Ring-A-Ding Ding

I think I am getting a ring for Christmas. Not THEE ring...heavens no! I've told boyfriend many times over that if I get THEE ring I will say "no"...unless of course it's the $30K Harry Winston ring that I would do almost anything for, even get married.

I have no objections to getting a ring for Christmas, anything with bling or a 3-inch heel I will accept with a smile. I just worry that it's one step too close to saying "I Do". Even if its not THEE ring the fact that it's A ring symbolizes a lot to others and to myself.

The last ring I received was a promise ring from my first love, boyfriend #1. It was beautiful and I treasured it dearly. When our promise of eternal love to one another didn't work out I gave the ring back. I felt it was better to return his promise of loving me forever than to keep it as a constant reminder of heartache.


A ring is a big gesture, whether of promise or engagement, it is a token of love and commitment between two people. Though I will be able to accept a ring and value the commitment behind it, I fear the meaning of it is tainted from my past.

All I want for Christmas is to let love in.

"E" is for Effort

The past few conversations I've held with my legitimate gal pals always seem to wind back to the topic of friends, or should I say, "friends". It's really disappointing to find yourself the only one reaching out to keep a friendship alive. Its basically fighting a losing war.

Though comforting to know I'm not the only one who feels this way, my gal pals don't see the point of maintaining a relationship when its pretty obvious this "friend" doesn't really care about you. They are simply too busy living their own lives to take a moment out of their day for you. I understand we're all busy, but how long does it take to send a text? I see them on Facebook everyday playing Farmville, can't they spare a moment of photo tagging to check in with someone who is there when they need them? Maybe that's the trouble these days, Facebook has ruined the meaning of "friends". A Facebook friend is someone who is added to your network on a social media website. This "friend" may or may not be someone you know yet we call them "friends".

Every few weeks I try and go through my Facebook friends list and delete people who arn't really my friends. Why would I want them knowing my every status and photo tag when we don't even speak or hang out in person? Last year I got a TON of flack when I deleted some "friends". I actually knew these people but they were clearly uninterested in being my friend. I would invite them to my parties, out to events, anything to include everyone. Yet when they would have parties or a girls night I was always forgotten. I mentioned it a few times but nothing changes so I'd had it and deleted them. They sent me messages calling me out, saying how immature it was to do when days earlier they had cussed me out on facebook for posting a spoiler to a popular tv series....and I'm immature? These people arn't your friends...they just want you on their "friends list" to look popular. A sort of social netowrking survivial strategy if you will.



Now friends arn't all bad, they are there when you need them but if there's no life crisis or epic gossip to share they disappear like gypsies with the East wind. What's happened to friends? Do we honestly not have any concern for anyone but ourselves?


I'm not saying I'm a perfect friend. I often remind myself to call or text a friend if it's a been a while. But suddenly I'm tired of being the one who keep the bonds of a friendship together. I feel like I'm always the one who checks in via text or phone call. I'm the one who writes on their facebook wall to make THEM feel special and what do I get? Nothing but a "Thanks" or a "I'm fine". Not to say I don't appreciate the "thanks" and the "I'm fine"; at least they replied right? That must be a good sign...but what about a "How are you?"or a "What's new?". At least pretend to care about my life.

Did I mention the friends that I do have are the flakiest friends ever? Especially when it comes to committing to an event. If you can't go to an event due to your budget or schedule or just don't want to; please just say NO. I promise I won't be offended. Don't say maybe when you mean no, don't say yes when you mean no, JUST SAY NO when you mean no! Why are we so ashamed to say "NO" to anything or anyone? We are the "YES" generation but that doesn't mean we can't say "NO" from time to time. Maybe it was the whole "Just Say No To Drugs" campaign that ruined it for us. In the beginning we were willing to say no. No to drugs, no to sex, no to skinny jeans...and then one fine day we said, "YES". We gave in and took a try and "Hey wow this *insert whatever you tried* isn't so bad, in fact, it's awesome, I'm going to say YES!" And now we've forgotten how to say no.


I think it's time for me to take a stand and say "NO" to these friends of mine. I'm tired of holding the skimpy remains of our friendship together and thinking it means something to the other person. They are too busy for me and I've finally gotten the hint. It's a waste of my energy and quite frankly, its taking a toll on my emotions and I'm probably better off without them.

friend·ship   [frend-ship] –noun
1. the state of being a friend; association as friends: to value a person's friendship.
2. a friendly relation or intimacy.
3. friendly feeling or disposition.

I'm not getting the true definition of friendship from these people so I'll take my business elsewhere. For my loyalty and perseverance I get an "E" for effort....but my "friends" get an "F" for fail.

Eat Your Heart Out Martha!

Stuffing? Check.
Potatoes? Check.
Cheesecloth? Random, but, check!
Defrost Turkey? In progress.
3 cups salt? WHAT?!? Who the hell keeps that much salt laying around the kitchen?

After multiple trips to the grocery store to gather the ingredients for a perfect Martha Stewart Thanksgiving meal Martha throws this one at me: 3 cups salt. Seriously, who keeps three cups of salt readily available in their kitchen? Bakers, Chefs and Martha Stewart don't count and anyone outside those genres who has that much salt in their kitchen is clearly having some fast-food withdrawals. Which by the way it took every inch of sanity I had to resist a hot batch of McDonald's fries today, so don't feel too bad you salt lovers, I understand.

Thanksgiving is supposed to be easy squeezy. Turkey. Mashed Potatoes. Gravy. Stuffing. Cranberry Sauce. Rolls. Pumpkin Pie. Maybe even a green bean casserole or fruit salad to boot. Complicated, yes. But if you do a little pre-planning it all comes together to create a perfect meal. Until that 3 cups of salt is called for....

I'd like to think of Thanksgiving dinner as a metaphor for life. You've seen it a million times on TV; it seems so effortless to reach perfection whether it be cooking a plump juicy turkey with all the fixin's or having the perfect life with the perfect man, the perfect job and the perfect child. Now, naturally I prefer perfect shoes but I felt "child" would be more fitting in this situation. Ah, but don't forget the hiccups in life like the 3 cups of salt.

No matter how much we prepare and read the instructions, the manuals, the directions, listen to the advice and the how-to-do-it-betters we can never quite get it right. There's bound to be a step we miss which inevitably takes us two-steps back from where we wanted to be. Now the beauty of this is in some situations we end up somewhere better than where we were heading in the first place.

Unfortunately for me, I'm going to have to strap on my snow boots and equally unfashionable winter layers to trek down the hill and get me some salt!

The Truth About Guilt Trips

Guilt trips might just be the greatest torture device ever invented. And my mother knows it. Several months ago, in an effort to save a few pennies (Yes I may be fabulous, but I'm a bargain hunter 'till the end!) I decided to purchase my flight tickets home for the Christmas holiday. I had spoken to my mother several times regarding the fact I would likely only see her and her new husband for a few hours on Christmas Day and she assured me it would be fine and that she would be busy with his family anyway. LIES!

Mother and I reconfirmed holiday plans the other night and needless to say, she's not okay with them anymore, and I don't know what to do about it. You see, holidays (Christmas especially) are a delicate juggle to please both sides of the parental unit. I'm sure many people struggle with this day. IT'S IMPOSSIBLE--and much too stressful these days when hey, I might have some plans of my own with boyfriend and his family. So I do the best I can and never quite please anyone it seems. Someone will inevitably have something to say to make me feel like a jerk. Don't you just love family?

My plan was to spend December 23-Christmas morning with Dad, step-monster and little brother. Little bro's birthday is the 23rd so I thought I would be a good sister and spend the day with him. Is that so wrong? He also happens to be turning 12, I know at that age Christmas really starts to lose its charm and wonderment so I want to see his last Christmas morning as a quote, unquote; child. Plus the fact I can't even remember the last Christmas I spent with them as I refused to leave my Mother alone on Christmas 'morn so I figured it was their turn. Mom's remarried now, so she won't be alone. I'm free to make plans how I see fit...oh, I was so wrong.

Unfortunately my flight home is on Christmas Day. I did this to also see boyfriend so he wouldn't be alone all Christmas. This leaves me 3-4 hours to see Mom and she's not pleased. She's getting, "The short end of the stick like usual and bah-humbugged, and, why do they see you for three days and I get three hours? That's not fair. Can't you come on Christmas Eve?? Can't you stay longer??"

A. My tickets are booked, it costs $100 to change my flight plans and the flights are full. Plus, like I said, I'm cheap.
B. Her wedding anniversary is the day after Christmas, I don't want to be in their way or watch them be lovey dovey while boyfriend sits alone on Christmas! EW!
C. F-M-L.

This is the woman who last year got married the DAY AFTER Christmas. I was at her beck and call that whole week and not able to even enjoy a moment of my holiday, infact I clearly recall saying, "I'm not doing Christmas next year its too stressful for me." But here I am, buying plane tickets and taking vacation days from work and listening to gripes about how I'm not doing enough.



I booked a trip home for the holidays but missed the small print that said, "FREE GUILT TRIP INCLUDED".

Damn that Weatherman!

The first snow of the season is here. Horay--but two hours into the day and I'm over it. Not to complain, the snow is BEAUTIFUL! I love the light dusting on the trees and I'm dying to bust out my Christmas decor. I did allow myself to listen to Christmas music last night, hmm maybe that's what brought the snow, but I'm determined to wait until after Thanksgiving to pull out the Christmas goods.

I'm also seriously contemplating buying a larger tree this year, espcially since I can get a 6-footer WITH lights for a mere $50 buck-a-roo's at Walmart. Is it trashy to have a Walmart tree?? Walmart clothes, yes. Walmart Christmas decor...the exception?

My point is snow is here and there's more on the way. Snow usually doesn't arrive until after Thanksgiving so I assume its going to be a wild winter just like the weatherman said. Damn him for being right this time!!

Please understand my ideal temperature is 80-degrees. Cold = my version of hell. My only hope is maybe since winter came early, summer will too?? Did I mention the HIGH tempterature next Tuesday is 11-degrees? *Gulp*

Where's My Romeo?

Yesterday I had a horrible thought. Surprisingly the thought stuck with me through this morning; I say surprisingly because lately my attention span has been most closely associated to that of a Nat. I will have a thought and then *whoosh* its gone and I sit frozen trying to remember what that thought was. For some reason I feel like if I stand perfectly still the thought will come back to me as if it had never left...so far my theory has yet to be proven. I digress.

The thought struck me somewhere between the the living room and the bedroom. "Why am I with him?" I gasped at my own thought, ashamed that I would allow myself to think such awful things. The thought opened a flood gate of reasons why I could potentially be better off without him. Yet I stay.

Another thought popped into my little pea brain moments later. "Maybe it's me, not him, that makes me stay." Why do we women stay with certain men when we know, and have been told, we could do better? I'm not saying I am a victim of abuse. I'm pretty sure I could kick his ass before he would ever hurt me. I'm not even saying he is a bad person. He's great. But maybe a little too one-dimensional for me. I need more substance to keep my attention.

I am staying in a relationship with this person who makes me feel....nothing. We have nothing in common except for a shared address. We say the words but there's no passion in them, just emptiness. Where's my Romeo?

In all honesty I like the comfort of it all and that's the problem. It seems a giant pain in the ass to part ways and quite frankly, its a heck of a lot easier to just stay together and bare through the nothingness of it all. Right now in my life there is nothing better out there for me, I partially blame my location. But doesn't economics teach us that its better to have at least something, than nothing?

Maybe I am my own victim of abuse.

stuck between a rock and a laundry pile.

Do you ever make comments that you don't really mean? You know, those off-handed whims of, "You're welcome to stay as long as you want" when what you really mean is, "GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE I HAVE MOUNTAINS OF LAUNDRY TO TEND TO!".

I was always under the impression that this genre of commentary from gracious hosts should be appreciated but never redeemed. Apparently not everyone is of the same belief. Crap.

Last week, at a bar, drink in hand (which I think should automatically excuse me from responsibility to such outrageous gestures as this) I haphazardly told a friend if she transferred to my town she could live with me and my boyfriend. *Insert giggles and comments of how fun it would be* and that was that. I never for one second thought she would actually take me up on the offer until the next morning when I realized she is exactly the type of person to take me up on that kind of offer.


Flash forward to Monday mornings text inbox; there it was. A text asking if she could move in. So I immediatly did what any sane puesdo-gesturing-host would do; I said, "Of course!" And then made my tall latte a venti...it's going to be a long week.

I talked it over with the boyfriend and landlord. Both parties said they'd be fine with it and boyfriend is stoked that his bills will decline. But the internal me is screaming that this is a B-A-D idea. Three people and a fat cat living in a small, cramped, 2-bedroom apartment does not sound like a good mix. Yes we'd save a little money off rent and utilities but I'm used to the lifestyle I've created with my boyfriend. Our dining table has become a congested landing zone for coats, keys, gum wrappers and spare change; bringing a third party into the mix would throw my whole world out of line!

Why? I'm a neat freak that's why.


If company is coming, my place has to be in perfect order. I hate surprise guests just for that reason. Its taken me awhile to let an unfolded blanket sit out for a day or two in front of boyfriend and if I have a person I barely know living with me I will be in a constant panic to clean. I can't do that to myself. Boyfriend said he would be better about picking up after himself once she moves in but hello!? Why can't he do that for me?

Here's my big fear: I play mommy at work to my three interns who I have to shepherd through life while they're in my office; I play mommy to my cat who relies on me for the basic necessities, attention and the occasional cat treat; I play mommy to my boyfriend who I have to nag for weeks to take out the recycling, who I cook and clean for, who I've applied for jobs for....I can't play mommy to anyone else and thats exactly what would happen in this situation with my needy friend.

I don't even want kids!! How did I get into this mess? Better yet, how do I get out???