Last day of the year . . .

So it's New Year's Eve and I'm quite happy to be hanging out at home. I'm still on the tail end of this cold, Eric & Garielle are cuddling upstairs & watching TV (I'll be joining them as soon as I hit "post"), and I'm eating a yummy stir fry.

Every new year since . . . oh, about 1990, I think, each year sounds so bizarrely futuristic that it's hard to believe we've arrived. I remember when 1999 hit, Prince's "1999" was played all the time, and here we were, at the very precipice of the millenium.

2000 came, and the world's computer systems did not all crash.

Here we are and 2007 is upon us. It's just a mid-decade year.

As I type, I'm listening to a bunch of songs I downloaded, songs I figured I'd never hear again. They evoke memories of years past, other lives I've lived, people I've loved, people I didn't like so much, places I lived.

Sometimes I feel like I've lived several lifetimes.

In some ways, I feel like my husband and I are a young couple, just starting out. This is because we married just seven and a half years ago, and we have a five-year-old. But Eric will be 50 next month, and I'm 43. We're no spring chickens.

So let's see - how many lifetimes have I lived?

There was my childhood. That was a great lifetime. I suppose my university days can be lumped in with childhood.

There were probably too many lovers. I probably gave my heart and my body too willingly. Oops, is this a public blog? Oh well, it happened, and I had a splendid time. I emerged with no diseases and with my heart intact. I think, if I had it to do over again, I'd have been nicer to some of the men, though. I think I was a bit mean sometimes. And frankly, stupid.

My first marriage was like a lifetime unto itself. It sure seemed long enough. I probably should have left far earlier. Well, I shouldn't have married in the first place. I suppose I could devote a whole blog entry on that one. Suffice it to say that we made a mistake, and we got out of it while we were both young enough to get over it.

Then I had a wonderful and brief interlude of "single life." I liked that.

I can't say I was ready to marry again when I met Eric. He was ready, though. He had sown his oats, also having emerged with no diseases, and miraculously, no previous marriages.

So I moved to Canada and married him. Became a mother. Moved clear across the country. Converted to Judaism. And here I am. (Did I mention I was a Catholic during my first marriage?)

I can honestly say that life seems to get better the older I get. When I was stuck in my first marriage, projecting in my mind my life over the next several years and several decades, I shuddered. Little did I know that I would find the courage to leave a "perfectly decent man" and go on to find the love of my life and eventually become a mother of a beautiful, smart, and captivating little girl. I suppose my ex husband, who was obsessed with the idea that I had to work any old shit job as long as the money came in, would be amazed that I went on to launch a career and at times made more money than my husband. (He's starting a new job in the new year and will make significantly more than me, so I'd better get my nose to the grindstone and get a promotion! Ha ha!)

Well, I suppose I should end this blathering and go upstairs to cuddle with my wonderful family. I'm sorry if I seemed to get gushy in this entry. It probably won't be the last time, either.

Getting hard!

So I've been going to the gym for most of December, and now my arms & legs are getting hard. Woo hoo! I just love to lift the weights. I'm not such a big fan of the treadmill, or any of those repetitive aerobic machines, but I force myself to do them for about a half hour.

This isn't the first time I've felt my body get all hard. I've begun to get into shape so many times in my life, and I just love the way it makes me feel. So why don't I stick with it?

I put together a really easy routine for December, just to get me back into the swing of things. For January, I'm adding a machine and some time on the treadmill.

Okay, the truth?

It occurs to me that one more time in my life, I'd like to be a bombshell. I've had bombshell moments in my life, and frankly, I liked them. I probably have another decade, maybe two, in which I could still be a total bombshell. (Okay, feel free to post comments & contradict me and tell me that I have many more decades! I love it!)

I've been doing the "cool with myself" natural woman thing for many years now. I've been aging gracefully. I've not worried too much about a comfortable pouch on my belly or sagging boobies. But what the heck - I still have a few Wonder Woman years in me, surely!

Cute soup

Garielle made soup. I'm eating it now. It's good!

She stood on a step stool at the stove with a long-handled spoon, stirring the pot and telling me what ingredients to put in it. We began with a bouillion cube, then diced carrots, red beans, green beans, and corn. It cooked and she stirred happily until I talked her into putting the lid on to let it stew for about 20 minutes.

Before that, we made & decorated a ginger bread house.

And before that . . . brace yourself! I painted her room!!! Yes, by God, I painted that damned room.

Of course, I still have to pull up the carpet, paint the trim & baseboards, and figure out what to do about the floor, but at least the walls are a very light, soft, buttery yellow!

In other news:

The garbage disposal has been on the fritz for a week. I'm getting to really miss it.

Today, the dishwasher stopped working.

And I still haven't got my printer up & running yet.

However, I did replace a light bulb this morning.

Painting, painting, painting

I spent most of the day painting my daughter's bedroom. To be specific, I did the trim work - you know, painting along the ceiling, along the baseboard, along the doors and window, taking off the electric plates, and so on.

I finally got ready for the "big" painting with the roller, and I can't find the roller brush, or the pan thingy. I can't run to the store and pick some up because it's Christmas Day.

I came downstairs to look for them, and ended up logging on to the computer, which led me to this blog entry.

The room is going to look much better when it's finished. After I get the walls painted, I need to rip out the ugly carpet, then paint the baseboards and the wood trim. They're already painted in glossy pink, and if I take the time to sand or strip, it will NEVER get done. So I'll paint them with a primer first, then a couple coats of the dark blue.

After that, I'll move her furniture back into her room and hang up the cool things I bought for the room, and it will be DONE!

And THEN I will feel justified in obsessing about the living room.

The inner brat

So today I stumbled upon a concept I'd never heard of before.

We've all heard about the "inner child," and there are people who have done extensive work to "parent" their "inner child," and it's all very serious. The inner child, as we know, protects us from scary situations but often sabotages us. The inner child doesn't know that we're adults now.

A more lighthearted twist on this concept is one of the "inner brat."

When you say "Oh, I'll do it later," that's your inner brat talking. The inner brat also says things like:

"But I really want it! Let's use the credit card!"

"This one piece of cake won't hurt me."

"I don't feel like going to the gym. I want to watch TV."

"I don't have time to hang up my coat. I'll just throw it here on the chair and get it later."

The inner brat always wants to do fun and interesting things. The inner brat doesn't have the time or patience or attention span to do anything boring or difficult.

But when we force the inner brat to behave, the inner brat just rebels and is all the worse as soon as the drudgery is over, often undoing whatever the adult is trying to do.

"I was good all day and didn't cheat. Now I get some ice cream!"

"I haven't bought anything for myself in a long time. I deserve something really special."

"Okay, I did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. It's not fair that I have to tidy the living room too, so I won't do it."

So I happened on this site called The Brat Factor where the motto seems to be "If it isn't fun, it won't get done." Interesting concept! And it certainly makes sense.

Right now, my inner brat is insisting that I putz around on the computer instead of tidying the house. I want to tidy the house because tomorrow the decks are cleared so that I can paint my daughter's bedroom, once and for all. That will be my Christmas present to my daughter and to myself!

Things that I'm pleased about right now

1. Did I mention that I started going back to the gym? I'm on a light routine to get myself back into the swing of things. I lift weights for about a half hour, and then I walk on the treadmill for 20 minutes. It's not much, but it's getting me back into the groove. I'll torque it up in the new year. (Smart, 'eh? That's when everyone else comes back to the gym and we have to stand in line for the equipment.)
2. We're in the midst of Hanukkah. So far I've been to two Christmas parties, two Hanukkah parties, and one "festive celebration." We're having a latke party at our house this Friday. I'm taking the day off work today to make latkes ahead of time.
3. I really have a wonderful family. I believe I won the lottery of husbands, and my daughter - oh, well, I could devote an entire blog to my daughter. I'm surprised I haven't been doing that already. Maybe I still will.
4. I have a second interview lined up for a position at my organization that I'm really interested in. It's not a promotion, and the position is sort of tangential to what my department does. But it looks very interesting.
5. Because we're not going back to my side of the family in Ohio this Christmas, I haven't had to rush around to plan & pack, and I haven't bought any presents for anyone. Well, I got my sister & father each a little thing, and I'm going to get subscriptions to kids' mags for my nephews' children. But I've done very little in the way of shopping or wrapping. I haven't even seen the inside of a mall in December. I dig this being Jewish!
6. I've decided to break down and get an mp3 player. I know I'm the last person on the planet to get one. Truly, I know this is not so. I pass many people on the street every day who are concerned about where their next meal is from. I'm very lucky that I can even entertain the thought of getting an mp3 player. And new speakers for my computer. And possibly a new printer, if I can't find that friggin' disk.

Well, I think the things I'm pleased about carry far more weight than the things I'm annoyed about.

Things that are annoying me right now

1. This blog doesn't show up when I do blog searches. I have checked several times, and my blog is configured to show up in searches. What up?
2. Since I had my new hard drive installed, I can't get my printer to work. My computer can't seem to "find" it. It won't let me reinstall it. I've tried downloading the driver from the internet, but that doesn't work. It wants that original disk that came with the printer. I have no friggin' clue where that disk is. Hell, I'm the lady who misplaced her sewing machine.
3. I can't find my sewing machine.
4. I've been having problems logging on to the work network from my home computer. Well, I shouldn't say "I've been having problems." Not to put too fine of a point on it, but it simply won't log on.
5. My speakers were crappy, so I threw them away. Now my computer has no sound.
6. Everyone's house is more beautiful than ours. Okay, I know that's not exactly 100% accurate. But let's just say that everyone I know personally has a more beautiful house than ours. Today, Eric and I talked about FINALLY getting some shelving for his 1,000,000 CD's. I want built ins. We have enough media to fill four walls, so why not? Why not make the shelving the "wallpaper"? Eric says no. We're going to renovate some day, so no built-ins. I say we can remove them. He says he doesn't want to "screw around." So today I said I know we're not going to renovate. We're going to spend the next 20 years living half-assed, not making any meaningful changes to our decor or living style, because of some fictitious future renovation. Let's say I'm bitter.
7. We're at the end of the "fun" cycle at work, and now we're all about gathering numbers. I hate this part of the cycle.

Okay, that's about it. Except for everything listed above, I'm good.

Stilin to inspire living room

Here's a nice look from designer Robert Stilin:














And here's a link to a video of the room that more clearly shows how he mixes antique and retro elements: Video

He has a website as well: www.robertstilin.com

I like this look and it would suit our living room.

When I say "I love you"

I say "I love you" quite liberally. I'm sure people think I'm nuts. Sometimes I'm a bit of an over-the-top, larger-than-life kind of person anyway, so it kind of fits my personality, I think. Sometimes I say "I'm in love with you!" or "I just love you!" or some other ridiculous similar thing that my mother would find reprehensible. (Actually, it was my mother who advised me to be like Jesus and love 'em all.)

But it occurred to me this morning that last night, while I was out partying with some co-workers, that I think I said "I love you" to about five of them.

Do people really know what I mean when I say that? Do they just think I'm being silly and ridiculous? Well, they probably do.

Here's the history.

My family was very loving but not particularly affectionate. I didn't know it when I was growing up. I thought our family was the norm. And it very well may have been the norm in our midwestern small blue collar town. My mother used to like to say that the predominant culture roots of the area were German. There was an orderliness and a tidiness to the world. Country roads outlined huge squares of farmland. And we all liked beer.

And, as my mother would add, we shunned physical and verbal affection. We preferred to save it for when it was most sincere, which didn't seem to occur very often. Oh, of course, we'd hug from time to time, but usually just the immediate family, and usually it was a child-parent hug. I rarely saw the couples in my family hug. It did happen, just rarely.

And growing up there were very few people beyond my immediately family to whom I said "I love you." I know they knew I loved them, but we just never said it. It would make us squirm.

A few years ago, my grandmother was dying. I knew it was probably the last conversation I'd ever have with her. She was lying weakly on her pillow, eyes half closed. I decided to tell her for the first time in my life that I loved her. So I said it. "I love you, Grandma," I said. She was silent for a minute, and then she said "Oh, I know." That was the closest she could come to saying she loved me back, and I was totally cool with that.

Anyway, over the years, I've become more affectionate. Life is too short to withhold affection. Liberal use of affection does not indicate a lack of sincerity - not at all. In fact, the more people I sincerely love, the more wonderful life seems to be.

So if you're reading this and if I've told you that I love you, here's what it means:

When I tell you that I love you, it often means I have extreme like for you. It means I want to keep knowing you and probably want know you even better. It means I care for your well-being. It probably means that I have great admiration for you, as well. It means that I think you're a very good person and that you bring great value into my life. And it means that I'm going out on a limb to tell you how much I like you, because life is too short for me to wait around to see if you tell me first.

It doesn't have to mean that I want to have sex with you (but it may, especially if you're Eric). It doesn't have to mean that I will love you forever (unless you're my daughter, or if you're Eric, I hope, I hope, I hope). And it doesn't even mean I like everything about you.

And you don't even have to love me back. But it would be nice if you did.

Annoying shoe size

So why do most ladies' shoe stores stop at size 10? And for the few stores who do venture past size 10, why do they skip size 10.5 and go right to 11?

Sometimes I've bitched about not being able to find size 10.5 in stores. Invariably someone pipes up with "My (niece, daughter, neighbor, friend) has your problem - she wears size 11!"

Size 11 would be easier!

It's been suggested to me that I order shoes online. Well, why don't I get to try my shoes on in the store like everyone else?

And when I do find a rare source of size 10.5 shoes, I'm limited to very conservative styles.

Yes, I have big feet. But guess what? I'm a big gal. I'm tall. I'm not a freak of nature. There are lots of women with my shoe size. We're gorgeous and stylish and we have MONEY TO SPEND ON SHOES! Too bad manufacturers don't want it.

I've heard the argument that it doesn't make them money to sell that shoe size because the demand is so small.

They haven't done any market research lately. The demand for this size is on the rise. How else would Tallcrest stay in business?

We have money and we have pent up demand.

It's been suggested to me that if I'm so convinced there's a market, I should open a shoe store.

I don't want to open a shoe store. I just want to buy shoes! Specifically size 10.5, and NOT the sizes 11 that shoe salespeople try to talk me into - they flop around like god damned flippers!

There.

I have spoken.

Stranger than Fiction

Saw "Stranger Than Fiction" last night. It was a fantastic movie. Will Ferrell certainly has a lot of versatility as an actor! He played this role perfectly. Dustin Hoffman was a brilliantly enigmatic professor, and Emma Thompson blew us away with her quirky, sweet portrayal of a the writer with writer's block. Queen Latifah was very good, as was Maggie Gyllenhaal.

Eric says this might be the best movie he's seen, ever.