy in college and I know Betty would be proud…

 I’ve been mulling some things around in my head for a while and debating whether or not to talk about them here. But I’ve always said that if my story can help just one person, then it’s worth putting myself out there…

I’m in the middle of reading 52 Fights, a book by my new friend, Jennifer at Unplanned Cooking. In the book, she is raw and honest about the reality of her first year of marriage. The stories she shares are hers, but the truths about combining two different lives into a family are universal.  It has its challenges. That’s for sure!

I’m not going to lie. For me, on the edge of getting married again, the fear of failure is on the peripheral. When I let myself go to a bad place, I can hear the voice of my ex-husband in my head telling me hurtful things about myself — “You’re selfish. It’s all about Stephanie.” “You are crazy. loco.” “You are such a [insert expletive here.]“  and then the stinger – one of those things said in the middle of the divorce, purposely to hurt me – “You know you’ll get divorced again.”

And anyone who has ever been divorced will get this – you  let yourself go back  there in your head sometimes. You let the negative self-talk take hold.  It’s not right. It’s not fair. It sucks. But you do. You must work toward not letting the past control your present and future. And you know this.

I’m not perfect, but anyone who knows me, knows – I’ve worked really, really hard to move past the pain of the divorce, the sense of failure it brought to me and all the lies. Lies. Lies. Lies.

I’ve embraced truth. (Ok, so I lied to get a piece of cake, but you know what I mean.) And I found a guy who is about as truthful as it gets. Sometimes his “tell-it-like-it-is” style makes me giggle. Like when he once told Roomie that a new haircut looked fantastic and much better than the old way she wore her hair. [hand smack on forehead...]

I’m going to be really honest here. I didn’t mean to fall in love again so soon. Every book warned against it. Every expert said, watch out! Old habits will quickly return, patterns will resurface. And sometimes, in my relationship with the fiance, I can smell those old patterns of co-dependency, putting my needs before his, non-communication…and so on.

But I fight it. And I work on myself [almost*] every day. *We all know there are days where you lay around and don’t work on anything but sitting on your butt.

What this comes down to is loving myself, staying true to myself and being ok with some failure. What this comes down to in my relationship is communication, support for the other person,  trust, allowing the other person to fully thrive as themself and loving them for who they are,  being ok with some failure and a sense of humor. 

The other night we had an argument. He gets angry when I go into defeatist mode. It’s his biggest struggle with me. (Some day, I’ll share with you about issues I have with him, but this is about me today.) I get really negative sometimes, like there’s no water in the glass negative.

And in that fight, the fear crept in.  The voices swirled in my head. I tried to stay in the moment. What this discussion was about. Focus on communication and resolution.

He told me how he would like us to resolve the issue at hand. (He is such a good communicator, I must say.)

I wondered if he could live with me if we didn’t resolve it.

Like could he still love me, even if I wasn’t perfect. Even if I was selfish and negative and whiney?

I needed to know that he could still love me. Codependency crept in.

I love myself. I need to do this for myself.

We finished our discussion on a good note, but in the back of my head, there were underlying issues, related to the argument that I needed to figure out.

The next day, I made some mental adjustments, took action toward a positive change and resolved some of the conflict that I was bringing into my own life.

This wasn’t about him. This was about me. About my journey. And when I work on myself, our relationship only benefits from that work.

Later that night, I told him about my adjustments and the steps I took to better myself. Because I love myself. And I’m lucky enough to have found someone who loves me too — and yes, just as I am with no changes. (I knew that, but that stupid divorce doubt tried to rear its ugly head.)

And so, while I’m at odds with some nasty national statistics about divorce rates for second marriages, I know the following things are truth:

  • I will get married again on February 27 to the love of my life.
  • I’m so glad I met him, even if it was “too soon.”
  • Marriage can be tough, and you have to work at it. But it’s worth it.
  • Not only am I loved, but I have a support network that is outa this world.
  • I can only change myself and not him. And I am responsible for loving myself. This love will help me better love the fiance and make our love stronger.
  • I trust him with all my heart and do not doubt him. Our mutual trust makes us stronger.
  • I am a work in progress and not perfect. Our marriage won’t be perfect, but when it’s not, we will communicate and laugh. Because that’s all you can do sometimes.
  • The glass does have some water (or wine) in it. And when it comes to my relationship with the fiance, it’s over flowing.
  • I’m kicking my divorce demons in the balls and saying to hell with the lies. 
  • He doesn’t complete me (because I don’t believe anyone can), but I am sure lucky to have him sharing my life with me.

 Those of you who are married, what are some of your secrets to success? Those of you who are divorced, how have you moved past your demons and would you get married again? Single friends, what is your take on marriage and would you do it?

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November 3, 2009

Time Out

I needed a time out.

Yesterday, I took a PTO day and didn’t check e-mail. That doesn’t sound like a big deal, but I have a Blackberry and a habit of responding to things at all hours. But yesterday, I said, no to e-mail and yes to:

  • New tags for my car. I am officially a Missourian now. Unfortunately, just an hour after I had my new tags, I ran home to use the restroom and let Gertie out before running some fun errands (read: shopping). I was maybe home for five minutes. I walked outside and at that moment, I was getting a ticket. I hadn’t put my new plates on because I didn’t have a wrench.  Fantastic.
  • Local Shopping. I love days where I can just wander around with no agenda. Browsing for vintage jewelry for my wedding dress, funky shoes to wear under my wedding dress,  candles for my jacuzzi bathtub, a couple of bottles of wine for Fire & Wine night and…
  • Ingredients to make Chicken & Dumplings.
  • A good run with Gertie.
  • Covering my entire kitchen in flour. Somehow whenever I use flour in a recipe, I seem to spread it everywhere. As we were slurping down our dinner, the fiance looked down and noticed that Gertie had bits of flour on her ears and back.

I would say it was time well spent.

By the way, check out my post about working at the Perfect Wedding Guide show with my artsy & quirky photographer Blue Rue Photography. I may or may not have lied to get a few pieces of wedding cake.

Shameless. Someone needs to go in time out…

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October 30, 2009

Quirkyville Quirks: Yes, you can wear a Wonder Woman costume to work

Someone actually found my blog by googling, “Can I wear a Wonder Woman costume to work?” I’m not sure if I’m really the best person to be taking professional etiquette from, just so you know….but I did today.

So, this is how the morning played out.

 I got up. Usual time. Showered, make-up (but luckily remembered that Wonder Woman does not wear glasses so put in contacts.)

Also, my shelf in the bathroom medicine cabinet decided to come tumbling down due to a peg that fell out somehow. So I slipped and tripped over my deodorant and since the lid fell off when it landed on the ground, I got deodorant all over my foot.  Loverly.

Then I went in my closet and pulled out my costume. I put on the pantyhose and then the elastic  star- print bottoms.

All right. They are panties, but I don’t want to say I put on panties to go to work. That’s just…wrong.

Then I woke up the fiance to help me get into my corset. He groggily got up and I informed him I was kind of running late so if he could snap, snap, you know, come over and tie me in, that would be great.

I got it over my head and he started lacing.

And lacing.

And tightening.

And re-lacing.

It just wasn’t working at all. He’d get the top tight enough so that my chest wasn’t hanging out, but then, it would come loose as he moved his way down the corset.

He was getting mad.

I was sweating bullets.

I was late, half-dressed and now sweaty.

He was tired, not dressed and trying to figure out the mechanics of a corset.

It was a hot mess.

15 minutes later, I was sucked in and “modest.” He let Gertie out and went back to bed. I threw on sweats and a hoodie and ran out the door with the rest of the pieces for my costume in a bag, almost forgetting to grab my pumpkin cheese ball that I made for our office party.

15 minutes into work, I was dying.

I couldn’t breathe. I felt so constricted by the tight corset. I wondered how women in the 1700’s survived. They certainly didn’t eat. Or breathe much.

I made it through our office work party where I showed up in full gear — wig and all, and then changed out of the corset in time to enjoy our potluck lunch.

Much. better.

Also, it was kind of weird to wear spandex panties at work…

So, can you wear a Wonder Woman costume to work? Yes, but I don’t really recommend it. If you like to eat, breathe and show up on time.

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