A conversation with a friend

Tonight, I had a conversation with a friend who told me he thinks that all women secretly hate each other.

I disagree.

I’ve talked about my girlfriends here and here, so it’s safe to say I don’t secretly or overtly for that matter, hate them.

For the purpose of this post, I’m going to go with his suggestions, women I work with, and women I see at the mall, and to be fair, I’ll start out right away, just for my friend and say, Yeah, I think the women that do this, are astronomically STUPID. I still don’t hate them, but they sure as hell hate me (at least for a few hours).

I wasn’t a part of the ‘in-crowd’ in high school. These are the girls that I think my friend is referring to. The girls that said hi to you in the morning as you passed each other on the way to class, and trashed you in the ladies room during ’10-minute break’.

I had the kind of friends that I’d lay down in traffic for. With my 20 year reunion only a few months away, I’ve already decided that the two people I’m traveling with are really the only two people I ever need to see from high school again. It’s no coincidence that I’m still friends with them after all these years. I keep the people I love to the very best of my ability, and hold no grudges for the time lost. But, I digress.

Unfortunately, I do know the women he’s referring to. I want to deny it, but I’d be a liar if I played completely dumb on this. Part of me wants to defend these women. It wants to say that women in general have been torn down so much, so often and so harshly by the same people who claim to love them, that they look out at the world, at the rest of the women in the world, and see a reflection that resembles the naked body marred by the plastic surgeons black marker. Starkly calling attention to their every flaw and distorting any positive trait.

I understand the distortion pain provides and know how it can cloud your judgment.

The other part of me sounds more like this.

I’m truly sorry.
It is not the end of the world.
You are not the only one who has had bad things happen to them.
It is not the rest of humankind’s fault.
You can either be a victim or a survivor
There are million places, people and things you can do to work through it. Find one that works for you and get to it.
No time like the present.
Chop. Chop.

(And now you all know why I'm not getting paid to counsel anyone on anything).

Am I over-simplifying? Probably. Of course there are some things that happen to people that if I said something, anything in that last paragraph I’d deserve to have my head kicked in by anyone listening, or perhaps, everyone listening, at the same time. For the sake of this argument, please know it’s not those people, or those things that I’m talking about.

I AM talking about your average run of the mill catty coworker, gym member, or chick in the Limited at your local shopping mall (aka the 7th circle of hell).

You see these women, on a good day, you can even feel them giving you the once over, checking out your companions, your outfit, hair, makeup, whatever. Sometimes if you’re good, you can catch their look of disapproval before they quickly try to look benign again.

I find it happening to me, in the company elevator. The door side of our elevators is all mirrors (so are the ceilings for anyone interested in a little 70’s flashback/come-a-basic instinct action) when women get in they immediately start fussing with themselves, OR they start scoping you out.

Here’s my secret, the second I catch them, I compliment them, on anything. Their shoes, dress, whatever. You can always tell you’ve just got an insecure mess on your hands (as opposed to spinach in your teeth or toilet paper stuck to your shoe) if they fall all over themselves being nice, when seconds before you could hear the alley cat howl forming in the back of their throat.

Truth be told, they’ve all been genuine compliments.
I see what’s really in the mirror.

Answer your question, T?

Seven Songs

My most favorite Trivia Queen and Southern Belle tagged me for this, and some people I cannot/will not deny.

I followed her example and did this without much thought, just wrote from the top of my head; in the end, I like what I conjured on short notice.

The River -- Bruce Springsteen
This reminds me of my misspent youth with a very special friend who I loved then, and knowing what she went through in the years we lost each other makes me love her even more. I admire her strength more than words can say, and I *see* her in this song.

My Favorite Mistake -- Sheryl Crow
I’ve had a lot of these and this song makes me feel better about them.

At This Point in My Life -- Tracy Chapman
Because if I could be Ally McBeal for 10 minutes, this would absolutely be my theme song.

Broken -- Days of The New
The pain in this song is so real you can almost pick it up.

American Pie -- Don McLean

I know a lot of people that hate this song. I adore it. I have some very specific older brother related memories associated with this song, and if you ever see a woman singing this (badly) at the top her lungs banging on the dashboard - Hi. It's me.

Lose Yourself -- Eminem
This is a guilty pleasure song. He’s almost as bad as Vanilla Ice. But this is THE best running song, EVER.

Fighter -- Christina Aguilera
My favorite tough girl song. I was slow to get on the Christina bandwagon, thinking she was just another bubble gum pop singer, but she won me over with Stripped.

I’m supposed to tag 7 for this, but I owe Carolina Purl a tag, so I’m tagging her.
When you’re done painting, Ms. Purl, get right on that. I *know* you’ve got the music in you.

Lapses in Judgment

I was a horribly hard headed teenager that ‘ran away’ from my mother’s home at 19 straight into a boyfriend’s life and home. He and I moved in together in September, he proposed to me in late November, and I was sleeping on the couch and counting how many days I could go without actually talking to him by December. I knew I had made an astronomical mistake but felt utterly trapped and completely unable to help myself get out of the situation I had fought my own mother to get into.

I eventually did ask for help and I did get out before my first big mistake became a major legal commitment. Here’s to coming to your senses just in the nick of time.

In fact, I spent most of my 20’s trying to outdo myself with one bad mistake after another.
I was a raging success.

However, no one promotes or praises you for rapid fire-screw ups - in fact just the opposite is true (ahem). Go ahead and trust me on this, no need to try it out at home.

In 2004, grief had its way with me. That whole year is like a black hole, I can’t really remember
any details about it. It’s a wonder I didn’t drive right off a bridge because “it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

The next two years I spent most of time trying to figure out what exactly I had to do with my life to make the rest of it worth living without him. Really. Writing that makes me feel overly dramatic, which isn’t something I’m terribly comfortable with, yet, there it is.

In my darkest moments, I made some of my worst decisions.
In retrospect, it seems that I set myself up to fail when I was feeling down, almost as if I was off to prove to myself that what I really did best was screw up. Clearly, this turns into some sick Prozac-deficient cycle.

I hope I’ve left this behind, you know, with blue eye shadow, wings, choosing to date people that I thought I could ‘fix’, and running into bad situations because I was being defiant.

I can rock defiant.

I just don’t want to anymore.
I’m finally at peace with what I have and what I’ve lost up to this point in my life. Now, the fear resides in not doing something to screw it up.
It is almost paralyzing.

The A-Z thing (Thanks RennRatt!)

A – Attached or Single: S I N G L E.
B - Best Friend: Heather, no, Eileen, no, Staci, no Mandy..um..yeah, in this part of the world, I am RICH..
C- Cake or Pie: Pie. Strawberry, Pecan, Apple, eat, cook, repeat.

D- Drink of Choice: Coffee in the morning, Water all day, and diet dark brown soda now and then. Adult Beverages - Just Add Vodka. Now Please.

E - Essential Item: I don’ t think I have an essential item.
F - Favorite Color: Red, Blue, Green and Black.
G - Gummi Bears or Worms? Bears, dude, bears.
H - Hometown: Johnstown, Pennsylvania.
I - Indulgence: Ice cream and HOT bubble baths, never together, because that'd be gross.
J - January or February? February, because it’s not January.
K – Kids: Fur – Kids Only.
L - Life is incomplete without: Sunshine, good coffee, great friends, critters, and good wine never hurt anyone.
M – Marriage date: I’ll keep you posted.
N - Number of Siblings: A bunch.
O - Oranges or Apples? Apples. With crunchy Peanut butter.
P - Phobias/Fears: Midgets. Balloons. SHUT UP.
Q - Favorite Quote: "Absence is the strangest sort of presence".
R - Reasons to smile: Today? Puppy toes, puppy breath, puppy grunts.
S - Season: ALL of them. For Serious.
T- Tag Three: I think I’m the caboose on this one, I’ll leave it to any unsuspecting reader to tag themselves if they like.
U - Unknown Fact About Me: I worry that there are things broken in me that can never be fixed.
V - Vegetarian or Oppressor of Animals? Four steps away from Vegetarian.
W - Worst Habit: Losing my temper over unimportant things.
X - X-rays or Ultrasounds? I’ve had lots of one and none of the other. You figure it out.
Y - Your Favorite Foods: Peanut butter. Cheese. My moms potato salad.
Z- Zodiac: Sagittarius. A fire sign..and that’s for real.

That's all for this kid tonight.

My time

is not my own these days..it belongs to this little guy.. who looks all sweet and innocent in the photos but - trust me - he's running me ragged.

Someone hit me with something simple, 'kay?

Green-eyed monster

I’ve never been a jealous girl.
However, more years ago then I’d care to admit, awash with a healthy dose of high school angst, I was definitely envious. That is, if your definition of envy is something like this:

a feeling of discontent or covetousness with regard to another's advantages, success, possessions, etc.

For me, ‘a feeling of discontent’ pretty much covers ages 13 -18. I was quite simply, a mess. Looking back now, I can’t pinpoint even one of the things that I would have changed, but whatever I had, it wasn’t what I wanted.

My first real heart-breaker relationship was very dramatic, we were just out of high school, both taking classes a local community college, both working at least one job, and both our families were expecting an engagement announcement any minute. We had been together for a couple of years when one day while dropping his dog off at his house I saw a stack of pictures of him and another girl on the national mall on the 4th of July. A date he’d broken with me because “he had to work”.

I was crushed. I cried for hours.

He had just started a new job that very day, so I had hours to wait before I could say my piece. I cleared my head, dried my tears, and left him a message that I was taking him out to dinner at his favorite place. Over dinner I told him I knew about the 4th of July. He stuttered, sputtered, rationalized, and finally apologized. I listened to every word. Then left his sorry ass with no ride home and the bill.

I was hurt, make no mistake, but not jealous.

As an adult, I’ve been asked countless times by the men I’ve dated if I’m “the jealous type” The answer has always been no. If that first heartbreak taught me anything, it taught me that there truly is nothing I can do to overcome what someone else wants to do.

In the serious relations ships that followed, I quickly learned that if I felt insecure, there was a good reason. And if there was a good reason, I didn’t really need to know who or what it was, I just wanted out. The good reason wasn’t necessarily another woman, it was just as often their own insecurities or inability to commit to a relationship - same feeling, different cause.

Regardless of the cause, I knew that wasn’t where I needed to be. I’ve never bought into the ‘my other half’, ‘you complete me’, ‘soul mates’ line of thinking. My mother gave birth to a whole baby 37 years ago, I wasn’t missing a thing.

That’s not to say that I think there isn’t a great deal to be gained and enjoyed from a good and lasting relationship. I'm sure there are many things, things I can't know and very possibly things I'd like very much if I could know about them. I guess it’s just to say that I’ve yet to see one that made me jealous.

9 to 5

My very first job was collecting Japanese beetles off my neighbors rose bushes. I was 7 or 8 when I got started down this career path. I can still those shiny green beetles in my memories. I used the lid of a mason jar to gently scrape the beetles off the leaves and petals and into the jar which was about half full of water. Sometimes I’d stop to watch the beetles swimming madly, climbing over each other trying to find a way out of their watery grave.

Once licensed to drive, I moved to mall jobs. The first was at a Hallmark store, only slightly less appropriate for me than baby sitting. It didn’t last long, and there were a few shattered ‘tender moments’ statues left in my 16 year old dust.

I took the next job because my best friend at the time was doing it and I could think of nothing that wouldn’t be fun with her by my side.

This was the first mistake in a series.

I accepted a job at Stride Rite.
That’s right.
Me selling kids shoes.
And hard baby shoes.
(Go ahead, ask me how I know how hard they are).

My experience tells me that little kids and babies really don’t like wearing shoes. Or at least they don’t really like a teenager jamming them on their little sweaty kid feet. Everyone ooh’s and ahh’s over the ‘weeboks’, and people, those shoes are cute,
IF they are dangling from your rear view mirror.

Lace and I used to size up each child being forced into the hard plastic orange and yellow chairs and play rock, paper, scissors to determine who would take each one on.

One day when I lost the battle, I took on a toddler that had disaster written all over him.
I thought even his own mom was going to make a break for the door without the little angel. She looked like she had quite simply HAD IT. Apparently not though since she proceeded to attempt to force her cranky, spaghetti (?) stained toddler to sit still so I could prance back and forth to the store room with a dozen pairs of shoes or more. This kid kicked (see hard baby shoes above) drooled and pulled hair. MY hair. Mom didn’t quit. More shoes. More kicking. More drool. More hair pulling.

Even Lace wasn’t laughing anymore.

Trying to rescue me, Lace pulled out all the stops. Toys, coloring books and finally the lollipops came out. At first this seemed like the solution to all my problems. The wailing stopped. The drool stayed confined to his chin and t-shirt, the kicking slowed to a pace I could easily dodge. As I pulled the eleventy billionth pair out of the box and bent to put them on, with minimal struggle from Junior, I silently proclaimed my best friend a genius. Both shoes on, mom finally satisfied, I bent to remove them.

The lollipop magic was wearing off, but this close to the finish line I was not to be deterred.
One shoe off and in the box.
I reached for the second shoe, get kicked (again)
I felt him reach for more hair and without looking up, pull back to avoid his sticky fingers..(or so I thought.)

Second shoe off and in the box.

I heard Mom gasp at the same time Junior utters his first intelligible sentence.
“I hate you, shoe lady!”

Thinking things that will surely hold me in karmic debt for the rest of my natural life I picked up the box, dropped it on the counter for Lace to ring up and headed for the store room to dislodge the lollipop stuck firmly in my hair.