Dinner Company

 A mutual friend says to me, “*John has a crush on you.”  I was baffled, I never picked up that vibe.   She suggested we ‘hang out’ because he was funny.  I thought, what the hell, I could use a chuckle!

She proceeded to initiate conversation between us, and that’s when it started.  We had agreed to go rock climbing the following week.  A little apprehensive, I warned him I was lacking in regular physical activity — I wish I could speak on the contrary.  He warned me that his car was in the shop and I joked that I could sit on his handle bars…apparently his pedal was broken as well.  This should be interesting.

Three days prior to our casual ‘date’ I was craving a particular Italian restaurant and invited him to join in.  He was delighted and said, “I may need a ride.  And by I may need a ride, I need a ride.”  (Insert laugh here).  I picked him up and we went to dinner – it was good company (aside from his regular texting, which for some reason I was trying NOT to do). 

Dinner ceases and the bill arrived and the awkward moment began.  I didn’t at all expect him to pay for my meal, as we were previous acquaintances and I had invited him on what was NOT a date.  After a minute or so, I reached for the book.  I glanced over it to check the bill and mentally figure my portion and set my card down.  Now, during this time he didn’t bother reaching for his wallet or inquiring about the bill. 

He paused, looked at me and said, “Are you paying?” 

Taken aback by his assumption I didn’t know what to say.  We weren’t close enough where I felt I could tell him, “Are you crazy?  Hell no.”  So I just mumbled, “I guess so.” 

He smiled and said, “Well thank you!”

I sat there in disbelief and thought to myself, surely he will offer to tip.  Nope.   Nothing.  Nil.

What the hell just happened?  In that moment I thought to myself, ‘Did I just pick you up…pay for your dinner…and your beer…and now I have to give you a ride home?  How did you pull this off?  I work two jobs.  I am a single mother.  How in the HELL did you finagle this?’ 

Thank you mutual friend.  You owe me $60.

PS I’m quite sure that in three days I am going to have the flu.

how is success measured?

“What constitues success?  She has achieved success who has lived well; laughed often and loved much; who has gained the respect of intelligent people and the love of little children; who has filled her niche and accomplished her task; who has left the world better than she found it;…who has never lacked appreciation of earth’s beauty, or failed to express it; who has always looked for the best in others and given the best she had.”

 —Bessie Stanley

When Your Mind Wanders

In a society of a quick fix and instant gratification, I can’t help but wonder if this is the cause of my demise and bad decisions.

 I regrettably admit that I am a free spirit.  I always want to follow my heart, even when my head tells me, “don’t do it.”  My head always says, “I told you so…”

 I always look for the good in people, no matter how many times they’ve hurt me; and I have the glimmer of hope that they will one day have the best of intentions – even when the obvious glare of hurt and failure outshine any glimmer that could possibly exist.

I am always looking for an out – whether it be a new career, a new look, a new location to reside – a change of pace, and a change of scenery…I am hiding from my own demons.

I fully believe with all of my heart that fairy-tale romance exists in real life; even though I don’t know anyone who’s found it and had it last for more than 2 weeks…I won’t give that up.

I trust rarely – I can quickly count the people I trust with my secrets or my best interest. 

My heart hurts often, and I’m not quite sure why – my life appears in perfect order.

I can’t make my own decisions – I’m scared it will be the wrong one.  I guess there’s no way to really find out –

I Thought ‘I Might Die’

I had read about it; but that wasn’t enough – I must try it for myself!  This was what was going through my head as I pondered becoming a fabulous yoga guru.

Off I went yesterday at 3 p.m. to Bikram’s Yoga for my 90 minute class.  90 minutes?  Sounds okay – some stretching, some weird poses, I could do that for an hour and a half.  Ha ha ha…here it goes…

Excited and nervous at the same time – I enter and meet the instructor.  She advises me to leave my shoes at the door, head into the ladies locker room if necessary, then wait in the practice room until its time to begin.  So I do.  Water bottle, yoga mat, and towel in hand – I drop my gym bag off in the locker room and proceed to enter.

I walked in to a room that is kept at a not only hot, but humid, 105 degree temperature.  Seriously?  I can hardly breathe in here and the stretching hasn’t even begun!  Okay, don’t panic, it only feels like hell.  I find a spot in the back, it’s going to be fine.  I lay out my mat, sit on the floor and wait.  As I wait I watch everyone around me – people of all shapes and sizes, ethnicities, and ages.  Hey, if everyone else can do this – so can I.  Right?

The instructor walks in and class begins.  We stand up and begin our poses and stretches…think positive, I can do this. 

15 minutes in and my face is wet.  This isn’t easy like I thought it would be.
30 minutes in and my shirt is wet.  How can she do that with her legs?
45 minutes in and my shirt is off.  I think I’m close to death, I need to sit down.
60 minutes in and I think I could pass out this very second.  Can you leave in the middle of class?
Oh my God, finally, we’re starting to slow down.  How can one person sweat so much?
75 minutes in and I’m getting a headache, but somehow I’m enjoying this.
90 minutes is up.  Class is over and I’m shocked that I didn’t die or at a very minimum pass out.

Am I a masochist?  I loved it!  Is that normal?  I am coming back tomorrow – IF I can get out of bed in the morning.

Dreams and Goals – Can You Have Too Many?

 I’ve spent my whole life indecisive.  Where do you want to eat?  I don’t know.  What do you want for your birthday?  Name one thing, are you kidding me?  Which pair of shoes do you like better?  I want both.

When I read, “Allow your dreams  a place in your prayers and plans,” a partial excerpt on my quote of the day calendar, I thought, how is that possible?  I couldn’t even pick a major in college. 

Yes, yes, I know – everyone goes through that.  But I’ve never stopped; it began with Advertising/PR, Broadcast Journalism, Fashion Merchandising, then a break.  Now what?  It started again, and ended with an Accounting degree.  Mid-business school, I wanted to go to cosmetology school and momentarily, culinary school.  Obviously, my wants were all over the board. 

In a perfect world, I’d be able to be a hair stylist (and the owner of my spa/salon), a journalist, a pastry chef, and a CPA – in that order.  However, I am less than halfway towards my CPA and the others are so far off in my life plan that I often fear I won’t be able to experience anything else. 

My question is, how do you allow your dreams a place when there are just too many?  Can you have too many dreams?  Which dreams should you put first?  Should it be the ones you’re closest to achieving, or should it be the ones that would make you the happiest?

In the meantime I will do what I do, take it one day at a time, and hope that in time I can fulfill my dream(s) –

Past My Prime?

In hopes for some remarkable experience, we venture into downtown.  Hair perfect, lip gloss shining, clutch in hand – off we were to our favorite bar.  In college, this territory was our stomping grounds.  Now, a bit older, shall we?  Why yes, we shall.

The place is a bit empty at first and we make a few laps around the area; we are feeling pretty good about ourselves and I don’t think we are wrong judging from the glances.  I’ll take it.

First drink:  Jack and Diet Coke.  Yes, Jack.  Our beverage of choice; and thank you Mr. Bartender for pouring a hearty one.  We’re about as girlie as you can get, but when it comes to the chick drinks – you can keep ’em.  Being that that the bartender rembers us, we are also welcomed by some concoction in shot form.  I think tonight is going to be a good night.

As we cruise the perimeter, we people watch.  What the hell is she wearing?  Why does that pedophile-esque looking guy keep giving me the ‘I’m trying to be sexy but I actually look creepy’ glance?  And as it is at every bar, there is the signature old man sitting by himself in hopes some pretty young thing will pay him some attention.

We’ve requested our favorite songs from the DJ – and being that he’s hot it makes it easier to get our flirt on, in turn getting the songs we want.  We move out to the dance floor to show how fabulous we are. 

Later on, I spy two girlfriends coming in.  We all dance, drink, check out the eye candy, and celebrate ‘funness’ in our late twenties, and some of us, thirties.  I am approached by a very young man – attractive, but young.  He asks me if I go to the local university, and I tell him, “I did.”  He says to me, “what happened?”  ha ha ha.  I respond with a smirk and, “I graduated.”  He looked shocked, and I told him I was too old for him; then I smiled and walked away.

The question crossed my mind – am I too old to be here?  Was this supposed to be out of my system already?  It’s not…

You Already Have All You Need (but I want more)

A partial excerpt from the quote of the day, “…you already have all you need.”  Do I, really?

 I’m not quite sure how I feel about that.  I have always wished I were craving something less; living a simple life with simple things – it just isn’t in me. 

From a young age I have always wanted more – more toys.  As I matured it turned into more clothes, more accessories, more purses, more shoes…and it progresses into more spa treatments, more trips to Vegas, more nice dinners; when does it end?

Is it wrong to enjoy the amenities in life?  At times, I feel guilty…but I have learned to push guilt under the rug.  I feel that if my wants are within reason (which varies from person to person) then its OK.

Maybe one day I will throw all of my fabulous goods in the garage sale pile, quit reading my US Weekly and comparing myself to Posh Spice, and stop daydreaming the that paparazzi are outside in my front yard waiting for me to leave the house.  Maybe.  However, I find it highly unlikely.