Nothing to lose.

*** Let me just begin this post with a heads-up for any relatives of mine who might be reading. Today?  Just stop here.  Really.  Come back and see me another day, please, but this post is not for you.  I love you all dearly, but I don’t think you need to read this Girl Talk post. 

For those of you who are not related by blood or law, carry on.  Just bear in mind, this week, it’s all about FANTASY. ***

In a world with no consequences, you’ve got nothing to lose.  What is your fantasy?

Wow.  That’s pretty darn wide open, isn’t it?  I mean, wow.  You’ve got nothing to lose.  Nothing.

That’s actually a large part of the fantasy for me – feeling you have nothing to lose.  Just letting go and running with it.  I melt at the thought of letting passion and desire swarm over you.  Letting it rule your mind and dictate your actions completely.  Just go for it.  Do whatever you desire, however you choose, wherever, whenever. 

Adding the risk of “getting caught” spices it up too, though I guess that sort of goes against the idea of a world without consequences.  Perhaps I should explain. 

I read an article recently about a restaurant somewhere in the U.S. that is notorious for having sexy bathrooms.  And, by sexy bathrooms I mean – bathrooms people frequent to have sex.  Yeah.  They’re not popular for their cheesecake.  Diners just want to do it in their bathrooms.  So, for Valentine’s Day, restaurant management decided to play it up.  They encouraged couples in a way that meant more than turning the other cheek. 

While the thought of standing in line for a turn in a stall does not appeal to me in the least, doesn’t it sound wildly fun to sit across a table from your special someone in the middle of a crowded restaurant lost deep in your desire for each other as you sip your wine and bide your time - until you just can’t keep your hands off each other?  Impulses sweep you away.  Your judgment goes out the window with reality and you just succomb.  Steal a moment, find a spot, and make a crazy, wonderful memory.

Imagine moonlight on the beach.  You two are virtually alone, although you know that could change at any moment.  And somewhere in time, in the air between you – the air that has lessened, and lessened still more, as you felt the pull of each other.  Any sense of care about being seen, heard, or even stumbled upon slowly drifted away like a broken shell in the tide.  You can hardly see each other in the darkness.  The sand is wet and cool compared to your bodies.  You are absolutely lost in passion.  The world around you is muted by the sound of the ocean rolling in and out and in again.

It really could be most anywhere, because it’s not the time or the place but the pull.  It’s the irresistibility.  An urge that can’t be squelched.  A want turned need.  That “I don’t give a damn - I want you now,” feeling. 

For me, it’s not about costumes or toys or role plays.  It’s not even about far away romantic locations or bodies beautiful.  My fantasy is the passion itself.  A passion that is so magnetic and electric you lose sight of everything else and let it swallow you whole.  You can’t help yourself.  You just let go…like you’ve got nothing to lose.

Have some whine, won’t you?

I think it’s necessary to introduce this week’s Girl Talk Thursday with a very suitable complaint – whiners.  I really cannot stand whiners.  I mean, everyone deserves and needs an opportunity to vent on occasion.  And, it’s only natural to need to complain a little in life.  But, whiners?  They stand in a class of their own…and I hate them. (I can hear BigGirl in my mind right now saying, “ooooooh…you said Hhhhaaaaate…..” because in my house, that’s a dirty word.)  But, I do.  I hate them. 

People, everyone’s life is hard from time to time.  Everyone’s got something to complain about.  My attitude is – if it’s really that bad, quit whining and get up off your bootie and do something about it. 

That said, this week’s Girl Talk Thursday is all about complaining.  Today we all get a free pass to let’er rip.  So, please do not walk away from this post thinking, “Man…that chick is a whiner.”  Really, I pledge to try my best to never achieve that status.  And you all have permission to smack my face till the make-up comes off if I get that way.  Please, do it.

Anyhow…what’s buggin’ you?  Oh wait, it’s my turn first.  Get ready, folks.  Here we go…

1. It’s times like these when I feel like the demands of professionals in my line of business is absolutely completely humanly impossible.  It is a joke.  We are taken advantage of because the world - the government, the districts, the parents, everyone – knows most of us in this line of business will suck it up and get it done, even if it means sacrificing your sleep, your family, your home, your wallet, and your sanity.  And I think that stinks.  It’s times like these that I seriously consider a permanent career change.  And that really stinks, too.

2.  Money really should grow on trees.  Don’t you agree?  I mean, it’s kinda hard to come by sometimes.  And it takes a lot of work to keep up with it.  And everyone sure does want it once you’ve got it.  That all stinks.

3.  Time is ridiculously hard to come by, too. 

4.  I cannot seem to wake up in the mornings for the life of me!!  Even when I actually have a sleep-filled  night, and I go to bed at a decent hour, I just can’t get out of bed in the morning!  This, I think is partially related to …..

5.  The weather.  I am completely DONE with winter for this year.  I’m ready for spring to spring and stay sprung.  I’m tired of layering, tired of jackets, tired of cold mornings (see #4), tired of it all.  And, I’m ready to wear my flip flops and NOT watch my toes turn blue, thank you very much.

6.  Speaking of weather, we’ve had some rainy days in my neck of the woods this week…which reminds me of something else I’m totally sick of – WET PANT LEG HEMS.  Ugh.  This has become a major pet peeve of mine, just this season.  Wet pant legs are cold, dirty, and generally icky.

7.  I want to play.  I want to run away for a little bit and be footloose and fancy free.  Being  a grown-up really stinks sometimes.

8.  I haven’t had the time and energy to do enough of the things I love lately – like read (still haven’t even gotten into the flashback chapters of Dragonfly in Amber yet), write (yes, I know, I’ve been writing some…but not as much as I’d like), cook (believe it or not, I actually enjoy this…but hate it when it feels more of a burden than a pleasure), and sew (ha! those were some high hopes I had for myself).

9. My house needs to be cleaned…like ALWAYS.  I’m over it.  I need a housekeeper.

10.  My house is littered with laundry…like ALWAYS.  I’m over it.  I need a housekeeper.

11.  Mean kids make me mad.  This week, I’ve had to take time out of my day every freaking day to mend hurt feelings and dole out consequences and guidance because of someone’s unkindness.  Can’t we all just get along, people?  What makes people mean??? (Don’t answer that…I really do know the answer.  Well, I know some of the answers.)

12.  I need to lose weight and I hate myself for it.  I hate when I go undoing good hard work that I’ve already done. 

13. Forgive me, people…but I’m over the Olympics and American Idol.  I’m completely over them.  I do not care.  At all. 

14. I’m also over this freaking war.  I don’t want to go getting all political on you, but I think I tend to be a pacifist for the most part.  (See #11 – Can’t we all just get along?) I think there is a MAJOR shortage of tolerance all over the world – and a MAJOR amount of arrogance. (oooooh…I should put arrogance in this list somewhere….)

15. This week’s SeaWorld death really bummed me out.  Ridiculously so…I have no personal affiliations or anything, but I am utterly saddened by this poor trainer’s death.  That stinks.

16.  My baby girl doggie needs a haircut.  I don’t want to take her, though, until the weather warms up.  She’s sensitive.  She shivers when she’s cold, so she needs all the layers she can get.  (Speaking of, see #6.)

17.  I need to get to the gym more often, because I need to lose weight (see #12), but I can’t seem to get out of bed in the morning to go before work (see #4).  Also, I really wish my gym had more locations with child care and more yoga classes during the hours that I am available and the child care center is open.  (Why don’t they ask for my input when planning this stuff?)

18.  My house needs the carpet ripped out…like 5 years ago.  I hate it.  We MUST do this ASAP.

19.  For the past few days, my hip has been all funky when I wake up in the morning.  I really dislike feeling like my body is letting me down. (This is another reason why I need to get to the gym and yoga.  See #17)

And lastly -

20.  The really cool games that are on my laptop (like Scrabble, Wheel of Fortune, Family Feud, and Jeopardy) are no longer free to play.  They want me to pay to play the games and that is freaking ridiculous!!!! I refuse to sign up to purchase virtual game tokens so I can play a game on my own computer!!!!! (See #2)  This especially stinks because my whole house was completely enjoying those games, even the girlies.  :(

 

All righty then.  I feel a bit better….I think.  Actually, I think writing this post just got me all fired up…crap.

In order to cool us all off again, what do you say we have a little silliness?  Shall we take a lesson from that baby girl doggie I mentioned up in #16?  Let’s all just kiss and be merry.

Daisy's a lover from Jenny Nash on Vimeo.

 

***Yeah, that’s the real me.  I’m all serious like that.  All.  The.  Time.  If you have no sense of humor, people, you’ve got NOTHIN’.***

I'm Golden

I'm going to be completely honest with you. I really don't care much about the Olympics.

I know. You're all probably gasping and slapping a hand over your now gaping mouth. Sorry.

When I was little, I enjoyed them....you know, figure skating, syncronized swimming, all that jazz. And, there for a while, a dozen or so years ago, I could get into them...but, now??? Not so much.

Perhaps it's the change in television coverage. Is it me or does it seem like the coverage is much choppier and lighter now? It feels like it has narrowed in variety, too. But then again, perhaps its just me.

And, I'm embarrassed to admit, I'm minorly annoyed by the commentators. And the cowbells. Don't get me wrong, cowbells have a place in the world. I just don't think that place is on the slope of a snow-covered mountain amongst a crowd of screaming fans, layered behind loudspeakers saying the same message over and over again in multiple languages AND annoying television commentators rambling on and on about crap I don't really care about.

Now, with that said, it's Girl Talk Thursday. This week, we're talking Olympics.

What would I medal in, were I to find myself in the Olympics???

Oh, the glory...I could be a double medalist.

1. Making new outfits out of the same old stuff.

I can remember standing in my mother's walk-in closet years ago thinking, "One day, I want to have this many clothes." Lofty goal, right? I think I've achieved that now.

However, before that goal was realized, I wanted to present the same effect. One summer, I challenged myself. Could I go to the entire summer term without ever repeating the same outfit? Of course, repeating individual items was permitted - but never used exactly the same way. Accessorize it differently, combine it with different pieces, change it up somehow.

I think I succeeded. If not, I came darn close.

I still rarely repeat exact outfits. I tend to think of my closet in sort of a "choose your own adventure" sort of way. In fact, just this week I repeated an exact outfit and, since I'm being honest, I felt like I was cheating. I don't want to bore anyone, you know? A girl's gotta keep'em guessing.

2. Falling down.

When I was pregnant with BigGirl, I had at least three nasty falls. I remember tumbling down a steep flight of stairs at my grandmother's house as a child. I have a pair of surely jinxed shoes (or two) that I fall in almost everytime I wear them.

A few years ago, I was at field day with my class when I playfully accepted a challenge from a student to race. I held my own very well until I "opened up" at the very end. I literally lost control and found myself rolling head over heels in the grass after skinning my knees, elbows and hands.

My first year of teaching, I walked over to my desk chair at the back of the classroom, sat down, and immediately toppled out of my chair onto the floor. To my embarrassment, I almost immediately had 17 startled and worried little first graders huddling around my desk, gingerly helping me up and timidly righting my chair.

Just a week or so ago, I was headed home from school when I hit a puddle with my foot and - schwoomp - thank goodness I'm flexible. I was in a half-split (in a dress, mind you) with a bruised and skinned knee. After I picked myself up and headed out the door to pick up BabyGirl from school, the custodian chased behind me saying, "You need to fill out a report!"

I waved my hand good-bye and called to her, without looking back, "I'm fine! I fall all the time!"

So girlfriends, let me know if you hear anything in the news about these two events being added to the Olympic roster. I can win these gold medals...and I can win them with style.

Counting Virtual Blessings

No one understands exactly how amazing the internet is…until you’ve experienced it firsthand. I’m not talking about how fast it is, or how the information you need is always just on the other side of a Google search. I’m talking about the human element.

Many of us who’ve dared to venture into this flat world have tried to explain the circles of friends that exist within the blogosphere to those “on the outside”. No one really gets it…and, if you’re like me, you find yourself starting to question your own sanity as you try to explain it to others, struggling to make it sound un-freaky – even though you know fully well that it isn’t creepy at all.

The internet has blessed me with a circle of friends that I never would have met otherwise. It has blessed me by strengthening my connection with friends and family in ways that may have taken years – if it would have even happened at all. And, amazingly, the internet has allowed me – no, taught me – how to open myself unabashedly to accept love whole-heartedly.

One of these blessings that have fallen into my lap is Colleen (seated at right).

You may have read my Girl Talk Thursday posts before. Colleen is a part of the crew that organizes Girl Talk. As it so turns out – by the magic of the internet – she also happens to live in my town. So, recently, we had a “tweet up” and spent an afternoon together over delicious food and amazing Riesling. We hugged tightly and sincerely, with giddy smiles, the minute we recognized each other.

Colleen embraces the world with that same tenacity. She does not shy from affection – which makes me love her even more. She never tempers her kindness and support with cynicism. …but at the same time, she can drop an awesome f-bomb (or three) over lunch and you’ll laugh till your head hurts and your sides ache.

In short, I’m so thankful that I know her and I have her as a friend, an ear, and a shoulder. I know she will be there whenever I call.

Thank you, Colleen.

And, thank you for my award. :)

Now, for the nitty- gritty. Here’s how this works…

1. Thank the person who nominated you for the award.

2. Copy and paste the award on your blog.

3. Link to the person who nominated you for the award.

4. Share seven interesting things about yourself.

5. Nominate your own seven Beautiful Bloggers.

Now, I know you’re all itching to hear seven interesting things about me…and, quite honestly, I am too. I mean, seven???? Really people??? Wow…I’m hard-pressed to come up with two.

1. I live with my heart in the driver’s seat and my brain in the backseat, holding onto the “oh shit” bar and gritting its teeth (she’s not that great of a driver). I’ve tried it the other way around though, and it just isn’t for me. If you don’t like it, keep it to yourself. If you do, come on in. You’re welcome to ride with me. It is sure to be worth it in the end.

2. My only clear memories of recess are from my earliest school days, preschool or kindergarten, at Trinity Day School in Texas. I remember standing in our little navy jumpers at the back corner of a faded asphalt basketball court, out behind the bigger building on campus. There was a chain link fence covered in a vine. As a child, I was sure it was honeysuckle, though in retrospect, perhaps it was a variety of jasmine. I remember picking and sucking the blossoms with my friends. I also remember walking in the grass, picking buttercups and touching the pollen inside the petals with my little fingers, singing Mary Had a Little Lamb and playing London Bridge.

3. I can’t stand to have my mouth and nose covered up. I have this crazy fear of suffocating. Thankfully, it’s gotten a lot better over the past dozen or so years, but I still don’t like it.

5. I will turn 33 this summer. That number echoes and reverberates in my head like the calculator screen when you divide 100 by 3. 33.333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333………………

This is not to say that I’m troubled by this age; really, I’m fine with it. I actually rather like it. (Which is an improvement. I didn’t like 29 or 30 too much.) It just always produces that mental image of duplicity…or triplicity…or, so on… I think it must be something about the number three.

6. Ever since I visited my brother in Boston a few years ago, and spent the days and nights walking between Harvard Square and his apartment and all amongst the historic sites in downtown Boston, I’ve wanted to move into an urban-urban area and sell my car. I’m “over” driving half an hour to get anywhere in town (i.e. anywhere in Jacksonville). I think this goes along the lines of simplifying my life – shop at a corner store, walk to neighborhood restaurants, trade my backyard for a park, push a stroller vs. load up in car seats. I’m getting burnt out on suburbia.

7. I’m currently in the middle of a love affair with fresh mozzarella. I keep it in my bottom fridge drawer and have a hard time not eating large quantities of it at a time. I treat myself to it alone with a glass of wine, though sometimes I enjoy it beside sliced apples or Wheat Thins, before or after dinner. BigGirl calls it “squishy cheese” and complains when she sees the package because “it’s so juicy”. I think it’s a lot like being in love with a dork. “I know he’s kinda ugly, but he makes me happy…”

Now, for the fun part. I get to pass it on!

1. My sister-in-law, Steph, has really risen to the occasion. She’s been there – tried and true – for me like no other. She and I have laughed, cried, drank, texted, emailed, chatted, talked, you name it. We’ve even sent each other ecards of questionable taste. We have always had so much in common, but recently, she’s become so much more than a sister-in-law to me. And for that, I am so incredibly thankful….even if she is a little SWF sometimes and copies my every move while perched atop a burro. I mean, imitation is the highest form of flattery, right? (hee hee)

2. Nominating Cheryl is sort of like cheating, because Colleen nominated her, too…but she deserves it! Cheryl is a cheerleader like no other. She and I have a real world connection, but it is through the power of the twitterverse and the blogosphere that we have the relationship that we have today. Cher and I dug into the trenches together through NaBloPoMo until we came out alive. Cher and I have cried together over emails and I think both of us nearly crawled through the phone at the sound of each other’s voice recently. I, too, can’t wait to see her again and give her a huge hug – and let my mascara streak down my face with my tears of joy.

3. Another blessing brought to me by the internet is this lady. I really don’t know what to link to exactly, since she’s sort of stepped out of the comfort of this little bloggy world to which we belong…and into the slightly racier world of fanfic….but I love her. Scratch that - I should have written, "AND I love her." No buts. She, too, is a budding writer. And for all you Twilight lovers, look for her red-hot-Mac-wearing lips to grace the flaps of book jackets at stores near you someday in the future…you’ll find her in the vampire/werewolf/supernatural/romance/emo section. Anyhow, Meadow, stick this award wherever you find appropriate (since you’ve abandoned your old blog) and feel the love I’m sending with it.

4. I couldn’t do this without sending some love to my real world #1 bloggy/twitter companion, Melanie. I’ve mentioned her here before…she’s the one that started this snowball for me. She can be very persuasive. Melanie and I have so much in common…I am so thankful to have her as a friend, a confidant, and a colleague. She’s got my back, she’s in my corner, and I love her. She freaking rocks.

5. I have not been fortunate enough to meet this chick in person yet, but she truly inspires me. I mean, wow. Her writing is more honest than I thought humanly possible. Her blog tells all and then some about her journey as a recovering alcoholic, lover, and woman. She has gracefully read some of my more private writings – ones I’ve written in response to her own work – writing she has inspired. She may not agree with me, but I see her as an incredibly courageous and strong person and writer, I can only hope some of that rubs off on me. She is someone I admire.

6. My next honoree is my “cousin”, Sean. He probably doesn’t care about this at all – because he all big and bad like that. He runs with the cool crowd, you know. :) Can you remember how it felt to be a little kid and watch older kids & teenagers and think how cool it would be to be big and grown like them? That’s kind of how I feel about him. He’s madly in love with his wife and daughters, and I think that’s amazing. I’d love to meet him one day. I know we would hug and laugh and have a blast – and I’d love to meet his wife and babies, too. I’d hug them all and give squeezes to his baby girls (because all babies deserve squeezes, not because I’m a freaky stalker chick or anything). So, Sean, do with this what you will, and know it is sent with admiration.

7. And, for my last blogger, I’m going to bend the rules. I’m sending this Beautiful Blogger award to another of my kindred spirits, Jen Z. A colleague of mine, she’s been talking to me about starting her own blog – and I’m TOTALLY going to make that happen…NOW! She will be a favorite of yours, I just know it. She’s witty, intelligent, and a lot like me…what’s not to like? hee hee I can’t wait to start reading all that goes on in her head; I’m positive it will not disappoint. Stay tuned for a linky coming your way soon.

All righty, folks. We've finally reached the end of this uber-long awards post. I think I hear the music playing....

Valentine’s Day Dilemma

I’m late.  What else is new?

I received my first heart-shaped box of chocolate of the season yesterday morning at about 9 AM.  I ate the four yummy little confections enclosed inside by about 9:05. 

I’ve written about this holiday before.  But, this week, Girl Talk Thursday is all about the big V Day.  So, here I go…

I really am a romantic at heart.  It isn’t that I’m a cynic or cold-hearted.  However, I believe that Valentine’s Day places undue stress on many relationships: budding, struggling, and even just busy.  Not to mention the alienation of the entire world of singles….it’s like the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve and they’re left without anyone to kiss – except it lasts all…day…long.  A full twenty……four……hours………..of awkwardness.

This holiday forces people to lump their relationships into silos and give gifts that are suitable to the status of their bonds.  As I’ve mentioned before, I fear rejection desperately.  In this, I know I am not alone.  For those young and “it’s complicated” relationships, Valentine’s Day builds up even more hype and tension surrounding those electrical impulses that silently, invisibly dart through the air between our limbic lobes.  And that hype and tension does nothing but congest the airways, making it difficult for emotion to navigate.

I will say, with certainty, that I love to watch little people practice the show of affection this time of year.  There is a lesson integrated within this day of romance and emotion.  I love to see their faces light up with pride, excitement and anticipation as they thrust at you their folded, stickered, commercial valentine with your name chicken-scratched onto the outside.  I smile and oooooh and aaaaaah and hug them as though they’ve just presented me with a priceless diamond ring.  Sometimes, they blush.  Sometimes, they tentatively and oh-so-slightly step in closer as I read the silly message, eagerly awaiting my squeeze and squeals.  This is my favorite part of the annual Valentine’s Day season.  It is so good and pure I can’t help but grow more than a little sentimental.

I also have lovely visions in my future mind of little gray couples sitting sweetly at a breakfast table, sipping coffee and reading.  Their movements much slower in this decade of their love story, one gingerly hands the other a card.   It’s just a simple card, but the words inside tell a story that brings a smile to their faces.  Their hearts are still the same young, frisky hearts that stood before the world and said “I do”.  The same scared, hopeful hearts that kissed the soft little round head of an itty-bitty baby.  The same proud, bittersweet hearts that stood together and clapped for their young graduate.  Those two lovers, who now routinely remind each other of appointments and dietary guidelines and when to take their pills and what year they met, know Valentine’s Day as a sweet gift.

So, I guess in sum, I find Valentine’s Day is best for the very young and the very old.  All the rest of us just need to take more care to live more lovingly everyday. 

‘Fraidy Cat

It’s Thursday…so it’s time for Girl Talk.  Although, if you ask me, this week’s Girl Talk Thursday topic really isn’t girlie at all, if you ask me.  It’s actually rather gender neutral.  This week, we’re talking about fears.

This post has been very personally revealing to work on.  I always considered myself somewhat cowardly, but after thinking about my fears, my experiences, and what I’m sure I could probably be talked into doing…I’m realizing that I’m a little gutsier than I thought. 

But, there are still some things of which I am very much afraid.  For instance,

 

Cliff Diving 

You know those beautiful, picturesque scenes in movies that highlight the graceful arc and fall of a beautiful, tan body, ending with a swooshing splash into the gorgeous water below?  That will NEVER be me.  Not only am I a bit chicken to dive at all – but I’m EXTREMELY terrified at the thought of diving into the ocean.  And, diving right next to a rocky cliff???  Who are we kidding?  I would be splattered on the rocks somewhere between here and there – and the word “graceful” would not enter anyone’s mind.  I think the words “horrific trauma” would be a much better description.

 

Hurt Feelings

I never want to hurt other people’s feelings.  Well, perhaps never is a strong word.  Let me clarify…if you kick me when I’m down – I will snap.  If you hurt my babies – I’ll hurt you back.  But, until that point, I never intend on hurting anyone’s feelings.  I am the person who replays conversations over and over again in my head asking myself, “Was I too rude?  Do you think I shouldn’t have said that?  Did they know I was only kidding?”…and so on. 

In fact, tonight I considering this as my Facebook status:

The irony.  On my way home this evening, I passed by a pack of Jehovah’s Witnesses on their bicycles stopped right beside a sign advertising concealed weapon classes.  That gave me a chuckle.  Guess I won’t make the cut, huh?

I deleted it before pressing that oh-so-final “share” button because I could just imagine one of my friends reading it and thinking, “Uh!  I’m a Jehovah’s Witness!  What is she saying?? What did she mean by that??”  I meant nothing by it, other than it was funny to see them parked next to that sign….but I was so AFRAID that someone would misunderstand/misconstrue/misinterpret the way my little brain puts two things together, and get their feelings hurt, that I just couldn’t do it.

This is also what keeps me from making a stink (most of the time) to people about incompetence.  And it is a chief reason for my avoiding conflict as long as possible.  (That’s not to say I avoid it completely…just until I can’t stand it anymore.)

Scary Movies

They give me migraines and nightmares.  I feel sick to my stomach.  None of that is FUN.  I watch movies for enjoyment – not torture.  I have NO DESIRE to watch something that is intended to FREAK ME OUT.  Thank you, but no thank you.

 

Rejection

Sad, but true.  I am still afraid of being rejected…and I’m how old?  Yep.  Rejection is still below the belt. 

 

 

As I mentioned earlier, preparing for this post made me realize that I’m braver than I think.

Things I considered listing, but then admitted that I could probably be talked into doing…

I could be talked into bungee jumping.

I could be convinced to try sky diving…I can reassure myself that it’s safe enough to try because I’ve known quite a few people who’ve done it.

I could muster up the bravery to do things (hold, let them crawl on me, etc.) involving bugs and weird animals…short of eating them…Although, I’m fairly willing to try eating new and “strange” foods, though I don’t necessarily think I will enjoy them.  Like ants, for instance…I could eat ants.  Roaches?  No.  Snake? Crickets? Worms? Sure.  Tarantula?  Absolutely not.  (I love to watch Anthony Bourdain.  I would LOVE to go on a trip with him somewhere.)

I guess the bottom line is, while I’m generally an apprehensive person, I will find courage and face obstacles and challenges when I need to…or when I’m pressured into it. :) I’ve learned through experiences that I can do WAAAAY more than I think I can.  For instance,

I’ve learned to love roller coasters and I’ve always loved speed. 

Heights don’t bother me at all.  I was slow and careful this summer as I climbed a 20-foot ladder to clean my grandmother’s windows after soaking them with bug spray in a massive attempt to kill the 2 1/2-inch hornet that invaded her house and tried to kill us all.  I was far more afraid of that nasty, (surely) deadly hornet than the rickety extension ladder held stable by a near 300-pound man at its base!

I earned my SCUBA certification, thanks to a very patient, gentlemanly UF instructor who was willing to meet me at the pool – at night (yeah, retrospect…???) - and help me conquer my crippling “nose breather” disability.

 

And, I’m sure many of you, my fellow ‘fraidy cats, have similar stories of achievement and conquered fears.  It really is all mind over matter…right?

It’s no secret…

This week, Girl Talk Thursday asks us to spill the beans on beauty secrets.  Apparently, I’m pretty above-board and traditional in my beauty regimens, because I can’t think of anything that’s really a “secret” per say.  However, as always, I’ll be happy to share what comes to mind. 

 

 

I remember sitting in an airport terminal one day, years ago, waiting for my brother’s flight to land and deplane.  Sometimes, as you drift further away mentally from the real world in which you’re surrounded, your face starts to sag and look a bit mopey.  This sweet, unnamed man walked by, with his carry on bag in hand, and beckoned me back from La La Land with the words,”You look much prettier when you smile.”

Wise words.  I have remembered that moment on several occasions since then.  I’m pleased to say that, as a general rule, I walk through the world with a smile on most days, most occasions.  In fact, it’s a quality I’m actually proud of in myself.  (Stop the presses – I’ve just publicly admitted something I like about myself!)  That man was right – any and every face looks better with a smile.

I had this very conversation last spring with a coworker who – believe it or not – actually argued against me.  She can’t stand her smile.  She doesn’t like what her teeth look like and she doesn’t like what happens in the lines on her face.  I say: bull honky.  A smile makes eyes sparkle. It says, “I have good to bring into your life.  Come, speak to me,” to those around you.  That is beautiful.

 

I also have been trained (That word sounds much nicer than “brainwashed”, doesn’t it?) by My Mama in the importance of proper undergarments.  Foundational pieces are essential in many ways.  (1) Like Colleen, I cannot stand panty lines.  They flatter NO behind.  (2) Droopy boobs are not hot.  Not even close.  I don’t care how big they are.  There are no excuses.  (3) A slip IS important.  Now, I will be the first to admit that there are SOME skirts with which you just cannot wear a slip…knit skirts with roll tops, for instance.  But, in most cases, slips make a huge difference in creating a smooth, soft silhouette.  It makes a difference.  (4)I feel prettier when I look pretty UNDER my clothes, too.  I look for a panty that flatters my own body. I want color, lace, pretty patterns.  Hell, I want my bra and panties to coordinate!  (Let’s get real, I want them to match my outfit, too, when the Laundry Fairies are cooperative.)  All of this matters to me.  I don’t want to feel like I’m hiding something ugly beneath the surface…beauty is subliminal.

 

Speaking of subliminal, good shoes are SO important.  Not only because your feet need to look pretty…but it is important to wear shoes that are comfortable for you when you’re walking.  By this, I mean if you cannot walk in those stilettos without relaxing your butt cheeks and thighs – do not wear them.  A hobble is not an attractive gait, nor is a wobble.  Watch beautiful women walk.  They walk with a long, but not too long, relaxed stride.  They stretch their legs and open their body, without looking like they’re jumping over puddles.  If your toes are crunched and you’ve got blisters on your heels or you’re about to fall off the pedestal on which you’ve perched yourself for the day – it will show in your every move.  That is not beautiful.

 

Related to walking, posture is SO important.  One of my best friends used to carry herself tucked up like a little rolly-poley.  Eyes downcast, shoulders slumped.  Beauty (by my definition) is an invitation to the world to want you, to love you.  Carry yourself with pride.  Carry your body like you love it, even if you don’t.  Stand tall and straight.  Not only will your clothes look better, your boobs look better, you will look thinner, but (beauty is subliminal) you will shine to those who see you.  If this is is a change for you, pay attention when people compliment you.  Don’t be surprised if people smile bigger when they see you coming and, perhaps even, call you “Beautiful” or “Gorgeous”. 

 

As far as wardrobe issues are concerned, choose clothes that make you feel like a million dollars.  If you feel uncomfortable, if your waist is cinched too tight, if you keep tugging at the top of the dress, if you don’t LIKE the way you look – you will not be beautiful.  Trust me.  This is why (personal issue coming out now) I take FOREVER to get dressed in the morning.  I insist on feeling “just right” everyday.  If I leave the house in an outfit that makes me feel frumpy or itchy or fat or anything less than “I love myself today and I can’t wait to wear this outfit again soon” – I will be miserable all day long.  I will think of nothing more than going home, putting on my pajamas, climbing back into bed, and hiding beneath my covers until I get a chance to try again the next day.  Beauty is subliminal. 

 

My last “secret” to beauty is to be a risk-taker.  You only live once (that we know of for sure), and that life is all too short.  Dare to think outside of your own box.  Dare to try something new.  If you’ve worn the same makeup since you were twelve, it’s time to break that mold.  If you’ve worn the same style of jeans since you left high school, it’s time to hit the dressing rooms.  If you’ve worn your hair the same way for as long as you can remember, call your stylist.  Now.  If you need one, call me and I’ll help you find one.  If you can’t decide which necklace to wear because you love them both – ask yourself how it would look to wear them both.  You never know till you try.  Think you can’t wear green or yellow or red?  Try a different shade…(Need help with color? Call me…I can help you.  Or read this book.  My Mama always had it in our house when I was growing up, and then it was a textbook for one of my fashion classes!)  Wear the flower in your hair.  Choose the red coat, not the black one.  Try it with a hat.  Wear boots with dresses.  Hell, wear pirate boots!  You will be glad you did.  And, beauty is subliminal.

 

I suppose I could have written a post today listing all the products I use, my daily facial cleansing routine, how I style my hair, and revealing the secrets that unfold behind the doors of the salon.  But, when I really thought about what made me feel pretty, that is not what really mattered. 

A few months ago, FireDaddy and I were looking at old pictures.  (By old, in this case, I’m referring to the beginning of our digital era.)  He told me he’s always thought I was pretty, but he thinks I’m much prettier now than I was back then.  What do I think has changed?  Between those days and these, I’ve worn my hair many ways, my clothing styles have changed, my weight has gone up and down and up and down…but the biggest difference I can see is that I like myself better now.  I really do.  As I age, I am learning to be the person I want to be and love the person I am.

I am convinced, friends, that this is life’s real beauty secret.

That really gets my goat.

As much as the topic for this week’s Girl Talk Thursday excites me (Because who doesn’t enjoy a chance to gripe about the little things in life that send you to the brink?), I really don’t need something else to get me worked up right now…if you know what I mean.

However, I’m choosing to embrace this as a fun opportunity to let off a little steam.  So, I invite you to pull up a keyboard and play along.  This week, we’re talking about pet peeves. [Sound cue: nails on chalkboard]

 

 

BEING IGNORED.  I HATE to be ignored.  If I say something to you – do me the common courtesy of RESPONDING.  Even if it is just a “hmmm” or “huh” or “uh-huh” – do something to acknowledge my existence, please.  I cannot stand to be ignored.

BEING TOLD WHAT TO DO.  I experience a physiological response to being told what to do – and it is not pretty.  You can tell me to do something that I fully intended to do and blood rises in my body, making my face flush and my head throb.  I nearly bite my tongue in two to stop the reflexive, “DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO,” from blurting out.  I am more than happy to help you, cooperate with you, and pull my weight – but don’t - do not - TELL ME what to do.  I will thank you for kindly phrasing your needs in the form of a request, and I will be eager to play along.  Tell me what to do, though, and you are bound to see a bit of my ‘tude.

RUDENESS.  Can’t we all just get along?  Is it really necessary to snap at people? Lay on your horn when someone doesn’t take off like a bullet when the light turns green? Must you really treat others as though they are inferior to your supreme importance and awesomeness???  You really aren’t “all that”, you know.

DANGLING PREPOSITIONS.  Yes, I did just say that.  For those of you that may have unknowingly been violating my ears, dangling prepositions are not to be confused with dangling chads.  I have not always suffered from this particular grammatical intolerance**, but it is strong, nonetheless.  I cringe when I hear people say things like, “Where is the ______ at?”  Habits are hard to break, I understand, but please acknowledge that it is a habit that needs to be broken and work on doing better.  It is not uncommon that I, too, find myself stalling midsentence, realizing this string of words is not going to end well.  At such times, I write and rewrite until I can avoid any linguistic disasters.  I promise you, if you take the time to rephrase, you will sound a thousand times more educated and intelligent. 

And, the final peeve I’ll allow myself to diverge today…

JEANS THAT ARE MOST OBVIOUSLY TOO LONG AND HAVE BEEN WORN WITH HEELS SO THAT NOW THEY HAVE FUNKED-UP-RIPPED-UP-TORN UP HEMS – AND YET THE CHICK STILL WEARS THEM.

Ladies, I totally get that longer is leaner.  I’ve watched all the shows too that tell us that, in order to create a taller, thinner silhouette, only the tips of our toes and the very bottom of our heels should show from our pant legs.  However, you can be drop dead gorgeous, and look perfect everywhere – smooth hair, impeccable make-up, to-die-for purse, luscious necklace, a blouse that flatters every curve, an oh-so-stylin’ faded look to your second-skin jeans – but the second I notice the hem of your jeans looks like someone’s rabid dog used it for as a teether, and I watch the streamers of your once intact denim hem trail after you, the image is ruined.  Like throwing a stone at a mirror, the once perfect picture of modern beauty is shattered.  Now, you just look like some girl who maxed out her Amex on her Coach bag and can’t afford a new pair of jeans.  I’m sorry your friends haven’t told you this sooner, but it’s true.

 

**Please note that stringing together multiple descriptive phrases is nowhere on my list of pet peeves.  Also, you will also not find inventive spelling, creative capitalization, or clever omission of spaces.  These grammatical infractions are all perfectly acceptable.  Well, at my discretion.**

Photo credits: http://www.flickr.com/photos/zarprey/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Girl Talk Thursday: Heartbreak City

 

Today’s Girl Talk Thursday topic is heartbreaks.  Such a touchy topic…

As you may have gathered from previous posts, I’ve had my share of boyfriends. Which is not to say that this is a point of pride for me…

I can remember riding in the car with my mother on the way to the mall; I was in high school. My heart was freshly wounded by Some Dumb Guy.  A sappy love song came on the radio and began rubbing salt in my wound.  I was trying to be brave and keep my mind off the hurt and lonely feeling that comes with breakups, but this blasted song was knocking me down brick by brick.  I remember softly, reluctantly asking my mother, “Can you please change the station?”  She respectfully agreed, and silently honored my request.  I wonder what it was like to be My Mama in that moment.  Was she thinking, “I hate seeing her like this?” or “Such a drama queen…”.  (Probably some of both.)

I did not choose my boys wisely, to say the least.  I’ve alluded to my own issues with self-esteem here before.  Here’s the bottom line: I didn’t like myself very much, so I liked just about anyone who liked me.  The truth hurts, but doesn’t make it any less true.

As you can imagine, with little to no standards for Qualifying Candidates, I got burned quite a bit.  Looking back, it seems like most guys dumped me when they had another waiting in the wings.  (Perhaps they were smarter than I give them credit for…)  That fact, of course, made it so much harder to accept.  The jealousy. The betrayal. 

And then, there was one guy that really was a jerk.  In his defense, he had no good role models.  His parents had split when he was young, young, young.  His mother lived on other side of the country and he didn’t know her AT ALL until his father, who spent a lifetime freely sharing his own twisted version of love with his sons, died.  So, along came the boy.  He liked me.  So, I considered and (of course) agreed to a date.  All was hunky-dory for a while.  I, in keeping with my own traditions, began allowing my entire life to revolve around Dumb Guy of the Moment. 

A smart enough person learns to see this as a source of control and power…and get used to it.  Often, they decide to keep things moving along the path of their choice, regardless of your thoughts.  Bottom line, I got hurt.  It hurt before it was over.  It hurt because I let it.  I was too stupid to see that I was worth more than that. I didn’t have the courage or perspective to realize I would be happier and better off without him.  I was scared and didn’t want to be alone.

Then, one day, it clicked.  I was done.  It was over.  I had had enough.  I shed my fair share of tears and wallowed in my sorrow with a few supportive friends, and then, as quickly as a baby falls asleep in their pureed peas, I flushed it.  Like a faucet, I turned it off.

A few days later, I met my husband.  He was supposed to be a rebound.  I just wanted a distraction to help me launch myself down a new road.  Turns out that road was a interstate with no end in sight. Funny how things work out. 

 

All of this “woe is me, innocent victim” talk is not, of course to say that I didn’t do my fair share of burning, as well.  I never maliciously intended to hurt, but misunderstandings happen and people change.  Girls are stupid in high school, as are boys.  And, hindsight is 20-20.  As it turns out, some girls – some “friends” – have ulterior motives behind their “advice”. 

“I feel so conflicted…I ‘love’ (because, when you’re young you think it’s love) So-And-So, but I kind of like Other Dude, too.  I don’t know what to do…”

“Oh, you should go for it…you and So-And-So are growing apart.  Follow your heart.  Go for Other Dude.  Here, why don’t I help you write the break-up note…”

A few days later, guess who’s comforting So-And-So?  Oh, look!  Now they’re a couple!  As for me and Other Dude?  Yeah.  That one will live in infamy forever among my family as the one to whom I said, “This isn’t going to last long.”  I don’t know if I said that to him, or just to my family.  But, it’s true.  I said it to someone.

 

As an adult, I’ve decided that heartbreaks come as a result of personal expectations.  (Wish I could claim credit for this profound statement, but a co-worker taught me this.)  We all have expectations for the people in our lives.  We have expectations for who and what boyfriends/husbands/lovers/friends/family members are and how they should behave.  These expectations, though, are rarely, if ever, explicitly discussed, they are often vastly different from one person to the next.  We get hurt when people don’t meet our unspoken expectations.

I expected boys would care about my feelings.

I expected they might “love” me forever - because, to me, love is forever.

I expected that they would be honorable and do the right thing.

I expected they would tell me the truth.

I expected that my girlfriends had my best interest in mind.

I expected they were being honorable, too.

I expected that, should someone truly care about me, they would fight for me.  They would come to me and say, “I don’t want to lose you.”

I expected wrong.

 

Even today, I live with heartbreak from time to time.  Who doesn’t?  My husband breaks my heart.  My children break my heart.  My friends break my heart.  My family breaks my heart.  That’s life. 

What I’m learning is that I must adjust my expectations.  The only person I can truly EXPECT anything from, is myself, because that is the only person I can – or want to - control.  I must expect more from myself than I do from others.  I’ve learned that, while I continue to open my heart to the loving people around me – who, like me, are just doing the best they can everyday, I need to give myself the unconditional love that I cannot always expect from others. 

And that, my friends, is harder than it seems.

 

 

I don’t like that this has been such a depressing post. So, to share a “feel good” with you…check out this video. You’ll like it, I promise!

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Trashy Dime Store Paperback Novels

Welcome back, Thursday! It's time again for a little Girl Talk!

Today's question: If you were in a romance novel, what would your story be?

First of all, like a few other participants, I've never really been into true romance books. I remember being a teenager and reading teen versions of romance books. I read my fair share of books with titles like Two Boy Cruise, So Inn Love, and other bubble gum teen novels like that. As a young adult, I locked myself in my room and cried all day as I read Gone With the Wind and other period romances (Eugenia Price books, for instance). I have shed at least a gallon of tears reading books by James Patterson and other authors who really know how to write about LOVE. Tragic love. But, I've never really been big into the "novels" that are really more of a lady's version of porn.

So, I'm feeling a bit uncreative with this, but I am telling the truth.

If I were in a romance novel, it would be a historical piece. But, I think I'd rather it be more of an Elizabethan era romance. I'd like to taste a little forbidden love. Just picture it, everyone is inside this gorgeous, gilded mansion, dancing in neat and proper rows. Ladies barely touching their dance partner's palms as they curtsy and step lightly in formation.

But, one lovely lady (a.k.a. THAT'S ME!), politely excuses herself from the party. Perhaps she is even betrothed to someone else. (Surely he's wealthy and a well-suited match for her station.) But, she doesn't love him. Secretly, she tingles and blushes for another.

She innocently meanders into the evening air, where, unbeknownst to her, the man who owns her heart is alone. Quietly, stealthily, one thing quickly leads to another and...well, who knew corsets could be undone so quickly?

So, who is this secret lover for whom she decides to risk it all? Well, he would ABSOLUTELY not be one of those sissy, prissy men you see depicted in historical fiction at times (Ahem, Ashley in Gone With the Wind...). He would be masculine, an excellent horseman, and, of course, handsome. Dashing. Drop dead gorgeous. His eyes make women swoon and his grin stops hearts. Perhaps he's a bit badly behaved at times...just enough to start a few whispers and gossip among the ladies. He would be socially accepted, yet remain truer to his heart than to the rules of etiquette and society. In fact, perhaps he need not be socially accepted, after all. I'm thinking a cross between Rhett Butler and Mr. Knightly (Emma by Jane Austen).

The rest of the story, I don't know. But, it has to have a happy ending. I really don't care for sad endings. Sad endings happen enough the real world; they are unnecessary in fiction.

Big Girl Panties

This post is sponsored to you by the gals at www.girltalkthursday.com.

In order to protect the classiness of this fine establishment, gentlemen, please do not read past the logo. It's time for a little...

Today, it was my turn to deliver dancers to the studio. It was a crazy day and as I drove I was mulling over lots of to-do lists and scattered thoughts. At some point, the squeals from the "way back" [3rd row of seats] penetrated through my thoughts, causing me to glance up into my "kid cam" mirror (you know the one, the second rear view mirror I keep in my car permanently focused on my daughters' seats - a.k.a. the eyes in the back of my head).

There, in my car, sat two nearly naked six year-olds. They were stripping to their little girl panties and trying to dress for dance without getting tangled in their seat belts. I laughed to myself at their shrill sounds of delight, and remembered the confidence that comes with childhood. And the tight little booties.

How many times have I thought to myself, "Man...if only I looked like that..." If my buns looked that good in leggings... If my bootie looked that good in hipster bikinis by the pool... If only I looked that cute in bootie shorts...

Over the course of my lifetime, I've worn just about every type of undergarment a woman (or man?) can imagine. Granny panty briefs (as a child), bikini bottoms, hipsters, thongs, lacey, cotton, synthetic, satin, no line, frilly trimmed, you name it.

And that's just talking about the lower half! I've worn training bras, sport bras, regular bras, lightly lined, demi-cup, full cup, underwire, racer back, nursing bras, sleep nursing bras, stick-on, front closure, long line, strapless, built-ins, custom cups sewn into evening dresses, and more.

There are some "extra" pieces, too. In the winter, I often wear camisoles as I layer for warmth. And, MyMama successfully brainwashed me growing up..."nice girls wear slips". Of these, I've worn both half and whole, long and short, with kick-slits, and without. I've even worn MATERNITY slips. (Although I do have to admit...I have a few knit skirts with fold down tops that I can't wear a slip under...they twist and ride up with a slip on.)

When I really reflect on my career as an underwear model in cognito (yeah...don't want to blow my cover so I try to keep that little secret under lock and key), regardless of the make and model, I liken underwear to hormones. They can change everything about you - your appearance, your mood, your ability to concentrate on a task at hand, constantly need tweeking, and they can transform your marriage....for better or worse.

That being said, perhaps it is not what we say of our underwear, but what our UNDERWEAR says about US...

Right now, I'm really wishing my underwear drawer didn't look quite so much like a tornado had struck.

CORRECTION!

Girl Talk Thursday was great.

I loved thinking about my list of five, reading others' lists, and sharing this girl talk moment with IRL friends.

I have to make a correction, though. As my sister-in-law and I chatted tonight about all the boys (and I say boys vs. men because we really focused on the ones that fell into the category of Robbing the Cradle) we left off the list, she brought a GROSS OVERSIGHT to my attention.

I nearly fell out of my chair when I realized what I had done!

In light of this oversight, especially considering the fact that a friend of mine nearly drug me outside to play bloody knuckles over HER man (Sorry, Matthew...I told you you were on probation. You just got a little too big for your britches for my taste.), I'd like to issue a public correction to my list of five.

My corrected #5 is... Ryan Reynolds.



Dear Ryan,



Baby, I didn't mean it.

It was a busy week and I just wasn't thinking clearly.

I could never forget about your beautiful body and adorable face.

Of course you're special to me...I've loved you all since we first met...back when you hung out with that goodie-two-shoes friend and blonde chick at the pizza place all the time. You know, your college days.

Forgive me, sweetie. You know I'm yours forever...

Well, unless number one, two, three, or four come knocking first.

x0x0,
Jenny

See you all again next Thursday!

Just a Little Ladies Room Locker Talk

Warning: The collective hotness of the population within this post may burn you, your computer monitor, and/or the surface on which your computer is resting. If you are not willing to run this risk, run the other way. In other words, if you can't take the heat, step back Jack, 'cause we's divin' into a steamin' pot of hotties.

Big Girl: Mommy, you can't tell anyone my secret, ESPECIALLY Daddy!

Me: (dazed and confused) OK....What is it?

Big Girl: I'm secretly crushing on Cute Kid from my class. But you CAN NOT tell Daddy!

Me: Really? He is cute, isn't he? I like him. He's a nice boy! I won't tell Daddy, but if we did want to tell him it's not that big of a deal, you know.

Big Girl: NO!!! You can't tell him! Besides, he doesn't have to know because I'm not going to do anything about it. I'm just going to secretly crush on him until I'm 12. By then, maybe he won't be afraid of girls anymore and I will tell him I like him.

It starts early, doesn't it?

I have to be honest. She got it from me.

My first boyfriend (that I remember) was in the first grade. His name was Chris. We snuck out of the classroom (he first, with the big wooden boys bathroom pass, then I with the ginormous girl pass). We met outside the hall bathrooms. He asked me to marry him and I declined. When he drew the line in the sand and announced his ultimatum ("Marry me or I'll break up with

you."), I stood my ground. "We can't get married! We're too young!" And, as quickly as the love affair began, the flame was extinguished.

Not to worry, Chris and I rekindled our passion in the third grade. It was WAAAAY more exciting this time, since we were actually two corners of a love triangle. You see, his best friend, Kris, also liked me. And, well, I liked being liked. I strung them along as long as it entertained to me....and then quit them both cold turkey.

That's right. I was a man eater, people. I'm not proud of it, but it's true.

Now, FireDaddy and I have been linked for a dozen years. I'm honest with him. He knows there are other men. In fact, when I asked him tonight to name my top five absentee lovers, he was spot on. (We know each other too well.)

My top five (wannabe) loves OTHER THAN my own fiery FireDaddy are:

(Drum roll, please...)

1. John Cusack. If you've been reading for a while, you knew this already. John and I have had a thing going for decades. He's smart, we share political views, he's talented and can be swarthy - while still possessing a fabulous sense of humor. Yummy.

2. Jack Johnson. Another one that's old news to my wonderful readers. H-O-T, HOT. Oh my goodness, he can serenade me on the beach anyday, baby. Surfer, musician, and fine.

3. Jason Mraz. A new inductee to my "Men In Waiting". Glory be - his music is a little "suggestive"...and I kind of like it! He, too, is talented and most obviously has a sense of humor. ...not to mention CUTE.

4. Gerard Butler. Another new inductee...WOAH. Hot, talented, AND SCOTTISH. A man with a sexy accent inflates his hotness EXPONENTIALLY. Whew! I must say, though...the Alyssa Milano's wedding issue of People - a magazine I bought for FireDaddy (Alyssa is his #1 absentee lover) - had a rather scary picture of him riding a bike with what looked like a bit of man boobs...ugh. I'm hoping it was just a bad angle. Otherwise, he'd better hit the gym or he's out!

Now, I have to preface the listing of last Candidate For Pleasure with the caveat that his status is currently on probation. His behavior over the past few years has been a bit of a turn-off...in the Woody Harrelson way. (i.e. You're cute, but get over yourself...getting a little weird, buddy.)

5. Matthew McConaughey. The good news? He's always reminded me of FireDaddy. Don't know what it is...but there's something about his facial features, clear blue eyes and that curly, dirty blonde hair that just seems familiar to me. His Southern accent (GO TEXAS!) also adds to his overall appeal. And, he too is a man at home on the beach....another bonus.

He's just so freakin' hot. It would be a cryin' shame to lose him.

I sure hope he gets his act together before we hook up.

Now, if anybody needs me, I'm going to my room to swoon. I think I need a cool compress.

GAME ON

This wonderful World Wide Web is such a funny place, isn't it? Whoever thought to call it a "web" in the first place had such foresight.

I mean, what intelligent woman ever predicted that men, women, kids, and teens would one day sit in front of a computer monitor for hours at a time doing little more than shifting their eyeballs from one side of their wide screen monitor to another, gently click-click-clicking their mice? Well, doing little more PHYSICALLY. What we're really doing is exploring and connecting, right? Socializing, at times?

It's funny how, sometimes, a surfing trip can feel like a vacation. A road trip, if you will. They take you places. You never know where you will wind up.

For instance, this week I've landed right in the face of two bloggy events. On most such occasions I read, surf a few links, and consider for...oh...3.5 seconds minutes before deciding it would be a shame to break such a streak of noncommitalness. (Is that a word?)

Readers, I'm proud to announce that streak is BROKEN! (Woo-hoo! I'm feeling all Thelma and Louise tonight, baby!) Here's what I'll be up to this month.

(1) NaBloPoMo. You're right. Part of me couldn't just resist an event with such a ridiculous name. It stands for National Blog Posting Month. Participants will post to their blogs DAILY for the entire month of September. Guess I'm going to have to break down and go wordless sometimes, huh?

(2) Girl Talk Thursday. I don't know if you've noticed or not, but I'm kinda girlie. Yep. It's true. I hide it well, don't I? What better event for a girlie girl like myself to participate in??? Especially when you get a personal invite from Ms. Blogger (who is also one of the "hostesses with the mostesses" of this event) herself??

So, my darling readers, stay tuned...it's going to be a busy month. After all, what else do I have to do, right?