Friday, February 29, 2008

Love Language 101

Last month I had a girls gathering and one of the girls drove up from Chehalis and stayed the night at my place. When the others had left the party, she and I were talking and I noticed throughout her visit, she kept mentioning her and her husband's 'love languages'. She said, "if I come home and tell Lou I didn't charge anything on this trip, that's his love language." After a few of these comments I asked her if she and her husband were going to counseling. She confirmed they were, hence the whole "love language" terminology being tossed around.

The other night, #8 and I were talking and out of the blue he started talking about his "love languages." He mentioned a book he read either when he was married or while going through his divorce. Either way, he mentioned that it was a very helpful book and he told me a couple of his love languages: 1. Time, when his partner makes time for him and 2. physical touch.

I find these two in particular to be interesting since this is a guy who barely gives me the time of day. I saw him last Monday and haven't heard, seen or received even an email from him since. I had asked him when I left Monday night if he had plans for this coming weekend. He said no, but somehow we never actually planned anything concrete. He'll call eventually, though. He always does...usually apologizing that he's not been in contact.

Touch? Again, he barely shows affection by touch. He will put his hand on my leg in the movie theater, and sex is certainly great, but otherwise, where is all this physical touching? Maybe his idea of these two things is just subtle, while mine is much more pronounced.

I relayed that my 'love languages' also involve time and touch... a lot of touching. I'll have to read up and determine my other love languages.

So, while I continue to date this guy, basically because I do enjoy his company overall when we are hanging out together, and because there's really no reason not to date him at this stage, he just continues to remind me why I know he's not 'the one.'

In addition, I had a crap work week and while confirming once again that my job is not 'the one' I have been having fantasies of my upcoming cruise. Fantasies of the boat stopping in Belize where I get off never to get back on board! Hmmm....what a nice day dream.

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Makeup Makeover Trauma

I'm not a huge shopper. I used to be. When I made a decent living and could afford to do more than just window shop. Besides, to be honest there is just not that much I really need. I dress Seattle 'business casual' at work. I don't even need to dress that nicely if I don't choose to. It's a two man office these days and customers don't pop in, so jeans are just fine. But even so, I like to look presentable. I think the casual dress in this town can go too far sometimes. And even if a girl doesn't need much, it's still nice to get a little something new once in awhile.

In preparing for my upcoming vacation, I took stock of my warm weather wardrobe to see what I had from years past. What is still in style (luckily most of it since we're in an 'everything goes' fashion mode these days), what is still in tact (you know how it is, you put something away the last time you wore it back in late August and it had a stain on it, now it's set in for good), and what still fits. Ahhh....the trickier issue. I spent my Saturday evening trying on several outfits all the time sucking my gut in until I was exhausted and couldn't take it anymore. I put everything back in the closet and went downtown today (after my Russian Natalia Nazi Cardio/Body Sculpt Blast, of course!).

First stop, mascara. Harmless purchase. Didn't involve taking off my clothes. That's a good start to my shopping experience. Or so I thought. I go to the Lancome counter to get my usual waterproof mascara. Should only take a second. I know exactly what I want. No muss no fuss. In and out, right? As one salesgirl (or are they called "makeup specialists" these days?) retreats to go find my particular mascara, another one approaches me and advises that if I buy one more item, I get a "gift." Funny, how I'm immediately sucked into the idea of getting something for free. How old am I?

Since I'm still waiting for my mascara girl to return anyway, the other gal starts showing me some lip liners. Yes, I just ran out. I could use a new lip liner. Of course, I can. She proceeds to apply a nice berry something or other liner. It looks nice. But now the rest of my face needs something. She asks if she can put some eyeliner on my eyes too. I thought I had liner on my eyes already (I'm feeling a little insulted here). Silly me. Before I can say much of anything, she's got my head tilted back in a professional wrestler's headlock, coaching me to "look up, look to the side, don't move a muscle, keep your eyes open, don't flinch" while she is jabbing at me with a sharpened black pencil! I can feel my eyes fluttering and watering and I'm doing everything I can not to shove her off of me sending her sailing across the entire length of the department store. Am I at the makeup counter or the dentist?

Once she's adequately applied the liner on both my upper and lower lids, she decides my tinted moisturizer from Aveda is just not doing the job (second insult of the day) and slathers some Ecru 230 Natural Finishing Cream all over my face with a paintbrush attempting to cover up all my age spots and other imperfections. She follows this procedure up with a creamy blush that extends down my neck, a glossy coat of something that is suppose to make my 44 year old skin look 18 again, and she head back to my eyes. My eyes were just recovering from her prior attack. Where is that mascara girl by the way? I'm ready to be done with this experiment.

"Oh, I just can't take that awful green," she says. "I should have removed it right away." The "awful" green is the shadow the last girl sold me at the Shiseido counter six months ago, when I just went in to buy one item. Once she was satisfied with the shadow, she came at me with the final touch. The mascara. Again with the head tilt and 'tugging' action at my eye lashes. Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't all this pulling and tugging and poking at my very delicate eye area seem a bit abrasive? Aren't we suppose to be treating this area of our face with kit gloves?

When finally finished, she was oh so proud of her work. She handed me a mirror and announced how great my eyes looked. They actually "pop" now. Yeah, they pop. They feel like they are going to pop out of my head. I will admit that some of the work was attractive, but for the most part, I felt like a raccoon with spiders on her eyes. Far too much makeup for me. And all that heavy black...against my green (with bloodshot red) eyes, and light brown eyebrows (how did she miss those?) was just too much.

Off I trotted with my original mascara request, a lip liner, and a gift bag full of samples; one of them being makeup remover. How appropriate!

Next stop, bra fitting. Does the fun ever end?

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Greatest Place on Earth (Sometimes)

It's always the way....I spend months droning on about the crap Seattle weather. The grey skies and drizzle make me crabby and foul. All I do is dream of living in a sunshine filled land, with palm trees and calm blue seas. I envision myself wearing flip flops to my job (the one I have yet to create, but allows me to wear flip flops to and I make loads of dough and am really happy being artsy or something along those lines). Yes, I fantasize about how my life would be so easy peasy and carefree in this great sunny and warm imaginary place in my head.

And I'm all set to move as soon as the opportunity presents itself. Then comes along a spectacular stint of sunshiny Pacific Northwest days that remind me of why I live here in the first place.

My office is located down on Shilshole, and while a pain in the rear to get to via Metro, it's quite gorgeous on the kinds of days we've been having lately. Today I took a long walk down to the beach at Golden Gardens, people and nature watching along the way. Went as far as the duck ponds and looped back to the office gazing out at the peaceful Puget Sound the entire way. By the time I'd reached my office, I'd had an enormous attitude adjustment. It was all due to that beautiful 45 minute walk along the beach. Now that's what I'm after!

On Sunday, #8 had reserved a plane for us so he could fly me to the San Juan Islands for the day. OMG! I have lived in this area for almost 30 years and have spent a ton of time exploring the San Juan and Golf Islands over the years via sailboat, ferry or kayak. When married, my ex-husband and I took several trips and camped, stayed at friends' places or in B&B's on the islands. We went whale watching by kayak and truly reveled in the island life. But I had never seen the islands by air. What an amazement I was in for! Sunday was the kind of blue sky, perfect weather day we dream of in this neck of the woods and the day did not disappoint!

Eight reserved a tiny little two seater plane - he piloted up front and I "co-piloted" from behind him. The 360 degree view was spectacular from my perch. He even let me 'fly' the plane! Okay, so flying a plane with the captain sitting right there at the helm is a bit like sailing a huge craft with the captain standing right there to grab the wheel at a moment's notice. Not a whole lot you can do to screw up. Still it was exhilarating! We landed in Friday Harbor, got out and had lunch and strolled around town. After, we took off again and went over to Orcas. We landed but due to the stellar day, an abundance of planes were out exploring the islands so there were no parking spots available. After doing a spin around the airport, we took off again and cruised around scoping out Rosario Resort and the fabulous secluded homes tucked within the hills and trees of the islands.

Again, I am reminded of exactly why I came back here to live. When it's grey and cloudy and damp, it's miserable. But when we have clear, blue skies and sunshine, there is no more beautiful place on earth! Drats. And I was so ready to pack my bags.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Valentine's Day, Schmalentine's Day

The holiday commercialism in this country is so over the top, it is hard to take sometimes. Besides Christmas, Valentine's Day has to be the next most ridiculously commercialized "holiday" of the year. I put holiday in quotes because it's not really a holiday at all! But somehow, with the help of Hallmark, it's become one of the most recognized and expensive days to observe. And it's totally a woman's day. Men don't really give a rat's @$$ about Valentine's Day, but the pressure is more than most men can bare to ignore! And with the media driven expectations placed upon them, they don't dare. Poor guys. I have to say I kinda feel sorry for the males of the world today.

I'm not in the bitter barn because I am home alone on this romantic of all romantic days. No, not at all. I actually really don't care about Valentine's Day. It's a sweet idea and, of course, I observe it...to a point. But my feeling is that we can recognize our sweeties anytime - and should be recognizing them whenever the mood strikes. And we hope the mood strikes more than one day of the year. Or even two or three if we count birthdays and Christmas.

The amount of implied spending on this day makes my head spin. The giant balloons, expensive bouquets, life size teddy bears and 'romantic' dinners in crowded restaurants with a hundred other couples is all so put on it's not even sincere. If my honey presented me with one of those standard diamond necklaces from Kay Jewelers for $99 I'd smack him. How unimaginative can you get?

My "faux" boyfriend (yes, #8) has his daughter today, and I already knew this in advance. He always has his daughter on Thursdays and because he is working toward becoming "Father of the Year", he would in no way even consider 1. making other arrangements for her or 2. allowing his 14 year old daughter to stay home alone for a few hours. I often question his parenting decisions with this teenage daughter, but based on what I was doing at the same age, I ought not to talk...so I don't.

Although I'm not into the Designated Love Day and the silly overspending and obligations, I wouldn't have minded just hanging out with Eight, watching a movie in front of the fire with some nice wine. That's certainly romantic enough for this cynic.

#8 did make an effort and offered to take me to lunch today. Unfortunately, work is crazy at the moment with a deadline looming and lunches aren't really an option for the next couple of days. I could have slipped off to Ray's or Anthony's Homeport for a nice V-Day lunch, but it would have been rushed and I wouldn't have enjoyed it. I'd have been watching the clock worrying about getting back to the office. That's no way to enjoy a lunch with a date. We could say this lunch was not all about me. Maybe he actually wanted to spend lunch with me as inconvenient as it would have been for him. I suggested we just see each other on the weekend instead. I couldn't really tell over the phone if he was offended or relieved. My guess is that he was relieved. He made the gesture, I opted out saving him the time (he works nowhere near my work), the money (he's a bit of a cheapskate) and yet he looks like he made a romantic attempt.

So there ya go. I got the not-too-mushy (silly joke) card you get a guy you're just dating but not ga ga over, a small token gift and we'll spend time together this weekend. Good enough for this Valentine.

Thursday, February 7, 2008

Feeling a Bit Topsy Turvy

It's become more and more apparent that I need to do a major overhaul this year. This week has been a really bad bus week. My bus karma is definitely out of whack and it's trying to tell me something. I race out of my house (yes, there's one issue right there) with mere minutes to spare, approaching the corner only to have the #15 whiz past me at mock speed. I round the corner and the #18 is right on its heels. Argh. Now it's a 25 minute wait til another one comes along going to Ballard. As I stand in the freezing rain waiting for the next northbound round of buses, I count FIVE buses going downtown. Downtown. The place I should be headed. Not out to Shilshole where my very low paying job is currently located. I miss downtown. I love downtown. There are shops, restaurants, happy hours, the post office, banks and sometimes even men downtown. There are a whole slew of friends I used to meet regularly when I worked downtown who I haven't seen since I started this job out in Timbuktu. I know what you're thinking: If Shilshole is 'Timbuktu' what would I do if I worked on the Eastside...or up in Bothell? You're right, I'd never survive. So the whole issue of a car rears its ugly head again. But I just can't justify the cost on my current income.

My job, although very interesting for the most part, is geographically unappealing, limiting growth-wise, low paying, benefit free and involves a wacky boss. I'm almost on the right track there as far as the overall idea of the job, but it's still not quite right.

The guy I've been dating (#8, Numero Ocho, N.O.) is definitely not on the right track even though I find his company enjoyable a few times a month. That's about where it ends. He's far too conservative for me (read: boring), the sex is already waning (bad sign) and there's really not much of a connection.

The place where I live: I love the location as far as living in Seattle goes. Perfect for a single gal. Walking distance to shops, restaurants, services, downtown and buses. Great view and comfortable space overall. Even the noisy neighbors have been suspiciously quiet. I'm pretty certain after their last episode, they had to have been spoken to by someone. There's no way I'm the only person in the building who was witness to that ruckus!

However, Seattle itself; the rain, the cold, the grey skies, are all getting to me. I realize I am living backwards. Rather than to live in a crap climate for most of the year and take a two week sun vacation (in hopes that I time it just right and actually find the sun), I need to be living in the warm sunny climate for the majority of the year and take a two week ski vacation each winter. Let's face it, as much as I love to ski, I don't get to partake in the sport like I used to anyway. Lack of vehicle and limited funds make it more difficult to get up to the mountains regularly. The snow in the Pacific Northwest, although adding up nicely now, is often not the best when compared to some other parts of the country. I'd be much better off to live in a flip flop environment and take off for two weeks to Banff, Colorado or New Mexico. Ski some places I've never been before.

So I'll need to sit down and do some serious soul searching and brainstorming and see what kinds of resolve I can make to move into the direction that is needed. As Elizabeth Gilbert states in her book "Eat, Pray, Love", how can I ask the greater powers for help and expect an answer when I don't even know what exactly I'm asking for?

I don't expect every aspect of my life to be perfect all at the same time, but at least ONE solidly stable aspect would be a bonus at this point. I still want to wander...just want to be sure I'm wandering along the best path. You know, the one that heads toward the satisfying, well-paying career, love and romance, beautiful abode, adventurous travel and perfect health. HA! Who says I don't know what I'm asking for?

Sunday, February 3, 2008

Since You've All Asked...

I haven't seen N.O. (Numero Ocho) still. He did email me this long-ass explanation on Thursday about his current full plate, but said he wanted to see me this weekend. From the tone of his email, it occured to me that while I was concerned that he was giving me the dump, I think he is actually concerned that I may give him the dump-a-roo. I basically told him I understood his situation, but I didn't want him to 'jam' me into his already packed schedule and just be an added stress, obligation etc. And also, I already made plans for Saturday night cause I got the impression he was too busy and I hadn't heard from him. So we were going to try for tonight (Sunday), but he called and left a message while I was in Pilates, saying he had to study tonight after he gets home from his Nat'l Guard Duty. Maybe Monday. Blah blah blah...whatever. I honestly am not all jazzed up about this character and becoming less so. I just want the sex at this point, and if I'm only going to go to dinner, which I pay for, and later get dropped off at my door, then forget it. I know I'm just terrible, but ...well...that's how it is.



Last night my best and oldest friend came to town to visit from Spokane. I don't mean oldest as in she's 70. I mean oldest as in we've been friends for almost thirty years. Wow. Not too many people I can say that about. Just a small handful.



It turns out we discover, while imbibing on a bottle of red, we are dating the same man. Figuratively, of course. The similarities are uncanny. My friend and I are so much alike and our lives seem to continually parallel each others through the years. We like to think of ourselves as fun, outgoing, adventurous, open minded, and sexually active women. We are both dating conservative, safe, boring but kind, not-so-sexually active men.



In both our cases, we are not the priority in these fellas' lives. We are way down in the pecking order after children, ex-wives, parents, jobs and skiing. Somewhere after that, we come in a close sixth or seventh. We agree that we love that these guys have lives and don't suffocate us. We are both very independent with busy social and work lives. But just a bit more attention and a LOT more affection is in order to satisfy our palates.



While I was being squeezed into a quickie dinner date sans sex last Sunday, my friend was simultaneously being squeezed into a similar date with her man and his parents. The fact that we are this well connected is sometimes scary.



While we knew we needed to move from these men, and more specifically all men who resemble them, and became more adament about this fact as the wine depleted, my friend left this morning to head back to Spokane...to her man. And I had every intention of seeing #8 if he made the time. I know I promised "Annonomous" in my last comment that I'd step up and get rid of this guy. At this point, I think I'll just take it easy. I know he's just a 'dater' for me...when he's available to date. Beyond that, nothing more. So I'll keep my ear to the wall as they say, keep my eyes peeled and enjoy the moments in between.