Letter to My 20-year-old Self

So I was listening to NPR this afternoon and they interviewed a girl that asked a lot of women to write a letter to their 20-year-old selves. Words of advice, reflection whatever and it was interesting to say the least. So I thought that maybe I should do the same.

Dear 20-year-old Me,

First of all, the guy you are dating is gay. Gay, gay, gay, gay, gay. You won’t discover this for another year or so but start planning your life accordingly because he isn’t going to marry you. (and in the long run this whole experience is pivotal in your growth into adulthood but it still sucks while it all happens.)

Secondly, quit obsessing about your weight. You are awesome the way you are and this almost thirty-five year old you has about fifty or so pounds to lose to even get close to where you are. I am also pretty sure that if I/you were ever happy with a weigh that I/you were at any point, it would have been a lot easier to maintain. Being a woman is hard and you are going to run into senseless stuff like this all of the time. Just try to navigate around it the best you can.

Tertiary (look up this word now, you will have an opportunity later to impress your boss with knowing its meaning), go to graduate school like I did. It really helps you grow (up and (sadly) out). But really research your job. The one I had was good for a while but there wasn’t any growth and I got bored and sad. Go ahead and return that call from Tyson in a few years even though you are hurt by them and have already signed with someone else.

That’s it for now. You’ll have a pretty great life and most of it I wouldn’t change but there are some bumps in the road that wouldn’t hurt to avoid. Good Luck and I’m sure I’ll talk to you later.

Toodles,

The Almost 35-year-old you

P.S. Make sure you got to volleyball with the Catholic Singles group and pay special attention to the Maytag man. It will be worth your while. |:)

Accessories

So I just caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and there it was. I'm not sure how long it's been there but I can narrow it down to between sometime after 10:00 when I got home from the gym and now. The question is - was it there when we went to the grocery store around 11:30? Hmmmm. Come to think of it, some guy coming into the store walking straight at us said to his companion “Now I’ve see everything.” Didn’t think much about it at the time . . . crap . . .

So it seems I wore the bright lavender with white polka dots bow in my hair to the store today.

Too bad it didn’t at least match my outfit.

Writer's Block

So I keep thinking I need to write more here. Yes, if you have read this at all you are thinking - "Duh, you don't rarely write here, but you are so funny and relevant." Ha ha okay so you might be thinking some version of that. But anywho, throughout the day I have all these funny things that I think I need to write about and formulate in my head but when I finally have a chance to write it down, I can't remember a damn thing. Not even a subject, let alone the hilarious content I had worked out. So what to do. I keep thinking I should write down the subject or something and get back to it but alas it hasn't happened. Well we shall see. Hopefully I can start remembering because I crack myself up all the time and I would like to share and get it on paper, er, or virtual paper as a blog seems to be. Wish me luck or send some of that memory herb - if I could remember what it is I would have put that down - would have been funnier.

Facebook Reality Check

Is it just me or has Facebook ruined a lot of fantasies out there? It’s great that we are reconnecting we past friends and acquaintances but I realized it has squelched quite a few fantasies I have of crushes past. There is a certain thrill when you get a friend request from a love from the past to only find out that they are now sporting a pot belly, still hang out with the same five guys every weekend and have children by three different baby mamas. Kind of kills the fantasy, no? Not that I dwell on anyone from my past but you know we all take a jaunt down memory lane every once in a while. I can’t decide if FB is genius or too much reality. We all have “friends” that we probably wouldn’t stop to talk to in the grocery store – or be able to recognize. Oh let’s face it, reality rarely lives up to our expectations. I’m certainly not the MILF I’m sure some of them out there hoped I would be . . .

Girlfriends vs. Husband

Well I was all ready to go out with some girlfriends last night for dinner when the decided on location was the ill-fated Juan’s Mexican Restaurant. Bleck!

This put me in quite a precarious position.

You see, Juan’s is high on my husband’s likeable restaurant and it is probably at the bottom of mine. But a long, long time ago at some point in our relationship, I made a big stink about never wanting to go to Juan’s again. I had gotten sick from eating there and almost lost a shoe to the floor when leaving (you know like the Mall Trio $1 movie place?). For me Juan’s = Yuck. So it was agreed that I would never have to set foot in that place again and Mike was free to go with friends or on his lunch break. Whatever, just don’t drag me there. We even had an agreement with another couple who felt the same way – she loves the place he hates it with a passion – the next time Sheri and Mike have a hankering – they go to Juan’s, and Jim and Meghan go to a Pho place. Win win!

So what was I to do yesterday? They voted to go to Juan’s? Hold up my end of the bargain with my husband and miss girl’s night? Or slink in with my tail between my legs and ask hubby for a reprieve? Dilemma dilemma.

So I decided to stand my ground and not subject myself to IBS inducing foods (and the worry I would have to go there again with husband) and told the girls alas, I could not go to Juan’s because of aforementioned rant.

But wonderful girlies they are (and smart medically minded as well) we changed locales to La Huerta and had a fab time and all was well. Turns out I wasn’t the only one who had a “bad experience” there.

So I explained this funny ha ha story to my husband and he looked at me and said “Really? I don’t remember that. You could have gone. I wouldn’t have said anything – well yea I would. Why is it again you don’t like Juan’s? That sounds pretty good.”

Laundry – The Epic Battle between Woman and Mountain

Ugh . . . need I say more? If the act of just doing the laundry isn’t bad enough, why must is throw such riddles and complex problems that must be solved before you can load the machine. I am not talking the simple act of sorting or the negotiation with the laundry gods about combining inappropriate pieces that might not mix well when wet. No, I’m talking about the forever dilemma of about to put a load in and realizing you are wearing something that should be going in with said load. That just drives me nuts. Nothing like working on a load of “whites” (we aren’t talking undies, we are talking about Mom’s white t-shirts and Dad’s white oxfords – the whites you really hope stay white – not the ones you sacrifice to the laundry gods mixed with gym socks, boxer shorts and sports bras) for a couple of weeks only to realize you are wearing not only a white t-shirt but a white bra that really should go in the load or wait another couple of weeks while you build the load once more.

So what do you do? Go around topless for the rest of the night? Just free ball it? change and dirty a colored t-shirt instead or just hope you’ll get a “small load” in sometime soon? Dilemma, dilemma. There has to be an old wives tale here somewhere, doesn’t there?  Red sky at morn, sailor forlorn, Red sky at night, sailor’s delight? With my luck it would turn out to be something like – No bra tonight, knocked-up just right.

The load is in and I won’t tell you what I decided. Let’s just hope you don’t figure it out in nine months!

Thank you Sister Schubert

NOT!

I would like to thank you for messing up our Christmas dinner at my husband's work. Yes, he had to work Christmas day which is bad enough but for their Christmas meal in his department at the hospital he signed-up to take rolls. There are ten people in the department and so we got a Sister Schubert's 10 count Rolls bag. We love the rolls and they are always a hit. Well guess how many were in the bag when we got them out to heat Christmas morning - NINE. What the heck, Sister? What a nasty little surprise we had on our Christmas morning that we had to send my husband off to work with not enough rolls? How often do you count on people counting their rolls? Is this your way of making a few extra bucks? I never counted the bag of thirty we usually get at Sam's. My guess is that there are probably 28 or so. Let's just say I'm not happy. I know it is just one roll but when you are counting on ten, they need to be there. Especially on Christmas!