Hell on Heels Girls Night Out is Back!! Save The Date!

Lets Mingle, Sip, Laugh, and Dish With The Coolest in town -  Votre Vu of Paris France and Celebrity Makeup Artist James Cornwell.

 Need a Change ? Picture this. You have a truffle hangover and skin that looks like a dryer sheet, so you head to the mall for a new look. After a disastrous department store makeover and a cabbie mistaking you for a thief (in hindsight, the hockey mask was overkill) you decide its time for a change.  Thankfully, one night out with the coolest peeps in G'Town will transform you into a modern woman with sexy tips and trends from celebrity makeup artist James Cornwell at our Beauty Bash play date.

Come and personally meet James and spend time with the sassy Votre Vu Team while learning the latest advances in anti-aging.  Mingle, sip, laugh, dish and be in-the-know with the latest beauty tips, tricks and trends for 2012.  Meet amazing like-minded women while enjoying a great night out.  (Did I mention free product give aways, drinks and a gift for each guest?)

Come and become even more beautiful for fall.  Make your friends jealous.  You know you want to.  This is a place where time stops, the magic never ends, and it’s all in good fun. At least until someone loses an eye.  Cocktails, mocktails and light hors d'oeuvres will be served.

 

Where: Deep River Event Center
             606 Millwood School Road                           
             Greensboro, NC 27409

Date: October 4th, 2011          

Time: 6:30 til 9:00 pm. 

To register (a.k.a. get your free gift) contact Mary Johnson via email naturalbeauty@triad.rr.com  text/phone 336.215.8040. 

 

James Cornwell is an undeniable movement in the fashion industry.  He boasts an impressive client portfolio all of whom are powerhouses in their respective fields. His portfolio includes: Jessica Alba (Valentines Day), Alyssa Milano (Charmed), Mya (singer-songwriter), America Ferrara (Ugly Betty), Parker Posey(You’ve Got Mail), James McAvoy (X-Men), Neiman Marcus, Mango, Bloomingdales, Kathy Luetner (Abercrombie and Fitch), Victoria Schade (Animal Planet), Instyle Magazine, Washington Life Magazine, Today’s Health and Wellness, Americas Next Top Model-Smart Water, Adeler Jewelers and JJ Singh Designs.

What is Exorcism and Poundcake?

Living On The Borderline

This blog is funny. I promise. No heavy stuff. But it does come out of the pain of  growing up in a confusing, contradictory and conflicted childhood. A childhood where God was always watching, even when we went to the bathroom. A childhood where we were told of demons, demon possession, the end times, even the devil living within ourselves if we forgot to fold the clothes or gave some normal teenage lip. A time of cult followings, bathtub births, communal living and "followers" with covenant oaths - all in the name of Jesus. (poor Jesus) Endless hours at meetings, "church" revivals and unnerving deliverance sessions even in our own home.

That's why this blog was named Exorcism and Pound Cake because when my mom baked pound cake I knew it was Bible study night and Satan was coming to visit.I stayed in my room as the thrashing, moaning and screaming went on and on downstairs. I was nine and this was a little confusing. Thanks God for Nancy Drew. She saved my life from "The Clock Tower" to "The Hidden Key." Thanks Nanc.

Watching my parents raise their hands in "church" praising God, later being hit and thrown against your bedroom wall for a small indiscretion was utter confusion. Their affairs, drinking, beer bottles lined up next to the sofa on weekends, church, Jesus, screaming, hitting, whipping with belts, doors kicked open - words that tore at a five-year-old's soul. Sonny and Cher, Karen Carpenter and Neil Diamond. To this day I cannot stand to hear..

The last time my father hit me was in 2003, I was 38, married with three kids. So we left the state.That was almost a decade ago and I haven't looked back once. They never tried to reach me, my emails to them bounced back as "blocked" - they also blew off 3 beautiful grandchildren.

It took me 47 years, thousands of dollars in copays and 6 years of therapy to understand that I was raised by two damaged parents afflicted with Borderline Personality Disorder.

Then I married one. But that's another blog.

The worst kind of lonely, is the loneliness you can have in a relationship with those who are supposed to love you unconditionally, and know you best. If your parents cannot love you, who can? As an adult It has you feeling a deep sense of betrayal from which it's nearly impossible to recover.However -I'm alI about the spin- ask anyone who knows me. 

So I wanted to take my boo-hoo tales and turn them on their head. I have dozens of true events thanks to growing up with crazy BPD inflicted Jesus parents in the 70's.Despite the past, this blog is a humorous light blog with a look at my life now, learning what real love is with my late life relationship, hot and brilliant Mancandy. It's about my amazing grown kids, an unexpected 7 year-old stepson, healing while finding my own identity (I'm a proud democrat now...I know you are but what am I?) and of course the past childhood memories that now, looking back, were positively ridiculous. (Yes my mother prayed over broken appliances to cast out the demons (then called Sears) yes, we really were hid in the basement on Halloween. I wasn't allowed to watch I Dream Of Jeannie because spirits would come through the TV, I had to read the entire Bible to get a clock radio for Christmas. My parents told us we may not be ruptured if we were bad kids and would be left behind staring at their shoes in the kitchen. They went positively crazy with the pending Y2k event and bought a generator and stockpiled rice from Sam's Club.

Where were camera phones when you needed them?

Men Are Simple Creatures

Why are men are always baffled by our mood shifts? Do they think they are EVA the cause? I mean how often do we get "shifty" with our girlfriends?

Like never.

Personally I guess the lethal combination of PMS, no chocolate in the house, and forging for clients during the worst economic depression since men wore hats, sends my emotions on spin cycle. But add my boyfriends   "schedule" changes (after the fact) and you get a really upset girl. 

As he says .. "I always get in trouble if I don't follow protocol."


Yep, that's pretty much it. Stick to the plan and follow all the rules.



For example, holidays, anniversary's and birthdays. All women LOVE gift giving holidays (and if they say they don't  they are lying beyatches to fiend disappointment)  we all sorta expect something ( card, dinner reservations, .....OK,diamonds?) and to top it all off, what they DON'T know is that we see the timing and selection of gifts as a secret message. 

Yes, secret messages. For example, a poorly chosen gift,  (Costco membership, a spatula, ant killer, Dust Buster, slippers or a blender) is just plain bad juju. Personally I drop hints 17 weeks before any gift-giving holiday and wonder if he gets it.( Linda got a Coach purse from Andy and a surprise trip to 5 European countries......)  I think all men should wear a wire so they can review these suggestions later and start saving and planning. ( Disclaimer: In that department I have seen vintage jewelry, Star Gazer Lillys, and stained glass windows appear that I had drooled over months earlier.)

Reading into gifts is an art. For example, if a guy gives me a cappuccino maker for two. I immediately would read into it as... "He wants to marry me because this is for two people and we will be living together. Oh and maybe there is a ring tucked inside the grinder thingy." (until I remember he hates cappuccino and rings...)

Reality man translation: "now I don't have to wait in the Starbucks parking lot on weekends so you can run in and spend $3.95 with my debit card." 

Hypathetically, if a guy buys me an iron. Our interpretation is that he is clearly wanting to save dry cleaning  money, and I am now expected to iron his crinkled shirts that he insists on blasting in the dryer in the same load as the mop head and dog bed cover. 

Like no.

Men need to understand that this dance began ages ago and is timeless. I read this next example in a fantastically funny book my BF bought me called (of all things) A Practical Handbook To The Boyfriend. Think of the first boyfriend, Adam. You think he wasn't baffled by his girlfriend? You bet he was. Now, there's a guy who could have used a manual, a girlfriend road map and a GPS. You may not think he needed it, after all, he was alone in paradise, had some snacks, and Eve was already naked.

But I beg to differ.

Their problems weren't over money, getting out of dinner with her parents, or his addiction to online poker or America's Funniest Videos. No, their issues revolved around a small piece of red fruit.

God said, "Don't eat it." Eve said, "If you love me you'll bite!!" The poor guy had God on one side and Eve on the other; talk about a rock and a hard place. Adam tried to reason with his girl, warning her of the dangers of breaking the one rule God had made, but she wouldn't listen. From her point of view it wasn't about the apple or God (she wasn't hungry and had never even met this God guy..) it was about whether her boyfriend took her seriously and understood her feelings.  

Sound familiar?

But maybe Adam was just a regular guy, trying to toe the line with The Man while trying to keep his HM girlfriend happy. It couldn't have been easy. We girlfriends can be a lot to handle yes, we demand consistent intimacy, and special day remembrances. We ask a lot of questions: "What are you thinking about?" "Do you love me the same now or more then before?" "What's wrong today?.... you sound funny." "Are you mad at me because you haven't called me for 36.2 hours but you have watched 12 TV shows." or "Am I fat to you?.... like more then last summer or do I look the same or thinner?" and my personal fav's... "Were there any hot girls at that conference in Sweden? Did anyone hit on you? Did you do your hair with product, or is that just for me? Are you in that dark suit? Which tie?.... not the red one right, because you look so hot in the red one..." 

And the transitions are murder. One minute we're lying around happy and naked (think Eve), and the next minute we're dressed to kill, goose-stepping all over your heart (think Eva Braun) being cold and purposely not answering your calls. (This never lasts, we call back in 10 minutes and claim we were vacuuming. Not.)

We girls are easy with a few rules. Make us feel like a princess ALL the time. Don't yell at us and make us cry, put our relationship first, (at least sometimes) stick to your word, buy the cards, touch our hair, tell us we smell good,and that we don't have back fat. 


....Just follow protocol.

He's right :)

Fifteen Reasons Why I think My Childhood May Have Been Messed Up

1) Our house was filled with furniture my parents stole from the Salvation Army drop box at night.

2) We were made to help shove these items into a Dodge station wagon with a very narrow hatchback wearing pajamas.Usually it was raining.

3) My parents insisted that we all sit in the pitch dark basement on Halloween with one candle to avoid "spiritual warfare". My brother actually admits this. He has blocked everything else out.

I think this was all just to get out of buying the Halloween candy.

4) My parents belonged to a freaky cult where people gave birth in their bathtubs at home, next to a bottle of Lysol with the family, neighbors and cat looking on. I saw pictures.

5) My mother would circle a party listening for anyone who would complain of an ailment, then offer to deliver demons or heal them. This included cold sores. No joke.

6) My Father used to stand at the top of the steps screaming at me when I was late coming home at night. His pajamas were see-through with the light behind them. He never knew why I was laughing hysterically.My poor mother...ew.

7)I saw my mother on all fours on top of the washing machine once, rebuking Satan, screaming at the helpless broken appliance with a wild look in her eye and her smiley face earnings swinging. I stared at her like a puppy trying to figure out a vacuum cleaner.

When this didn't work she climbed down and calmly said "call Sears".

8)  Mom mixed powdered milk and poured it into a "normal" store bought milk carton to trick us. I guess the smelly yellow foam on top was the dead give-away.

9) I came home after school in the 11th grade to find my mother frantically filling a garbage bag with various items around the house claiming they were either satanic or filthy. (she clearly had just read a new book) My old Donny Osmond records, a  yarn Gods-eye I made at camp, souvenirs from Mexico, an ashtray, several Catholic relics from my now dead grandmother, rosaries, prayer cards, books, (Are You There God It's Me Margarete) 10 record albums including Heart whom she insisted were lesbians not sisters, and a Donny and Marie lunch box (Mormons). She burned them at her friend "Putsys" house. I never had the heart to tell her about dads hidden Penthouse collection in the garage.

Each of those items are now at collectors value on Ebay. I check often just to torture myself.

10) We were forbidden to watch Bewitched or I Dream Of Jeanie.

11) My Mother used to tie pantyhose to mine and my brothers bedroom door knobs, which were across the hall from each other, so we would stay in our rooms. She would go downstairs and smoke while chatting on the phone..

12) We had red white and blue carpet in our kitchen .Mom insisted it "warms things up."

13) We were never allowed to have sugared cereal, candy or soda in the house - so when PMS hit around 12, I would take hits from the Hershey's Syrup can when she wasnt looking.

14) Mom had the great idea to sell miniature 3 inch  "bread loaves" at the church holiday bazaar one year. We baked and shellacked 500 tiny loaves of bread for 48 hours. She sold two. After that everyone we knew got bread mobiles as gifts from 1974 to 1998.Thank God I didn't get my marketing and product branding smarts from her.

15) When I was 17, we went to Cancun Mexico on a first (and last) family vacation. To save money, my parents smuggled canned Spam past customs. They were as nervous as if they had ten pounds of cocaine. Later they cleverly cooked little slices using the lid as a pan on the tiny  stove in our hotel room. There we sat on the bed, waiting for "dinner" watching dad flip each piece with a fork.

This is when I knew I had to escape. I moved out a week later.

Thoughts

When life's knocked us around. And our childhood myths reveal themselves to be just that. The truth feels like the biggest sucker-punch of them all: it's not a spouse or land or a job or money that brings us happiness. Those achievements, those relationships, can enhance our happiness, yes, but happiness has to start from within. Relying on any other equation can be lethal.

Thought Point

"We say yes out of fear, we say no out of love..."

Good Morning, I Don"t Want To Smell Your Vagina

OK so what's up with smelly vagina women in the gym.

How do I know this you ask? Because I am the unfortunate soul doing crunches on the mat directly below (and slightly to the left) of your squats as you blow your vagina air onto my face.

I mean really. I understand that women roll out of bed going directly to the gym, and shower after, this makes perfect sense. But there should be a few pre-workout, pre-shower ground rules before they even think about sliding that membership card.

Personally, I minimally "rinse off" before going to the gym early in the morning, with a quick spritz of body spray.

This is a must.

For those who don't bother, I say all gym's need to install a secret electronic vajayjay sniffer. If the levels are above a 2, a quick shot of Fabreeze between the legs goes unnoticed as they enter. Anything between a 4 and 7 sounds a quiet alarm to make its owner aware to keep her distance between other gym goers. If above an 8, a pair of clean underwear, a soapy wash cloth and a note emerge.

Please. Think of others around you when you are working out. I can smell you, really.

Unmarried

After 22 years of marriage, I checked out of it at 2:15 in court room 2A a year ago this week. Just like that. No witnesses, no cake, no white dress...hell I didn't even get an ex-bridal shower - and I could have used some new bath towels.

I thought about how I stood there alone, just another number. I even laughed at myself a bit as I wondered, "what does one wear to a divorce?" Is it come-as-you-are event? Or do I treat myself to red lipstick and a new wrap dress?

It took all of 3 seconds to erase two decades.

But then I thought about it, I would rather stand alone and take my power back without permission, then start again with the three entities I got married with. All three of us standing at the alter tying our lives together.

Me, him and his secret.

Perhaps power is letting go of the grip of the past and standing empty handed facing the future with someone you love.

You know who you are.....

Time for Time

"Romance for most men is sex and recreation; for women it's affection, conversation and time alone with the one they love. When all four come together, your chances of staying together are high." - Steven Smith, author of LOVE BUSTERS.


Ok -so this guy totally GETS It. I can be a total bitch about this topic, ask my boyfriend, bless his little hair gelled heart, but after seeing so many failed relationships around me, including a few of my own, I think this author has a point.

Here is what he wrote today in a newsletter -

To stay together forever, follow the policy of regular undivided attention.

By: S Smith

Women leave men at double the rate of men leaving women. Want to know why guys? Main reason?

Neglect. Unbalanced attention in other places. Work. Kids. TV. These include both emotional abandonment and physical abandonment.

At the start, spending time alone with each other was your highest priority. You probably spent the majority of your leisure time together, planning and plotting the next meet-up,and the time you spent together was probably the most enjoyable part of every week. Days seemed like weeks, weeks seemed like months.

Privacy

The time you plan to be together should not include children (who are awake). Establish privacy so that you are better able to give each other your undivided attention. It is essential for you as a couple to spend time alone even with kids in the home. When you have time alone, you have a much greater opportunity to make a n emotional bank deposit. Without privacy, undivided attention is almost impossible, and without undivided attention, you are not likely to meet some of each others most important emotional needs for regular intimacy.

First, I recommend that you learn to be together with and without your children when they are there. This sends a good signal to the children that the world does not revolve around them when they are home, and it is fantastic for them to "see" you going on a date. This can be very difficult for many couples, especially when children are very young or you are in a divorce situation. Don't let divorce guilt set in. Be balanced with time when they are there, get a sitter, it's OK. Most parents don't want to think that their own children interfere with their privacy. To them, an evening with their children is privacy. Not so. Balance it out.

While we all know know they can't make love with children around, the presence of children prevents much more than sex, which is key to a relationship. When children are present, they interfere with affection and intimate conversation, adult topics, working out disagreements and not being interrupted. Another relationship killer. These are very vital needs to keep a relationship alive. Uninterrupted conversation.

This may mean that after everything has been scheduled, there is little time left for friends and relatives sometimes. If that's the case, you're too busy or wasting time in other areas of your life, but at least you will not be sacrificing your love for each other. The bedroom is not a playroom, or TV room, it's your space. keep it relaxing and special.

Third, I recommend that you understand what giving undivided attention means.

Your time together is too important to the security of your relationship to neglect. It's more important than time spent doing anything else during the week, including time with your children and your job. Yes that's right, children or work! Most couples don't get this and the guilt sets in. Life without love is no life at all. Happy couples are the core to happy children - spoiled children are the core to miserable adults. So, better together and fulfilled taking time for love and kids, than alone never showing your kids that you share your time. To help you plan your week with each others emotional needs in mind, I encourage you to meet or talk weekly to look over each others schedule for the coming month. Plan and stick to the dates.

It says and shows "we are important to me."

This is why I love girlfriends. We always know when we are bumming, thrown off course, worried or sad despite a smile. Yesterday was an upsetting day for me, and this is what my girlfriend from work emailed me while in a meeting with our boss who assumes she is taking notes. She kills me. I get this in my car at lunch...she is the bestest..


------Original Message------
From: Connie
To: XXXXX@yahoo.com

Subject:

12 Random Reasons Why You Are Awesome

Sent: Nov 25, 2008 2:31 PM

1. You have fluffy hair
2. You love little Rio
3. You're an awesome Mom, even though your kids don't sometimes realize it
4. We pee and bleed simultaneously (deep bonding)
5. I can tell you about my dating life and you don't judge me
6. You learn more every day
7. You make me laugh
8. You know stuff about lingerie
9. Your clothes are amazing
10. Your eyes are all sparklie, even when you are sad
11. You could drive to DC with your eyes closed, I'm convinced of it
12. The producer of Saturday Night Live wanted you to join the mile high club with him once, and you turned him down.

Thought you should know...

Hugs,
Me

Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone with SprintSpeed

Good Thinking

Read this today.

1.Think about what your needs are in a relationship. Making a list of all the qualities you want in a partner and then identifying the top 10 non-negotiable items can help you clarify what you really desire.

2. Assess the compatibility of your lifestyles. Take time to think about whether you and a potential partner share similar interests, goals and values. NOTE: Compatibility in all areas is not realistic. But share what is important to you and make sure you and a possible mate can find ways to make peace with differences and not always do what you want to do.

3. Establish bottom lines. There is not room for compromise on some issues. Think about those qualities and behaviors and make sure you look for a potential mate.

4. Think about how you communicate. You should be assessing how you and a possible partner resolve differences. Disagreements tear at a relationship so you and your mate need to establish ways to work them out immediately. The approaches should leave both people satisfied they have reached an acceptable compromise.

5.Talk, talk, talk. Make sure you and your partner talk about the issues that are important to both of you. This includes top deal-breakers - money, intimacy, work, his-kids-your-kids issues, couple alone time when kids are around, priorities, and even the amount of time you spend together or apart.

Brokeback Marriage

Leaving someone gives new meaning to the term afterlife.

Someone for whom you gave your life and past for two decades; gave up bare as a licked bone, only to find out that he lied about, not everything, but the big things, the things that mattered.

Regardless of his reasons – they were selfish ones. Self protective maybe – than he shouldn't have gotten married. A real marriage, whether the church-cake- legal kind, or marriage by the heart on a flower covered hill somewhere, just the two of you, doesn’t allow room for secrets.

My answers are complicated –but the truth is simple.

It all flows from currents of my past. It took living with a man who neglected us, to realize that growing up in my dysfunctional family had left me with such a high tolerance for cruelty that I couldn't recognize perversion when it hit me in the face.

Now my life is divided into three parts; before, during and after. Also -Leaving him has nothing to do with getting away from him.

He has fooled them all. Gained pity as the victim- he was "replaced" he says. He fails to tell people he didn't touch me for 2 years at a time, refused counseling and drove to Boone NC while I was on business in NYC twice to try to locate the woman he had the affair with three months before our marriage.

His clever twists and turns on the stories, even if partially true are seriously out- of- context; and always just telling/showing of my reactions to his actions. His family, my family – they don’t know the truth, the whole story. Just one side of a very complicated story, hell even his lawyer had to be told the truth by my lawyer at mediation.(do you text her 87-100 a day? Did you call her switchboard at work 17 times screaming to put Lisa on the fucking phone? Did you sleep with Mary, Carla, Laura - all before you were divorced? Did you and your private investigator Starbuck pal GPS her car? Did you break into her house - twice when she was out-of-town? Do you refer to her when with your children as "The Traitor" or "The Adultress?" Did YOU sleep with Penny lea Muller for five years while she was married? ) Scott sat sheepishly nodding but adds...Penny was committing adultery, not me. (WTF????).

What went on in the bedroom, my heart and his damaged mind. It was emotional abuse, the things I found, caught...I had to walk away. Funny thing, he had a new girlfriend just 4 weeks after he left. Said he loved her, left our family on Christmas to be with her. I found the emails. Printed them, he admitted it to me and the boys, said he wasnt thinking.

I face my demons head-on, always have, trying to take responsibility for my fuck-ups, and yes there are many, but few I actually regret as a whole. You rarely choose the circumstances that become your life’s meaning, and given a list of options, divorce and being stalked and terrorized are not ones I would have chosen.

Simplistically I thought, I could just walk away, go inside myself for a bit, journal, read self-help books and pop into therapy from time-to-time, think at the beach, and learn from my mistakes. I would be older and wiser – and could just slip into the future with my "new and improved" self, meet Mr. wonderful while being clear-headed and whole for him.

But getting away isn’t as easy as it sounds.

One can do all the physical separation one wants, only to be reminded daily that “he” can mess up your life, your credit (again) and destroy your reputation in a simple conversation with your hairdresser, or through all the fake email he sent to himself just to show family. Now it's in litigation.It will go nowhere.

A clever little tape recorder, and a stalking texts saying that he is watching me, or that he saw me at a named restaurant bar last Sunday night. Snapping photos of me, my car and mailbox as he angrily circled my parking lot until the police came, later with back-up. Sneaking into my house stealing our wedding license, my diamond ring, a $100 bill , notes and photos from my night stand drawer. Hacking my email, manufacturing more "fake" ones, (I was on an airplane the exact moment they were written and sent by him, as me - love that I save receipts) and stealing passwords from my Rolodex, reading my private blog, cutting pasting, adding....sending, showing, telling.

Busted. Then it dawned on me...

The harassment and stalking has lasted longer then our dating did, and he hates me more than he loves his own children.

How could I have been with a man who is so capable of self serving hatred and destruction of his own life and children's heart and soul? Why did I choose a man who is the garden-variety selfish soul who doesn’t want to relinquish first place in his own life – but just wanted a good first- in -command while he hides his secret?

Refusals to dance with me. Even in private. His masturbating every night, alone in the bathroom. I lay in bed listening to it with tears running down my face. Faking sleep as he returns to our bed. Refreshed. His urges relieved without having to give.

I will always struggle to break my patterns from my past, the emotional and verbal abuse by my father, the mother who never stuck up for me, my often stupid conclusions, my insecure image of my quite normal body. All on crack-like hyper mode, all skewed, all wrong from a life of toxic people.

I am in love now. But early on I felt my own damage when I was with my new love. I recognized, sometimes, my slight hesitation of giving it all over to him during love-making, the holding back, the fear of asking for what I want, what I like, fear of rejection, despite his sweet assurances. That has all changed now - I feel like a weight has been lifted off of me. I want him in my life, I want him to be part of my developing a richer interior. Being with him makes me a better person. A healthy relationship and a healthy family. A couple years later I have learned to trust this man freely- with my body and my heart.

A freedom I never knew.

See You At The Dump

I love this story and have infused my details of late, making it my own.

A woman was hiking along a cliff pondering her pending divorce and the wrath of a family member.

She falls—but after tumbling and scraping down the hill, she manages to grab on to a branch. Fearing that she doesn't have much longer, she begins to pray. The response is simple:

"Let go."

Feeling low on family support and high on frustration, she ignores the command and cries and aches until the first rays of dawn. And then, astonishing though it may seem, she looks down and sees the ground…about 12 inches below her feet.

And truth be told, I have been the same idiot as of late, holding on to pain and wearing myself out trying to decide if I should write a response letter to a family member who blasted me this weekend in an email. I sat rebuffing each of his bloody slices, accusations attacking my heart, empathy, thoughts, salvation, soul, feelings, or lack thereof, honesty, character, integrity, and my magical ability to "destroy everyone else's happiness," along with my apparent waining desire to parent my own 17,19 and 23 year old children.

Considering one child has lived away for over a year now, and the others are NEVER home...I suppose the cookie baking must continue. Being gone 8 days a month for work, yes so I can feed them when home - is a sin as well. With all this - I suspect the Dept of Social Services will start yanking children from all flight attendants and traveling dad's anyday now.

All I could think of was ......WTF and WWJD?

And for the record - the email didn't make me want to go to church.


When relief is less than a foot away, sometimes greater tenacity and steadiness of nerve is required to release in silence than to retain in pain. And never is this more true than when the thing you're clinging to is a relationship that's dead as a door nail due to ignorance of facts, inability to deal, confusion, hurt, and that damn mixing up of peoples holidays. They don't know how to adjust - so feeling angry gives just cause for a clean break.

The inability to meet face-to-face with resolution because a person doesn't want to be reasoned away from a clean stance - is mind blowing to me. Who blows off another family member in an email? Like really - who?

He promised he would meet - but went coward on me...not a man of his word. He took the easy way out..not very Dr. Phil-Esq eh??

When a relationship ends in death, divorce, or division of any kind, we may recognize the loss intellectually, but it takes longer to get the message to our hearts. We need both hands free to embrace life and accept love, and that's impossible if one hand has a death grip on the past


We cannot expect things to heal if we are always picking at them, so I deleted the email and went to bed. We cannot look for "perfection" in others -- these are not the qualities of "loving heart" and "seeking growth through disappointing changes." Ask yourself if you really find it so joyously preferable to feel so very very right when in conflict with people -- because if you do, you will repeatedly simultaneously wind up finding yourself feeling very, very alone and sad.


Anger = hurt and this person is hurt. Simple as that. He has decided to let me go - not I him.

Only by learning how to let go do we learn how to hold on to what matters. It's as though the shadows created by loss illuminate what remains; the contrast helps us see with great clarity and appreciation the things we were meant to do, the people we are meant to be with, and most importantly -those who are still with me, and those I love deeply- who also love me back unconditionally.

For that- is my future.

We Are All A Little Bit Psycho When We Love You

So I'm chatting to Hot Stuff the other day and he says"....Did I ever tell you that my ex used to call my voice mail at work JUST to hear my voice?"

The hesitation in my response surely gave it away -

"Ah......yeah, girls do that stuff..." I stammered. "I mean, ya know, I have..I mean your voice mails..and stuff..I save them all..."

He stopped eating his cookie and just blinked. I think I heard his hair grow.

That's when it hit me. It has NEVER even occurred to him to save my voice mails. EVA!

So I say with a snarky pout..."Sooooo..... you delete MY voice mails?"

Hot Stuff squirms in his fav red chair. (He loves it so much it needs it's own zip code...) and the look on his adorable man face was a combination of -oops meets dumbfounded enlightenment.

This is always so much fun to watch - when a guy doesn't know how to defend himself because he is so discombobulated that he was ever suppose to know this was important in the first place. So that gap where the correct answer or a clever little lie pops out, simply cannot gel fast enough.

Hence the look. If his brain was a cartoon right now - The Webkin just blew up.

"So, you delete them?" I demand in a high pitched screech, arms flailing.

"Well..NO!"....he wails.

I watch a little corner of his cookie fall to the floor.

".....I just never save them I guess...." he says, head hanging.

In his defense, I have to say that Hot Stuff has never been mean or insensitive. It is just that men don't have the first clue as to what women do or think in a relationship and don't think about details, like saving a message. I cannot expect him to understand. They live life in bulk. They are like Sam's Club, they get the bulk of stuff -big food, beer and sex. But they cant tell you what they ate in detail, what her name was, how many times, dates, colors, decor, what music was playing.

Women on the other hand live among AND for the details.

I, for example, can tell you exactly how Hot Stuff smelled, what he was wearing, the exact location of the sun in the sky, the temperature, the licence number of the cab next to us and exactly how his head tilted when he finally said "I love you" outside of Union Station. (I can also tell you how many seconds it took to start blubbering for joy when he drove away, and how fast I text'd Brenda with the news.)

So for simplicity's sake, I have compiled a list for all creatures sporting an appendage between their legs. Read it slow, know it's true and deal with it. Ninety percent of all straight females will agree this is the Gods honest truth.(The other ten percent are lying bitches.)

Here is a list from Mens Health Magazine this month. Swear to God. I was screaming out loud reading these. I feel normal and validated. Read on guys....


1) She has googled ALL your exes and already knew what they looked like and where they worked.

2) She is always observing and analyzing your every move, reading into your emails, texts and phone conversations.

3) She saves all your voice mails and has played them for her girlfriends who say you sound cute.

4) She spends an insane wad of money every month on waxing, tweezing, exfoliating, moisturizing, tooth bleaching, underwear buying, mani-pedi's, hair, dermatology, personal trainer, self tanner.

5) She needs constant indications that you want her around. Any slight hint of a future plan will make her weep and email her friends the second you leave to go to the bathroom.

6) She finds nothing sexier than watching you rush around shaving, showering and getting ready for work in the morning.

7) She wants you to take without asking.

8) She checks out your butt every time you leave the room. EVERY TIME!!!!

9) She wants you to talk a little bit dirty during sex.

10) When she falls in love she looses her appetite. Don't notice that she never finishes her food.

11) Just looking at your hands when you drive will turn her on.

12) She smells your shirts when you are at work.

13) She fantasizes about when she can see you again. Everything is stretched into slow motion.

14) She has peed into a HUGE wad of toilet paper so you don't hear her. She has panicked that it may not flush. (Ok - so I added this one)

Something Fishy

No matter whom I have dated, kissed, or married, no matter what city, accent, denomination, color, or continent, circumcised or uncircumcised, messy or neat, artist or business man , or somewhere in-between, I have come to conclude that all men are the same.

Simple creatures.

I was recently reminded of this when helping my out-of-town boyfriend move to a new apartment. Our conversations before my arrival went something like this.

Me: “So….handsome man…are you starting to pack yet?”

BF: “Oh yeah…even took a few loads to the new place.”

Me: Swooning -falling deeper, with visions of his 6’3 scruffy self- sporting three day beard growth, his dark locks tousled as he neatly packs boxes with his impressive lawayer-ish books- wearing no shirt while R.E.M. plays in the background.

BF: "Yeah, I have some bins around here someplace - and I’ll get some boxes this week, take a few more car loads…I don’t really have that much stuff ya know?…I can toss most of this post-divorce shit and start new…ya know what I mean sweetheart?

Me: (Wondering what constitutes as post-divorce shit.)……. “Soooooo, what stuff did you move already?

BF: “Mostly art, books, the stuff I really wanted to be careful about…breakables.”

Me: “What about that fish plaque thingy?”

BF: “Oh yeah. He’s there.”

I shudder.

Now, I understand this fish means the world to him. I inquired about it the first time I stayed at his apartment, fully expected him to say it's from his mother who took ceramics.

No - it was something like ...a village man in Guam wanted him to have this sacred fish as his final dying wish because MY boyfriend single-handily saved the entire area's river basin through eco-bio-efforts and the 4.7 million dollars he and his small team raised by selling their bone marrow to help save cancer ridden premature Siamese twins born without spines.

I suddenly felt dumber than a box of hair.

I did however, note its position above the main window about 3 centimeters from the ceiling above the blinds. I let the location part go as a guy thing.

(Another guy I dated, had some sort of wooden pig mask with horns screwed to a pole in his loft that eerily resembled my ex mother-in-law.)

Moving day arrives, and we pull up to his place. This is where he opens the door. I stand in awe at an apartment that looks exactly like it did when I was there last month – save for a bit of a mess hovering around the sofa.

Me: “Ok…..um…what are we going to use to move all this?”

This is when hot stuff hands me a box of lawn and leaf bags and gives me that darling brown-eyes thing..... (and this is where his mouth gets really cute.)

I melt inside.

How can I be mad at a guy who bought me my own Christmas stocking for his place, buys me custom made soaps and suffers through Starbucks even though he would rather exhume his own liver with a plastic fork - before drinking even one sip.

A guy who calls me from Australia in the middle of his “night” in a jet-lag infused stupor to simply ask how my day was?

A guy who perfected the art of styling pomade – all because I said I liked it in an email even before we met .

A guy who calculates how many days it takes to grow a five-o-clock shadow before I return to visit (and gets asked if he is growing a beard every third week at work while itching like crazy...) all because he knows it drives me crazy.

A guy who puts decorative girlie pillows on his bed every morning - because I bought them.

A guy and runs a mile through his building complex to surprise me with a Diet Coke because I was bummed that he was out.

A guy who still kisses me on elevators.....unexpectedly.

A guy who drives five hours to have dinner with me, so I only have to drive one…

Garbage bags and fish plaques aren’t so bad after all…

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.