A friend recently emailed me making the statement "where did the year go?" while referring to our last get together: a trip to Cabo...in JANUARY! Good question. Where did the year go? And how did I forget to have sex for an entire year? Well 'forget' isn't exactly what happened. It was just a year ago that my last boyfriend thingy (still not sure if 'boyfriend' was an accurate title for this dude) and I broke up. One year ago we were standing on a street corner after brunch on a beautiful autumn Sunday with me saying "I'd rather be alone than in a lonely relationship." He stared back at me blankly. We went our separate ways. Who'd have thunk I'd actually be alone for an entire year? Certainly not me. Not saying I regret my decision that day-a whole year ago. Not in the least. Although I do think of this fella far more often than I care to admit. One friend chastised me saying "you don't quit the job before getting another one first." I disagree. If the job isn't paying, I don't keep showing up to work, regardless of having an office with a sound view.
So I've pretty much become resigned to my situation. I embrace my aloneness with both hands (literally sometimes). I really do enjoy my solitude for the most part. I read a lot. Write tons. Watch silly romantic movies that only a girl can love. Listen to music. Putter endlessly. I go to bed late and wake up late. I go out with the girls, meet friends for coffee, walk miles every day and go to yoga. And date. Occasionally. Very occasionally.
But the shoe is about to drop. I'm about to reach my limit. That final straw is about to break this camel's back! It's my new upstairs neighbors. They are at it nearly every night. The first time I witnessed the sex romp I was caught off guard. I didn't even know what was happening. It had been so long since I was present at such a function I didn't even recognize the sounds. I was sitting at my computer. My television was on. Suddenly I heard an odd noise. I couldn't make it out. Was it coming from my TV? It didn't seem to fit? Oh ... wait....it's ... yes...it's sex noise. Oh Lordy. Why oh why do I need to hear this???
And their sessions always seem to start while I'm watching Sex and the City. How appropriate. Last night during the opening scene I hear the very subtle beginnings of bed springs squeaking...it continued on throughout the entire episode...bang bang bang, squeakin' and squawking, huffin' and puffin'. The moans and the groans. It was a full blown noise making roll in the hay which lasted the entire thirty minutes of Sex and the City and spilled right on into Will and Grace! I was getting tired and sore just listening to them. Shows how out of condition I am. No amount of walking and yoga is going to prepare me for a night like they're having!
I really wanted to pound the ceiling with a broom handle but didn't want to seem the crabby, old, jealous, bitter bitch below who hasn't had sex in a year. And I do remember my 2004 summer in Greece when my live-in boyfriend and I had our little siesta breaks....and how all the little old ladies on our street would eye us as we left our apartment. Yeah, admittedly I've been there. So I tried to focus on the television and forget what I was hearing from above.
Tonight I can hear them wrestling around up there...foreplay I suppose. Hey, at least they aren't fighting. They seem to be quite the 'loving' couple. Blast it all anyway.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
Ladies Who Lunch
I was really looking forward to being unemployed for the month of September. I had worked full time for the previous five months for heaven sake and I needed a break (okay, we'll just forget that little old two week NY vacation I took in August). At any rate, I was going to bask in my life of leisure.
Well, for a lady of leisure I've been far busier than I'd imagined. Since my last day at SAM, I've been busier than a one-armed-paper hanger. Part of my problem is I have a tendency to over volunteer myself.
"Sure, I'm happy to do it," I hear myself saying. "I'm not working. What else do I have to do all day?" What else do I have to do? Pretty much everything else. Reorganize my desk drawers, clean closets, find affordable health care so I can see a doctor soon, frame pictures, hang framed pictures, read Dr. Seuss sized stack of books and magazines, watch videos borrowed from friend a month or more ago, look for job. I have plenty to keep me busy.
So far over the past few weeks I've volunteered to help Seattle Learning Academy with a marketing table at a function one Saturday day afternoon and evening. I also volunteered to post fliers around three neighborhoods on foot. This took two entire afternoons. I agreed to walk two dogs daily on Capitol Hill for half my quoted price (I'm not working, I needed the dough. I gave them the introductory price.) After my bus commute over there and back, I'm making about $3. Hmmm, I'm a shrewd businesswoman, I am.
I've spent three afternoons canvassing the Greenwood neighborhood with fliers from a new doggy daycare, Spawz Doggie Daycare and Swim Center. If I was getting paid by the calories burned rather than by the hour, I'd be pulling in some serious cash. Many of those houses are up steep flights of massive stairs. It's always nice to get all the way to the top before seeing the "no soliciting" sign. Luckily I do like a good workout!
I pet sat overnight eight days at two different households which involves taking care of the pets and the households. I helped a friend pick up a car she just bought from my ex-husband and ferried her to her doctor appointment. And I manage to get to yoga a few times a week.
So where is all the coffee shop down time I was imagining? The lounging around the park writing the next best selling Oprah novel about a 40 year old woman who leaves life as she knows it to tramp around Europe, Asia or just the opposite side of the States trying to 'find herself' (Eat, Pray, Love, Desert Sojourn, Without Reservations, A Year By The Sea) ?
Okay so maybe there are enough of those books anyway. But as for my sweet unemployed life...maybe I'll have more downtime this week. This last week of lovely September.
Well, for a lady of leisure I've been far busier than I'd imagined. Since my last day at SAM, I've been busier than a one-armed-paper hanger. Part of my problem is I have a tendency to over volunteer myself.
"Sure, I'm happy to do it," I hear myself saying. "I'm not working. What else do I have to do all day?" What else do I have to do? Pretty much everything else. Reorganize my desk drawers, clean closets, find affordable health care so I can see a doctor soon, frame pictures, hang framed pictures, read Dr. Seuss sized stack of books and magazines, watch videos borrowed from friend a month or more ago, look for job. I have plenty to keep me busy.
So far over the past few weeks I've volunteered to help Seattle Learning Academy with a marketing table at a function one Saturday day afternoon and evening. I also volunteered to post fliers around three neighborhoods on foot. This took two entire afternoons. I agreed to walk two dogs daily on Capitol Hill for half my quoted price (I'm not working, I needed the dough. I gave them the introductory price.) After my bus commute over there and back, I'm making about $3. Hmmm, I'm a shrewd businesswoman, I am.
I've spent three afternoons canvassing the Greenwood neighborhood with fliers from a new doggy daycare, Spawz Doggie Daycare and Swim Center. If I was getting paid by the calories burned rather than by the hour, I'd be pulling in some serious cash. Many of those houses are up steep flights of massive stairs. It's always nice to get all the way to the top before seeing the "no soliciting" sign. Luckily I do like a good workout!
I pet sat overnight eight days at two different households which involves taking care of the pets and the households. I helped a friend pick up a car she just bought from my ex-husband and ferried her to her doctor appointment. And I manage to get to yoga a few times a week.
So where is all the coffee shop down time I was imagining? The lounging around the park writing the next best selling Oprah novel about a 40 year old woman who leaves life as she knows it to tramp around Europe, Asia or just the opposite side of the States trying to 'find herself' (Eat, Pray, Love, Desert Sojourn, Without Reservations, A Year By The Sea) ?
Okay so maybe there are enough of those books anyway. But as for my sweet unemployed life...maybe I'll have more downtime this week. This last week of lovely September.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
A Penny Saved...Not Worth the Headache Earned
The Question:
How DO you get nail polish out of carpet?
The Recap:
Wednesday 11.45 p.m.
In an effort to save money during this 'underemployment' period, I decided to economize and rather than go to my local nail salon, I would do my own mani/pedi at home (salon price $25). So I hunker down for my evening Sex and the City ritual and proceed to polish. Afterwards, I spray my nails with quick dry, wait a few more minutes and begin to prepare for bed. At which time, I scoop up my nail products to put them away and for some reason, the polish cap hadn't been replaced tight and the entire bottle of Mrs. O'Leary's BBQ (O.P.I.) went crashing to the floor but not without splashing this beautiful shade of BBQ onto my coffee table, sofa and BEIGE carpet! I was so angry with myself! I've been polishing my nails since I was twelve and, although I've spilled a drop here or there on various surfaces which I was able to easily remove, I've NEVER spilled on furniture or carpet! I was beside myself. I was so upset with this fumble, I couldn't even address it. If I tried to clean it up while it was wet, it would just smear all over more of the carpet. In my experience with nail polish, it's usually best to leave it alone and let it dry. Then it can often be 'picked' off more easily. I took several long deep breaths and made myself walk away from this disaster. I'm so pissed off at myself, I don't even know where to begin anyway. I'd have to deal with it in the morning. After my own nails were also fully dry.
Thursday 9.00 a.m.
I walked into my living room only to find the nail polish debacle was, in fact, real. Not a dream as I had hoped. It's not only there, but it's baaaad. I couldn't have spilled the clear topcoat, or some softer less noticeable color like 'flesh' or 'nude'. No, I always were bright or dark colors. Great. I donned my rubber gloves and began with the first product of choice. Nail polish remover. Well, as any of you know, nail polish remover is tricky business and must be dealt with the utmost care. I used the non-acetone version. I was afraid of what the acetone might do to my carpet. Which by the way was brand new when I moved in and I've treated it with kid gloves for the past year. I always remove my shoes and ask my guests to do the same. I am careful about eating from the sofa and vacuum regularly.
The non-acetone remover was not really doing much of anything.
Thursday 9.30 a.m. Put out an A.P.B.
Call first friend, W, to get advice. "Use Spot Shot," she says. "That stuff is amazing. It takes out EVERYTHING." Cool, I happen to have some on hand. Probably from some other mishap that she advised me on previously. I Spot Shot the spot. No luck. Nothing. I scrub and scrub. Rub and rub. Circular motions. First my right hand, then my left. Still nothing happening. I have some K2 spot remover in the closet. I give that a try. No results.
Note: The stain does come off the sofa and the coffee table, but it's the carpet now that is the major concern. First of all, it's not mine! The stain is in the middle of the room. I can't hide it.
I call second friend, J, leaving my 911 distress message on her voice mail. When I hang up, third friend, KO, happens to ring up. "So glad you called. I'm having a melt down," I explain my dilemma. She has two small children and drinks loads of red wine. She is the master of spill cleanup. "Oxyclean," she says simply. "That works every time. I've used it on red wine, kid spills, you name it. If that doesn't work, just get the checkbook out, cause you're screwed." Okay, not what I want to hear. I'm not working, remember...I was trying to save money. However, I have hope that this Oxyclean actually is the miracle potion. I'll pick some up this afternoon. But before I leave, I try the Spot Shot one more time. Nope.
11.00 a.m.
Second friend, J, calls and leaves a detailed message on my voicemail while I'm talking with KO. She reads off an Internet printout her husband gave her. It pretty much goes like this:
"Keep the stain wet (great, first thing and I've already blown that!)
Use hot water.
Spray 15-20 shots of hair spray onto the stain, use rubbing alcohol and hot water.
Very important to keep the stain wet (Again with the wet thing!)
Rub in with a small brush.
Can also try hydrogen peroxide, brake fluid cleaner, hair removal cream (huh??), nail varnish remover (but, they advise, be very careful with that), hot water, Oxyclean. "
Hmmm, two people said Oxyclean. Must be some good stuff. I go out for my afternoon dog walks and errands. Pick up the Oxyclean (5.99) on my way home.
4.00 p.m.
Spray Oxyclean onto the stains. Scrub scrub scrub with old toothbrush. Rummage through closet for old white T-shirt to use as a clean rag for more scrubbing. The stain is smearing, and festering. But not coming out. My small muscle groups are getting a workout from all the scrubbing. I continue to work on this project until 6.30 when I have to go to a friend's for dinner. I literally have to step away from this little project to stop from messing with it. I'm obsessed!
11.30 p.m.
I come home and immediately check on my stain. Yes, it's still there. I go to bed exhausted. But not until I try more spraying and scrubbing. I even had all cleaning products lined up around the stain as if they were trying to bully the stain out just by being present.
Friday 9.00 a.m.
I'm at it again.
I email fourth and fifth friends, KSM and LB, for further advice. KSM is a property manager and has more than likely run across stubborn stains in her line of work. LB has a background in fashion design and is an expert on fabrics.
10.00 a.m.
KSM writes back after having consulted with her 'carpet guru' who suggested WD40 based on the oily composition of the nail polish. But he doesn't hold out for much results since the stain has probably already dried and set in (aarrrggh). Next time he's in my area, he'll stop in and take a look.
LB suggests I get a remnant from my landlord and patch the carpet. Or, since I'm trying to keep my landlord out of this whole scenario, I can pull a piece from a closet or around my hot water heater and use that to patch the area without it being noticeable. I'm really doubting my ability to patch a carpet without it being noticeable. However, I'll take both of these bits of advice into consideration. Thanks, girls.
I rummage through my medicine closet and find some Acetone Nail Varnish Remover and small grooming scissors. What the heck. I may as well try it if my next option is to cut the stain out and patch it up anyway! What do I have to lose at this point? I begin to snip away at the carpet fibers. But it's too big a job for these little scissors. The stain seems to go deep into the carpet roots. Oooh, but the Acetone remover is kinda working. I go find another white shirt to rip up and keep at it. I even go so far as to pour the remover right onto the carpet. A dangerous move for sure. Unfortunately, I only had a small amount of the remover in the bottle and I ran out too quickly. I need more.
12.00 noon:
I leave again to go walk the dogs and make yet another store run (giving the stain one more squirt of Oxyclean on my way out the door). I buy Acetone Nail Polish Remover (1.69) , Brake Fluid (2.99) and WD40 (2.49)! I'm not getting anything else done. The past two days have been consumed by this nail polish cleanup project. And I'm starting to feel like the Karate Kid, 'wax on, wax off.'
4.00 pm.
I'm home again with my new bag of tricks. Once again I don the rubber gloves awaiting me. Get down on all fours with my white rags, hot water, and toothbrush. Eeny meany, mighty moe. Which weird flammable product shall I try next? I know the Acetone remover was beginning to work a little. But for some reason I go with one of the other less obvious liquids. I reach for the "super heavy duty Pennzoil brake fluid. I dabbed a bit onto my white rag, rubbed it gently onto the worse part of the stain. By now I'm beginning to worry a bit about all the chemicals I've been dousing onto my carpet for the past two days. I'm expecting to walk into the room and find the area smoldering from self-combustion.
Low and behold, it was working! The brake fluid was working and it was working quite well. I kept at it, working it vigorously and steadily into the stains until the entire stain was gone! I was elated! Oh the joy! The relief! After almost two full days, several dollars, and more angst than I care to have in my 'stress free' life, I could finally relax and move on to do something else with my time (like find a job).
6.30 p.m.
Friend, W, comes by to pick me up for an evening out. She came up to my apt to check out my work. She takes a look, circles the area, scrutinizing the carpet. She looks up at me and says with a laugh, "I think you're going to get away with this!"
Saturday 2.30 a.m.
Came home after a night on the town. Went to bed peacefully....but not without first checking on my carpet one more time. My stain free, beige carpet.
Thanks to all my friends who offered great advice...and to the lucky penny I picked up earlier in the day!
How DO you get nail polish out of carpet?
The Recap:
Wednesday 11.45 p.m.
In an effort to save money during this 'underemployment' period, I decided to economize and rather than go to my local nail salon, I would do my own mani/pedi at home (salon price $25). So I hunker down for my evening Sex and the City ritual and proceed to polish. Afterwards, I spray my nails with quick dry, wait a few more minutes and begin to prepare for bed. At which time, I scoop up my nail products to put them away and for some reason, the polish cap hadn't been replaced tight and the entire bottle of Mrs. O'Leary's BBQ (O.P.I.) went crashing to the floor but not without splashing this beautiful shade of BBQ onto my coffee table, sofa and BEIGE carpet! I was so angry with myself! I've been polishing my nails since I was twelve and, although I've spilled a drop here or there on various surfaces which I was able to easily remove, I've NEVER spilled on furniture or carpet! I was beside myself. I was so upset with this fumble, I couldn't even address it. If I tried to clean it up while it was wet, it would just smear all over more of the carpet. In my experience with nail polish, it's usually best to leave it alone and let it dry. Then it can often be 'picked' off more easily. I took several long deep breaths and made myself walk away from this disaster. I'm so pissed off at myself, I don't even know where to begin anyway. I'd have to deal with it in the morning. After my own nails were also fully dry.
Thursday 9.00 a.m.
I walked into my living room only to find the nail polish debacle was, in fact, real. Not a dream as I had hoped. It's not only there, but it's baaaad. I couldn't have spilled the clear topcoat, or some softer less noticeable color like 'flesh' or 'nude'. No, I always were bright or dark colors. Great. I donned my rubber gloves and began with the first product of choice. Nail polish remover. Well, as any of you know, nail polish remover is tricky business and must be dealt with the utmost care. I used the non-acetone version. I was afraid of what the acetone might do to my carpet. Which by the way was brand new when I moved in and I've treated it with kid gloves for the past year. I always remove my shoes and ask my guests to do the same. I am careful about eating from the sofa and vacuum regularly.
The non-acetone remover was not really doing much of anything.
Thursday 9.30 a.m. Put out an A.P.B.
Call first friend, W, to get advice. "Use Spot Shot," she says. "That stuff is amazing. It takes out EVERYTHING." Cool, I happen to have some on hand. Probably from some other mishap that she advised me on previously. I Spot Shot the spot. No luck. Nothing. I scrub and scrub. Rub and rub. Circular motions. First my right hand, then my left. Still nothing happening. I have some K2 spot remover in the closet. I give that a try. No results.
Note: The stain does come off the sofa and the coffee table, but it's the carpet now that is the major concern. First of all, it's not mine! The stain is in the middle of the room. I can't hide it.
I call second friend, J, leaving my 911 distress message on her voice mail. When I hang up, third friend, KO, happens to ring up. "So glad you called. I'm having a melt down," I explain my dilemma. She has two small children and drinks loads of red wine. She is the master of spill cleanup. "Oxyclean," she says simply. "That works every time. I've used it on red wine, kid spills, you name it. If that doesn't work, just get the checkbook out, cause you're screwed." Okay, not what I want to hear. I'm not working, remember...I was trying to save money. However, I have hope that this Oxyclean actually is the miracle potion. I'll pick some up this afternoon. But before I leave, I try the Spot Shot one more time. Nope.
11.00 a.m.
Second friend, J, calls and leaves a detailed message on my voicemail while I'm talking with KO. She reads off an Internet printout her husband gave her. It pretty much goes like this:
"Keep the stain wet (great, first thing and I've already blown that!)
Use hot water.
Spray 15-20 shots of hair spray onto the stain, use rubbing alcohol and hot water.
Very important to keep the stain wet (Again with the wet thing!)
Rub in with a small brush.
Can also try hydrogen peroxide, brake fluid cleaner, hair removal cream (huh??), nail varnish remover (but, they advise, be very careful with that), hot water, Oxyclean. "
Hmmm, two people said Oxyclean. Must be some good stuff. I go out for my afternoon dog walks and errands. Pick up the Oxyclean (5.99) on my way home.
4.00 p.m.
Spray Oxyclean onto the stains. Scrub scrub scrub with old toothbrush. Rummage through closet for old white T-shirt to use as a clean rag for more scrubbing. The stain is smearing, and festering. But not coming out. My small muscle groups are getting a workout from all the scrubbing. I continue to work on this project until 6.30 when I have to go to a friend's for dinner. I literally have to step away from this little project to stop from messing with it. I'm obsessed!
11.30 p.m.
I come home and immediately check on my stain. Yes, it's still there. I go to bed exhausted. But not until I try more spraying and scrubbing. I even had all cleaning products lined up around the stain as if they were trying to bully the stain out just by being present.
Friday 9.00 a.m.
I'm at it again.
I email fourth and fifth friends, KSM and LB, for further advice. KSM is a property manager and has more than likely run across stubborn stains in her line of work. LB has a background in fashion design and is an expert on fabrics.
10.00 a.m.
KSM writes back after having consulted with her 'carpet guru' who suggested WD40 based on the oily composition of the nail polish. But he doesn't hold out for much results since the stain has probably already dried and set in (aarrrggh). Next time he's in my area, he'll stop in and take a look.
LB suggests I get a remnant from my landlord and patch the carpet. Or, since I'm trying to keep my landlord out of this whole scenario, I can pull a piece from a closet or around my hot water heater and use that to patch the area without it being noticeable. I'm really doubting my ability to patch a carpet without it being noticeable. However, I'll take both of these bits of advice into consideration. Thanks, girls.
I rummage through my medicine closet and find some Acetone Nail Varnish Remover and small grooming scissors. What the heck. I may as well try it if my next option is to cut the stain out and patch it up anyway! What do I have to lose at this point? I begin to snip away at the carpet fibers. But it's too big a job for these little scissors. The stain seems to go deep into the carpet roots. Oooh, but the Acetone remover is kinda working. I go find another white shirt to rip up and keep at it. I even go so far as to pour the remover right onto the carpet. A dangerous move for sure. Unfortunately, I only had a small amount of the remover in the bottle and I ran out too quickly. I need more.
12.00 noon:
I leave again to go walk the dogs and make yet another store run (giving the stain one more squirt of Oxyclean on my way out the door). I buy Acetone Nail Polish Remover (1.69) , Brake Fluid (2.99) and WD40 (2.49)! I'm not getting anything else done. The past two days have been consumed by this nail polish cleanup project. And I'm starting to feel like the Karate Kid, 'wax on, wax off.'
4.00 pm.
I'm home again with my new bag of tricks. Once again I don the rubber gloves awaiting me. Get down on all fours with my white rags, hot water, and toothbrush. Eeny meany, mighty moe. Which weird flammable product shall I try next? I know the Acetone remover was beginning to work a little. But for some reason I go with one of the other less obvious liquids. I reach for the "super heavy duty Pennzoil brake fluid. I dabbed a bit onto my white rag, rubbed it gently onto the worse part of the stain. By now I'm beginning to worry a bit about all the chemicals I've been dousing onto my carpet for the past two days. I'm expecting to walk into the room and find the area smoldering from self-combustion.
Low and behold, it was working! The brake fluid was working and it was working quite well. I kept at it, working it vigorously and steadily into the stains until the entire stain was gone! I was elated! Oh the joy! The relief! After almost two full days, several dollars, and more angst than I care to have in my 'stress free' life, I could finally relax and move on to do something else with my time (like find a job).
6.30 p.m.
Friend, W, comes by to pick me up for an evening out. She came up to my apt to check out my work. She takes a look, circles the area, scrutinizing the carpet. She looks up at me and says with a laugh, "I think you're going to get away with this!"
Saturday 2.30 a.m.
Came home after a night on the town. Went to bed peacefully....but not without first checking on my carpet one more time. My stain free, beige carpet.
Thanks to all my friends who offered great advice...and to the lucky penny I picked up earlier in the day!
Friday, September 14, 2007
In Need of a Shake-Up
I'm starting to think I'm an emotional retard. Unable to feel any emotion for anything other than a great pair of shoes found on the sale rack. What does that mean exactly? I used to be a somewhat passionate person...I think. Actually, I can't remember the last time I got truly jazzed about something - a job, a boy, a vacation? Yes, I do remember and it was over a year ago. I had recently returned from Europe and had oh so many business venture ideas swirling around in my brain. I'd found a great apartment with a view to set up camp for awhile. Something I hadn't had since my divorce. I had just met a fella I thought could be ... well if not "the one" at least someone to share a bit of time with. Life seemed exciting, fresh and new. Lately, it seems nothing much turns my crank.
Currently jobless, the possibilities are seemingly endless, right? There are loads of jobs out there. Friends have been calling me for the past week advising me of job ops I should be thrilled to jump at. Instead, I think "Ho hum. Sure I could do that. I'll look into it. Right after I ...." fill in the blank. Go to yoga. Walk some dogs. Clean out my closet. Drink more coffee. Read a book due back to the library in three days. Priorities, ya know.
I joke about the lack of man action, but seriously there are at least half a dozen guys who, if I'd just give them the friggin' time of day, would be happy to make time for me. There's the Astrology Expert, Father of Three, Donor Dude, Old Friend From the Past (OFP), and Serious George for example. They are all nice and somewhat interesting to chat with, but just provide no romantic 'spark.' And I am pretty certain the feelings are mutual, but men are strange creatures. If I called any one of them, I'm pretty sure I could muster up a date with him. They still sniff around the peripheral, keeping themselves known.
The tricky part is my current unemployed state right now. That doesn't really afford me to date. Unlike dates of yesteryore, men don't pay these days. I feel like I got ripped off somehow. I married my college sweetheart. A date consisted of pizza in the dorm room. Back then, for those out in the real working world, men did pay for dates. During my married bliss, something happened. I'm now out there trying to date and the rules are all caliwampus. Men no longer pay to take women out. What? When did this happen? I never got to enjoy the old fashioned tradition of being picked up and 'taken' on a date. The man pays and then drops you off at your home. And now that I'm out there, the rules have changed ... and not in my favor. Harrumph. I've paid my way with ALL of the above referenced fellas (and, not that I care about their incomes in general, but they do make good salaries, I might add). Granted that whole paying issue gets tricky. If I'm not interested in them romantically, do I really want them to pay? But if I'm a little on the fence with my feelings, them wooing me a bit might help their cause. Or not. Who knows.
Would it be wrong to flat out suggest a more economical date based on my current financial status? A walk in the park, a visit to a gallery opening, coffee and scrabble at a favorite local cafe? The tight budget does limit outings to daytime activities. Not much in the way of cheap evening dating options in the city.
Then begs the question, why call any of these dudes if I'm not interested in them romantically? My one friend keeps telling me not to bother if I'm not considering them as 'boyfriend' material. Why not just go out with my girlfriends who I'm sure to have a good time with? I don't need these guys to be friends with, she claims. I considered this for some time. And actually, I DO need more testosterone in my life. I have loads of gal pals, but I currently do not have enough men friends to hang out with. Men friends can offer a lot of insight and a switch in the conversation. For example, when I'm with my gals, it's always about men. Talking about men, how do we get men, who got the last man, problems with current men. It can get exhausting. If I'm actually sitting across from one, sipping a latte, we're having a conversation about anything but men.
So while I've been contemplating this debate about calling one of these fellas, I got an email from Serious George inviting me to dinner Saturday evening. He told me to choose the restaurant. Well, at least that gives me the opportunity to choose cheap. And although I'm anything but excited about the man, I will get to wear a pair of my sexy 'date' shoes that I'm so fond of. And that's exciting!
Currently jobless, the possibilities are seemingly endless, right? There are loads of jobs out there. Friends have been calling me for the past week advising me of job ops I should be thrilled to jump at. Instead, I think "Ho hum. Sure I could do that. I'll look into it. Right after I ...." fill in the blank. Go to yoga. Walk some dogs. Clean out my closet. Drink more coffee. Read a book due back to the library in three days. Priorities, ya know.
I joke about the lack of man action, but seriously there are at least half a dozen guys who, if I'd just give them the friggin' time of day, would be happy to make time for me. There's the Astrology Expert, Father of Three, Donor Dude, Old Friend From the Past (OFP), and Serious George for example. They are all nice and somewhat interesting to chat with, but just provide no romantic 'spark.' And I am pretty certain the feelings are mutual, but men are strange creatures. If I called any one of them, I'm pretty sure I could muster up a date with him. They still sniff around the peripheral, keeping themselves known.
The tricky part is my current unemployed state right now. That doesn't really afford me to date. Unlike dates of yesteryore, men don't pay these days. I feel like I got ripped off somehow. I married my college sweetheart. A date consisted of pizza in the dorm room. Back then, for those out in the real working world, men did pay for dates. During my married bliss, something happened. I'm now out there trying to date and the rules are all caliwampus. Men no longer pay to take women out. What? When did this happen? I never got to enjoy the old fashioned tradition of being picked up and 'taken' on a date. The man pays and then drops you off at your home. And now that I'm out there, the rules have changed ... and not in my favor. Harrumph. I've paid my way with ALL of the above referenced fellas (and, not that I care about their incomes in general, but they do make good salaries, I might add). Granted that whole paying issue gets tricky. If I'm not interested in them romantically, do I really want them to pay? But if I'm a little on the fence with my feelings, them wooing me a bit might help their cause. Or not. Who knows.
Would it be wrong to flat out suggest a more economical date based on my current financial status? A walk in the park, a visit to a gallery opening, coffee and scrabble at a favorite local cafe? The tight budget does limit outings to daytime activities. Not much in the way of cheap evening dating options in the city.
Then begs the question, why call any of these dudes if I'm not interested in them romantically? My one friend keeps telling me not to bother if I'm not considering them as 'boyfriend' material. Why not just go out with my girlfriends who I'm sure to have a good time with? I don't need these guys to be friends with, she claims. I considered this for some time. And actually, I DO need more testosterone in my life. I have loads of gal pals, but I currently do not have enough men friends to hang out with. Men friends can offer a lot of insight and a switch in the conversation. For example, when I'm with my gals, it's always about men. Talking about men, how do we get men, who got the last man, problems with current men. It can get exhausting. If I'm actually sitting across from one, sipping a latte, we're having a conversation about anything but men.
So while I've been contemplating this debate about calling one of these fellas, I got an email from Serious George inviting me to dinner Saturday evening. He told me to choose the restaurant. Well, at least that gives me the opportunity to choose cheap. And although I'm anything but excited about the man, I will get to wear a pair of my sexy 'date' shoes that I'm so fond of. And that's exciting!
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Get Out There
Anyone who is single and attempting to date in this town has heard the phrase from a friend, family member or well-meaning co-worker: "You've just got to get out there."
I hear that and I think "you've got to be kidding me." Not many are more 'out there' than myself. I am out there. I couldn't really be much more out there. In the past few months I've been to the opera, Shakespeare, and the REACT theater. I attended the Killers, Kaiser Chiefs and Joss Stone concerts. I frequent the Seattle Art Museum, 100 Suite Gallery and the first Thursday art walk. I've been to Cabo, Key Stone and New York. Went to the Ballard Seafood Festival, the Evergreen State Fair, but, okay, I missed Bumbershoot. I've been to singles parties, on singles websites, and to speed dating events. I've taken writing classes, yoga classes, taught ESL as well as my Discover U class. I've been to the Olympic Sculpture Park, the dog park, the people park. I've drank lattes and walked dogs in more Seattle neighborhoods than I care to mention.
I've been to wedding, funerals and various BBQ's about town. I was an extra in a local film and I regularly partake in dinner or happy hours with my cute single girlfriends. We go to cafes, bars, clubs and dance the night away. I had a job with the city where I worked with 90% men and 90% of my customers were men. I golf every Sunday and attend local spectator sports (Mariners, Sounders, high school basketball games!). I let friends set me up with friends and I frequently talk to strangers at bus stops. Whew!
If I was any more 'out' I'd be gay! (Not that there's anything wrong with that!).
I hear that and I think "you've got to be kidding me." Not many are more 'out there' than myself. I am out there. I couldn't really be much more out there. In the past few months I've been to the opera, Shakespeare, and the REACT theater. I attended the Killers, Kaiser Chiefs and Joss Stone concerts. I frequent the Seattle Art Museum, 100 Suite Gallery and the first Thursday art walk. I've been to Cabo, Key Stone and New York. Went to the Ballard Seafood Festival, the Evergreen State Fair, but, okay, I missed Bumbershoot. I've been to singles parties, on singles websites, and to speed dating events. I've taken writing classes, yoga classes, taught ESL as well as my Discover U class. I've been to the Olympic Sculpture Park, the dog park, the people park. I've drank lattes and walked dogs in more Seattle neighborhoods than I care to mention.
I've been to wedding, funerals and various BBQ's about town. I was an extra in a local film and I regularly partake in dinner or happy hours with my cute single girlfriends. We go to cafes, bars, clubs and dance the night away. I had a job with the city where I worked with 90% men and 90% of my customers were men. I golf every Sunday and attend local spectator sports (Mariners, Sounders, high school basketball games!). I let friends set me up with friends and I frequently talk to strangers at bus stops. Whew!
If I was any more 'out' I'd be gay! (Not that there's anything wrong with that!).
Saturday, September 8, 2007
I Ching, U Ching
So I consulted the I Ching today. Yes, yes I DO consult the I Ching occasionally. I also have my cards read about once a year and do yoga and meditate. So what. It's what I do. It keeps me sane. Well, my friends may beg to differ on that point, but it keeps me feeling sane anyway.
So, as I was saying, I consulted the I Ching and it came up hexagram 9 - The Taming Power of the Small. "You are temporarily restrained. It is a time for taking small steps." Great. I am already jobless, rent a small apartment and don't have a car or even a bus pass right now. If I take any smaller steps I'll be stepping into a pup tent at the park near my house sharing my Top Ramen with the other homeless living there.
Let's see, what else does it say? "The obstacles to success can only be removed now by gentle measures. Inside yourself be focused and determined. On the outside, non action, adaptability, neutrality, and tolerance are the order of the day. Ambitious behavior is to be avoided..." Okay, now we're talking my kind of language. Don't jump into anything too hastily. Don't force anything that doesn't feel right. Chill ... but continue to mentally stay focused about the success I'm after. This is a correct interpretation, right? I can do this. Sure.
"To rush things is to invite misfortune." No problem there...I'm not a 'rusher into things' by any stretch. "Do not collapse into anxiety, doubt, or the strategies of the ego " (a little easier said than done...but I'll give it my best shot) . "Letting go brings inner freedom." If I let go of much more, I'm a little worried of what I'll be left with. A great pair of shoes and a whole lot of unrealized dreams? Well, I'll give it a try. Cause the I Ching has been around for thousands of years. And I've been around for a mere forty-four.
So, as I was saying, I consulted the I Ching and it came up hexagram 9 - The Taming Power of the Small. "You are temporarily restrained. It is a time for taking small steps." Great. I am already jobless, rent a small apartment and don't have a car or even a bus pass right now. If I take any smaller steps I'll be stepping into a pup tent at the park near my house sharing my Top Ramen with the other homeless living there.
Let's see, what else does it say? "The obstacles to success can only be removed now by gentle measures. Inside yourself be focused and determined. On the outside, non action, adaptability, neutrality, and tolerance are the order of the day. Ambitious behavior is to be avoided..." Okay, now we're talking my kind of language. Don't jump into anything too hastily. Don't force anything that doesn't feel right. Chill ... but continue to mentally stay focused about the success I'm after. This is a correct interpretation, right? I can do this. Sure.
"To rush things is to invite misfortune." No problem there...I'm not a 'rusher into things' by any stretch. "Do not collapse into anxiety, doubt, or the strategies of the ego " (a little easier said than done...but I'll give it my best shot) . "Letting go brings inner freedom." If I let go of much more, I'm a little worried of what I'll be left with. A great pair of shoes and a whole lot of unrealized dreams? Well, I'll give it a try. Cause the I Ching has been around for thousands of years. And I've been around for a mere forty-four.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Here I Go Again
Once again I'm unemployed. Or as my friend, Tim, likes to term it, underemployed. Because, after all, I do have my pet sitting business and my quarterly seminar at Discover U. However, these gigs, as fun as they are, aren't quite paying the rent, as meager as mine might be.
So I'm back where I was six months ago- where I've been time and time again during this very extended transition period. Back to answering the same ever pressing questions from concerned friends and family "so what are your plans?" Plans? I need a plan, you say? I've been living on the "no plan" plan for so long I no longer have the ability to plan for next week, not to mention my extended future! Ummm, yeah, tomorrow I plan to go to yoga and Sunday I plan to golf. Oh, and I have a lunch date with a friend on Monday. That's it. No further plans. That's as far out as I am capable of planning.
Why do I have such a hard time making a plan? Or when I do make a plan, it changes the very next day...or hour in many cases. I don't worry much about getting work. There is certainly work in this town if you're not overly picky. Just like there are men in this town if you're not overly picky. Apparently, I'm overly picky in both arenas. I'm still taking temp jobs because I don't want to commit to the wrong job. There are plenty of jobs to be had that will get that pesky rent paid. I've had no trouble finding jobs since my return to Seattle. And I've been able to dabble in a variety of occupations from pet sitting and cleaning animal hospitals to working at the City of Seattle and SAM. However, a year and a half later and I'm no further ahead in the career finding game. When people ask me what I'm going to do next, I feel myself getting tense, my jaws tighten and my heart rate increases a smidgen. I need to have some answer. Something that will stop the questioning! I'm going to be a professional dancer. I'm moving to Oman. I've got a spot on that 40 something year old bachelorette show. Anything besides "I've no idea" would be acceptable. I can tell. These people just want an answer. I can tell from the look on their faces. They need to know I have a plan.
I'm perfectly content with this method of sampling jobs. It's been quite interesting and rewarding in many ways. It's also very stress-free. No corporate politics. No long-term projects that become cumbersome. And I'm all about the freeing of stress in my life. After 11 years as an insurance adjuster and 6 more as an analyst in the insurance industry, I'm certain stress-free is best for my health. However, I think my health is the issue here. This 'sampling' of jobs does not allow for receiving any benefits. No paid vacation, no 401K options, and the biggie...no health insurance.
Socialized medicine, I realize, is a tricky topic and I'm not saying the way other countries operate is the best way. But certainly those of us who are working, contributing to society, paying our rent, but not who are not eligible for health benefits should receive a certain amount of affordable health care when needed.
So once again, I'm feeling that it's time to find that thing. That thing that I am actually good at, that I love (or at least like ... a lot) and just maybe make an actual salary and can receive a certain amount of reasonable benefits to make it a living. This transition bit can be pretty overwhelming some days. Most days it's easy and I don't worry much. But when pet sitting gigs get cancelled, or a doctor visit is well overdo, I begin to freak...just a teensy bit. We'll just see where I land next. It's always a surprise.
So I'm back where I was six months ago- where I've been time and time again during this very extended transition period. Back to answering the same ever pressing questions from concerned friends and family "so what are your plans?" Plans? I need a plan, you say? I've been living on the "no plan" plan for so long I no longer have the ability to plan for next week, not to mention my extended future! Ummm, yeah, tomorrow I plan to go to yoga and Sunday I plan to golf. Oh, and I have a lunch date with a friend on Monday. That's it. No further plans. That's as far out as I am capable of planning.
Why do I have such a hard time making a plan? Or when I do make a plan, it changes the very next day...or hour in many cases. I don't worry much about getting work. There is certainly work in this town if you're not overly picky. Just like there are men in this town if you're not overly picky. Apparently, I'm overly picky in both arenas. I'm still taking temp jobs because I don't want to commit to the wrong job. There are plenty of jobs to be had that will get that pesky rent paid. I've had no trouble finding jobs since my return to Seattle. And I've been able to dabble in a variety of occupations from pet sitting and cleaning animal hospitals to working at the City of Seattle and SAM. However, a year and a half later and I'm no further ahead in the career finding game. When people ask me what I'm going to do next, I feel myself getting tense, my jaws tighten and my heart rate increases a smidgen. I need to have some answer. Something that will stop the questioning! I'm going to be a professional dancer. I'm moving to Oman. I've got a spot on that 40 something year old bachelorette show. Anything besides "I've no idea" would be acceptable. I can tell. These people just want an answer. I can tell from the look on their faces. They need to know I have a plan.
I'm perfectly content with this method of sampling jobs. It's been quite interesting and rewarding in many ways. It's also very stress-free. No corporate politics. No long-term projects that become cumbersome. And I'm all about the freeing of stress in my life. After 11 years as an insurance adjuster and 6 more as an analyst in the insurance industry, I'm certain stress-free is best for my health. However, I think my health is the issue here. This 'sampling' of jobs does not allow for receiving any benefits. No paid vacation, no 401K options, and the biggie...no health insurance.
Socialized medicine, I realize, is a tricky topic and I'm not saying the way other countries operate is the best way. But certainly those of us who are working, contributing to society, paying our rent, but not who are not eligible for health benefits should receive a certain amount of affordable health care when needed.
So once again, I'm feeling that it's time to find that thing. That thing that I am actually good at, that I love (or at least like ... a lot) and just maybe make an actual salary and can receive a certain amount of reasonable benefits to make it a living. This transition bit can be pretty overwhelming some days. Most days it's easy and I don't worry much. But when pet sitting gigs get cancelled, or a doctor visit is well overdo, I begin to freak...just a teensy bit. We'll just see where I land next. It's always a surprise.
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