Mr. Wonderful and I are going to look at a house together. I think I might be having a mini heart attack. It's not that I don't want to live with this guy...someday. I do. It's just very difficult for me to really know when that day is. I met my ex-husband at 19. We bought our first house at 23. We got married at 24 and were together for nearly 18 years. I was 39 years old when I finally had some independence, freedom and alone time. And quite honestly, I've been thoroughly enjoying my last ten years of independence, freedom and alone time. Don't be mistaken, I love my boyfriend and I totally enjoy his company. He never grates on my nerves, we always have a blast and I'm certain we're in it for the long haul. So why am I hesitant about living together?
Sure there is this small issue of our decorating tastes that has been the brunt of many jokes. I am, shall we say, eclectic, vintage and worldly treasures in my decorating style. My beau is more contemporary, minimalistic and, well, masculine with regard to his decor. Since he is a dude, I guess that is a good thing. How do two people who have developed their personal styles for over forty years meld them together? When two people meet in their twenties, they generally both have crap they acquired from garage sales and grandma's basement. Milk crates and plywood make up shelves and blankets cover up the nasty sofa stains. Getting together means chucking all that and starting anew developing their tastes and style together. I've already been there and done that. I now have my own funky style that, quite frankly, I like! My boyfriend is the most easy-going fella there is, but I can tell he wouldn't pause for one second at tossing some of my nostalgic family heirlooms (yes, that is what I'm calling them) to the curb.
Once while browsing through an antique store, I spotted an amazing piece of furniture I could envision in a kitchen or pantry displaying some cool pottery from Portugal or Italy. At my excitement, Mr. W. just turned and walked away. I swear I detected a snicker. "What's wrong?" I demanded. "Are you laughing because there is no way in H-E-Double Hockey Sticks you can picture this in your house?" No reply.
Upon further discussion, I believe we've determined I own about two or three pieces that meet his approval.
Besides the decorating issue, which I'm pretty sure we could negotiate our way through, there is that alone time thing. I revel in coming home to my empty apartment, no noise, no questions, no demands. It is my oasis. I stay up late reading, writing, and puttering. I am the quintessential night owl. He is not.
Last weekend, we took a trip to Portland where I introduced him to some longtime friends of mine. Later one of them wrote "It sounds like he is as independent as you are--so that works." She is right, we are both very independent, enjoy each other immensely, but also have our own interests and need for alone time.
Surely my concerns will get ironed out. Surely I won't lose "Independent George" in the process (and neither will he). And surely when we are finally ready to take the plunge and we find the perfect home, I'll be 100% ready. Surely.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Second (or Third or Fourth) Acts
The question in the tag line asks "What is the next?" for this 40-something year old woman? After much deliberation, several years of trying on other jobs (pet sitting, art museum, attorney's office, bridal gown sales to name a few), exploring and teaching abroad, an involved application process,coercing friends and professional contacts to write letters of reference spouting words of praise, and finally, a grueling 4 1/2 hour interview, it appears the "next" in this scenario includes heading back to school. Even as I seem to be closing in on the end of my 40's, I feel excited and energized by my pursuit of a Masters in Teaching and prospective career change. It's what I've wanted to do since my first round of college courses, but others, society, my devil's advocate persona have always talked me out of it. Well, no more. I have to work for the next 20 years (at least), so I need to do something I think I'll enjoy. And frankly, the additional time off is enticing as well.
I know at least one travel friend who frowns on the limitations of the teacher travel schedule. I once asked her opinion about traveling to Argentina during Christmas time with a teacher on her break. It was expensive to fly, accommodations were going to be costly, as was everything else that time of year. Her advice? "Ditch the teacher." Rather than ditch the teacher, I'm joining the teacher. True my vacation plans would be worked around school schedules, which equates to busier tourist seasons, higher prices and the risk of traveling with kids most of the time. I am pretty sure these are adversities I can negotiate around. An experienced explorer can find the deals sans the families. It's not as if I plan to visit Six Flags or set sail on a Disney Cruise.
My recently engaged ex-sister-in-law told me at first she felt a little silly being "engaged" at her age. She quickly got over that and is enjoying the moment (I'm very excited for her by the way!). I, too, feel a little bit silly going back to school, to be a teacher of all things, so late in life. But hey, you know what I say? It's never too late to follow your heart, even if my heart will be the ripe old age of fifty by the time I start my new career.
I know at least one travel friend who frowns on the limitations of the teacher travel schedule. I once asked her opinion about traveling to Argentina during Christmas time with a teacher on her break. It was expensive to fly, accommodations were going to be costly, as was everything else that time of year. Her advice? "Ditch the teacher." Rather than ditch the teacher, I'm joining the teacher. True my vacation plans would be worked around school schedules, which equates to busier tourist seasons, higher prices and the risk of traveling with kids most of the time. I am pretty sure these are adversities I can negotiate around. An experienced explorer can find the deals sans the families. It's not as if I plan to visit Six Flags or set sail on a Disney Cruise.
My recently engaged ex-sister-in-law told me at first she felt a little silly being "engaged" at her age. She quickly got over that and is enjoying the moment (I'm very excited for her by the way!). I, too, feel a little bit silly going back to school, to be a teacher of all things, so late in life. But hey, you know what I say? It's never too late to follow your heart, even if my heart will be the ripe old age of fifty by the time I start my new career.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Coming to Terms
For most of my life my breasts have been a source of self consciousness. That is probably normal for most girls. While penis size is a boy's biggest concern growing up, girls tend to worry about their breasts and when they will finally develop and they'll begin to look like women. The difference between girls and boys, of course, is that boys can keep their insufficient penis size hidden for quite a long time, basically until they start having sex. On the other hand, a girl's assets are in full view for the world to see, tease and poke fun at. Girls secretly try to encourage full breasts by doing crazy exercises. Remember the chant "we must, we must, we must increase our busts?" Then there were the tissue stuffing techniques and padded bras. Recall Margaret in Judy Blume's "Are You There God, It's Me, Margaret?" Poor Margaret was obsessed with her development rate, or lack thereof.
While all this was going on for the girls around me, I honestly couldn't relate. I know girls thought I was lucky to have to wear a bra in the 5th grade, but believe me, I did not feel fortunate as one of the only two girls in the 5th grade wearing a bra. And not a training bra, mind you. Mona Rubenfeld, the other over developed 5th grader, and I were endowed enough to have to wear actual grown up bras with hooks and all. Although I think we were both secretly mortified, we were probably the envy of the girls and a source of fantasy for the boys in our class. It was tough times for a couple of fairly innocent 5th graders.
These mammaries just kept on growing. Nothing could stop them. I started dieting and exercising at age 12. I realized these over sized boobs did not exactly make me look slim. In 1975 slim was definitely in. Marsha Brady, Susan Day, Cher, these were the women girls wanted to look like back then. Furthermore, halters and tube tops were the rage. I wanted to fit in.
Although I kept my weight down in general, it was never enough. Once, years ago, while shopping for bras at Nordstrom (the best place to buy bras for the full-figured gals), the sales woman walked into the dressing room shouting "where's my 32 Double D?" because she couldn't remember what room she had put me into. Humiliated, I stuck my hand up over the door and squeaked out "I'm over here." Seeing me blush, she tries to encourage me, "honey, don't be embarrassed, women would kill for your figure." Umm, that is definitely not the case, believe me. I've spent years with these things and NO ONE is ever envious. I've received comments like "you have your mother's figure" (not a compliment if you knew my mother. Lovely woman, however...). "Wow! You have huge boobs" (not exactly subtle), and "I would have done something about those things years ago."
It's only been in recent years that I've come to terms with these babies (sort of). They are there and they are just part of me, I suppose. Some women have muscular arms, some women have fabulous legs, I have these ample breasts. C'est le vie.
Last week I had my annual mammogram. Anyone over forty, and some women younger than forty, can relate to the somewhat painful, humiliating and possibly even scary procedure of the mammogram. I stood at the machine as the technician handled my breast like a piece of ham, slapping it up onto the glass plate, pushing, pulling, arranging it this way and that and then clamping down on the vice, crank, crank, craaaaank one last time. It took my breath away. "Breathe normally," she said. Is she serious? I was practically holding my breath so not one millimeter of skin would move even the slightest bit. I did not want to screw up and have a 'do over' for any part of this. On the last picture (two X-rays, two positions on each breast), she decided there was a slight wrinkle and we should do one more shot. Drats.
After feeling sufficiently man handled and hurriedly climbing back into the flimsy robe, she sent me back to the waiting room where the doctor would call me to review the results.
The outcome? My rather bodacious ta ta's got a clean bill of health! As annoying as it is that I cannot wear certain tops, that they make me look and feel even bigger than I am, and they interfere with my golf swing, I am very satisfied that they are, at least, healthy. And really, this matters more than the industrial sport bras, the constant teasing or any other messages society throws my way.
While all this was going on for the girls around me, I honestly couldn't relate. I know girls thought I was lucky to have to wear a bra in the 5th grade, but believe me, I did not feel fortunate as one of the only two girls in the 5th grade wearing a bra. And not a training bra, mind you. Mona Rubenfeld, the other over developed 5th grader, and I were endowed enough to have to wear actual grown up bras with hooks and all. Although I think we were both secretly mortified, we were probably the envy of the girls and a source of fantasy for the boys in our class. It was tough times for a couple of fairly innocent 5th graders.
These mammaries just kept on growing. Nothing could stop them. I started dieting and exercising at age 12. I realized these over sized boobs did not exactly make me look slim. In 1975 slim was definitely in. Marsha Brady, Susan Day, Cher, these were the women girls wanted to look like back then. Furthermore, halters and tube tops were the rage. I wanted to fit in.
Although I kept my weight down in general, it was never enough. Once, years ago, while shopping for bras at Nordstrom (the best place to buy bras for the full-figured gals), the sales woman walked into the dressing room shouting "where's my 32 Double D?" because she couldn't remember what room she had put me into. Humiliated, I stuck my hand up over the door and squeaked out "I'm over here." Seeing me blush, she tries to encourage me, "honey, don't be embarrassed, women would kill for your figure." Umm, that is definitely not the case, believe me. I've spent years with these things and NO ONE is ever envious. I've received comments like "you have your mother's figure" (not a compliment if you knew my mother. Lovely woman, however...). "Wow! You have huge boobs" (not exactly subtle), and "I would have done something about those things years ago."
It's only been in recent years that I've come to terms with these babies (sort of). They are there and they are just part of me, I suppose. Some women have muscular arms, some women have fabulous legs, I have these ample breasts. C'est le vie.
Last week I had my annual mammogram. Anyone over forty, and some women younger than forty, can relate to the somewhat painful, humiliating and possibly even scary procedure of the mammogram. I stood at the machine as the technician handled my breast like a piece of ham, slapping it up onto the glass plate, pushing, pulling, arranging it this way and that and then clamping down on the vice, crank, crank, craaaaank one last time. It took my breath away. "Breathe normally," she said. Is she serious? I was practically holding my breath so not one millimeter of skin would move even the slightest bit. I did not want to screw up and have a 'do over' for any part of this. On the last picture (two X-rays, two positions on each breast), she decided there was a slight wrinkle and we should do one more shot. Drats.
After feeling sufficiently man handled and hurriedly climbing back into the flimsy robe, she sent me back to the waiting room where the doctor would call me to review the results.
The outcome? My rather bodacious ta ta's got a clean bill of health! As annoying as it is that I cannot wear certain tops, that they make me look and feel even bigger than I am, and they interfere with my golf swing, I am very satisfied that they are, at least, healthy. And really, this matters more than the industrial sport bras, the constant teasing or any other messages society throws my way.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Many Tropical Vacations
"I travel a lot; I hate having my life disrupted by routine." ~ Caskie Stinnett
How many tropical vacations does it take before a girl gets a full week in the sun? Apparently, more than three. I know I shouldn't be complaining; and I'm not. Not really. I count myself as extremely lucky.
In December, my sweetie and I took a fabulous pre-Christmas trip to Belize. We visited the third week in December, shortly after the official rainy season. While the weather was better than we expected based on the forecast we viewed prior to departing Seattle, it wasn't quite as hot and sunny as we would have liked for a tropical Central American kind of vacation.
Our snorkeling day was a little cool with semi-rough waters, but the sights were beautiful and we had a great time even though it was a bit chilly. We had one half day of rain while exploring the Mayan Ruins. Luckily the hardest rainfall was during lunch. We were protected under cover as it came down in sheets around us while we enjoyed a traditional Belizean lunch of fried plantains, chicken, rice and beans. Yum. The next day, however, brought us a full day of rain (spa and book reading day!). It was still warm enough to sit out on our cabana porch, relax and read while watching the rain come down around us. One evening when we walked into the village of Hopkins for dinner and Garifuna drum music with the locals, the rain came pouring down again. Our gracious host called our hotel to come to the rescue so we wouldn't have to trudge the mile back to our cabana along the unlit, muddy, rutted, unpaved road.
On the days sunny enough to be on the beach, the clouds teased us making the sun duck in and out of view, the winds whipped and the Caribbean was not quite warm enough for this wimp to swim. Regardless, it was a beautiful and romantic setting and we did have loads of fun. Besides the ruins, snorkeling, and couples massage, we explored the area via the hotel's beach bikes, we went zip lining in the jungle and experienced cave tubing. We enjoyed rum punch and chocolate monkey cocktails at the pool bar and met some very interesting folks including locals, ex-pats and tourists. We both agreed that we would definitely visit Belize again and explore even more of the amazing countryside and the Caye's, but maybe in January or February.
We spent our second tropical vacation this winter in the Sunshine State visiting my brother and his wife in the Florida Keys. Lucky them (and us), they were spending the winter at a friend's house on Big Pine Key, just 30 minutes north of Key West. The weather for the better part of January was in the upper 70's and even 80's. I got regular updates assuring us "the weather has been beautiful, come on down!" We arrived late the night before Super Bowl Sunday. The plan was to go into Key West and wander around, watch the sunset at the famous Mallory Square, then go watch the game at a couple of fun bars. Sounded like a blast even though we aren't avid football fans. Luckily I stowed my umbrella in my bag because it rain on and off most of the day. I kept thinking positive. "I think it's brightening!" I said frequently throughout the day. We enjoyed our wandering nonetheless and stopped into "Half Shell Oyster Bar" for a bite before going to view the sunset. Suddenly, the skies opened up and it was coming down in buckets. Hmmm...no sunset tonight. C'est le vie~ we headed to the bar my brother had in mind to watch the game. Unfortunately, the bars in Key West are mostly open air. They had been planning for sunshine and crowds. Buffets that were laid out for half time feasting, ended up looking sad and soggy by the end of the game. Unlike us hardy Seattlites, Key Westerners do not venture out in foul weather. By the time we finished bar hopping, watching the game, dancing to music, and imbibing in a few cocktails, we found ourselves with sandals in hand, water up to our calves trudging through the flash flood back to the car. The next day was sunny, dry and warm. We rode my brother's bikes to the beach for some of what we came for.
The rains continued off and on throughout the week, but mostly in the early mornings while we were still sleeping or sipping our morning coffee and chatting. Luckily the weather didn't really interfere with our daily activities. We trekked all over Key West sight seeing, rented scooters, did some kayaking, and rode bikes around Big Pine, Bahia Honda and No Name Keys. We had some cloudy days, I never actually swam in the ocean (too cool still) and I wore a sweater much of the time, but even so, it was a great vacation and the weather was much better than Seattle in February. We hope to be invited back next year, but maybe in March.
Third time's a charm, they say. In early March a group of girls flew to Oahu to visit another friend and celebrate a birthday. I'd only been to Hawaii twice before and both times the weather was incredible. Finally I was going to get some tropical sunshine, hot weather, and serious beach time. Before leaving Seattle I decided to experiment with a spray tan. While a little spendy, I figured it was worth it since I'd be donning a bathing suit and skimpy warm weather wear.
Upon touching down, rain streaked the windows of the plane. It drizzled on and off the rest of the day, but we weren't too concerned. We'd only just arrived after all. Day two, down pour. We took a morning walk along the beach and when the rain got too steady, we headed to the shops. Being the optimistic group that we are we bought sunglasses and swimsuit wraps. Certainly these items would come in handy by tomorrow.
Our plans of a beach party birthday picnic, sunset cruise and peaceful nights' sleep were squelched by the rain and high winds. By the fourth night I was amazed that we'd been there that long and still hadn't seen a sunset. No matter. We had an incredible time, as women tend to do when we travel in packs. We managed a smattering of beach time, a hike up Diamond Head, snorkeling, daily beach walking, shopping, yoga, dancing the night away, great food, music, champagne, and loads of laughs! The weather was not about to stop us from having a fantastic vacation. My spray tan, however, had pretty much faded before any skin had been exposed.
I'm not giving up on my search for sunny, warm beaches either. I told my brother I was heading to San Diego in May. "Why," he said "do they need rain?"
Thursday, January 26, 2012
The Cost of the Common Cold
Every year when I visit my doctor for my annual physical she confirms my declaration that I am "healthy as a horse." I have a pretty sturdy immune system and generally feel healthy and strong all year long. But even so, I am susceptible to the occasional common cold, especially when my very affectionate boyfriend can't keep his cold carrying lips off of mine. Grant it, lately I've been surrounded by germ toting friends, co-workers, bus pals. I could have picked it up from anyone. However, I tend not to kiss those people.
Besides feeling like crap for several days, unable to work out or play outside, what is the cost of the common cold? I'm one of those people who tries everything and anything. And I did.
Various juices - $7.79
Saltine crackers-$2.50
Cough Drops - $2.49
Zicam - $12.99
Theraflu - $6.89
Nyquil - $7.49
More cough drops- $2.49
Mucinex - $7.49
Various teas -$7.00
Sue Bee Honey-$4.29
Theraflu (again!) - $6.89
Third bag of cough drops - $2.49
Oscillococcinum - $10.94
Chinese Ginger Honey Crystals - $5.50 (a very large bag)
A passionate evening with my lover after a ten day cold hiatus- Priceless
Besides feeling like crap for several days, unable to work out or play outside, what is the cost of the common cold? I'm one of those people who tries everything and anything. And I did.
Various juices - $7.79
Saltine crackers-$2.50
Cough Drops - $2.49
Zicam - $12.99
Theraflu - $6.89
Nyquil - $7.49
More cough drops- $2.49
Mucinex - $7.49
Various teas -$7.00
Sue Bee Honey-$4.29
Theraflu (again!) - $6.89
Third bag of cough drops - $2.49
Oscillococcinum - $10.94
Chinese Ginger Honey Crystals - $5.50 (a very large bag)
A passionate evening with my lover after a ten day cold hiatus- Priceless
Monday, January 2, 2012
It's Just Semantics
Happy Holidays or Merry Christmas? Which is PC? If I greet three Jewish friends with a Happy Hanukkah will the one Christian friend within earshot become offended? To be safe I offer a "Season's Greetings." I was at a New Year's Eve party having a discussion about Kwanzaa. None of us were 100 percent sure of the actual meaning of this particular holiday. It's only recently become recognized in this corner of the world. However, we were more than happy to include it as one of the December holidays in a "Happy Holidays" greeting. More than one friend has pointed out that they don't really celebrate Christmas for what it is, a Christian holiday. They go through the motions for family and friends, but really they find more meaning and spirituality in celebrating the Winter Solstice.
Whether we acknowledge Christmas, Hanukkah, the Solstice or Festivus for the Rest of Us, like Frank Costanza, it's all semantics. The general meaning is the same. We are simply wishing our friends, loved ones or even strangers on the street a happy time during the last month of the year. It's a time to put our troubles aside for a brief moment, reflect on the past several months, spend time with friends and loved ones and take time out from the rat race to enjoy and live in the moment of whatever this time of year means to you.
I'm not sure when this constant battle over which holiday was the ONE we are celebrating became such a political matter, but too many people get their noses out of joint. I overheard a co-worker's reply to someone who wished him a "Happy Holiday". He quite indignantly said "I say Merry Christmas!" I wanted to stand up and shout over my cubicle wall, "Take it easy, pal; she is just wishing you well not making any assumptions about your beliefs!" Instead I just shook my head in quiet disbelief.
One phrase or wish that seems to be acceptable to any person of any affiliation is Happy New Year! Regardless if someone has had a great 2011 or a challenging one, wishing her a Happy New Year is a wish well received. If your prior year was full of good things, you are happy to anticipate what the year ahead will bring. If a more challenging year has brought struggles and disappointments, the optimism of a fresh new start is encouraging. Either way wishing someone a Happy New Year is generally a safe bet.
So Happy New Year to all! May 2012 be the best one yet!
Whether we acknowledge Christmas, Hanukkah, the Solstice or Festivus for the Rest of Us, like Frank Costanza, it's all semantics. The general meaning is the same. We are simply wishing our friends, loved ones or even strangers on the street a happy time during the last month of the year. It's a time to put our troubles aside for a brief moment, reflect on the past several months, spend time with friends and loved ones and take time out from the rat race to enjoy and live in the moment of whatever this time of year means to you.
I'm not sure when this constant battle over which holiday was the ONE we are celebrating became such a political matter, but too many people get their noses out of joint. I overheard a co-worker's reply to someone who wished him a "Happy Holiday". He quite indignantly said "I say Merry Christmas!" I wanted to stand up and shout over my cubicle wall, "Take it easy, pal; she is just wishing you well not making any assumptions about your beliefs!" Instead I just shook my head in quiet disbelief.
One phrase or wish that seems to be acceptable to any person of any affiliation is Happy New Year! Regardless if someone has had a great 2011 or a challenging one, wishing her a Happy New Year is a wish well received. If your prior year was full of good things, you are happy to anticipate what the year ahead will bring. If a more challenging year has brought struggles and disappointments, the optimism of a fresh new start is encouraging. Either way wishing someone a Happy New Year is generally a safe bet.
So Happy New Year to all! May 2012 be the best one yet!
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