Don't Look Now.

It may be time to face the cold reality, that I know squat. I don't know what I want. I don't know what I feel. I don't know where I've been and I don't know where I'm going. To steal another line from the movie Moonstruck
"my life is going down the toilet."

I never wanted much and I ask for nothing. This is just who I am. Anytime I get close to something I sabotage myself. It's not fun, but I can't seem to help it. I blame it on my parents. It's easier to do that than to own up to my responsibility. But I think it's time to stop that.

I've made some not so great choices, whether they were made out of fear, stupidity, or lack of confidence. Maybe even out of what I thought was love. I made them. I will probably continue to make them, poor choices, that is. I am pretty sure it is fear that paralyzes me. I am afraid of feelings, because people die and leave. I am afraid to ask for what I want because I feel I am not worthy. I am afraid of success and I am afraid of failure.

Don't look now but life is passing me by.

Walkin on Eggshells

If givin the choice of walking on eggshells or walking on glass, I would choose walking on glass. My wit can be sharp, especially when I'm angry, so shards of glass is my preference. As I age it becomes easier to hold my tongue or think before I speak. However, when I feel an injustice has taken place or someone has spoken way out of bounds, I tend to lash out.

I'm in situations where I need to bite my tongue, and speak delicately on a daily basis. It's exhausting. Oh for the drunken days of wild outbursts and acceptance under the guise of alcohol.

I am able to make my point succinctly. If I'm honest with myself I occassionally enjoy being mean.

I'll say this: I can dish it out but I can't take it. So fair warning, if you do something nasty or spiteful, if you treat me poorly, or make fun of me when there's nothing funny about it, take heed. It could take days, months or years but I will not forget, I'm just waiting for the perfect moment.

The Prom

I never went to my prom. I thought it was stupid, and not cool. So did my boyfriend who was already in college. At least I think I thought it was stupid. When your fifteen, sixteen or seventeen and your older boyfriend says that prom is stupid... well, let's just say, I'm not sure if it was me or him who really thought so.

When I hear people talk about it, every once in awhile, I feel like I missed something.

When I see pictures it just looks silly. It looks like a bunch of children acting grown up. It doesn't seem like it would have been a life altering experience if I had gone.

Now that I am all grown up though, I have occassionally had to say the phrase: "I've never been to a prom." Or "prom" as they now somehow have started to refer to it. Anyway, when I say it outloud it sounds kinda sad to me. Me being the adult that's seeing me as the child.

The only thing I take from all this is...
I want my little girl to go to at least one prom.
Just in case there is something to be missed.

The Other Me

I am a calm person. If I was having a Heart Attack I think there's a good chance that the people around me would be unaware of it. Same deal if I were bleeding to death. (aside from red stuff oozing)

Whenever I encounter a physical problem I can here my Mother's voice saying "Oh, that's nothing to worry about." I tend not to take things too seriously. I walked on a broken foot for three days before someone convinced me to see a doctor.

Many years ago I started to get sick. I had a sudden onset of symptoms that made it hard for me to function. I was ingesting something that my body wasn't happy about, but I had no idea what it was. One minute I was fine the next I wasn't. My first symptom was heat, like a surge of electricity that ran through me up to my head. I would start to sweat, feel dizzy, nauseous, my mouth would get dry, and my nose would run. Then the shakes, so bad that when I tried to drink a glass of water it would spill. If I could make it to the ladies room I was prepared for anything. I felt fuzzy and weak, I did not want to be touched or spoken to. My sensitivity to everything peaked. When I checked my reflection in the mirror, it was ghostly. I could make it home, but not with out help. Usually it would exhaust me so that I would fall asleep sitting up, then wake sometime in the middle of the night. It lasted for hours. By morning I would feel as if I had been beaten up.

This continued for months, I slowly eliminated things from my diet and saw a slew of doctors. I was labeled anorexic because I had stopped eating so many various foods and lost so much weight. According to the experts, I was allergic to nothing.

My dad died from stomach cancer shortly after his fortieth birthday. I was forty and I was scared.

I started playing detective. With the help of some brainy science friends, we determined I had an allergy to Sulfites. A year later Sulfites were banned as a food preservative and made illegal. Wines were labeled if they contained Sulfites. I no longer had to fear eating out or going to a catered affair.

I had passed the age of forty and I was still here.

A few years ago I had dinner out with a friend and I felt the electrical surge rise to my brain. My heart sank. How could this be? It must be nerves, am I nervous? Well I sure as hell am now. It happened at least six more times. I guess I'm naive, because I kept blaming myself, after all, if the stuff is illegal how could it get into the food and make me so sick? I felt embarrassed, but I also felt like I was going to die. What do you say when you're not an alarmist? How do you make it sound as serious as you feel without causing worry? What do you do when you can barely function but want to appear normal? Geez, I don't want to be labeled a party pooper.

So, I act as normal as humanly possible. I say I don't feel so good (again). I worry people think I'm a hypochondriac, and then I get the hell home. The other me would stay all night, dance til dawn, and be the last one to leave. But that ain't happenin under these conditions. Truth is I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.

I related my story to a friend. Without hesitation he said what I had been experiencing was Anaphylactic Shock. That sounds way too scary a thing to have gone through as many times as I had. People go to the hospital for that sort of thing. My throat never constricted and no other swelling occurs, maybe I just never ingested enough of the allergen. Maybe it wasn't Anaphylactic Shock, but it certainly is a shock to my system and to anyone who has witnessed it. I must admit there is a part of me that wants it to be.

Maybe I would take myself more seriously.

Road Rage

There are far too many variables to get caught up in road rage.

For instance, the other day I was behind a car that was behind a school bus, the light was green. The school bus turned and stopped mid turn to let the kids off. (is that legal?) Of course the drivers behind had no warning that the bus driver would stop mid turn. The light changed and the bus road off. The car in front of me was too close to the corner. A pick up truck came around the corner, and yelled out the window at the driver of the car in front of me.

Sometimes we just get stuck in situations we have no control over. Why do people assume that people are out to do the wrong thing. How many times have I gotten stuck in an intersection because it looks like the car in front of me is moving right along, but then it isn't.

Not everyone drives the same route everyday, not everyone knows about that particular roadway or if you have time to make it through that particular light. Maybe someone coming towards you has glare in their eyes. Maybe they slam on their breaks because an animal ran in front of the car. And yes, maybe they even have a "baby on board".

Think before you start yelling, pay attention...get off your cell phone.

Suburban Noise

Lawn mowers, weed whackers, and leaf blowers, oh my.
I prefer the sounds of yesteryear when it comes to lawn care. There was something more rhythmic when the blades of the lawnmower went around to cut the grass. The raking of the leaves in succession and the simple edger going back and forth. I'd much rather wake up to those noises on a weekend morning than the blaring sounds of the motorized equipment.  

There seemed to be a calming effect to the process, it was slower, the sounds were more quiet, somehow comforting. You could speak to someone while they were working. They would notice things around them.
Children weren't in danger while they played.

It was a simpler time, definitely a quieter time.
A time of lemonade and porch swings.

I Got Nothin

Sometimes I just have nothing to say. I want to write, I have about twelve drafts in my Dashboard, but sometimes I'm just kinda blank.

Not that my mind is ever empty! God forbid ~ that would make my days too easy, in fact ~ that would make my life too easy. Not to mention people who I'm close to. If only my brain wasn't on over load.

"You think to much" "What's the big deal?" "How come everything has to mean something" " Can't you just enjoy yourself?" "You worry too much" I think I even remember my Dad telling me that, and he's been gone for forty five years. I think it was he who started calling me a worry wart.

Well, then he died ~
So I proved him wrong, see, there was something to worry about!

But for now, I got nothin.

Real Wild Housewives

I love the "Real" Housewives series. My favorite is NYC, but I've watched them all. I can't resist. It's an in depth study of wealthy women in their natural habitat, with nothing real about it. If anything it is more surreal.


I would say it's akin to watching Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom, a show I watched as a child. It premiered in the sixties and took me, along with millions of others to the far corners of the world studing wild animals in their natural habitats. The stories were suspenseful, enabling the viewers to see most of the action, without the violence. Similiar to the way we never hear what the housewives tell their "real" friends and family. We only hear a sampling of the hateful words exchanged and the glimpse of a nasty look.


Like the wild kingdom, we see mothers protecting their children and wives defending their mates. We watch the housewives scratch and spit at unwelcome visitors that invade their territory. The viewer sees the herd follow the proper hierarchy as the weak are culled out or cruelly banished. One can swim against the tide for only so long.


Unlike the animals, the camera can change the behavior of the housewives. If you view the earlier episodes, the differences are clear. Many of the ladies have taken advantage of the shows popularity to promote their products, make up, jewelry, and clothing to name a few. Some have been quite successful in making the most of their fame while it lasts.


At the end of each season there is at least one reunion show, hosted by Andy Cohen. He tries to mend fences and wrap up the show in the same way Marlin Perkins did at the end of each episode of Wild Kingdom. Marlin's job was way easier than Andy's is.

 It's a concrete jungle out there, where only the strong survive. 

School Day Microcosm

I drive my kid to school most mornings. I'm often reminded of the scene in "Mr. Mom" when Micheal Keaton drops his kid off for the first time, the Mom's start yelling at him because he's going the wrong way. There is a proper morning etiquette and most people follow it. Without it, mayhem would be inevitable. I see the disappointment on the crossing guards face when a driver disobeys the rules. Some mornings parents are distracted, on others they're simply stupid.

The little kids that walk are just too cute with their humongus backpacks and hip little get ups. The big kids have that "I'm so cool" attitude all ready. Some of the parents share a friendly wave. Sometimes I see a parent carrying a tray of silver foil that protects precious birthday cupcakes. Other days it's a student with a giant poster board filled with historical facts blowing against the wind.

I enjoy watching all of the various interactions. I like to imagine how the children may grow and change, and watch the developing personalities. Some look like twins to a parent, while others bare no resemblance.
For this small part of the day it all works like a well oiled engine.

I know lives are not simple. There are millions of stories, and my daily view is just a microcosm. But every weekday for fifteen minutes I get the chance to pretend every family is a happy one.

Puritanical Foodie

A purist is one who desires that an item remain true to its essence and free from adulterating or diluting influences.

No gravy on my mashed potatoes please. Keep my salad dressing on the side. Don't mix make believe gooey cheese into my veggies and keep my burger plain. No vegetables from a can, no potatoes from a box, no instant rice and no powdered soup. I like to taste my food not the stuff all over it.

Oh, and hold the salt.

Off With Her Head

The women who's lived behind me for over ten years now, is not friendly. Our yards are divided by a simple chain link fence. She has two little girls who are close to the same age as my daughter. The girls often congregate at the fence to talk. My daughter asks me time and again if they can play together, my response is always the same. It's fine with me if it's okay with their mother. It's never okay.

I see this women on her daily walk and she acts as if she doesn't know me.

I am not bothered that she treats me poorly. However, my heart bleeds for my daughter. There are no children on our block her age. The three girls really seem to like each other. The sisters have a pool and a swing set, and my kid stands watching them play from a distance.

A few weeks ago on my way to work I passed the girls mother walking with another women. The women she walks with has always been friendly. I pulled over and got out of my car to speak to my unfriendly neighbor.
I wanted to find out why she wouldn't let the girls play together. I figured now was as good a time as any.

"Can you answer a question I've been struggling with?" I said "Why won't you let our girls play together?"
This was her reply: "It's our family policy, they aren't allowed to play with neighbors" I was dumb struck.
I repeated what she said, looked at the nice lady quizzically, said "oh, okay then" and got back into my car. As I drove off, passing both ladies walking I waved. The nice lady waved back.

I was not aware we had a Royal bloodline in our midst.

The Uniforms We Wear

Someone once asked me "What was my work uniform?" I looked puzzled, so they explained, We all wear uniforms, some are just more obvious than others.

When I worked for a non-profit I wore long dresses or long skirts with long sweaters. At the time, it was stylish, artsy, and comfortable. My next job was corporate and my uniform was pantsuits with an occasional skirt thrown in. The job after that was professional but not corporate, so I combined the uniforms from my two previous jobs, until I got pregnant ~ then all bets were off. I kept up the image for awhile, but my comfort became of key importance.

I guess uniforms tend to define us in the work place and it's a bit more difficult to know who's who. It's an image maker that acts as a shield to hide our true selves. I feel it inhibits me and the people around me.

At times it made me uncomfortable.

I'm a very down to earth, no frills kinda chick. I have never had my nails manicured, or a facial, and I only recently started to have my hair colored professionally (It's too hard now to do it myself). I basically wear the same shoes everyday depending on the season. I only buy dress shoes as needed. I need of a pair of basic black heels, I can't believe I don't own a pair of black heels. I do have a weakness for boots and sandals and often treat myself to a new pair in the winter and summer, respectively.

At the job I have now one of the few perks I have is the fact that I can practically roll out of bed and show up. Sometimes I'm not sure how much of a perk this is. When I think back, dressing up forced me to feel good about myself. Somehow my uniform prepared me for whatever the day had to offer. It gave me a clear delineation of work time vs. relax time.

Maybe I could use a little wardrobe discomfort during my day.