DAY 157: YEAR IN REVIEW

     Goodbye 2011, hello 2012.  My top 10 from the last year:


1.  Winning first place in the Nonfiction Category of Writers' League of Texas Manuscript Contest and flying down to Austin to meet with a literary agent 


2.  Taking a micro cassette recorder to India to record my grandma telling stories


3.  Going to Lake Austin Spa with my sister


4.  Getting an awesome new job...and still liking it months later


5.  Seeing President Obama speak live in D.C.


6.  Running the Warrior Dash and finishing it, not like the Spartan Race where I fell


7.  My Mr. Peanut Costume care of my good friend


8.  Getting back in touch with long time Albuquerque friend


9.  It's a toss up between flying on the company jet and getting to go see 3 Cowboys games in the company suite, which is on the field


10.  Going to Graceland and finally seeing what all the fuss about the Jungle Room is--for the record you don't actually get to step on the green shag carpet, it's roped off    

DAY 156: MY PARENTS AND THE PLAYBOY CLUB

     You learn some weird stuff about your parents when you go to lunch with friends of theirs.  Or I do at least.  On this day, I went to lunch with a couple my parents used to hang out with, among a huge group of friends, in Ohio 40 years ago.
     My parents and their friends had parties or went out every weekend.  The woman of the couple told me that they'd go out and stay out so late on Saturday nights that they'd all sleep until 2pm on Sunday.  Then they'd call each other and meet for brunch or lunch or I guess sometimes dinner since it'd be so late.    
     Apparently my parents and their friends frequented the Playboy Club.  The couples' daughters and grandkids were at lunch too and were horrified when their mom shared this information.  One daughter leaned over and said to me "it's so embarrassing when your mom tells a whole table that she went to a place like that."  I looked at her and said "well, she's saying my mom went there too, so I feel your pain."  
     Actually, I'm not embarrassed.  I knew my parents went out a lot, had fun and had amazing friends.  Sometimes I think of them as F. Scott Fitzgerald and Zelda, 50 years later.  I'd expect nothing more than them going to trendy fun and cool places and if one of those places happened to be The Playboy Club then so be it, good of them.  Shit, it was a t.v. show half of America was watching earlier this year...until it got canceled.
     On this eve of New Year's Eve, I'm so happy to be reminded of my parents.  My fun loving and in love parents, who were married 6 years before they had me.  They got to know each other, explore, travel and have a blast before their kids came and then when we did, they made or lives full and rich and yes, lots of fun before they died.  I wake up every morning with two holes in my heart, but these stories about my parents help get me through each day and for that I am lucky.  I'm lucky so many people loved and cared about my parents and appreciated having them in their lives.  I know I did.

DAY 155: STAY-CATIONS RULE

     It's Day #2 of my stay-cation and so far so good.  I've gotten drinks every night this week.  I've eaten at some of my favorite restaurants.  I went to the movies today by myself during the day and loved every minute of it.  I've done some major shopping and by major shopping I mean I've gotten some incredibly awesome deals.  Here's to carrying on, lots more relaxing and enjoying my time off.  

DAY 154: WAITING FOR THE CANCER

     I hate today.  Twenty-five years ago today on December 28, 1986 my Mom passed away.  She was only 39 years old and only 8 days away from her 40th birthday.
     Doctors diagnosed my mother with leukemia when she was 37 years old.  My parents decided that they would fight the cancer and find the best doctors and hospital.  That hospital, the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center ("Fred Hutch" for those of us who had loved ones there), its amazing doctors and nurses happened to be in Seattle, Washington.  My parents flew to Seattle and admitted my mother to the wing of the hospital that specialized in blood related cancers.
     After that, my Dad flew to Seattle from Albuquerque almost every weekend, leaving me and my sister with neighbors, baby-sitters, friends, and my grandmother, once she got to the states from India.  It was a stressful and sad time and I can't even imagine how my father kept his head above water while he went to work, raised us, traveled and kept on top of my Mom's disease.  He knew all of her medications, the times and dosages she took and all the reactions--good and bad--she had to them.  Dad kept a chart, a hand-written chart of all of this in his pocket at all times.  He'd study it whenever he could.  Dad basically became a doctor during the 3 years my Mom was sick.  He researched leukemia and learned all he could about it.
     Over 3 years, Mom had 3 bone marrow transplants and battled the cancer.  She fought hard and I even remember her working out with a physical therapist in the morning on the day she died.  Maybe that's where I get my drive to wake up every morning at 5:30am to work out.  If she could exercise while she was sick and in the hospital than I sure better be able to get my fat ass out of bed every morning while I'm healthy and go to the gym.
     When I think about how it's been 25 years, I'm amazed.  So much time has passed.  So much time lost, time that I could have had with my Mom.  I'm 35 years old--two years away from the age when Mom was diagnosed.  I try not to get morbid, but it's hard.  Mom's mother, my grandmother had breast cancer.  I feel like cancer might be in our genes.  And some days, on my real bad days, like today, I feel like I'm waiting, like I'm a sitting duck, waiting for the cancer.

DAY 153: PAPER DOLLS

     I heard from my First Grade Friend today and got a picture text too.  Her three year old daughter who I've met once (and who my sister met at the same time), a month ago at Thanksgiving, made paper dolls today.  She colored the first paper doll's dress blue and named her.  The name she gave the paper doll--my sister's name.  My First Grade Friend asked why did you name the doll that and her daughter replied "because that's the name of mommy's friend from school."
     We'll I'll admit, my sister was at school with me and my First Grade Friend, but not when we were in first grade.  She came to our elementary 3 years later.  I shouldn't be jealous that I didn't get a paper doll named after me, it's so nice and such a good story and what a good memory for a 3 year old who just met us to remember our names (or one of our names).  So I'm holding out for the next time my First Grade Friend cuts out paper dolls with her daughter.  And I'm crossing my fingers that I get a namesake too.

DAY 152: THREE AWSOME WORDS

     Laser hair removal.  I may never have to shave my legs again thanks to that $99 Groupon or Urbandealight voucher I purchased.  I know this sounds like a paid advertisement but that $99 was the best money I've ever spent.  I got 6 sessions, which turns out to be only $16.50 per session.  After the first laser hair removal session, I was amazed.  It really worked.  Really.
     Now we all know how waxing, shaving cream and razors can start to add up...over a lifetime, so this laser hair removal experiment was a well worth the investment.  Especially since I used to barter and trade babysitting time with a local esthetician in Albuquerque.  And you thought your high school days were strange.  My then step-monster took me to get my legs waxed when I was 15 or 16.  I felt so happy to leave with such smooth legs--it was way better than shaving.  The leg waxing lady felt for me since I had thick, dark leg hair.  So she made a deal with me--I'd baby sit her daughter in exchange for leg waxes.  Our bartering lasted until I graduated high school.
     In college I didn't have that kind of business opportunity, so it was back to the razors and balancing on one leg in the Markley dormitory shower to shave my legs with a can of women's shaving cream.  But once I graduated out of dorm life and into apartment living in Ann Arbor I started buying microwavable wax and waxed my own legs in my living room.
     The thing with waxing is, it doesn't last forever.  The hair grows back.  It always grows back.  Plus, the in-between stage is no party, it's itchy and prickly and not pretty to look at.  That's what made me buy that $99 deal.  Bring on the lasers, I can't wait until I don't have to waste anymore time or money on razors, wax or other depilatories.  Yes!
   

DAY 151: HAPPY MOVIE AND CHINESE FOOD DAY!

     Most of the Jewish people I know eat Chinese food and go to the movies today because Chinese restaurants tend to always be open on Christmas Day as do movie theaters.  So enjoy Happy Movie and Chinese Food Day a/k/a Happy Christmas!

DAY 150: CHRISTMAS WISH

     The best thing about this Christmas is that I only have a couple of squirts left in the bottle perfume my ex-boyfriend gave me for Christmas last year.  Thank goodness and good riddance to both of them.  The only problem is that I’ve been wearing that perfume a lot—to get rid of it—that people now think it’s my signature fragrance.  I’ve gotten tons of compliments on the perfume and I just smile thinking to myself all I want to do is get rid of it and buy something new. 

     Speaking of gifts from boys and ex-boyfriends, what do you do with the really good ones, like the Tiffany necklace and the cashmere scarf?  Personally, I wear those 2 on occasion.  Not all the time.  I’d never do that; then they might actually start to mean something, rather than just being nice gifts from people I used to date.  But then there are the weird gifts, like the artsy fartsy necklace from an art fair?  It’s so clunky and chalky that it’d weigh me down to wear it, not to mention possibly soil my blouse or sweater.  And I’m not brave enough to wear it against my bare skin.  So that one, it stays in the drawer.  You know the drawer for lost things.  It’s not a junk drawer, it’s just the drawer you put stuff in that you don’t want to throw away.  It’s full of things that you like to look at every once in a while, not every day. 

     What else?  Dried flowers?  I used to dry the flowers I’d receive.  I’d make a big production about tying their stems with ribbons and hanging them upside down.  Not so much anymore.  Why keep them?  Plus, Mr. Perfume gift-giver above sent me a card with a dried rose he’d given me and I’d left at his house.  The dried up petals falling on the floor as I opened the card (and let’s be honest the card itself—too little to late buddy) kind of creeped me out.  Thanks but no thanks.  I think I’m done with drying my flowers for good. Enjoying them while they’re alive is good enough for me; I don’t need to see them in a shriveled form after they’ve expired. 

DAY 149: POT DE CREME

     There isn't anything better than starting off the eve of Christmas Eve and a long weekend to boot than with a big glass of wine and dessert.  Just those 2 items.  Who needs dinner anyway?  Screw all those cookies and cakes around the office, I went full in for the Butterscotch Pot de Creme at Neighborhood Services.  That butterscotch pudding is like crack cocaine and I've never done a single drug, I've never even smoked a cigarette.  But I know what doing drugs would feel like, it would feel like eating this entire dessert--without sharing.

DAY 148: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN

     I will always be so proud to be a member of the 2008-2009 ALC (Associate Leadership Council) of TREC (The Real Estate Council).  Attending our holiday happy hour tonight made me remember the dear friends I made that year.  I met 24 incredibly wonderful and special people that year and know I will have those people in my life as friends forever.
     It's not every party you go to and hug EVERY SINGLE person at the table.  But with the 2008-2009 ALC class you do.  You always do.  You can't fake the bonds we made.  They are true ladies and gentlemen.  Not only has a man in that group never allowed me to pay for even a single drink but I've always been walked to my car by one of them, no matter what, no matter where and no questions asked.  And the women are awesome--loyal, lovely and there for you whenever you need them.
     It's funny how you forget how close you are to people when you don't see them every week.  I used to see the ALC class every Saturday while we tore down and built a house (we had help during the weekdays with true construction professionals) for a mother of 5.  But the minute I saw all (most of them--not everyone could make it) of them tonight we just started where we left off--just like family.  It was like coming home.  Plus, it didn't hurt that we were at the same bar we used to come to after our 8 hour house building days.
     Thank you to the 2008-2009 ALC class for being so wonderful to each other and staying so amazing even after our official, designated time together ended.  I'm so lucky to know each and every one of you.

DAY 147: HOORAY FOR HOMELAND

     My free Showtime (by way of just asking my cable company for a good deal) has allowed me to get plugged into the series Homeland.  Just in time for the holidays--it's going to be so much fun to veg out in front of the t.v. now.  That show is damn good.

DAY 146: TONIGHT'S THE NIGHT

     Happy (first night of) Hanukkah!  I love saying that since my name rhymes with Hanukkah, plus I'm actually Jewish.  So it's a double good whammy.

DAY 145: SONG RECOMMENDATION

     I want to make an addition to my favorite songs:  Dancing in the Moonlight by King Harvest.  It's one of the best songs ever.  I hear it and I'm instantly in a good mood.  It never fails me.  Go on and listen to it, you won't be disappointed.

DAY 144: CARAVAGGIO'S CHIAROSCURO

     I went to a great Caravaggio exhibit today at the Kimbell museum in Ft. Worth.  It hard to imagine Caravaggio painted those works in the 1500s and 1600s and people are still going to look at them.  You could tell how his use of shadows was so revolutionary back then when you compare his work to his contemporaries.  

DAY 143: TACKY SWEATERS

     I just got back from a tacky Christmas sweater brunch.  It's only the second time I've worn a holiday sweater.  The last tacky Christmas sweater party I went to I ended up wearing a tacky Halloween sweater--I didn't have my own sweater and that awful, orange Halloween mess was the only one my friend had that I could borrow.  At today's party I was accused of wearing a "pretty" Christmas sweater and that mine wasn't tacky enough.  I just can't win...

DAY 142: TRUTH TELLING

     I recently talked to this guy I used to date and he said the strangest thing to me.  He thanked me for always being honest with him.  I just stared at him thinking what other way is there to be...especially if we had been in a relationship.  Why wouldn't I always tell him the truth and be honest with him?!
     I think if some guy you're dating or some guy you used to date says that to you it means he wasn't honest with you EVER.  And that means, it's time to lace up your running shoes or your lace up boots or just put on your shoes and run.  Run fast.  Run likes there's no tomorrow.  Run like the wind.  Who raises these guys?  Where do they come from?  Why do they keep knocking on my door?

DAY 141: SILENT TREATMENT

  I just learned that I’m not speaking to someone.  That’s news to me.  An acquaintance of mine told me that a friend of mine told this acquaintance that I’m not speaking to her. I’m surprised to hear that I’m not speaking to this person when I’ve been communicating with her for months.  Does sending someone an email to wish that person a happy birthday and inviting that same person to various events over the span of several months count as not speaking to someone?  Apparently. 

     I’m so confused.  If I’m not talking to you, why are you writing me back?  And if you’re mad that I’m only emailing you and not calling, maybe you should let me know.  I do know that I keep inviting this person to do things and the response is so luke warm, so unexcited, that making the effort to invite her to do things doesn’t even seem worth it (especially now that I’ve learned that “I’m not talking to her”).  But what do I continue to do?  I continue to invite her to things—hoping against hope that something might spark her interest and want to go do something.  Hey, if your personality is to not get excited, so be it.  But don’t go around telling people that I’m not speaking to you.  And if you’re upset about something, phones and email work both ways, you can initiate a conversation with me.  I'm the only one doing any of the communicating.  

     Ah, maybe what’s going on here is that she told this mutual acquaintance of ours that I’m not speaking to her, but in reality she’s really not speaking to me.  Hey, if you’re not speaking to me, do me the common courtesy of letting me know—by really not speaking to me and by not responding to my emails.  Don’t go airing dirty laundry to people you hardly know and don’t continue to respond to my invitations or well wishes if you don’t want to speak to me—just be silent.  Why respond to me if you don’t want to talk to me?  To be polite?  That’s seems a bit strange.  Not to mention a wasted effort. 

     I’ve truly never experienced this sort of silent treatment—where there’s nothing really silent going on, on either party’s end. 

DAY 140: CAR TROUBLES

     Don't you hate it when the brake failure light comes on...in the middle of a rain storm?  I do.  Oh and in case you were wondering AAA can't come look at your car to help replace fluids like brake fluid, it can only tow your car or help you get it started.  Good to know.

DAY 139: OUT OF THE (DAYTON, OHIO) BLUE (SKY) PHONE CALLS

   Last night I received a phone call from a couple that used to know my parents when they all lived in Ohio before I was born.  My parents used to throw huge parties and have people to play bridge all the time.  The couple had been in touch with my parents after they left Ohio and moved to New York and then New Mexico.  The couple knew that my mom had passed away, but then they fell out of touch with Dad.

     That happened a lot.  My Dad lost touch with lots of people after my mom died.  Either he didn’t have the energy to keep up those relationships since he was busy trying to figure out how to raise two girls on his own, with limited, if any help at all or he didn’t care anymore or he was used to Mommy keeping up all the social events and friendships. Whatever his reason, I don’t blame him, but it would have been nice to have those people in our lives.

     When I was on the phone with this couple last night, I could hear in their voices how much they loved my parents and how sad they felt for me and my sister knowing that we’ve lost both our mother and our father.  I’m not sure if they could hear that I was crying.  But responding to their questions took a long time because I had to try to stop the tears, clear my throat and stop my nose from running each time.

     It turns out the couple lives in the same city as me and wants to meet.  They want to have me over for dinner or take me out to meet them, their daughters and their grandchildren.  I’m excited to meet them but know it will be a bittersweet meeting.  I just know I’ll start crying at some point, which is not the first thing I like to do in front of strangers.  Maybe I shouldn’t think of them as strangers since they knew my parents so well.  Yeah, that’s the ticket; they’re not strangers at all!  So they’ll be fine when the crying starts…right?

DAY 138: PEOPLE PLEASERS

     I’ve met a whole bunch of people pleasers recently.  Maybe the statistics are skewed since I live in the South and people are raised to be nice here.  But I doubt it.

     The people pleasers I’ve met seem to behave the way they do from some inside place, some inherent plea to be liked or feel wanted.  Not because their mommas insisted that they always be polite.  Why do something you don’t want to do or have no interest in doing just so you can make someone else happy?  Yes, sometimes we all do this.  It’s called being altruistic or sympathetic, but to do this all time is annoying at the least and pathetic at best.

     I sent someone a business opportunity because I thought s/he needed the cash or liked doing that kind of worked needed to increase his/her skill set.  Turns out the only reason this person accepted the business opportunity was because s/he thought that’s what I wanted him/her to do, not because s/he really wanted to do the project, needed to do it financially or any other sane reason.  I only sent it to the person because it was an opportunity plain and simple.  I was acting as the vehicle to bring this opportunity to this person. I had no hidden agenda and could care less if s/he took the opportunity or not.

     It bewilders me to deal with people like this.  If they’re only doing things they do to make you happy, when do they do things for themselves?  When do they stop being doormats and start being assertive in their own lives?  And for the record, I never said “it would make me happy if you took this opportunity.”  All I did was present the opportunity and hoped the person could make up his/her own mind—like an adult.

     Just because someone sends me a client, doesn’t mean I’ll take it.  Just because someone sets me up on a date, doesn’t mean I’ll go on it.  Just because someone asks me to go to something or see a certain movie doesn’t mean I’ll just say yes without thinking about it and if I really want to do that activity.  Time is precious and I don’t have a lot of it.  I need to be selective and conscientious of what I’m doing or I’ll get burnt out and resentful of the people I keep saying yes to.  However, these people pleasers can’t do that.  They don’t say no, or it tears them up too much to express any sort of differing point of view or refusal to an invitation.  How can people live like this?  It’s crazy to me.

DAY 137: LOUD LADIES' ROOMS

     What is it about older women and the loud noises they make in ladies room?  Not to generalize, but yes, to generalize, I've been in several ladies' rooms lately with older women who go into a stall and start sighing, grunting and making all sorts of exasperated noises.  Is it really that hard?  Is it that bad?  Is it that much of a burden to relieve themselves?  I guess that's why its called it the restroom.

DAY 136: GALLERIES AND GOOD HAIR DAYS

     Art shows at galleries = good places to meet guys, especially if you're having a good hair day!  Three different guys just came up to me at this art show and said the nicest compliments to me--all three were about my curly hair.  No joke.  Add that to the good hair compliment I got from my girlfriend and that's four.  I'm on fire!  Good job curls.  Good job.

DAY 135: IT'S NEW YEARS IN NEW YORK

     When I was younger I'd try so hard to watch Dick Clark do the New Year's Eve countdown and see the ball drop.  But sometime around 10:38 or 11:24, I'd fall asleep.  I remember Dad carrying me into my room and coming wide awake, panicked.  "I need to stay up until it's New Years.  Dad, I have to stay up until next year."  That's when Dad would say we'd celebrate New Years tomorrow or Mom would chime in "It's the New Year in New York!  So you've made it.  You stayed up long enough, it's ok."  Somehow that manipulation of time did the trick.  I'd relax, snuggle my head on Dad's shoulder as he continued to carry me to my room, and think it was already the next year.

DAY 134: WORK HUSBANDS

     I may be single and never been married, but I've had a work husband, a work boyfriend and a work crush--all at the same time.  I've come to realize that those relationships are truly important and necessary.  I don't have a one of those right now and I miss those guys.

DAY 133: MAMA-ISMS

     I call my grandma who lives in India Mama.  Mama likes to pretend her English isn't that good, but it's actually great.  Mama has a couple of sayings that I love:  "I love you too much"  and "Don't be a proudy."  She cracks me up!

DAY 132: SOMETIMES IT'S WORTH ASKING

     I received a VIP offer in the mail from my cable company.  I called the 1-800 VIP RSVP number and inquired about the offer.  Turns out for $50 the cable company will treat me really well. 

     I asked the sales lady if there were any other offers I was eligible for.  Just for asking that question she gave me $20 off of my cable box every month.  Then she added a premium movie channel to my cable for free for a year.  I hung up super happy, with a $20 cheaper bill every month, plus Showtime—all Showtime channels and there are a lot. Are you kidding me?

DAY 131: WHY?

     Why do people say things like:
"Meet my future daughter-in-law" or "My mom will want me to marry you when she finds out you play tennis" or "Come with me to this party or be my date to this wedding (in 5 months)" when he just met you that day?  Or "You're the kind of girl I want to marry."
     Enough already.  I mean really, slow down, hold on.  Get to know me.  Make sure you know what you're saying to me.  These kind of comments drive me nuts.

DAY 130: BAD ELBOW

     There are certain things you really need your elbow for and not being able to bend it presents a problem. Example A--combing my hair.  I can't do my hair, it hurts too bad.  I'd planned to go to the museum today and have my friend come over and do my hair before we left, but I got too nauseous and dizzy from the pain meds to go to the museum.  Result--hair not done and half a bottle of Pepto done.  Example B--brushing my teeth with my right hand just isn't possible right now.  Brushing one's teeth requires a bent elbow and I can't do that.  So I'm getting a marginally good brushing by using my left hand to it.  But I don't think my dentist would be that happy with my lack of ambidextrous skills.  I'd write down some more examples, but I'm just too tired right now.

DAY 129: I AM NOT A SPARTAN

     I made two miles through the eight mile Spartan (Mud) Race today before I slipped, fell in some mud and braced my fall with my elbow.  I got it x-rayed and there's no broken bones, so it's just a sprain.  I get to wear a sexy sling and take pain killers now.  It hurts and it hurts even worse to say I didn't finish the race.  In a bad mood and want some ice cream...

DAY 128: I DROPPED MY DOTS

     While concentrating on picking out the green ones from my mini box of Dots at work the other day, I dropped the whole box.  My work is not a place where the 5 second rule would ever apply.  So I headed back to the candy drawer (We literally have a filing cabinet full of candy.  And I just found out the candy drawer has its own secret stash of candy in a side filing cabinet.  I work with some serious sugar eaters…) as someone shouted “re-do” behind me.  Yes, that dropped box of Dots most definitely called for a re-do.

     I experienced another Dots episode in my life; well really, my sister did.  I was just an innocent bystander.  Years ago Dad took us to go see the musical Me and My Girl in New York at the theater attached to the Marriot hotel.  At the concession stand before the show, my sister chose a box of Dots as her candy.  Before the actors made it to intermission my sister started choking.  This wasn’t fake choking or anything to laugh about and Dad knew it.  He scooped my sister out of her seat and ran into the theater’s foyer.  Thankfully and for whatever reason a NYC fireman happened to be in the theater and saw my near blue-faced sister.  The fireman rushed over and had to give my sister the Heimlich maneuver.  Out of her mouth popped a Dot. 

     This story would be so much better if my sister had choked on a green Dot.  But I don’t recall the color of the projectile gummy candy my sister hurled across the lobby of the Marquis Theater—it was probably red or yellow.  I just know we had to teach her the universal sign for choking after this incident and that a Dot wasn’t the last thing she choked on.

DAY 127: SOAP OPERA COMAS

     Why for most of us is there a time in our lives that we become addicted to soap operas?  It's as if we live and die by them or that's how I felt in high school and especially the summers during high school.  This was before Tivo and DVRs, so I had to program my VCR to see what Stefano did to Marlena that week.  Talk about living vicariously through someone.