an ostrich moment...

have you seen this before?  there seems to be a striking resemblance to the female reproduction system and a shark brain.  hmmm... just a heads up, the rest of this is going to focus around a woman's lady time, my lady time in fact, so if you aren't into bodily fluids, are squeamish with blood in general, or are eating lunch you might want to skip this altogether.

when i was in junior high, i played volleyball.  i remember we played an away game in everett somewhere.  in this particular gym the teams sat on one side of the court and the spectators sat in the bleachers on the other side of the court.  if you were on the bench, i was there quite often i wasn't very good, you were either watching the game or checking out all the people sitting in the bleachers.  at this particular game there was a woman spectator wearing white pants and yes, she was having a lady time issue, that she didn't seem to know was occurring.  i was late to blossom, so i hadn't had to deal with my lady time yet, but i didn't understand how you could NOT know when things were going awry.

let's jump forward several years.  there was a short couple of months i was spending some time with a fella i met through a mutual friend.  we had a great deal of fun, but i had a small problem.  it had absolutely nothing to do with his personality, looks or the direction he wanted to go.  he was and still is great.  i had two problems, one i wasn't in any position to attempt dating and two i don't even know how to tell you what happened because i still don't understand it.  i suppose i will just spit it out....every time i was around him i would start my lady time.  can a man's manliness really do this?  in "flo-land" it appears so, check this out.

at the time i was taking a form of birth control where i didn't have my lady time, it had been years since i had had it.  you can imagine my surprise to all of the sudden start bleeding.  i'm sure my sentiments were "WTF?"  my "situation" around him intensified to the point that i had to go on medication to even things out and quiet the mayhem. 

so, there was a time that i had stayed over at his place.  in my memory, his bed had pristine, crisp, white everything; pillow cases, sheets, comforter, extra blanket.  the whole ensemble was white. bright white.  it may have been different, but i know for sure there was a lot of white.  in the morning i got up and it looked like someone had been massacred on my side of the bed.  after checking myself for gaping wounds, i realized what had happened, but how did this even happen?  the "how could you NOT know" popped into my head and the best explanation i have is: i sleep like a rock.  the next time i went to his place, his bedroom ensemble had been switched out to something really dark.  if i remember correctly he said, "i was due for new bedding."  i was mortified to say the least.  ugh!

when you aren't prepared for this kind of event you are left in a scramble; no supplies, no extra clothes, no warning and certainly no explanation!  now, one would hope that they would have that experience only once in their lifetime.  as a woman in the down slope of her 30's you would think i have got things figured out by now.  well, i had the great fortune of repeating history.  however, the second time wasn't as extreme, but the conversation regarding the clean up was probably the most embarrassed i've been in a long time.

shout, resolve, simple green and some brush work.  finally getting somewhere!

brush work?! are you kidding me?  knowing that someone else, a man at that, is brushing my lady time out of his sheets is seriously an ostrich moment if i've ever heard of one.  there are a multitude of embarrassing moments i would've rather had to do: sing in public, be forced to run around naked at a family gathering, or wear a groucho marx nose with mustache and eyeglasses, except the nose is a penis, out to dinner (i've actually had to do this), or accidentally have my boob pop out of my bathing suit (which really isn't that great of a thing to witness, you would have to look closely to see anything).  what i'm getting at is anything would be better than a man brushing out your lady time!  sometimes being a woman sucks. 

raising the anchor...

i am the gal who will apologize even though i don't think it is my "fault". 

i am the gal who will hold onto something, whether it is good or bad. 

i am the gal you can use as your doormat. 

i am all of these things until i am done.  

once i hit my breaking point there is no more wiggle room or waffling. 

i simply raise the anchor and drift. 

it's time to sail.

getting off the ground...

getting off the ground.  in my head i picture a hang glider, harnessed in, hands gripping the bar in front of me, running towards the edge.  the courage it takes to leave the safety and comforts of the hard ground and launch yourself into the vast expanse of nothing is astonishing to me.  the feeling one must have soaring high like a majestic eagle has to be incredible.

i have never been hang gliding, unless you count the hang gliding ride at the fair.  several years ago, i went to the fair with friends, we had an uneven number of riders which meant i was the adult nominated to go, so none of the kids had to ride with a stranger.  the hang gliding was by far the worst ride, but you really got your money's worth.  it was the longest ride i have ever been on.  around and around, up and down, up and down, strapped into this ride on your stomach, just as if you are hang gliding off of some exotic coastline.  instead you are viewing gazillions of carneys, food booths, and exhibit halls.  not quite the same experience.

i once tested my limits, trapezing, with one of the best people i know.  after a quick 10 minute instructional period on the ground, you get harnessed up and psyche yourself up.  i am not afraid of heights, but climbing this tiny ladder several feet in the air was nerve racking.  once you got to the top, you had to climb onto a narrow platform, where a lovely human was there to help you.  i maneuvered from the ladder to the platform in a very awkward crawl, but i got there.  once you are up on the platform, you hang your toes over the edge, grab the bar and wait for the command to jump.  swallowing the lump in my throat and trusting that i was harnessed correctly, i jumped.  that first swing out was incredible, terrifying, but incredible.

02-28-2010, you can't tell but this is trapeze day.

so where am i going?   i'm talking about relationships. something i seem to talk about a lot.  getting off the ground, a term i am shamelessly stealing from a dear friend (the same friend who took that picture of me). how do you get that perfect combination of personalities, attraction, and intent all at the right time?

some relationships just seem to work.  the approach is smooth, there is no hesitation at the edge and they get off the ground.  the skies are relatively clear, and they soar on continuous up drafts, reveling in all the majestic glory.  i haven't had one of these in quite some time, but i still think it is possible.

some relationships get off the ground but fail to remain airborne, only to crash and burn just as fast as they took off.  those moments of flight are incredible, but they tend to be short lived and the fall is brutal. it is one of those moments in life where you know the crash is inevitable, there is nothing you can do to stop it, and it happens like you are an outsider.  the harder you try to stay afloat the uglier it gets and the impact comes rushing at you.

then there are those relationships that never seem to leave the ground, you run to the edge and stop before leaping.  what holds one back?  fear, stubbornness, or maybe that wasn't really the plan in the first place.  the reasons will vary from person to person, but one thing remains the same, the relationship goes nowhere.  actually it isn't a relationship at all, just a fraction of time spent between two people.

i have had my fair share of the last two scenarios and frankly i'm done with them.  those types of engagements are exhausting, they wear me down, and turn me off completely to the search.  those types of engagements reinforce the already sky high walls i have built around myself.  i suppose the only benefit my walls provide is they are a great launching place for sudden death or an updraft into clear skies.

waking in my birthday suit...

yes, today's post will be about me being naked.  no, there will not be pictures so don't bother scrolling down. a little bit of background information, i am not a fan of hanging out in my birthday suit.  i don't sleep nude, i don't walk around my house nude, i don't hang out nude ever.  well not on purpose anyway.  if there was a way to stay dressed in the shower and still get clean, i would do it.  that is how much i dislike being nude.  it's safe to say you aren't going to find me nude at a nude beach, streaking for the heck of it, or randomly exposing my bits.

my dislike for being nude has nothing to do with the way i look.  occasionally i do a once over the mirror and i don't have to shield my eyes from the horror looking back at me.  i would say there is always room for improvement, but overall the aging process is being kind.  my dislike is fairly simple, it's cold.  i am generally cold, outside of a super hot day, a hot shower/bath, or a romp in the sack, you will probably hear me say i'm cold.  my hands and feet usually feel like popsicles, i wear goosebumps like an accessory, and i physically shiver from frequent episodes of the chills.

now that you know all of this about me

how on earth did i find myself waking in my birthday suit?

it isn't the result of some afternoon escapade in the bedroom.  it isn't the result of a black out night fueled by too much alcohol and poor choices.  it is simply the result of time catching up with me.

sunday morning, was the fourth year of running the st. pattys day dash with my girlfriends.  each year we wake at an ungodly hour, for a weekend, adorn ourselves in ridiculous amounts of green, and journey to the big city.  with 13,000+ runners all decked out in their finest greenery, this is a sight to behold. 

at 8:40, our heat crossed the start line for an almost 4 mile run in the city.  sunday's weather was downpour rain, not super surprising seeing that it is washington, but we have had a dry year, this just wasn't one of them. we snaked through the city streets in our sloshy shoes taking in all the crazy costumes people come up with, talking, and yes doing a bit of running. our post race tradition, brings us to a local brewery where the adults rehydrate with a beer and our entire party refuels with all the wrong types of food.

up until this point my energy levels were running high.  i'm pretty sure a combination of race adrenaline, camaraderie with friends, and the temporary high from food and drink contributed to my energy level.  however, once i got home, stripped out of my rain drenched smelly race clothes, and headed to shower i could feel my energy quickly dropping.  the hot massage of water pounding my tired muscles only perpetuated my downward spiral.   

stepping out of the shower, i realized i had forgotten my tired pink robe, so i wrapped up in my towel, moseyed downstairs, and took a pit stop on my leather couch to listen to a voicemail from my dad.  it is here that everything caught up to me.  i don't actually remember laying down, maybe i didn't, maybe i nodded off sitting up and eventually slumped into a laying position. regardless of how i got there, i definitely remember waking up.

i woke up shivering, clammy and stuck to the leather of my couch, drool trickling from my mouth, and my hair, a colossal disaster.  my towel was still with me, but not around me anymore.  after looking around a little bit, because i was confused on why i was naked on my couch, i peeled myself off the leather and got dressed.

it really isn't that great of a story, but it is making me rethink why i have leather couches.  leather couches are cold in the winter.  you stick to them in the summer.  they scratch up if you have pets or unruly children.  depending on the quality of the leather they can be noisy.  when you fart the couch acts as an amplifier.  and did i mention that they are cold?  outside of looking nice, leather couches are dumb.

whatever gandhi...

just to be clear, i have absolutely no issues with the actual gandhi.  he was a remarkable man.  i do however, have issues with gandhi want-to-be's.

one more disclaimer before i go any farther.  i understand that i put a lot of personal stuff out there to be judged and scrutinized.  i do it willingly, nobody forces to me to share.  however, something you should bear in mind, if you choose to read this, part of my personality, and some may say charm, is that i have a decent sense of humor and have zero problems poking fun at myself.  it doesn't necessarily mean i think poorly of myself.

alright, let's get on with it.  i recently posted a story about my winter butt and my skirt lining ripping.  in that same story, i shared a time when my nylons busted in the butt, and how my recent trip to portland involved a blow out of epic proportions.  the sole purpose of all three stories was to share that life is funny.  silly, unexpected, and sometimes embarrassing things happen everyday.  i choose to share those moments with whoever because they make me laugh and maybe someone else will find humor in them too.  finding a moment of humor in an over serious world is priceless to me.

the purpose was by no means a plea for help to cure my winter butt.  i know damn well what i need to do, i simply haven't made it a priority and i have 8,000 excuses why: it's dark, it's raining, i'm tired, i'm bored, i'm too busy, it's too hard, i am a single mom, i work, i'm too full, the list really goes on for miles.  confession: for about 4 months out of every year, i actively work on my winter protective layer.  i don't exercise much, i eat a little more than i should at all the wrong times, and guess what, i complain the whole entire 4 months about it.

the other morning, i received a private message asking "how are you going to fix the "winter butt"?"  i briefly explained that i will start running again soon, once there is more daylight hours.  my answer was met with a few other questions, which i politely answered, then came, "how hard would it be to change your mindset so when daylight savings begins you are better prepared for running?" which i replied, "not terribly hard" and then this "would it be worth it to step out of your comfort zone to do something different about your "winter butt"

it was at this point that i started feeling a little heat under my collar.  here's why.  i don't know this person.  i have never asked for advice on how to change my mindset or how to fix my winter butt from this individual or anyone else.  if i had been at a counselor's office, with a fitness trainer, specifically soliciting advice, or even gabbing with my girlfriends this message, most likely, would have been received differently, but none of the aforementioned are applicable.

i will admit that i attempted to stay calm in my responses but i lost it and became very defensive.  i was so put off by this complete stranger, who only "knows" me virtually, found it appropriate to interject themselves in a perceived personal struggle. which brings me to the question i have been pondering since this interaction, "when is it okay to push your beliefs, ideas, and encouragement on someone else?"

i am inclined to say that unless you have been asked it's not your place.  however, there are exceptions to this.  we rely on our close friends and family to smack us in the heads when we are being utterly dumb. usually the smack comes without warning and is therefore unsolicited, but we expect our close knits to be looking out for us.  there are times when we seek out advice from strangers (motivational speakers, community leaders, religious figures, etc.) however the difference, in my opinion, is that the information was sought out, it didn't show up, specifically targeted, in your inbox.  maybe my thinking is way off, it wouldn't be the first time, but the message rubbed me all the wrong ways regardless.

i am going to leave you with this, men regardless of how much a woman asks or complains about their weight, don't ever offer advice.  if you don't believe me, watch this: rachel and ross giving chandler some dating advice.

)

blow outs...

put the fork down  

put your tennis shoes on

get your butt moving

so my winter butt struck again this morning.  just last month, i split the my jeans, basically in half, trying to stretch them out a bit.  i kept this breezy pair of jeans, i'm not really sure why, but i might find some use for them.  i could pin them up somewhere, maybe on the outside of my fridge or hanging in the entrance to my kitchen, as a visual reminder.

this wasn't the first time i had split the butt of my pants.  a few years back, i was dressed for work in a skirt, gray fishnet stockings, and some sort of top.  it's been a few years, i can't remember exactly what i was wearing.  anyhow, while i was getting dressed that morning, my stockings got caught in the zipper.  i untangled my stockings and carried on.  that afternoon, yes after stuffing my belly with some sort of food, i sat down in my chair and the entire butt blew out of my stockings.  are you ready for the visual? stockings with intact legs and waistband and my rear blasted through the netting.  it wasn't pretty and it felt very strange.  sigh.

before i get into today's winter butt attack, i should tell you i stuffed myself with pot roast and gravy last night.  it was so good, i must've had five servings.  that is not an exaggeration.  it was frick fracking good.  when i finally got into my cozies my son looked at me and said, "mom are you pregnant?"  i looked down at my protruding belly and said, "no, that's my food baby."

sadly, i'm not pushing my belly out :(

i'm telling you dinner was amazing!!  thankfully that food baby digested and was gone before i poured my cup of coffee, but that food baby went straight to my butt.  yes, it migrated from my front to my back. you don't believe me, well keep reading.

i am wearing a super cute black mac & jac somewhat fitted skirt today. it's fitted over the rump and then does a little a-line thing to the knee.  i've had this skirt for a few years and have logged quite a few hours in it.  i bring this up, because maybe it is just a tired skirt, showing the natural aging signs and my mishap isn't because of my winter butt...maybe.

everything was going great until i sat down.  that's when i heard a sound that i'm becoming familiar with, but never want to hear. the sound is undeniable and unmistakable.  ripping fabric can't be confused with anything else.  after a quick swipe of the back of my skirt, which revealed nothing, i forgot about it, that is until i got to work.

i got to my desk and got right into my morning routine: hang up my coat and umbrella, set my purse down, bent over to turn the power switch on my computer, then sat down in my rolly swivel chair.  this is where the mishap really happened.  i sat down with a little bounce, i had a good morning, and there it was riiiiip!

oh crap!

i quickly stood up and ran both hands down the back of my skirt.  again there was no tear, rip, or any other sign of a problem.  i sucked in my belly and swirled the skirt around so i could see the back and still nothing.  what the heck?  swirl the skirt back around and sit.  riiiip!  i bolted out of my chair and headed straight for the bathroom.

in the bathroom, i hiked my skirt up to inspect my stockings.  funny coincidence, i'm in fishnets today, but they are in great shape and hole free.  so what is the deal?  i put my skirt back down and flip the hem up.  the front looked great, so again i swirled the skirt around, and there it was, the rip.  the entire lining of my skirt split up the back.

winter butt or tired skirt?  you decide. 

emergency response...

i have been watching too many shows about murder lately.  i got sucked in to the show, the following, which i'm told airs on fox.  i scare myself watching this show at night in a quiet home.  i have never been scared sleeping alone in my house, but since i started watching this show, i jump at shadows, including my own.  i suppose it doesn't take much to scare me, heck my son scares me weekly just to get a rise out of me. i don't usually get scared during daylight hours, but today i did.

i was sitting in my office, tapping away on my keyboard, when i heard two loud blasts...

looking from my office towards the entrance

a quick lay of the land before we go any farther.  our office is a long hallway with office's lining the right side of the hallway and a bathroom on the left side of the hallway (when looking at this picture).  the back of our office faces an alley, and the front of the office is actually underground because we are in a basement.  my office is furthest from the entrance. 

okay back to the story, i hear two loud blasts down the hallway, towards the door. i turned my radio down and listened for a few seconds.  the only noise i could hear was my office mate in her office on the phone with a client.  so i paged the bossman, everything okay in there?  i listened for any kind of noise from the bossman's office: keyboard clicks, scribbling on paper with his scratchy pens, or even a rustling of some sort, but i heard nothing.  the bossman didn't respond.  i decided to go investigate.

i grabbed my pen, because that will save me in case of an emergency, and peeked around the corner of my office door into the hallway.  the hallway was clear, but my nerves were definitely on edge.  i stepped out into the hallway and started walking towards the entrance.  

i looked in my office mate's office, she was still on her phone and oblivious to anything else.  she didn't appear to have heard the loud blasts.  she didn't even look up as i paused outside her door. i took a quick look behind me.  at the end of the hallway is a large window into an office which acts like a mirror because that room is usually dark.  the reflection of the hallway held no clues as to what the loud blasts were. 

as i came up on the bathroom door, i noticed it was ajar.  i paused before stepping in line with the door, gripped my pen a little harder, and pushed the door open, only to reveal an dark empty bathroom. i hadn't noticed that i was holding my breath but i let out a mouthful of air. 

there still wasn't any noise coming from the bossman's office, which was concerning me.  there was only a few paces between the bathroom entrance and the bossman's office.  i walked cautiously up to his door and listened, peering towards the entrance to see if i could see anything else down the hall, but there wasn't anything there. i gripped my pen again, peeked around the corner into my bosses office and there he was, slumped over in his chair...

slumped over in his chair with a cheshire cat grin on his face. obviously he could feel my presence in his office, with his eyes still closed he said you have the worst response time in the world!  all the anxiousness washed away, i threw my hands up in the air and replied i was scared!

i learned something about myself today.  are you ready for it?  heather + scary shows = scaredy cat in the nth degree.  i've always known i would make a terrible cop, i wouldn't want to be the first in to a situation, i would rather wait for back up. today, i really didn't want to walk down the hall and find something gruesome, or run into a disgruntled client on a rampage, i just wanted to sit in my office and wait for whatever was coming next armed with a classic blue bic pen. 

in case you were wondering, the two blasts came from the packaged air inside a box that was delivered today.  by the way, the human who thought to package air...genius. 

situations of misunderstandings...

misunderstandings are a part of every day life.  although we may think we are speaking clear as the waters that surround kuramathi island in the maldives, the person receiving the message may only see the murkiest bog you can think of.  isn't it odd how differently a single statement can be interpreted?   does it make you wonder where the actual breakdown occurs?

is it because the receiver already has an idea of what the speaker is going to say?  i think when we are wanting or expecting something from someone, we listen to their words trying to make what they are saying fit in to what we are wanting to hear.  for instance, lets say i like a guy, he tells me i'm pretty, my next thought is he wants to spend the rest of his life with me.  okay this may seem a little extreme, but stick with me it is easier to paint an extreme picture.  so he said i'm pretty who cares. he might think his mom is pretty, or the sunset is pretty, or his bird is pretty, it doesn't mean he wants anything more from them, just like he doesn't want anything more from me.  however, since i like him and he has just complimented me, i twist it all around and make something more of it.  i recognize how dumb this is, but i have to believe that we all do this to some extent.  listening to the words that are being spoken without having an agenda can be hard.

or maybe it is because the speaker used a word that could have multiple meanings?  i think the english language lends itself to multipurpose words.  meaning we can plug the exact same word into sentences that do not convey the same message, but somehow they work.  at the moment i cannot think of one of these multipurpose words.  go figure.

whatever the reason for the misunderstanding is of no consequence.  what happens after the misunderstanding has a greater impact.  do you stand your ground and defend your position to the death?  do you swallow your pride and drop the issue?  or maybe you just don't care.  i can honestly say that i bounce between all the scenarios.  when the name caller wanted to "talk ", i had no interest.  in my mind i had addressed my position, it wasn't heeded, so there was nothing else to talk about.  however, there have been times when i have wanted to defend my position to the death.  obviously there have been times when it isn't worth it, i put my position aside and just let it go.

i feel like i find myself  in situations of misunderstanding frequently.  i do my best to express myself clearly on the first go around to avoid misunderstandings, but end up clarifying more often than i'd like.  is this really because i am not expressing myself clearly or is it because the person receiving my message already has an expectation that i am not aware of and is interrupting my words differently than what i am meaning?

i guess none of this really matters because misunderstandings aren't going anywhere, they are as constant as the sun sets and rises each day.

keeping both shoes on...

you know those moments in a romantic comedy, when the impossible seems to happen?  the good guy gets the girl.  he shows up unannounced on her door step and the rest is history.  she acts like a complete lunatic, but he doesn't care and only loves her more.  well, real life doesn't usually imitate a movie script.  the good guy rarely gets the girl, usually the a-hole gets her, ends up crushing her soul and the good guy picks her up off the ground.  he never shows up unannounced on her doorstep because he would look like a creeper and she would call the cops.  and, when she acts like a lunatic, he runs like the cops are chasing him and tells every dude he knows to steer clear of that broad.

but what if he did show up unannounced even though she has acted like a lunatic and the good guy did win the girl?  we love the movies, but would we love it just as much in real life ?

i am a sucker for the romantic comedy.  actually i am sucker for plain old romance, the comedy aspect is simply a cherry on top.  i love watching the back and forth of i hate you...i'm indifferent towards you...I like you...i like you a lot...i love you...i can't live without you.  

i'm going to be perfectly honest, i think i just love to watch it.  over the years there have been men in my life who don't seem to mind that i am a lunatic just the opposite they seem to dig my quirkiness.  who don't necessarily show up unannounced but do things for me that i don't expect.  and yep you guessed it, they are super sweet.  what do i do?  i run away as fast as i can.  that guy, the dream guy from the movies, scares the hell out of me.

why?  it's a total trust issue on my part, i simply don't think that his devotion, his feelings, or his love is real.  it is the old adage waiting for the other shoe to drop.  haven't you ever felt that way? everything is going great and your screwed up crazy brain says this is too good to be true, which leads to you doing completely crazy things.  i have seen enough failed relationships, that it is hard to imagine that one will actually work.  but what if you just shut your head up, powered through and it turned out just fine, both shoes stayed on and the dream guy followed through every time?

in an effort to continually improve on myself, i will say i'm trying to not push the good away.  doesn't mean it isn't scary, or that i'm not questioning everything in my head.  it just means that i'm trying, keeping my insecurities at bay, and enjoying being the recipient of good (and reciprocating).  it also helps that i have the best girlfriends in the world to vent to.