Thursday, June 24, 2010

Is it Love or is it Lust?

At first it's just a glance, you're looking around casually, and suddenly your interest is caught.  You stare, you can't help it, trying not to make it too obvious to those around you.  But your pulse quickens.  Maybe you look around to see if anyone notices that your heart is about to pound right out of your chest.

Your palms are sweaty.  You've been noticed. that goodMMMM...It's wonderful being noticed.  But have you been notice for the write right reasons?  Is it because you're making a spectacle of yourself?  Or is it because they are attracted to you?

Their words are like sweet nothings, whispered into your ear on a warm summers evening.  And you just can't get enough.  Even those that are not particularly eloquent are beautiful words because they were meant for you.  They have been whispered in your ear and you will remember them always.

But will they stick around for the long haul, or are they merely toying with your emotions.  Will this turn in to a lasting relationship, or is it to be what-bam-thank-you-mam.  Either way, you're so grateful for their attention, you're like a puppy dog.

So you take the next step and go on over to their place, and if your lucky, you have something in common.  You might even have a few laughs.  Or they might say something that touches your heart.  Sometimes you learn something new.  Sometimes, you realize that the lust you felt upon first sight has worn off, and while you like them well enough, it was not love at first sight, so you don't want to hang around. You don't even think you'll see them again.  And sometimes, (please no) they have made that decision about you.

Ah well, there are other fish in the sea.  You just have to get back out there.

Sound familiar?  Am I talking about blogging, or dating.  That feeling you get when you're checking your email and you notice one or two telling you that a comment has been left on your latest post?  Isn't it just like spotting that cutie in a bar, catching his/her eye?  Wondering if they really like you or just wanna hook up?  Okay, so I don't really remember much about dating.  But it sure seems similar to me!

This post was inspired by today's  fantastic and funny post by KJ at 12 paws and frogs (click here to check it out, you'll love it), and by all the lovely comments and new followers I've been lucky enough to get.  I appreciate all of you, you quicken my heart.  XOXOXO

And to those of you visiting my page, wondering  "should I stay or should I go?, I offer the romantic candlelight, wine, and the following little ditty:

You don't know how you met me
You don't know why, you can't turn around and say good-bye
all you know is when i'm with you I make you free
And swim through your veins like a fish in the sea
I'm singing....

Follow me
Everything is alright
I'll be the one to tuck you in at night
And if you want to leave
I can guarantee
You won't find nobody else like me...
                               (Uncle Kracker) 

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Newsflash-Mojo Found!

Okay, as it turns out, I don't think she was ever really lost..... 


Poor girl.  I mean  I'd buried her so far under piles and piles of crap (stress), I can't believe she didn't suffocate. 

There was marital stress.  That was rough.  And we had no idea how to fix it.  Round and round we went, just piling more and more crap on top of each other, on top of my Mojo (his too).

My  husband and I each lost a parent.  More crap (that pile just gets bigger and bigger on top of my Mojo)....

We had struggles with our children.  I mean, you have nine children from your previous marriages, you're gonna have struggles, and they don't politely take turns, several of them are gonna give you some kind of headache at once.  Mojo keeps getting buried....

Financial struggles (see above, nine children, thank God some are grown!).  Just pile more crap onto my Mojo...

Then there is my poor aging grandmother, who needed me to care for her after her hospitalization, while I was working and taking care of my family full time, but in her home, not mine.  Not that I didn't want to (I did want to, and I did it, but it was wasn't easy),   C'mon,  more crap for Mojo please....

And poor health, my own health was suffering too!  And you can't take time off work to take care of your own health..... OMG did you see that big pile of crap that just fell on Mojo!

Which brings me to the biggest pile of stress and lots of it.  A word of advice, not that you asked, if you are thinking of going into law, be it as support staff, or law school, and are considering family law.....RUN!!!!      

Pick something else.  Like, ANYTHING ELSE.  Sure, you might think you're gonna be able to help those people through their hard, emotionally trying times, and you might be able to help a little bit, but it will take it's toll on your Mojo.  And if you happen to be the "support staff" to a family law attorney...well, I'm sorry,  you're Mojo may still be alive down there, but you'll have to start digging her (or him) out.  Hurry!

So anyway, that's the story of how my Mojo got buried.  But you know what, I'm lucky.  Because I've had the time, and the support of my friends and family, and the positive comments of everyone that has visited my blog.  And because of that, slowly but surely, over the past few months I've been doing some excavating, and Mojo has been uncovered!

Hallelujah!  I've figured out that it's not so bad, not so sad, I like my life, my age, my body for what it can do for me (and I forgive it for what it can't).  I don't have to work a crappy job that I hate,  I can figure out something else (if you have any ideas I'd love to hear them please). My marriage ROCKS instead of being "rocky".  Grandma is back on her feet.  The kids...well, they're still kids but with less stress, a good marriage and my Mojo back I can cope.  Now I'm not going to say that every day is wine and roses (roses are expensive, some days it's just wine), or that I'm whistling Dixie out of my hoo-hoo every moment of the day, but all in all, life is pretty damn good.

I appreciate all of you that supported me this past several months, thank you.  Thank you Zinfandel, Cabernet, Sirah and Shiraz.  Gracias my fabulous Malbec, I do love you and appreciate you.  In all seriousness, thank you to to my friends, and to my kids, those that helped me through this, I know it's not easy having a mommy that's sick and stressed out and the last few years have been hard.  Thank you Ashley for being there and listening, being the oldest child isn't easy.    But I especially want to thank my husband, for loving me and for helping dig out my Mojo, especially when it was such hard work.  I love you.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

You're HOW old?

So I was trolling the net the other day, in search of ideas for a blog post.  Or maybe its one word blogpost.  Hmmm...I'll go with that, I like it.  Blogpost.  Okay, so I found many interesting, funny and inspiring blogposts, but just couldn't think of anything to post myself.  Frustrated and just about at the point where I need to either give up and go home (or clean said home and ugh, don't wanna do that) or plagiarize from another blogger (alabastercow, I'm looking at you, or maybe grandmasbriefs?) I spy my favorite magazine More, several months worth of which are sprinkled around my cluttered home.  More magazine is filled with inspiring stories about successful, remarkable women, living remarkable lives, many of them revamping their lives after turning forty to do the things that they really love to do rather than the things they are just accustomed to doing.  I've liked More Magazine for years, since I was about 30 or so I think.  I would occasionally buy and issue, and enjoy it every time but I refused to subscribe until I was old enough, which meant forty.  The tag line for the magazine back then used to be something like " for women over forty", so even though I love the content of the magazine, I wouldn't allow myself to subscribe until I turned the dreaded four-oh.  Now that I have turned forty the magazine is "for women of style and substance" so I'm safe either way and I now have a subscription.  I've moved on from magazines like Fitness and Shape, Mademoiselle, that focus on  "perfect" bodies and fashions of twenty/thirty-somethings to mags like More and Oxygen, that are geared toward women my age.

Ugh!  That phrase "my age".  I have always been proud to say that I have never really cared much about getting older.  My best friend had a very hard time when she turned 30.  My mother always had a hard time getting older, I remember her 30th birthday as sad instead of a celebration. I couldn't have cared less even though I have always joked about having unbirthdays.  I have always said (jokingly right?) that every year I got older, was another year I got closer to the freedom of my kids turning 18 and moving out on their own (sorry kids, Mommy loves you xoxoxo).  I really didn't think it would ever be an issue for me, I have a husband that loves me, and truly, we have nine kids (yes you read that right) so as we all get older, a little peace and quiet here and there will not be unappreciated.

But then, I turned thirty-nine, forty was the next stop, and that all changed. All of a sudden I was unhappy with my age.  I was tired, unmotivated, getting gray hair and even a couple of age spots on my hands.  WTF?!!   I went out for girls night and my friend's son and his friends were there.  Twenty somethings.  One of the little bastards guessed my age and called me middle-aged.  I don't even remember why because I immediately slammed back another shot of Patron.  I surely didn't say lets play twenty-questions, how friggin old do you think I am!  Then came my fortieth birthday, which was great, my friends and family made it special, but I was still not convinced.  Being forty was not going to be fun.  Forty stole my Mojo and I was not prepared to deal with that.

But recently I've discovered that I not only don't mind being forty, I like it.  I even L-O-V-E it.  At twenty or thirty, we have so many choices, but so many things that hold us back.  What will our parents think, our friends?  We are looking for a spouse.  Our babies are little, or we are working on having a family, building a career, getting an education.   At forty, there are so many things I don't have to worry about anymore.  I don't worry about what my parents or my friends think.  I'm not building my family or my career.  I don't worry about measuring up physically to a twenty or thirty-something in a magazine.  Instead, I admire women like Tosca Reno, who at forty years old, weight in at 204lbs, and finding herself in the middle of a divorce, pulled herself up by the bootstraps and is now not only as buff as any woman can be, but totally and successfully reinvented her whole life!  I admire actresses like Diane Keaton, Meryl Streep, Jamie Lee Curtis, all of whom seem to be who they are, and appear (at least to me) to have avoided all of the plastic surgery on their faces making other actresses look like scary blow up dolls. I don't worry if I have to run out to the store without make up, or even in sweats.  I have made some major life changes recently, and am in the process of reinventing myself in the professional sense, and I'm more excited about it than I am scared.  At forty, as opposed to twenty or thirty, I have the wisdom now to know that I don't have to say everything that comes to mind, but I have the courage to say it if I want to.  And the best part, I'm Grandma to some beautiful babies!  What fun!

So from now on,  when people ask me how old I am, I will proudly say FORTY! instead of  quietly with and eye-roll and dread in my voice, because really, being forty is fantastic. 

Friday, June 11, 2010

A Post About Moi

Okay, I'm a little late, but here's to "Mia Monday" for Kimberly at Terra Del Sol.  The assignment, should you choose to accept, is to post five photos of you, from any time in your life.  Those of you that know me, know it ain't that easy to find five pictures of me (hee hee) let alone five pictures that I'm willing to share with the rest of the world, but I searched hi and low and found only a few (that didn't need photo shopping, and who has the time), so here is what turned up:




So there you are, five photos of me :)  Took me until FRIDAY to finish and assignment given for MONDAY because for SOME reason, putting in the pics was not working, as you can see, the borders around the pics are all screwy.  I have never had such a problem inserting random pics from the net, soooo, this just proves to me that I have been right all along, I WAS NOT MEANT TO HAVE PHOTOS TAKEN OF ME.  I didn't break the camera, but apparently I broke the photo linky link on Blogger :(

Sunday, June 6, 2010

My Body as a Work of Art? Say What?

So, I was working on another post this morning, and I stumbled across an article on the More Magazine website entitled "My Body as a Work of Art".  I had read a letter to the editor about this article some time before and was sorry to have missed the actual article, because this is just the kind of article I dig, just like Calendar Girls is one of my favorite movies.  There is just something about getting older, and not having to look perfect, and loving your body just the same, or more even, that just appeals to me (this is actually kind of what the post I was working on was about, not the body issue but the age issue).  Anyway, when I read the letter to the editor, I meant to look the article up online, but you know, good intentions pave the road to you know where, so I never did see it, until this morning.

And when I did, it really hit home.  Here I am, 40 years old, 41 in exactly one month, and not technically in the greatest shape of my life.  Sure, I've lost a ton of weight lately, so I'm thin, but I'm not in good shape.  I can't really exercise, so when I check out the rear view, lets just say, the backs of my knees steal the show.  And without a cute push up bra, well...a nice belt buckle is the perfect accessory for the twins (boobs, breasts, ta-tas).  My weight has fluctuated from 112lbs to 170lbs in my adult life ( I don't think I've ever put that in writing, certainly not on my drivers license).  My husband knew when I was 112, but I would have died before admitting to 170, even though he could see it (he is a smart man though, he would never guess over 125).

And why do these numbers matter so much?  I grew up in Weight Watchers meetings.  Not because I had a weight problem, but because my mother did.  She was a single mom, and took me with her to the meetings.  At the time, you weighed and measured all of your food, there was no points system.  I was an expert at it, I prepared and measured many of my mother's meals.  She struggled with her weight my whole life.  And as a result, I went on my first diet at 11 years old, all on my own, even though I only weighed about 98lbs.  I don't think my mother even noticed because she was so used to me preparing her diet meals.  

My mother struggled with weight most of her life.  I don't think she was actually really very heavy until the last few years of her life, but she grew up "in the fat club".  My grandmother ran "the fat club" in our family.  To be a member, you just had to "lose a few pounds"  and she would reward you with a new dress, a cruise, a new pair of shoes, you get the picture.  Grandma is old school, she was pin-up girl pretty and her father raised her to believe that was VERY important, so she passed it on to her daughters.  Both rebelled, of course, my aunt continues to struggle with her weight.  I actually joined "the fat club" at about 145lbs when my second son was 10 months old and my grandma was taking me on a cruise.  She offered to buy me a cruise wardrobe if I lost 10lbs.  Of course I wanted those clothes so I lost those 10lbs, but that was the first time I really knew what it was like for my mom and my aunt growing up.  I was in my early 20s, and had never been over 120lbs before, but even before joining "the fat club"  (not that 145 is fat in ANY way) I was never comfortable in my body.  

And my body was just fine.  If I could write a letter to me, that is one of the first things I would say, you are fine the way you are.  Beautiful even.  Be comfortable.  Because if you ask me if I have any regrets about my life, that would be it.  All the time I wasted being uncomfortable in my body, obsessing over weight, size, proportion.  Not appreciating when my ass was two inches higher just because it was a little bigger, or my boobs were perkier, just because they weren't as big as I wanted them to be, or my stomach was flatter just because I had stretch marks.

So, ya, today,  I am 40 fabulous years old.  And with all my physical woes, my body IS a work of friggin art. Trust me when I tell you I was unprepared  for this little revelation, but there it is.  My birthday is a month away, and even thought I hate cameras, maybe I'll treat myself to a professional nude photo session to celebrate being fabulous 41.

Here's the article that inspired me today, check it out, I think you'll like it;

Five women describe the experience of posing as classic nudes
View >>

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Making the Cut or: Hair There and Everywhere Part II

Okay I did it.....I got it all chopped off.  After my last post, Hair There and Everywhere, I felt freer. Like a big weight had been lifted off my chest.  And such positive feedback from family and friends (from people I didn’t even know too! How cool is that? ) just made me feel so much better.  I wasn’t even really worried about the hair anymore.  It felt like I had been to therapy, spilled my guts, had my spiritual boo-boos kissed and could run outside and play again. 

I was so pleasantly surprised and excited when a few visitors from the Lady Bloggers Society visited my Blog and left sweet comments that I told my husband about it.  Okay, several times.  I was like Rainman “Judge Wapner is on at three o’clock” "three o'clock, time for Judge Wapner"  “I got three comments from other bloggers on my post” "three bloggers from Lady Bloggers Society commented on my post", over and over again,  until he finally had to read it.   I sat next to him while he silently read it on my Iphone.  I don’t recommend that.  I got so nervous my palms were sweating.  He didn’t make any comment , for the longest time........except to say that his ex-wife cut her hair really short once.  AAAAGGGHH!  Still reading.....still reading.....palms still sweating.......until he got to the Dolly Parton picture, then he laughed out loud!  And picked the cut that he liked best.  Whew!  Third picture, redhead BTW.  I had been waffling between that and the third from the last, blonde pixie. 

Anywoo, it seemed I had all the support I needed to go ahead and be a little creative in the expression of my identity and cut off the proverbial offending arm as it were, so, with the pressure off I didn’t need to obsess about it anymore.  Then my local hair dresser returned the call I made the week before.  Uh-oh.  Of course she could help camouflage the thinning of my hair, and she just happened to have an opening this afternoon.  Only I wasn’t ready (chicken little is my name), so we made and appointment for next Tuesday. 

Then I got in the shower.  And several strands came out in my hands as I shampooed.  So that was it, the deal was sealed.  I was not gonna cry, not after the miles long blog post, not after all the support I got, and certainly not after the gift and support I got from my husband, who truly is the most wonderful husband on earth.  So I finished my shower in record time, made arrangements to switch afternoon car pool, and took that afternoon appointment after all. 

And I have to say, I feel free!  I even took a picture of myself (if you know me, you know that is a huge deal!)

And when the Hubs got home, he told me I was beautiful, not cute :) I love you honey XOXOXO

(PS Post)  When I showered this morning, NO hair fell out, I pulled, curled, straightened, and pulled some more, and NOT ONE STRAND CAME OUT.  WTF?  But I'm not gonna push my luck, only gentle loving hair care from now on ;)