The Cheerful Receiver

When my job has extra samples or close-date product, I try to take them to a food pantry so that they aren't just wasted. (This was after I had to throw away an entire fridge full of product that had sat in boxes, unopened and untouched, and gone out of date. It seemed so wasteful...)

Today I made a trip to the food pantry.

There are two local food pantries that I've taken product to. One is 2 minutes from the office and when I take things to them, it always seems the donation is an imposition, like I am interrupting their day by bringing the food donation by. The other one is about 10 minutes away and every time I have taken product to them, they are gracious and thankful. Guess which one I go to when I have an option.

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't take them product for the thanks. It isn't really mine that I'm giving. My point is about being a cheerful receiver and how this whole semi-unemployed state I've found myself in has made me learn to be a cheerful receiver.

Generally, it's easy to be a cheerful giver. Giving stuff or giving of yourself feels good. Most people like that feeling, but having to admit you need help and then accepting that help is hard. It hurts to admit you need help, but it is necessary sometimes.

I guess I am finally growing up. Darn. How did that happen?

My Facebook looks like High School

Is it just me or does everyone's facebook look like your high school year book? Other than a few relatives, the only people I know on Facebook are people from High School. I guess a big part of why the majority of people on there are high school is my upcoming high school reunion. Twenty years... um, yikes!

It isn't that big of a deal that the only people I know on Facebook are people from high school, except it brings up all those feelings of insecurity and inadequacy again. I mean, I have literally hesitated to ask someone to be my friend because I'm afraid they'll not remember me or turn me down/ignore me because they don't like me/didn't like me. I'm not sure which would be worse!

It is strange to me that we never get over how we felt at certain times in life and how certain people or situations can make us revert to a person we were "way back when." I am not at all the person I was in high school, nor do I want to be her again. I feel I've grown into a heck of a person and I like the me I am now. I can't say the same about the person I was then.

I said after my ten year reunion that I wouldn't ever go back to another one. I felt like I was in contact with the people I wanted to be in contact with and that was enough. I'd seen what I needed to see at that reunion and that was enough.

Time has mellowed my attitude toward going to the reunion. I still don't know if I'll actually go to it, but Facebook and time passing has made me curious. I have until next May to decide if I'm going or not. I guess we'll see if curiosty gets the best of me between now and then.

Time to give me a little TLC

After all the angst and tears yesterday, I decided to pamper myself a little and I wanted ice cream.

I went to Sonic and got an ice cream then came home and decided to "treat" myself with a home spa night. The eyebrows had grown to one again, the toes and feet were in need of some serious pampering and the hair on my legs was beginning to really need attention.

Last time I was at Target, I got a home waxing kit and decided to put it to use -- legs, bikini area, brows, the works. Before you laugh and say I'm insane, I've done this before. No, seriously, I've done a leg and bikini wax at home before without incident. I do it because I'm too scared embarrassed cheap have it done at a salon. The eyebrows, well, I have done those successfully and not successfully, but decided to give it a go. I was feeling brave.

I got the package from under the bathroom sink, read the instructions and gathered the necessary stuff. It is important to note at this point that in the instructions it said (and I quote) "Lavender Spa Body Wax is the perfect wax to remove hair from your delicate, sensitive skin." I followed the instructions for heating the wax, got the tongue depressor-looking application sticks and the removal strips all ready and set to work on my legs first. I quickly decided that (1) the hair on my legs is too fine or (2) the hair on my legs was too short. It wasn't working well, so, undeterred, I moved to the eyebrows.

My skin is very pale and sensitive, so it was no surprise to me when I turned REALLY red around my brows. It always does, even when I go have it done at the salon. I got my eyebrows done with little fuss, but afterwards noticed that the skin around my left eyebrow was stinging a bit. I applied the "Post Treatment Soothing Azulene oil" to the area and moved on to the bikini area. I had no plans to, and didn't go "Brazilian." I wanted to remove just in enough that I could wear a swimsuit if I were 50 lbs. lighter. I won't go into the gory details, but suffice it to say that uncomfortable is an understatement, but excruciating is a slight exaggeration about right. I didn't remember it hurting that badly before. At this point, I was beginning to wonder if I had really made the correct decision for my choice of pampering.

I got in the shower to clean up afterwards and was greeted with searing pain of water meeting raw flesh. I think I ripped half the skin off of my eyebrows and the bikini line.... oh my!!!! It only got about half of the hair on my legs, but all the skin around my eyes!! Remember the quote from above... it should have read: "Lavender Spa Body Wax is the perfect wax to remove hair from your delicate, sensitive skin." I did it just like they said! I kept the strip close to the skin as I pulled it off and didn't pull up! I applied only a thin layer. Brand new kit meet trash.

It wasn't until later that I realized I'd always used a product called Nads before. It's water soluble, it is gentle, and was lovingly created by a mother for her hairy daughter. Yeah, the stuff I got was really, really sticky and so NOT water soluble. I was also not so gentle and obviously created by someone who is evil.

Fast forward to this morning. I trudged into the bathroom this morning around 6:45 (I showered last night, so got a precious 15 extra minutes of sleep.... ) and looked in the mirror. My left eye, the one with very little skin around it any more, is all swollen. I look like I have been in a fight and didn't come out on the winning end. The bikini area is still red, but thankfully not raw still and my legs are just polka dotted (every hair follicle that had hair removed is red) and I have cat fur stuck to the wax that I didn't come off in the shower after using their special oil and baby oil and soap. REALLY attractive.

Oh, and I never did get to my toes. Maybe another night.

We get by with a little help from our friends

It is amazing what talking to your best friend on the phone will do for your spirits and mood.

PJ and I have been friends since the third grade. We had a few years apart after high school when we'd gone our separate ways, but since our 10 year reunion, have rekindled a friendship that I don't think ever really went away. We'd be closer if we lived closer, but we do the best we can with her in California and me in Texas. All I can say is thank goodness for free nights and weekend cell phone minutes and mobile to mobile calling!

Since she got married and I got busy, we don't talk as much as either of us would like, so generally our conversations are between things when we can fit them in or marathon two and a half hour conversations like last night. It's funny, when we have the marathon calls, we discuss/vent issues in our lives, then we solve all the problems in the world (if only the world would listen to us).

We always end the phone calls smiling and feeling better for having talked to one another. It's nice to have a best friend.

Day 4: Bulk packaging has gone too far

I work two jobs... my regular job and my "fun" job on the weekends. On weekends, I am a portrait photographer. I work in a mall store which, in some respects, is a step down from my former professional photograpy job in a big studio and shooting weddings. In many, many other ways it is much better than than the studio job ever was. For one, I like my co-workers and we all get along for the most part. Everyone who works at the weekend job is female. That leads to some interesting conversations and work dynamics.

Today, one of my co-workers was dizzy and nauseous and has been complaining for a couple of weeks of extreme fatigue. Hmmmmm, pregnant? We all think so. But, she insisted that there is 'no way' she could be pregnant. We all laughed at that (see earlier comment about interesting conversations) and proceeded to tease her all day that she must be pregnant. By the end of the day we'd worked her up to a complete frenzy. I got off work before she did so when I clocked out she asked me to go get her a pregnancy test. She just had to know before hubby came to pick her up after work. Off I go to Walgreens to buy a test.

I get to the aisle with them and started looking at the vast array of brands and styles. There is everything from ones you have to pee in a cup and use an eye-dropper thing to put the pee in the test to ones with digital readouts. I was somewhat shocked to see that, for the most part, they all come in 'bulk packs' of up to 5 tests... who knew? There was even brand one marked "Buy one Get one Free," and they came in packages of 4!! Um, okay?

There was another lady in the aisle with me (she looked just slightly older than me) and she asked (quite cautiously) if I needed help. I said that yes, I needed one that only had ONE test in it. I then, for some reason, felt compelled to explain to her that it wasn't for me but for a friend. I told her all about my co-worker and she agreed that co-worker was likely preggy. She then explained that they come in mulitple packs for people like her who took the first two and had to take the third because she didn't believe the first two.

Finally, I found a single test package, bought it, and took it back to the studio. It was negative, by the way.

Purpose of a Blog

I realize I don't blog as often as I should. Well, maybe should is too strong of a word. How about, I don't blog as often as I would like to.

Sometimes I start an entry only to abandon it after a paragraph or two. Why? I don't know. Sometimes it is because the information in it is too personal and I am just not comfortable with the whole world knowing some things about my life... that being said, I realize my readership is limited to a few family members and they likely know about the stuff anyway. Sometimes it is because it makes no sense to anyone but me. Some entries tend to read like a stream of consiousness exercise from creative writing class with no real focus or punctuaton to speak of and lack of punctuation drives me batty.

So, I guess it comes down to, what is the purpose of my blog? To be honest, I don't know. I wish it were more like my sister's blog. She has a much more interesting life than I have. Or maybe I should focus more onthe cats. No, they don't do much of anything of interest although I wish I had the life of my cats. They're pretty pampered. Maybe I should write about my daily struggle with depression. That tends to go to the too personal side again. Besides, it might make my mother worry too much if I wrote some of the things I think about. (NO, I am not suicidal or homicidal or anything like that.... depression is just dark and I tend to be dark a lot of the time.)

I guess it all boils down to, I want to -- feel a need to -- define how this blog is going to go. I guess in a lot of ways, I need to define my life and how my life is going to go. That whole grown-up thing again. Gee, I really suck at being a grown-up.

I'm old and bitter, I guess

E-Harmony commercials have begun to really tick me off. As if I haven't been made to feel a failure by society, anyway, all those happy couples who are e-Harmony successes make me wonder what I did wrong.

Why do I sound a little bitter and angry? What is my experience with dating on e-Harmony? Well, I spoke with or e-mailed a whopping six guys, I went on a total of four first dates, and all of this in just a little over three years on e-Harmony. The first guy was still married. (I know!!) The second guy, there was just NOTHING there. The third guy, nothing again. The fourth (and final) guy my friends have dubbed as "Freak Boy" beause he was so very oddly and angrily jealous after one date. They joked that I'd have ended up locked in a small room away from family and friends.

So, I guess I'm never going to end up as a commercial for e-Harmony.

I saw my future...

When I went to Amarillo a couple of weeks ago to see the grandparents, I had a great visit with my uncles and aunt as well. One night as we were all sitting in the living room, the subject of "did you take all your night time medicine?" came up. BOTH of my uncles (and I suspect my father would have been, too) are on mulitple medicines for various ailments many of which would not be necessary if it they lost 75 pounds (or more). Both of them carry weight in their bellies, a good indicator of future heart disease according to the medical profession. I suddenly saw my future unless I do something about it.

But I came home, got back into my normal routine and promptly forgot about the panic I felt sitting in the livingroom that night. That is until this morning. I stepped on the scale and nearly cried. Then as I got into the shower I actually saw myself in the mirror. That panic came back. Something has got to be done. I have got to do something. I know myself well enough to know that I'm not going to change what I eat completely. BUT I can, and need to, watch portions. I can change the between meal snacks to healthier options.

I also have loads of workout tapes that I can do.

So, it is up to me to change what I saw as my future. I don't want to be sitting around with my neice and nephew 25 years from now discussing if we've taken our bedtime medicine. I certainly don't want them to look at me and think, gosh, if she'd just lose weight she'd be a lot healthier and probably wouldn't need all that medicine.

Now, in all fairness to my uncles, neither seems bothered by their weight. My Aunt J even said that Uncle G is happy with his and isn't willing to do anything about it. The thing is, I'm not happy with my weight and the way I look and I am willing to do something about it. I have got to do something about it.

As We Never Forget

"Where were you when....?"

That seems to be the question of the day each September 11. I was at work. The boss was out of town and so the office was more relaxed than normal and we were all standing around chatting before we started our day. It wasn't even 8:00 a.m. (Texas time) yet.

A co-worker's husband called and told us to turn on the TV because a plane had hit the World Trade Center. We scoffed and thought it must be a mistake... an awful accident. It wasn't and we, like the rest of the world, watched in horror as the second plane hit, the towers fell. None of us cried. I think it was just to shocking, too unbelievable to think that airplanes had hit the Pentagon and the World Trade Center -- and then hearing about the plane that had gone down in Pennsylvania. It was my job at that point to call each of my sales reps and find out where they were (many were traveling and now stranded) and assure them that the company was there for them. I remember thinking that my brother in law was on his way to Baltimore (I don't know why I new that) and hoping, praying that his plane wasn't affected and had landed safely somewhere because at that point, it was still unclear where the planes had originated or were going.

That day, like December 7 for my grandparents' generation and November 22 for my parents' generation is the day that will always be that "where were you when...?" day.

There are so many things about that day that I will never forget.

I will never forget that I was running late to work that day and how pretty it was outside... it was a crisp, clear fall day.

I will never forget seeing that second plane heading toward the World Trade Center and then watching in horror as it hit.

I will never forget watching the towers fall.

I will never forget the images of people, covered in dust, walking away -- just walking.

I will never forget those who ran in as others ran out.

I will never forget the Falling Man.

I will never forget the sound of all those planes flying over trying to land at DFW as American airspace was closed.

I will never forget the sound of utter silence broken by F-14s doing flyovers.

I will never forget the seemingly unending sound of bagpipes playing Amazing Grace at the funerals of those who died.

I will never forget I am honored and blessed to live in the United States where I have the ability to pray and worship without fear.

I will never forget that no matter her flaws, America is still the greatest country in the world and a beacon of light and hope to the world.

I will never forget....

Moma came bearing curtains!

I had a great visit with my mom last weekend. She got to my office around 3:00, helped me finish up a project, and then we went to my house. Friday night's plans consisted mainly of (1) hang my bedroom curtains. So we did. It is amazing what a difference a little cloth hanging from a rod makes! It is actually dark in my bedroom at night now. No street light "pollution" in the bedroom now! Plus, they're darn pretty curtains. Hand-me-downs are a great thing when you have a mom and sister like I have. I laughingly told Moma that if it weren't for her and C, I'd have no furniture or anything on my walls! They buy the "good stuff" and give it to me when they don't need/want it anymore!

After the plans were completed, we sat on the couch for a sum total of 15 minutes and Moma said, "let's go do something." Ummm, okay. So, we went and wandered around Barnes & Noble and had deep, important conversations about literature with a complete stranger. We both adopted the time-tested way to look smarter than you are -- smile, nod knowingly and let him do all the talking. (All this because we were in the classic literature part and I said I didn't like Dante's Inferno or Paradiso and he overheard.)

Saturday morning, we lazed around the house, then went shoe shopping for a bit, looked at a McMansion on the way home and then it was time for her to head off to A, D & the Kids.

All-in-all, a great, allbeit short, visit.

During our chatting, something kind of struck me. If people had told me at 15 (actually age 13-20) that I would like my mother, much less want to spend time with her, I'd have thought they were insane.... and Moma felt the same way. It is funny what a little time, maturity (on my part, obviously), and medication will do. I wonder what my life would have been like, what my teen years would have been like, if I had been diagnosed and treated for my depression.

I realize that 20 years ago clinical depression, mental illness in general, had a certain stigma attatched that has, thankfully, begun to go away. But I look at my life now, with medication, and realize how much better I feel and sometimes wish we'd known then what we know now.

Only When Your Mother Visits

Last night I de-catted my house. I swept, vacuumed, then mopped the tile floor, vacuumed the bedroom, vacuumed the furniture, did part of my laundry, disinfected the kitchen (okay, so that one isn't so unusual... I bleach the kitchen a lot thanks to a particular microbiology class :::shudder:::) and just in general CLEANED my house. Tonight I plan to dust it really well and re-sweep and finish up the laundry when I get home from school.

Not only did I de-cat the house I attempted to de-fur the cats with this de-shedding tool I go a while back. It is a knock-off of the Furminator that I got at PetsMart by a brand called Bamboo. Normally, I comb them using a fine toothed flea comb, but I didn't seem to be getting much fur lately but there still seemed to be many furballs left as gifts for me. Those pictures they show of mounds of fur beside the animals isn't far from truth. Buddy is a small animal and I am pretty sure I got about a half pound of fur off of him! (Picture is from the Furminator website.... Bud is actually black.) I put the fur into a grocery sack and had about half a bag of fur from Buddy alone. Just think that is one or two less furballs I'll have to clean up and that much fur I don't have to sweep up!

Anyway, I can't be the only person in the world who does this mad cleaning thing when certain people come visit. I've noticed that when some people come to my place, I will pick up and maybe run the broom around to get the big chunks of stuff and the inevitable fur/dust-bunnies I have. But, when certain other people come, like certain friends or my parents, I feel I must go all out and make my house (at least look) immaculately clean. I'm not sure why I drive myself so crazy about it. I mean, Moma knows I'm not a great housekeeper.... she saw my bedroom when I was growing up! She's going to be at my apartment for less than 24 hours and I've already spent 2 hours cleaning!

I make it sound as if I am a pig.... I'm really not, but I also don't get stressed out if I end up with five pairs of shoes under the coffee table or there are dirty dishes in the sink.

Oh well, the upside is that the house is really clean and Moma is stopping in on her way to Amarillo to see A&D and the kids (or more appropriately, the kids and A&D).

There but by the Grace of God

The bridge collapse in Minneapolis yesterday made me really think about the little things in life that we take for granted... like we'll make it safely home every day. I live and work in the Dallas/Ft. Worth Metroplex and drive over rivers and on high rise overpasses all the time, and I've never given them a second thought as I drive. To be honest, I probably won't again after the news of the collapse is no longer the "breaking" news story. But, for now, I have a greater appreciation for the fact that I safely drive to work or to school or home and that my family and friends do the same.

The stupid things people ask

Someone I know got married recently. She had been a "I'm not ever going to marry anyone" -type person until she met her now husband. I'm happy for her. I saw pictures of the wedding and it was beautiful, simple, elegant, and exactly what she wanted. While she and I were talking, another person there actually turned to me and asked me why I am not married. Yes, someone I barely know actually looked at me and uttered the words, "Well, why aren't you married?" (Which is just as bad as the ones I usually get asked: "When are you getting married?" or "Are you ever going to get married?")

I was absolutely dumb-struck that she would ask me that question. And how do you answer a question like that without sounding hostile or bitter or angry? I can't say it's because no one has asked, because at one point, I was engaged. I can't say because I don't want to be because that isn't true. I simply told her that I just haven't found the right person.

Still, why would anyone even ask a question like that? It is almost like she was saying to me, "Hey, are you a total loser that can't find and keep a man?"Or, in this day and age, "Do you like girls?" The answer to both questions would be a firm NO.

I don't feel like a total loser by not being married. Quite honestly, 99.95% of the time it doesn't bother me that I'm not married. I can't say it never bothers me. There is that .05% of the time that I wonder if it is something I've done or if it is something about me that I haven't met my "Mr. Right," but in general, I am happy with my life and my friends and family just as it is. As for liking girls, well, that is something I just have never understood, never will claim to understand and, quite frankly, I'm just not going there.

I look at it this way, I'm 36 and I've never been divorced.