Resolution

I refuse to see myself through toxic peoples eyes.

I refuse religious judgment from those who have no fruit or joy in their lives.

I refuse to beat myself up trying to figure out what I'm supposed to be when I grow up, it's ok to just "be".

I refuse to waste my time thinking about the past, ruminating, obsessing or regretting.

I refuse to "react" rather "respond" to life.

I will not engage people who hurt me, try to control my joy or have dishonored me.

I will not turn myself inside out for anyone. I am me.

Endings really are beginnings if I create that reality.

I will give myself guilt- free approval. I DESERVE to feel whole. No more accepting half- way relationships.

When wounds are triggered I will now ground myself and refuse to let them rule my mood.

Success means honoring myself and my family.

The Journey to healing is a step-by-step process and that's OK. At least I have a process.

Who I am is enough.

My childhood contracts are no longer valid.

I will evolve through eternal shifts at my own pace and the pace of those I love.

Little Known Facts

I love the smell of new books

I secretly like Shake-N-Bake

yes I have peed in a pool

I hate raw tomatoes because they remind me of blood clots

I took a faceless photo of my boobs with the ER Polaroid and taped it on the Doctors locker...on a dare. A year later I found it in his bedside drawer while I was snooping & using his phone at a company party he threw. Apparently I was in his "Masturbatory Hall of Fame." I could never look at him the same again. And no, he never knew it was me.

I used to have a pierced belly button (Hey, it was the 90's)

I read the entire collection (33) of Nancy Drew books as a kid in one summer while eating only grilled cheese sandwiches.

I read 33 books on the Holocaust as an adult and cried every night for three months.

Lilacs and Astor lily's are my favorite flower. When I walk by them in NYC I wish they were for me just once.

I have kissed 6 different men from 6 different countries - and yes it's all the same.

Santorini Greece is my favorite place in the world - scatter my ashes

I once thought I had a miscarriage and saved "it" in a bag in my crisper drawer overnight (it wasn't...don't ask)

I have never had a one night stand.

Ever.

I have had three women proposition me - (I didn't) They are still my friends and are all straight.

I like to talk to cab drivers and I openly ask them about the towel wrap thingy. This mortifies my friends.

I love to dance and I secretly wish I was onstage in a musical

I got kicked out of the vatican for wearing mens boxers as shorts in 1985

I got kicked out of the Louve for eating M&M's and photographing the Mona Lisa - same trip

I can do the splits three ways

I am a good ice skater

I almost became Jewish, but didn't like the food

I made out with my cousin once

I bought a car from a priest and he ripped me off

I sold a car to a pastor and the check bounced

I no longer go to church but I believe in God

My parents hid us in the basement on Halloween. Swear.

I sometimes pray, mainly when I am scared

I am afraid to die

I have never watched a full porn show (just seconds) no reason, just haven't

I LOVE:

white wine

Irish Bars

being kissed - unexpectedly

thunderstorms at night

Sunday mornings in bed reading the newspaper with someone special

old bathtubs filled to the top with bubbles

vintage homes

glass front cupboards

black and white checked floors

laundry shutes

subways

the city and the wilderness - the same

water fountains

the sound of water

Diet Coke on airplanes (tastes better)

Phi-Phi Island Thailand

the ocean

magazines

WSJ and NYT newspapers only

CNN

dark roast coffee, cream, 2 Splenda, double cupped, Grande

a dogs face..any dog

rice

bagels with honey

organic pizza

eating strawberries naked

thick towels

500 thread count sheets

a mans neck

yoga

lakes and boats

front porches

old wood

vintage dresses

summer air

sun dried sheets

vanilla

old three strand crystal jewelry

writing reading writing reading writing reading.......

anything that shimmers (glitter, stones, water, a child's eyes...)


I DISLIKE


Toxic anything/anyone

passive sex

narcissists

mean spirited people

gossip and pride

the word wig-wam

people who stink on airplanes

whom ever leaves the empty half-half container at Starbucks and walks away

whom ever welds the carts together at the grocery store while I am asleep

one-ply toilet paper

cheap people who never pay for you

takers

uninformed people who think they know...

creamed corn

group exercises

narrow minds

Cick on Me


Last week I was asked to submit a relationship article to a magazine based on personal experience with an angle of attracting men in todays society. Based on my "attraction" track record as of late, I spit out my Fruit Loops onto my key board while reading the editors email assignement.

What was I going to write about? Me? What a joke!

There was only one thing to do without really doing it.

This clearly called for a test.

Later that evening while feeling a little warm all over from a glass of wine, I decidedly submitted a profile of myself to an online club touting Business & Friend Connections. It was an offer I received earlier in the day through a NYC Magazine as a "valued" subscriber. So what the hell..I pour myself another glass of wine and decided to go for it. I also have to admit to a inquisitiveness as to what sort of bait I would be. I've been feeling a bit dejected lately, and thought this may even spark some self esteem again...what could it hurt. Right?


Wanting to appear funny and witty, thinking it would attract only the best like minded creative's (although I couldnt fit all of this) my profile went something like to following:

>About me: Fun, sassy, witty......... love humor, business of all sorts, travel (who doesn't) new restaurants, wine, strolling in the evenings, talking, anything art related, the ocean, theatre, dance, museums. A non smoker, 5'7, 119 lbs, three grown children. No warts, moles or funky birthmarks that will shock you when it's "to damn late"...... shave legs on a regular basis. Flossing is my passion.


Down side: I don't cook, I heat.

Looking for: Trendy, creative, cute as hell, down to earth, fun, easy-going type who loves to explore, must love good food and wine , (This excludes any form of hot dish, salads, Spam, boxed wine or wine coolers)

I may be able to spoil you.

No bean bag chairs, black light posters, water beds, ten foot speakers you stole from a drive-in in 1982, no Vegas shot glasses filled with penny's, beer can collections or Budweiser beach towels doubling as drapes. No weird attachments, fetishes, or strange double-life, unless you are a highly paid CIA agent...then you can lie to me...but only then.

No mullets, smoking, gold chains, missing or yellow teeth, no back hair, or overly puffy pubes in "the region," no bowling leagues, no Star Wars or "Treckie" paraphernalia, no hunters, fishers or outdoor types, no beards, no cats or Super Man sheets, no credit scores matching your best golf game. Must own all original teeth and hair with checking account in good standing.

Please don't be rich, just be paid up.

Must not part hair. Must understand what "hair product" is. Must be updated on world events and that does not mean wrestling or Orange County Choppers.

No white undershirts, no "briefs", no Sponge Bob Square Pants shaped bodies, no trucks with light up running boards, Playboy or carpet mud flaps. No pool playing lotto ticket scratch-off types, no accountant types, if you love numbers, don't email. If you have a left brain, don't email. If you need a mommy. Don't email. I will not breast feed you.

*I have added an honest current photo of myself after a bad day with severe PMS and red eyes taken last weekend. So basically you are seeing me at my worst. If this doesn't scare you, contact me and we can possibly move forward.

******
Soon the little Cupid icon in the corner of my screen began whizzing and smoking with hits, making little bow and arrow sounds. I was amazed... It only took two minutes! I have men sending me a "WINK"....so I eagerly opened them up, and about fell on the floor.

This is NOT A JOKE!

Was I not clear somehow?

Am I wrong or is #3 and #4 the SAME guy?.... one shot with a wig??? Who takes a photo with a bird or a violin?? Number two is straddling a dead body, one needs to meet five, so they can get it on and over with, and the one guy...reminds me of Ted Nugent but really pissed off.


These are clearly sex addicts, parolees, mental patients, chronic masturbating confused switch-hitters, trying to get laid ONE more time before they decide if they really ARE gay, ...OMG ...AM I THAT FLIPPING UGLY??????? WILL ANYONE TELL ME HONESTLY???

(I'm now in the fetal position with my lips wrapped around a bottle)

I'm game for any sort of makeover, on TV or off. You can go through my closet, hack my hair, dye it black, ...I cannot live another day knowing that I have gone from being cat-called by tan hard bodied men that I could of had my way with, any summer on Clearwater Beach, only a decade ago.... to this. I decided to remove this silly profile of mine, first thing in the morning. I'm too tired tonight...off to bed, stunned at this new reality. I almost cry myself to sleep.

I have to come to terms with the fact that I am apparently; ugly.Yes, a pathetic woman who has gone temporarily insane on a mere two glasses of Harris Teeter wine she picked up while buying tampons and Chex Mix the day before. .... Stay tuned..it's early yet..

Associated Press: Minnesota Bill would make Tilt-A-Whirl official amusement ride of state.

One ride on the carnival midway could earn the state of Minnesota's seal of approval.



State Rep. Patti Fritz, DFL-Faribault, has introduced a bill designating the Tilt-A-Whirl the official amusement ride in Minnesota. Fritz said it deserves special attention because it was invented in their town.

.... "Minnesotans like to have fun, and it's a fun thing to do.'' Minnesota already has a state muffin (blueberry), a state drink (milk)

Here I go again, poking fun at my very own birth state. These Minnesotans really know how to have fun. Since moving away I can honestly say that I am just now starting to "see the light." I came up with a photo of MN people having fun."

These guys look like they are in Grandmas basement on Christmas. SO MINNESOTAN!!

Man saved from floating ice slab on the Mississippi

"One witness said the man looked like the Statue of Liberty as he tried to keep his footing atop the ice slab amid the strong winds and fast-moving current." ~ Minneapolis Star Tribune

"Sitting with her husband Monday afternoon at the kitchen table at her mother's Mississippi River-side house in Anoka, Sue Hillberg glanced out the window with her coffee in hand and quickly turned to her husband and said "Ya sure, there's a kid floating down a river slab again," and then called 911. The "kid" was a 19-year-old Anoka man who was taking an unwelcome ride on a wide, smooth slab of ice that had broken off as he stood on it along the shoreline somewhere upriver, according to authorities in Anoka.

Ok people, again have to comment on another Minnesota story because nobody here in North Carolina ever believes my "back home" stories. This is yet another prime example of:

A: How damn cold it is in what...almost April? Cold enough to "ride" an ice slab down the flipping Mississippi River? What gives? Like, didn't this kid have bus fare? Did he drop a shoe?

B: How casual onlookers can "glance up" from the breakfast table and comment.."Ya sure, another floater thar Daddy."

Scandinavian Minnesotans can be overly casual during any emergency or what would be, to others, a thrilling event. Flat, emotionless. Nothing ruffles the cold prickly feathers of these Northerners. (I am a freak of my family because I have a personality. Nobody knows what branch of the family tree I was spawned from and that is just fine by me.)

When I was little my grandmother hardly looked sideways when my dress caught fire in her kitchen. All I remember her saying was .. "Ya sure, there ya go again, you betcha, always messin' around. Roll a bit will ya?"

I think she threw flour on me.

When my Grandmothers brother died, she didn't go to the funeral because it was "wash day." (Tuesday...Monday was "soak" day...) On my wedding day my Grandmother called my Mother saying they were going to pass because "Daddy was too hot, and she was waiting for a stool".

Sadly everything for a Norwegian revolves around stools (not the bar kind) and weather. Imagine your whole social life, events, births, weddings and funerals revolving around if you took a poop yet that day (cant leave the house until producing a good solid BM)... and what the weather was outside. (Too cold, too muggy, snowy, misty, foggy, sticky, mosquito-ey) Yes Minnesota DOES have mosquitoes big enough to rape a chicken, but I don't consider it "weather."

But all weather and stools tossed aside if you tell a Norwegian the Scandinavian Buffet on West Seventh has Lefsa on special for $2.99 with Moose Steaks and Mushroom Sauce, Lye soaked Lutfisk and Yulekage bread ...., watch these tall lanky blue eyed creatures high-tail it to the car plowing through 12 foot snow drifts with a walker screaming "Ya git outta me way thar now bitch!!"

Being frugal was anther Minnesotan Scandinavian trait they are proud of.

I assume it stemmed from having to make rations last all winter, and seasonal work.

Frugal. Nice way to say cheap.

My Grandparents were SO cheap, I recall at age 10 watching in horror as my grandmother loaded her purse while eating out, with all the leftover bread, cracker and salt packets, and lettuce from under a pear salad. (Pear salad is what you find on hospital food trays in Russia and airlines in about 1978. One leaf, one half Bartlett.)

This is considered "Fancy" food in Minnesota, right up there with Tuna Casserole, Tater-Tot Hot-dish and Goulash with Bars. There I sat with my little brother and 2 cousins in 1977 sporting my Donny Osmond T-shirt and bell-bottoms horrified that someone from my school was there and watching this freak show. Worst case scenario, Mike King. I LOVED HIM!

"This will make a nice little sandwich for Daddy." she would whisper as I slunk down lower in the plastic lined booth....mortified.

Shortly before my 18th birthday I fled the "ice family".

I moved into a cool condo with two friends, and bought a ticket to Europe with absolutely NO agenda.

I felt like such a free rebel flying across the globe with $600 and a borrowed backpack housing one GIANT can of Aqua Net hairspray, some clothes and a passport. (the hairspray I soon ditched in a back alley in Hallstatt Austria along with razors and lip gloss)

I enjoyed the new habit of eating what seemed like expensive decadent chocolate (Toblerone) for breakfast, while sleeping past 9:00 in Venice, Germany, Santorini, Switzerland, Athens, Milan, Paris, Rome, Corfu...all while getting drunk on Ouzo and fine French wine each night, tearfully watching the sunset over the Adriatic on a hillside in Greece by myself, realizing there IS a God, and it's not my parents God......

.......smashing plates on others heads while dancing on dirt floor bars in Corfu, skinny-dipping my tanned youthful self in a rough black Sea at 3am, while kissing a sinfully beautiful boy from Jamaica who wore nothing but a sharks-tooth necklace...ahhh...going topless on Greek beaches while screaming (in English to several confused locals) "Ok People...it's "Beer O'Clock!!!" ....who, I am quite positive, wanted to send my American preppy white ass right back to where I came from.

At any rate I am glad it wasn't ME floating down the river on that ice slab today,and that my Grandmother wasn't the one who spotted me.

Today is Tuesday, and it would be wash day.

She would just walk downstairs saying "ya sure you betcha....damn kids".

Lefsa

INGREDIENTS

18 baking potatoes, scrubbed
1/2 cup heavy whipping cream
1/2 cup butter
1 tablespoon salt
1 tablespoon white sugar
4 cups all-purpose flour

Roll into balls and chill overnight. Roll out paper thin and fry on a high heat skillett. Add cinnamon and sugar, roll and knock yourself out.

Yulekage A traditional Scandinavian Christmas bread that has raisins, candied fruit, and is seasoned with cardamon.

Where does my money go?









(click to enlarge )

Here is a picture of my kitchen at 1pm.

Then again at 5pm the same day when I am $300 dollars POORER.

All I seem to do is buy food...and lots of it; for three teenagers.

When I ask "what happens to all this food"...nobody admits to actually eating any of it. That's $600 a month PLUS the "run and grabs" in-between. Five Popsicles mysteriously disappeared yesterday. I ask each child "who did this?"... and I get the smart-ass response... "Like we eat Popsicles..???

I look at the dogs who stood blinking at my feet. Nope. Wrong kind of hands.

I love my grown up embryos, but I have decided that since I exist mainly on Zone Bars and water, when they move out I will have roughly $8000K extra annually to spend frivolously on yours truly. I am simple to please...really. (No man need to complain.) Skip the jewelry, flowers and undies...(Only need to look good flying across the room anyway) And please me with any of the following.

My new expenditures will be:







Books (does anyone else love the smell of these?)

Tea (I'm odd, I during other peoples tea when I have 400 lbs in my house)

Facial fill products (I look like Howdy-Doody with no lips)

Paper, notebooks and cool pens (told you I am easy)

Airline tickets to Europe bi-annually (I need a co-traveler)

Organic food

Wine 

Waxing (Regular)

Good underwear (always)

Gas for monthly beach trips (alone with M&M's I don't have to hide in the china hutch)

Zone Bars

Meet a man I adore and buy him ties.....

Leave Me Alone!

I can always tell when I get up on the wrong side of the Memory Foam and this weekend was no exception.


I woke up wanting to be left alone.

I was loaded with an extra dose of PMS infused snark and nobody need bother me. I showered and put on my rebel outfit (no bra) and left for the coffee shop. Any guy who stared down my nipples I wanted to flip off and it felt good.

I’m at one of those nasty crossroads in my life when everyone either pisses me off on a regular basis, or I just want to hate but can’t because they are too damn good looking.

This weekend was not the weekend to get a call from my “potato-salad- eating- spray- on nylons- in- a- can- skin- tag- infested- hair- on- my- face ex-mother-in-law” either.


I want to be left alone.

The last time I saw Lillian, I was privy to overhear her wicked remarks through a closed door after paying $900 to fly her alcoholic ass to darken my doorway in the first place...then try making a beautiful pancake breakfast for her the next day, complete with a light dusting of powdered sugar, strawberry’s, a perfect cheese omelet with an orange garnish while smiling.

I deserved a damn Oscar.

I sort of regret the spit thing though.

When I feel like this I know I need to depart town and swiftly. "I need to get away" I say. My friend curls her lip and says… “OMG…. you just got back from NYC…!!!

“That was work” I snap as I stir my giant mug of coffee shop tea. Bagged crap tea. I own a tea company and I drink others junk. Whats up with this? I stair into my mug...this is like drinking wine from a box and calling it a wine collection. Bagged tea is dust from the floor. I saw the film so it must be true.

I am pissed about tea today.

I know what I need to do. The ocean. Now. I need to load my car and drive 3 hours due East until I see water and old men in ass floss. I need 12 Zone Bars, Diet Coke, my laptop, yoga clothes, i-pod and scads of Kleenex.

Crying. There will be tons of it..

It happens at any moment these days and for no apparent reason.....or when I am feeling sorry for myself. I cry while walking, eating, reading in public, on fountains ledges, on airplanes, in car ramps, at Target, the vet, doing laundry, yoga, writing, driving (real bad there) while peeing (maybe it’s the water sound that triggers it) and at the dentist while watching the fish in the scummy lobby fish tank next to a pile of Lego's.

I cried last week on a subway in NYC, from Grand Centeral to Columbia station.... and was horrified to see some guy is sketching me. He puts his hand up when he discovers he is caught and says “Please, continue, you are beautiful….”

I will no doubt run into this sketch of me crying as a astounding watercolor when I am 50, hanging In some art gallery in Manhattan entitled “Sybil Rides the Subway.” It will win scads of awards and a postage stamp will be created after me in honor of all pre-menopausal 40 year old women suffering hormonal shifts world wide.

I will then try to prove it was me in the picture, and how I deserve some of the money. By then I will have undergone another one of my transformations and nobody will believe it is me because I will probably have hacked my hair short or dyed it black.

I love to cry in hotels best because nobody knows me, and I can get it all out.. and when I pay $300+ a night I can do what I damn well please. I cried last week when I heard the girl in the room next to mine, screaming with body smacking pleasure with cocoa -the- pool boytoy, shrieking and yelling.." hurt me-yes-there-oh Gawd-don’t stop..oh….. God….. I’m coming-yes-oh gawwwwd…spank ..yeessssss, yessss…yessssssss!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I want this. I hate her.

As fate will have it, I ran into her all weekend in the elevator. She has great shoes and smells good. By night three I wanted to crash through the damn sheet rock and watch what the hell she does to get this sort of hot and sticky consideration.

I cried at Rockefeller Center, fifth Ave and at The Gap, sat in bed later in my underwear and socks wallowing in self pity while eating a bowl of cold chicken noodle soup from the 24 hour deli next door. I watched FOX News and cried, drank wine and cried, Did 100 sit-ups and cried, until the pleasure couple next to me begin to bang on my wall to shut up already.

Apparently I was disrupting them with my sobbing and honking.

Never mind that I may be in the midst of a violent gang rape; although you may not hear me complaining about this after the through-the-wall-foreplay I was so cruelly made subject to all weekend, or I could have been drowning in the bathtub.

Noisily.

I bang back and start to moan and rock the headboard in simulated raw sex. They suck.

I smiled and went to bed.

I will get over my sobbing sessions, I will change my hair, I will change my life, goals, outlook, and decorating styles a zillion times I am sure….but for now people, just leave me alone.

Need I say more?

My daughters Mag shoot....untouched.

Artisans Press makes a guest appearance on SIRIUS SATELLITE RADIO in NYC this Wednesday!

www.sirius.com channel 102, Wednesday at 11,1,6,8,10 pm

Click "listen online" link for free trial

OK kids, I'm excited here. I got a last minute call from Judith Regan's producer at Sirius Radio asking me to come to NYC to be a guest on her show in less than 48 hours.

It all began when a dear friend and amazing musician (http://www.alicemarie.net/) gave Candace Bushnell (Sex and the City author) some of my tea after being on her show last month. I followed up with another larger box. It was somehow passed along through the studio with my marketing packet. (Here is where "opportuni-tea and preparedness" meet-up)

After accepting, and promptly screaming once I hung up, I grabbed my Banana Republic card and flew off to buy this blue top, skinny jeans and much to expensive shoes. She makes a comment about this on the show....listen to find out.

I also had the opportunity to give her some information on my book in the works: "Hell on Hellz; A Fempreneures Guide to Finding Her Business G-Spot". She laughed and asked who was publishing it. I told her "nobody...yet"

Judith is the queen of book publishing owning a chunk of Harper Collings (Regan TM) She just wrote OJ's Book "If I Did It" along with plopping Howard Stern and Rush Limbough on the map. She is an amazing woman who pulls no punches. Plus she has really beautiful hair. (We talked about this on air as well..lol)

Her television ventures have included hosting a talk show on the Fox News Channel and producing for A&E, VH1, CBS, Lifetime, and NBC.

Only 12 Million listeners...ah but no pressure, right??

Free three day pass below, so sign up the day of and enjoy the stations all week... No credit card needed.Listen on your computer free. Women and business, tea and fun!


GET A FREE # DAY PASS RIGHT HERE!Click here: SIRIUS Player - Get A 3-Day Pass

Judith Regan

Judith Regan is the founder and CEO of REGAN, a division of HarperCollins Publishers. REGAN is a multimedia company engaged in the production and development of books, television, film, Internet and radio content. Known for her innovative, bold, creative and risk-taking style, Regan has published hundreds of best-selling and award-winning authors, including Wally Lamb, Gregory Maguire, Michael Moore, General Tommy Franks, Dr. Barry Sears, Mario Puzo, Nicole Richie, Neil Strauss, Dita Von Teese, Catherine Crier, Ralph Nader, Jess Walter, Bernie Mac, Sean Hannity, Howard Stern, Eminem, Beyoncé, The Rock, Rachel Ashwell, Kelly Wearstler, and many others. The mother of two children,

I Remember Now Why I left Minnesota

Call it gloating, evil, or just a little bit of validation; but every morning I sit at my desk in sunny North Carolina, coffee in hand, toss open the window (yes, in February) and let the 69 degree breeze sweep across my desk fluttering it's papers ever so lightly. I sit back and sip...and smile as I log onto the Minneapolis Star-Tribune newspaper to gleefully read the temperatures and snow fall predictions.

The main headline this morning read:

Chaska man found frozen to the pavement dies

"A man who was found early Saturday partly frozen to the pavement on the side of a road in Chaska died Sunday, the day he turned 19 years old."

OK people. WTF? I mean he fell, hit his head and was sporting a body core temperature of 77 degrees within 20 minutes. That's damn cold people.

Minnesota is beautifully breathtaking with blue lakes for every three city blocks if you were to spread them out. Each with shops, art galleries, cafes, coffee shops and theaters sprinkled around their shores. Brightly colored sail boats glide by the dozens on the blue glittering water in the sunshine.

But Minnesota in winter, is cold. Colder than any cold you will have ever dared to breathe in....47 below windchill is nothing. If you want to kill someone, push them outside, lock the door and wait ten minutes.

I remember a childhood past-time of throwing a pan of boiling water off the deck to watch it never hit the ground, but rather produce a huge steam cloud that hovered for hours.

But don't let that fool you.

People are always surprised to know how HOT it gets in the summer. The most miserable HUMID heat (think 10,000+ lakes here) you will ever feel. You cannot breath, and you may as well forget about your hair. I walked around looking like a drown rat for 38 summers. (May explain why I only got asked out between October and May.)

If you have a yeast infection or are largely pregnant over the summer....you would rather pull your upper lip over your head while blowing your leg off with a hand grenade. Trust me. I have been there. Swollen ankles and fits of screaming are the norm.

If your water breaks in summer you will not notice.

If it breaks in the winter it will freeze your legs together at the knees. You will have to blow-dry them apart.

Growing up with my "thrifty" set of evangelical zealot parents was no treat in a hot Minnesota summer either. My brother and I suffered for Jesus with no air conditioning. Only a window AC in our parents room.

Apparently God liked them better.

Meanwhile we were stuck to our sheets in a pool of sweat with a fan 2 centimeters from our head.

I lost my bangs that way once.

On the worst nights we retreated to the basement floor on top of a sleeping bag sporting sayings like "Groovy" and "Neat". There was nothing groovy or neat about it.

Add 3 foot mosquito's (state bird) to the mix and you will find childhood photos of me, stringy blond hair and attractive pink dots of Calamine Lotion all over my limbs until I was about fifteen.

After that it was better to itch than kiss Terry Gibbons on the docks at Lake Nokomis smelling like a pharmacy.

There are other perks of moving from Minnesota. The obvious being the absence of my mother-in-law. The woman who has party's in her garage with a keg, KFC, and a space heater while wearing spray on nylons, a skirt and a parka. Also not plugging in my car at night, "shoveling out", or paying heat bills that surpassed my mortgage payments.

Although some days I admittedly miss the familiarity of some old haunts, or the simple pleasure of walking only blocks (In the city yet) to see a real blue crystal lake, devouring a good book on it's shore, floating on a raft, or watching the sunset.

Tomorrow will be in the 60's here, with the signs of spring surrounding me two months before what I am used too. The daffodils are popping their tiny yellow faces as I walk this warm evening to the end of my street, to the man made FAKE lake.

I pause to watch the three under-lit fountains spraying water high into the moonlight, leaning over the little wooden bridge.

Closing my eyes at the sound of falling water ........it can still take me back.

Jennifer Mee tormented by hiccups, now by media

Brittany Spears shaves her head.

Ok, I work hard all day to get media attention for my PR clients.

Hours of hard work, press release writing, send-outs, tweaking, editing, making contacts, calling, follow-ups, writing, hounding editors, TV and radio station pitches....

Little did I know it didn't have to be so hard. All I had to do was learn the art of an "Irritainment" (annoying entertainment spectacles we can't stop watching)

A girl gets a bad case of the hic-ups and lands her chunky ass on the Today Show, Ellen Degerenes, and apparently is now being sought after from all four corners of the world. She and her mother were flown first class to NYC, put up in a five star hotel for 5 days, because she has the hiccups.

Brittany shaves her head on You-Tube. Anna has five potential fathers for her baby (who clearly only looks like one of them. I bet my right arm on the photog with the baby-blues. The Lawyer has ladies hands, the others are old)

Hugh Grant retires and un-retires.

Tom Cruise finally gets someone knocked up and Donald Trump calls Rosie a fat pig.

Each is all over the media. Careers sky-rocket. Free.

Ok, so nobody called me to be on TV when I was constipated for 10 days and I'm a little miffed about it.I mean think about it. TEN DAYS!! I weigh 117. Ten days of poop weighs half of that.

The doctors I worked with took an X-ray to shut me up after complaining of stomach "pains" for 2 weeks while moaning and groaning around the office. All five doc's doubled over laughing when they saw the film, handing me a roll of toilet paper and a can of air freshener. I was mortified.

Did you see the media running headlines "Suburban woman's colon blocked to clavicle; lives to tell about it"

Can you see me on Regis & Kelly, perched uncomfortably sideways on a stool wearing elastic pants while Regis flashes my amazing X-ray on the screen behind him, audience shrieking, covering their face in horror? NO. What.... my medical event isn't news worthy enough?

Or how about the time I was passing blood clots the size of canned hams with a 21 day long period.

No calls. Notta.

Or the unexplained low grade fever I had for seven years? No joke. Seriously. 99.9.

Seven freakin years.

Forget submitting to editors, writing flawless media pitches for hours over cups of cold coffee...banging away until three in the morning..becoming a "mouse potato".

I'll tell my clients to do something gross abnormal or shocking. Quick and cheap.

This year I decided to embrace Valentines Day for many reasons. So I baked, and baked and baked today. I bought candy, gift bags, cards. I will have no expectations, for it doesn't matter. I will smile to know I made someones day. Valentines day is to make someone feel special.

Tips From Me and My Peeps

If You've Been Dating 1-3 Months
At this point in your relationship, take the traditional Valentine's Day gifts and add a special twist. Surprise your girl with sinfully delicious brownies, a back rub and dinner for two. You pay. No exceptions here.

If You've Been Dating 3-6 Months
This is luxe gift time, Instead of chocolates try giving a caviar, cheese and fruit spread for two before sex. Don't forget the creme fraiche and a nice bottle of champagne in the room with candles. Or take a bubble bath together, a girls fav. Tell her she's hot even if she forgot to shave her legs!

If You've Been Dating Six Months or Longer
Guys, we hate to break it to you, but six months or longer means jewelry. If you're not ready to commit, stick to bracelets, necklaces or earrings. If you need help picking something she'll like, ask her best friend to email you ideas . This is a must or you are clueless and will remain single for life.

If You Still Want to be in a Relationship Next Valentine's Day... do it.
Finally, guys, when it comes to Valentine's Day, flowers are mandatory. If you've had at least one date, and you're hoping for future contact, send flowers on Valentine's Day.

If you've been dating for three months, or married for 30 years, send flowers on Valentine's Day.

We can't tell you why it's so important, it just is.

Girl stuff.

Get a clue.

Who dreams in color...

Last night In had a dream. I took a picture of my dream for my blog. Sorry I don't always dream in color...

Ask Me a Question....

Ok, I have to admit I’m a self declared Google and research junkie.

I’m the only person I know who actually spends an entire hour playing with Google Earth zooming in and zooming out, mezmorized like an idiot.

I think the bottom line is that I have issues with avoidance. I know I should be writing something or paying bills.

That means I have to either think or cry.

I have wiled away entire afternoons researching brain tumors, DNA strands, why candy canes have red stripes (Jesus blood, honest) the Holocaust, Peruvian pie plates, stocks, electrolysis, relationships, (don’t even bother) the sex lives of Siamese twins, the Chia-Pet, if fish can smell, true crime and reviews on NYC bathrooms.

This research addiction started at the tender age of 6, although my parents just pegged me as dreamy and inattentive, I clearly remember hot summers spent in my “fort” behind the big living-room chair with a fan, paging through the Almanac and encyclopedia.

I was simply fascinated by flags, maps and medical stuff.

I memorized every country flag, bone and muscle that summer while learning about platelets, white blood cells and that skin is the largest organ of the human body. I tried to figure out what an appendix really does, and why we have wisdom teeth. (Never did) I read under my covers (still do) on lakeside docks, in cars, and spinning on my grandmother’s Lazy- Boy for hours devouring Erma Bombeck and Reader Digests series of short stories at age 9.

Later, the entire Nancy Drew series, thirty in one summer vacation over thirty perfectly golden grilled cheese sandwiches. One book every three days to be exact. Later I upgraded to “Harriet the Spy”, which naturally compelled me to start an “all girls spy group.”

Once bored with that, I somehow discovered that if you whip cream long enough it becomes butter. I made butter everyday for a month driving my mother mad.

Researching medical junk can be dangerous. Everything seems like something you, or someone you know, has.

I once “diagnosed” my ex with twenty-two diseases in one year, sending him for several unnecessary doctor appointments where he swore they stuck him with needles the size of Bic pens.

With the co-pays he spent I could have had lipo.

The man came home from sleep apnea clinics with wire leads still stuck in his head, funny glasses from excruciating eye tests which resulted in HUGE alien pupils, a visit to an oral surgeon because for a month I swore he had metallic "foil" breath, a sure sign of Wilson’s Disease.

Next to a neurologist for Turret's’s Syndrome, (he blinked too often) an E.N.T. (sniffing...drove me NUTS!) a nutritionists, where he came home very angry with tiny plastic food for portion comparisons, a food chart poster and vegetable magnets.

Next a diabetes clinic (thought his urine smelled funny), ADD testing, (I was right on this one...has it, totally)....

A shrink until he was shrink-wrapped for "passive-aggressive avoidance and intimacy commitment issues", (did not work...hello) testosterone clinic, (don’t even make me go there) I watched him get a vasectomy in glee clapping like a monkey on a cupcake, peeled him off the ceiling than insisting we go shopping afterwords just to torture him.) Epilepsy (twitched while falling asleep..)

So I should have been in the CIA or FBI.

Ask me a question, go ahead, I dare ya.

Take a Pill Already

If women ruled the world, we would already have in place a reliable synthetic substitute for good judgment, PMS, menopause, and for hitching a trailer to men who treat women like crap. Already on the market is an FDA approved drug called Nalmefane, which wards off compulsive shopping, or if you have gone completely Winona Ryder, kleptomania.

I want a new pill, one to cover all ailments afflicting women. It would be a tricky job for even the best A- list PR firm in New York City to brand. This female invented wonder drug would protect women against having sex with men who live with their mothers, who take online classes between shifts as a bouncer and brag about it, are selfish in the sack and think a G-spot is a musical note.

This drug would be most commonly prescribed for women over the age of 40, who now use a magnified mirror and obsesses about every little wrinkle, sun spot and the fact that their necks are changing faster than we can say “Oh my God, am I growing a mustache…WTF is up with that anyway”? …while collecting a mass of turtle necks in every color. Plus if we added up all the hours we spend plucking, we could own a horse.

This pill will be proven to be especially effective for women who find themselves smearing fish oil capsules on their face at night, waxing everything that grows, and who feel exhausted all the time.

It will also relieve symptoms of overwhelming desire to pour yourself a stiff one at 10:00am, strangle your kids for tracking dog shit into the house and taking the last of the gum out of your purse. It will treat symptoms of generalized anxiety caused by ex husbands, lack of regular sex, DSL issues, running out of stamps on bill day,and corks that break into expensive bottles of wine.

It will erase past memories of being free and happy at 17 while making out with Derek Stumper in the back of our Fathers 1976 Dodge Maverick with brown side paneling, while unceremoniously slurping Coors beer purchased from Seven-Eleven with a fake ID,never even thinking about the possibility of becoming pregnant.

Of all those times we drove drunk and used no protection and nothing happened.

(With my luck now, if I tossed my underwear into a shared dryer with a random guys underwear at the Laundromat, I’d get knocked up. No fun involved, no big “O”, just wanting to save a bit of money. The only reliable information that I would have to tell his unfortunate offspring would be something like… “Your Daddy used Downey dryer sheets and had a blue laundry basket, sorry honey that’s all I know; it was a long time ago.”)

Now if I go three miles over the speed limit I get pulled over and crying doesn’t work anymore either.

This pill will protect women from becoming old broads with a cigarette and a Cool Whip container of liquor in our hand at 3am while reading a trashy novel in a pilled bathrobe from Zayer Shoppers City while wearing mucklucks. It will keep us from joining any neighborhood book club, or taking up hobbies like stained glass window making, puff paint sweatshirt art, cake decorating or scrap-booking.

It would make us all reformed academic sinners, making up for all the terrible times we skipped classes in college to meet our friends at Chi-Chi’s only to eat the free chips and salsa while ditching out before our order was taken.

It would protect women from meeting men online and taking a trip to Mexico with him a week later.

It would keep us from staring at our asses in the three way mirrors at Banana Republic and constantly scrutinizing our profile wondering what it would be like without the bump on our nose or with breasts that stood at attention instead of stuffing them into insanely expensive bras that do everything but the dishes while cutting into our shoulders all in the name of cleavage.

This miracle pill would let women sail through bouts of hormonal bitchiness and premenopause symptoms such as the newly discovered 17 day lavish period that leave us so damn iron depleted that we look like we've been dead for three weeks and can hardly crawl across the bathroom floor or lift a mascara brush to our face.

The side effects of not taking this magic cure all pill would be all of the below but not limited to:

A broken heart, unplanned pregnancies at 40 with images of going to a high school graduation in a walker, STD’s, huge cell phone bills, financial ruin, acute absentmindedness, dressing way too young for our age, buying everything two sizes too small at stores like “Wet Seal” thinking we look sexy, drinking way too much wine and waking up with a greasy beach artist in California ten years our junior, getting ass tattoos, making drunk dials to men who could give a shit if we live or die, adopting foster children at 55, or worse yet signing invitro papers after a bottle of Tequila with our girlfriends, selling our eggs for shoe money, letting in-laws move in above the garage, taking out a loan for a Prada bag, honing a disinclination to shave our legs in the winter, telling people off who steal our parking space and fail to use a turn signals, wearing white pants or gauchos ( these look good on NO ONE) and other idiot things we do to sabotage our freaking lives.