It always interests me to see what other people are reading on line. Here's a quick list of the sites I check out daily:
Gwen - The original trailer trash housewife.
Dooce - Heather lost her job because of her blog. She got dooced.
Mrs Kennedy - She's....well....she's Mrs Kennedy.
Iceblog - Beth lets us glimpse into a life of travel to icy places.
Bitchypoo - She met her husband on line and chronicles her daily life.
Daymented - You can watch her baby being born. On line. No lie.
Zoe Trope - She wrote a book and had it published. While she was in high school.
And what do all these sites have in common?
They're all written by women. Some young and fresh. Some not so young. Moms. Wives. Singletons. Adventurers. Amazing women who take me to places I've been but make me see differently, or places I would like to go someday.
Thanks, ladies. You all rock.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Always
My mom passed away five years ago today. In some ways I can't believe she's been gone that long, and in other ways it feels like it's been forever since I heard her voice.
I used to work with a girl whose mom died the year before she got married. I asked her if it was hard not having her mom there on her wedding day, and she said surprisingly no, it wasn't nearly as hard as she thought it would be. She said she was prepared for the worst; expecting to be sad and lonely somewhere deep inside on one of the happiest days of her life, but it wasn't nearly as bad as she had feared.
Your mom is so much a part of the person you are. She gave you life. She's the first person who loved you. Her name is the first word you learn to say.
And I realize now why my friend wasn't distraught on her wedding day. No matter how old you are or where you are or what you're doing, your mother is always with you.
Always.
I used to work with a girl whose mom died the year before she got married. I asked her if it was hard not having her mom there on her wedding day, and she said surprisingly no, it wasn't nearly as hard as she thought it would be. She said she was prepared for the worst; expecting to be sad and lonely somewhere deep inside on one of the happiest days of her life, but it wasn't nearly as bad as she had feared.
Your mom is so much a part of the person you are. She gave you life. She's the first person who loved you. Her name is the first word you learn to say.
And I realize now why my friend wasn't distraught on her wedding day. No matter how old you are or where you are or what you're doing, your mother is always with you.
Always.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Swing
I've felt for quite a while now that I need a hobby. Other than smoking and drinking, of course. My son went away to school two years ago and for the first time in twenty years, I live alone. Which is nice. And quiet. And kinda lonely sometimes.
Since I lost my mother I've kind of adopted one of the ladies I work with as sort of a surrogate mom. She's in her 70's and she's single and active and funny and opinionated and she's not afraid to cuss. She likes to golf and she likes to dance and basically, we're both looking for a man to do stuff with. A few months ago I saw in the local paper that there was going to be a dance at our VFW and we kicked around the idea of going, but it didn't work out for some reason or other.
So today at work she corners me as soon as I get in and says they're having dance lessons at the VFW and she thinks it might be fun....maybe we should check it out. Hmmmm. Five bucks. Men to dance with. What the hell....she says....if it's not fun we just won't go back. So tonight after work, the forty-something and the seventy-something had our first swing dance lesson. And frankly? It was a hoot.
We wound up in the intermediate class....which was intimidating to say the least. Especially since I'm one of those people you see at weddings doing the Electric Slide that turns the wrong way and knocks into people. There were probably 25 couples in a big circle and the instructor would demonstrate what we were supposed to do and we'd run through it a few times. Then she'd call for the ladies to move to the next partner and all us girls would move to the guy on the right. Or was that left??
We danced for an hour with old men and bald men and nice looking men and sweaty men and charming men and quiet men and serious men. But they were all very nice men. I stepped on toes and turned the wrong the way and thought I'd never get it...but we left the VFW sweaty and laughing, and made plans to go back next Monday.
For the beginners class.
Since I lost my mother I've kind of adopted one of the ladies I work with as sort of a surrogate mom. She's in her 70's and she's single and active and funny and opinionated and she's not afraid to cuss. She likes to golf and she likes to dance and basically, we're both looking for a man to do stuff with. A few months ago I saw in the local paper that there was going to be a dance at our VFW and we kicked around the idea of going, but it didn't work out for some reason or other.
So today at work she corners me as soon as I get in and says they're having dance lessons at the VFW and she thinks it might be fun....maybe we should check it out. Hmmmm. Five bucks. Men to dance with. What the hell....she says....if it's not fun we just won't go back. So tonight after work, the forty-something and the seventy-something had our first swing dance lesson. And frankly? It was a hoot.
We wound up in the intermediate class....which was intimidating to say the least. Especially since I'm one of those people you see at weddings doing the Electric Slide that turns the wrong way and knocks into people. There were probably 25 couples in a big circle and the instructor would demonstrate what we were supposed to do and we'd run through it a few times. Then she'd call for the ladies to move to the next partner and all us girls would move to the guy on the right. Or was that left??
We danced for an hour with old men and bald men and nice looking men and sweaty men and charming men and quiet men and serious men. But they were all very nice men. I stepped on toes and turned the wrong the way and thought I'd never get it...but we left the VFW sweaty and laughing, and made plans to go back next Monday.
For the beginners class.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Dumbass
Some days I amaze myself with my own dumbassedness.
I went out Friday right after a totally brutal day at work, convinced there could not possibly be enough alcohol in the world to obliterate a most heinous day. As I'm driving down the highway toward a frosty cocktail I decide I need to call a friend I used to work with to ask her to join us. The trouble is I don't have her cell number programmed into my phone. I wobble on down the highway paging through the number in my recent call list, trying to determine which number is hers with one eyeball (mostly) on the road and one eyeball on the teensie, tiny LED (or whatever the heck it's called) screen in teensie, tiny little letters on my cell phone. In a moving vehicle. Sheesh.
I get off the highway to stop in a parking lot to regroup and find the damn number. I scroll through recent incoming calls and don't recoginze her number. The problem is that while I of course know what city she lives in, I don't recognize all these dang new cell phone exchanges. I finally pick out the one I'm sure is hers and dial.
A woman answers the phone. I know immediately it's not the woman I wanted to call. After a few seconds I realize it's the wife of a guy I work with....my sister and I hooked up with him and his wife at Springsteen concert in June. I tell her how I'm a large dumbass and how I'm very sorry to bother her. She's very gracious and we chat for a few minutes....how have you been? What have you been up to? How was vacation? What's up for the weekend? We'll have to get together some night and have drinks.
I hang up and dive right back into crank calling people who know who I am.
I pick another number that I'm positive is the right one and dial. It rings and rings and rings. Do I hang up? WTF. The voice mail finally kicks in and it's a friend I haven't seen in years and years. We recently talked on the phone for a few minutes when we were both in San Diego, though we never did hook up in SD. Instead of leaving a "sorry to miss you" or even a "sorry to call you by accident but I'd really love to talk and I'll call you back over the weekend" message, I just hang up. Like a dumbass.
Like she's not going to know it was me? Like I'm not on her missed call list? Jesus.
Since the third time is the charm, I finally got the right number and when my friend answers I was like, "Sweet Jeebus I knew your number was in here and I was GD determined to get you on the phone!"
We never did hook up.
I am a dumbass.
I went out Friday right after a totally brutal day at work, convinced there could not possibly be enough alcohol in the world to obliterate a most heinous day. As I'm driving down the highway toward a frosty cocktail I decide I need to call a friend I used to work with to ask her to join us. The trouble is I don't have her cell number programmed into my phone. I wobble on down the highway paging through the number in my recent call list, trying to determine which number is hers with one eyeball (mostly) on the road and one eyeball on the teensie, tiny LED (or whatever the heck it's called) screen in teensie, tiny little letters on my cell phone. In a moving vehicle. Sheesh.
I get off the highway to stop in a parking lot to regroup and find the damn number. I scroll through recent incoming calls and don't recoginze her number. The problem is that while I of course know what city she lives in, I don't recognize all these dang new cell phone exchanges. I finally pick out the one I'm sure is hers and dial.
A woman answers the phone. I know immediately it's not the woman I wanted to call. After a few seconds I realize it's the wife of a guy I work with....my sister and I hooked up with him and his wife at Springsteen concert in June. I tell her how I'm a large dumbass and how I'm very sorry to bother her. She's very gracious and we chat for a few minutes....how have you been? What have you been up to? How was vacation? What's up for the weekend? We'll have to get together some night and have drinks.
I hang up and dive right back into crank calling people who know who I am.
I pick another number that I'm positive is the right one and dial. It rings and rings and rings. Do I hang up? WTF. The voice mail finally kicks in and it's a friend I haven't seen in years and years. We recently talked on the phone for a few minutes when we were both in San Diego, though we never did hook up in SD. Instead of leaving a "sorry to miss you" or even a "sorry to call you by accident but I'd really love to talk and I'll call you back over the weekend" message, I just hang up. Like a dumbass.
Like she's not going to know it was me? Like I'm not on her missed call list? Jesus.
Since the third time is the charm, I finally got the right number and when my friend answers I was like, "Sweet Jeebus I knew your number was in here and I was GD determined to get you on the phone!"
We never did hook up.
I am a dumbass.
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