Sometimes life is like a John Hughes movie

I spent some time (much too little time, by the way) with some of my best friends this weekend. We go back to high school, though some of us haven’t become that close really until the past few years. Regardless, we all knew each other “when”. “When” our clothes were questionable, “when” some of our hair defied the laws of gravity, and “when” making stupid choices about which boys you dated was par for the course. Every time we are together I learn something new about who dated whom back in the day. What an incestuous little group we had! Yowza!

A few of us were able to get together to surprise my friend Renee in honor of her 40th birthday. She’s the one leading the charge into our 40s and over the next year we have to figure out how in the heck to surprise any of the rest of us. I strongly suggested finding a way to get me a personal meeting with David Bryan, which isn’t as far of a stretch as you might think since a guy from high school with whom Renee is still really good friends is in the musical Memphis on Broadway. Written, of course, by my beloved Dave. So I’ve got those 2 or 3 degrees of separation, but I’m not sure my heart could take it if I met him. I’d scream like a tweenage girl does over Justin Beiber. And that’s scary. But if that DOES happen, ladies, please remember to get it all on video because I’m sure it would be a sight to behold if I ever managed to regain my composure and stop babbling like an idiot.

Anyway, while we were all chatting in Renee’s kitchen, she was relaying to another friend of hers who had joined in the fun about what happened to me last week, when I got an apology from the boy who broke my heart back in high school. She was telling her friend that it was like something out of a movie; not something that happens in real life. And she said that she wishes SHE could get an apology from her guy who fits that description from high school.

That got me to thinking that in many ways Renee was right. It was something that you think only happens in a John Hughes 80s teen movie where the boy realizes he was a jackass and goes after the girl, if only to tell her that he’s sorry. Cue some song by OMD or Spandau Ballet, throw in Molly Ringwald and you’ve got yourself a hit!

As a John Hughes junkie, I like the thought of having my own personal JH moment. And then, I realized in an embarrassment of riches, I actually had another one of those moments because my prom date was really my Jake Ryan. My date to the junior prom was the boy that all the girls were swooning over that year. Just such a cutie patootie in addition to being smart and ridiculously nice. In fact, he still is. I’m currently awaiting the arrival of their annual family Christmas card with pictures of “Jake” and his wife and kids. It’s always too frickin’ cute and I am always happy when it arrives. (ETA: The card arrive today! Sweet!)

But yeah, “Jake” (who if you know me personally you totally know this guy’s real name, BUT DON’T USE IT FOR CRYIN’ OUT LOUD ) was my big crush back in high school so getting asked to Prom by him was quite the teenage coup. Plus, my dress was fab and we both looked great. I still have the dress, though I’m not sure what I will ever do with it. I just can’t bear to part with it.

It seems truly like an embarrassment of riches to have gotten my date with my “Jake” AND to have gotten that 23-years-overdue apology. If you follow a John Hughes train of thought, I guess the apology game from my John Bender – the rebel with bigger problems than anyone realized who most likely did drive my parents nuts in the brief time we dated, just like Bender thought he’d be great for Claire to use to make HER parents nuts.

I guess now I need to find the Keith to go with my Watts (“Some Kind of Wonderful” for those not up on the JH universe) and make him realize that he really doesn’t want Amanda Jones. That girls with the short blond hair are just way, way cooler and look great wearing his future.

A conversation with the guy who screwed me up

How's that for a great title for a blog post, eh?  It makes me laugh to read it, but yet it's true.  Read on my friends. Read on.  (And as a disclaimer, should someone be reading this who knows who this person is, do NOT name names or anything remotely identifying.  I'm trying to blog, not "out" someone who is no longer an asshole. Thanks.)

Once upon a time, I was just your average teenage girl. I really was.  I was in love with the guys in Duran Duran and had seriously questionable taste in clothes. It was, after all, the 80s.  And then...I met this guy.  We'll call him "Bob" since, y'know, that's totally not his name.

I met Bob on my 15th birthday and was smitten. Probably because he was the bad boy/rebel and what sweet, innocent (stupid) girl doesn't go for that, right? Right.  He was my first date, first kiss.  I'd never call him a "boyfriend" though because we barely dated. Maybe 6 or 7 times.  Then we ended up having some weird, dysfunctional...something...going on about a year or so later where we were some strange version of friends.  Anyway, I've blocked a lot of it out for various reasons.  But I'll wrap that part of the story up by saying he was bad news.  He was arrested repeatedly for God knows what. My parents had long since forbidden me to date him.   Just bad, bad news.

This is the guy who screwed me up.  Just screwed. me. up.  If I went into deep analysis I could say that this screw up colored how I have related to men ever since, but let's not do that.  I know it deep down.  And perhaps now things have come full circle.  And maybe I'll get unscrewed (in a good way, mind you).  Read on please. I promise it's worth it.

Mystery Man

It was a hot July morning in Dubai – is there any other kind? – and I found myself at the airport, getting ready for a flight back to the US. I moved to Dubai in mid-February 2001 to work at Zayed University. Six months later and very, very homesick, I was heading home for 2 weeks to see family and friends and just revel in being back in the United States for a while.

I had purchased my tickets through a local travel agency and was all set to go on one of the first direct flights that Delta Airlines had going in and out of Dubai International Airport. Alas, not being a seasoned traveler, I did not check behind my travel agent and when I got to the counter to check in around 4am, the ticket agent told me I had not been confirmed for the flight and would have to wait until 6am after they called everyone for boarding to see if I could get on the flight.

Needless to say, anyone who knows me knows I began to panic at this point. I think I managed not to cry, but I was clearly not happy. At some point, perhaps sensing my distress, a fellow traveler approached me to ask what was going on. I remember having seen him in the check in area along with another man dressed in the traditional Middle Eastern dishdasha, but he was dressed in jeans and a sweater. He asked what was wrong and I told him. He never offered solutions as I recall, but simply offered support and his conviction that everything would work out and I would be able to get on the plane.

I don’t recall that we spoke much more, but when it came time for boarding, he looked at me and said, “I’ll see you at the gate.”

After everyone else had checked in, I was finally able to be confirmed for the flight – which was only 1/3 full to begin with, so I still do not understand why it was necessary to put me through 2 hours of torture waiting to find out if I was going to get on the flight. I made my way to the boarding waiting area and he smiled when he saw me and said, “I told you it would work out.”

We boarded and with such a small number of passengers everyone had a great amount of space to themselves in the seating areas. The flight did make a stop in Cairo to clean up the plane and change crews and everyone had to deplane for 45 minutes. I sat in the waiting area of the Cairo airport with this Mystery Man – we never exchanged names – and a woman from Dubai who was traveling to Disney World. We all chatted about things I can’t remember nearly 10 years later. I only remember the woman’s final destination and that my Mystery Man was Canadian and originally from Kashmir and worked for a Canadian bank in Dubai. I wish I could remember more about what the 3 of us talked about because we enjoyed each other’s company so much.

Then it was time to reboard the plane and head for JFK Airport in New York. It was also at this point that I made one of the dumbest decisions of my life. When my new nameless friend suggested we sit together, I declined. I have NO IDEA why. I think my intent was to move around the cabin later and go back to talk to him as I think he wasn’t sitting too horribly far from me. But in truth, all these years later I can’t remember exactly what he said or what I said or anything except that we did not sit together. I knew that we were also on the same connecting flight to Atlanta from JFK, but after meeting my friend Diana at the airport for a brief chat I never saw the Mystery Man again.

This story, however, is not about me not spending more time talking to this man. I regret that and always have, but that’s water under the bridge. What I have not forgotten, however, is the kindness of this stranger. When I most needed encouragement, he was there with it. Not spouting platitudes or clichés, but simply saying, “I’ll see you at the gate.”

From time to time I wonder what has become of the Mystery Man. I have a very vague recollection of what he looked like, but I would not know him if I ran into him on the street. I am sorry that I never had the chance to tell him how much I appreciated him that morning. How much even almost 10 years later that it still means to me that he was kind to me. When I think of him now and then, I send up a quick little prayer for his well-being and ask God to please let him know that I’m grateful.

While we have people in our lives that are constants, we have the transients as well. Folks who come into and go out of our lives for a reason and a season. When I thought of the Mystery Man this morning, I was struck for the first time by how easy it is to impact someone’s life in such a short time. I will never forget this man. Never. I only hope that from time to time he remembers the American woman from the airport, but it doesn’t matter if he does or not. I will remember him and maybe, at least every now and then, I will return the favor by being kind to someone else as a way of thanking this man without truly being able to thank him.

Everything we do, everything we say, it all matters. No matter how insignificant we think it might be, it matters. To someone.

Things I’ve Noticed Recently

If you dress too nicely to go to work, the women in your office will immediately decide there is a reason.  First and foremost, you must have a date or someone you are trying to impress.  It can’t just be because 1) those clothes were clean, 2) that’s your favorite shirt and 3) sometimes you like to wear the sparkly earrings.  *sigh*

On the day after you dress too nicely, if you dress more casually then obviously you really DID have a hot date the night before, hence dressing too nicely the previous day.  *double sigh*

The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. And sometimes the Lord just looks at you and goes, “Get real!”

Not everyone appreciates the fact that sometimes when Sammy Hagar sings, I hear God sending me messages. I mean, it’s not like my fillings are picking up radio frequencies or something!  And, for the record, I do not have fillings because I do not have cavities. I am also not scared of the dentist, except the one in “Little Shop of Horrors”.

Oh man, there are so many more things I’d say in public if only it was socially acceptable.

I need to wear black pants and high heels every day for the rest of my life because apparently they make me look really freakin’ fabulous.  I’m just sayin’…

I am easily swayed when someone tells me I look really freakin’ fabulous…

I have a real problem with eating Cheez-Its and calling that “breakfast”.

Candy corn is a vegetable, right?

Big Brother is watching me and I think Big Brother might need to get a new hobby.

Also anyone lurking in my bushes in the back yard – or front, for that matter  - should get a new hobby too.

I am taking way too much time off in December to 1) have no place to actually GO and 2) it makes me want to buy gallons of paint and paint the brick in my laundry room. I’m dangerous when I have a project.

I like having a project.

I AM a project.

I am a SCIENCE project.  Gone wrong, clearly.

I could tell you the last…oh wait, I was going to make a statement and then realized it was totally false.  Reboot!

I may never get “Fergalicious”, but I am so totally “dorkalicious”. I rock that one baby!

Do people still say that things “rock”? 

I want a pet rock for Christmas. Someone hook me up!

Hey!  “Hook Me Up” is a Bon Jovi song!

I love Bon Jovi!! Did you know that?

I wonder if Bon Jovi know that I love them? Maybe I should tell them. Or is that stalking?

I feel like a total stalker on Facebook now when the little thing on the side pulls up with someone’s pictures and Facebook is basically beckoning you to check them out.  And really, how many times do I need to look at pictures of your dog or your profile pictures?  I dread to think of what pics of MINE are popping up on someone’s home page.  Makes me want to delete all my photos.

Random Friday Ruminations

Random thoughts:


• I love Michael Bublé’s new song “Hollywood”. It makes me want to dance around my office, which I often do. Sometimes you just have to give in to your urges.

• I have started walking up and down the stairs in my office building again to wake me up throughout the day and give me an energy boost. And possibly buns of steel. Or at least not so much buns of Jello.

• It is entirely possible that my most recent ex-boss and I are friends. Interesting. I had never really considered that possibility. I mean, she was my boss. I’m all about drawing lines and all that stuff and certain levels of protocol and all that crap. But after 2 lunches together in the past month and the likelihood that we’ll do it again, I have had to face the fact that she might actually consider me a friend. Hmmmm…I like that notion. She’s very cool. And she tells me how smart I am (that I am too smart for my current job). Can’t complain about that! LOL

• I am still praying daily about the 5 things I put on God’s list back in July. I’ve also gotten some other people interested in reading the book I got this from – Give God a Year, Change Your Life Forever. That’s so awesome! Even more awesome? I am seeing God’s hand at work in ALL 5 of my areas now! Woohoo! It might be small movement, but it’s there. I love it!! If I’ve seen such small changes so quickly, I can only imagine what will have come to pass when an entire year (end of July 2011) has passed.

• In spite of being able to clearly see God at work in areas of my life, I’m still struggling with having and keeping faith. That’s a big challenge for me. I can talk a good game, but I stop myself a lot and question whether I really believe what I’m saying. Do I really, truly, honestly believe God is going to work in those 5 areas of my life in the next year and turn things around? Or am I just paying lip service to the notion? Sometimes the answer to both of those questions is a resounding “YES!” How’s that for confusing?

• There is one area where God is working where I really hope I am finally making a breakthrough. Maybe it’s melodramatic to call it a “breakthrough”, so we’ll think of it as a positive change in behavior. Or something like that. I’m a believer that if you do not learn your lesson from an experience, you’ll keep on having that experience over and over again until you DO learn from it. You’ll make the same mistakes over and over again. And how much does that suck like a Hoover? Too much!! So while I am making a few of the same mistakes this time around, I’m actually not making as many. That’s pretty cool. And I’m not sure that all the mistakes were or are, in fact, mistakes. I’m certainly learning from whatever is going on. The situation is still eerily similar to things that have gone before, but the point is that I am changing how I react and how I view things. I really, truly hope this is me learning this particular lesson. I’d like to move on from this to something much more positive!!

• People are weird. ‘Nuff said

• I love Halloween, but I have no interest in finding a costume to wear. (Yes, I know it’s already November.)

• People are weird. Sometimes I am their Queen.

• Mean what you say and say what you mean. Otherwise you’re just blowing smoke. And you’re kinda annoying as well.

• I really appreciate it when people compliment my intelligence. You can change fat or ugly, but stupid lasts a lifetime.

• Men who look at women’s profile pictures on Facebook and randomly send them a friend request just because they think they are pretty are seriously creepy.

• I would not be a good stand-up comedian. I’d be a much better Dave Barry than Jerry Seinfeld. I’m much better in writing. I rock the written word. Sometimes…sort of…

• I think the first 4 seasons of Beverly Hills, 90210 were the best because of Brenda Walsh. It’s all about Brenda. And Donna Martin graduating…

• I should not be allowed to drink Diet Coke AND consume candy corn. Or Pop Rocks so I hear.

• I am so underappreciated by the men of the world. Of course, I have a very smallish list of the male gender that I truly appreciate so maybe we’re even. But those are actually 2 different kinds of appreciation and what was my point again?

• My car is named “DB” after, of course, the great David Bryan. He’s so dreamy. And the car is pretty groovy as well.

• I would if I could but I can’t so I won’t.

• Why do people rush straight from Halloween to Christmas? When did we start forgetting that Thanksgiving comes in the middle of all that?

• I think I’ll be napping all day on Thanksgiving. Those are my only, ONLY, plans. Aren’t you jealous?

• I don’t really want to put up any Christmas decorations this year. They are such a pain. Does that make me Scrooge?

• “The sweetest song is silence, that I’ve ever heard, funny how your feet in dreams, never touch the earth.”

• I like to quote song lyrics.

• “My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”

• I also like to quote movies

• Oh, and by the way, damn I’m good.

Contentment breeds...contempt?

I was driving home from work the other day and pulled into my hometown and was hit with this amazing sense of happiness. Contentment. When I pulled into my driveway, I was so, so happy to be home. It wasn’t even because I was tired from the commute – 45 miles each way, Monday – Friday – because while I am generally tired OF the commute, I am not usually tired FROM it. In fact, I enjoy the drive home most days. Perhaps it is because I am ON the way home, but often I think it is because I can crank up my iPod and often roll down the windows and just drive really, really fast. Uh...I mean, drive within the proper boundaries of the posted speed limits because I’m a law-abiding citizen. Yeah. That’s what I mean! So while I greatly resent having to DO the commute, I can generally do it without too much issue, except when people just refuse to put their foot on the gas and DRIVE YOUR DAMNED CAR!! But that’s a story for another day…

My happiness in arriving home was a bit of a surprise because my house has been on the market for a year now and my plans are to sell it – maybe, eventually, someday!! – and move closer to work. Don’t misunderstand me; I happen to love my house. It’s a great old house, although it’s really too big for me. I have rooms I never use. My house is great for hosting parties and while I wish the yard was smaller and there was a porch on either the front or the back, it’s really a great house. If I could pick it up and move it closer to where I now work, I’d do it for sure. Especially because I detest the idea of having to pack my life into boxes again and move it somewhere new.

The location is great – I can walk to the community theatre in about 2 minutes which was especially nice when I actually had time to participate in shows – and nothing in town is really that far from anything else. The neighborhood is nice for taking long walks, which I do more for my mental than physical health. I also love that when I’m out walking (or at the grocery store or even stopped at a traffic light), I can easily run into people I know. I don’t necessarily know my immediate neighbors, but I know a lot of folks who live in my neighborhood. There is comfort in the familiarity of everything.

And that scares me. I think I fear the contentment. I fear that it will lead to complacency and stagnation and eventually contempt. Contempt for what I will have become. For what I will have been able to accept. For you see, there is nothing left for me in that town. Nothing that I can see at least. While my father is there, he is not a young man and if I stay put for him, what happens when he is gone? My house is great, but there are other great houses in the world. My job isn’t there and while the theatre is still there and I love and adore that place, I no longer have time to give to it to nurture that love. When I AM there, it makes me sad that I can’t be there more often. I do have some friends there, but again, most of those have fallen away in the past year or so. It really started before I got my current job, but my lack of time doesn’t help. I honestly haven’t figured out how people do a long commute and still have a life. Maybe it’s because I am single and am not used to juggling having another person in my life or having children who take priority over things like sleep. All I want to do when I get home is eat dinner (the eating is frequently optional) and then get as much sleep as I can so I can start the long day all over again.

It makes me sad that I can’t figure out a better balance and how to have a life. I need some resolution to what is going on in my life. This is one area I’ve been praying about for a while now and the only thing that God has said is, “It’s not going to be that easy.” As in, if my house was going to sell and I could just pack up and move to another house in another city, then that would have happened already. But God says it is not going to be that easy. Oh great. You mean it’s going to get harder? More challenging? Fun. Just what I wanted. But God doesn’t always give us what we WANT, He gives us what we NEED. And those two things don’t always correspond.

When I arrive home tonight, I’ll be glad. Happy to be driving through my town; happy to be walking into my house where everything is familiar. But I still wonder if deep inside of me a small part of my soul isn’t dying. Or at least crying. I could stay – WOULD stay – for the right reasons, but I’m not even sure what those reasons might be (or more, I refuse to give voice to them - I can think of several things). Maybe that is all part of the challenge I feel coming my way. God said it’s not going to be that easy and I believe Him. It’s not that easy NOW. I just hope it’s going to hurry up and get here.  I'm ready to move forward.

This One's For the Girls...

This blog is for my female friends, so if there are actually any men out there reading this, stop now or shut up about TMI. It’s my blog and I’ll talk about whatever I want to. And today, I’m talking about bras.

More specifically, why is it like the torture of the damned to go bra shopping? I am convinced that bras are really only made for women with small breasts who are trying to put them up and out and make them appear bigger. And as someone who already has big boobs, well, only being able to find smaller bras is really amazingly UN-helpful.

As it is, bras are some kind of medieval torture device. They are ridiculously hard to get on. Why is that? Why is it so freakin’ hard to put a bra on?? It’s a production! A little poking, a little prodding. Stuff this in that compartment and that in the other. Shift around. Jiggle around. Smush it if need be. And then, for the love of God, don’t bend or move the wrong way during the day or you have to run to the restroom and shift it all around again. *sigh* It’s like a workout all in itself.

It’s not like they are the most comfortable things in the world to wear all day either, although I will confess that I did buy some new ones recently and one of them – they are all the same, oddly, but this literally only applies to one of the three I purchased – is amazingly comfy. I would tell you what brand and style it was, but then I would actually have to take it off and read the tag and, as previously established, it’s a fight to get that thing back on. Suffice it to say, however, that if I could wear this one particular bra every day, I would. It’s heavenly. (And I can totally find the tag later if anyone actually wants to know the brand and style.)

Trouble is, by the time I need to buy some new bras, they will have discontinued that style!! It happens every. Single. Stinking. Time. Without fail. I find a bra that – glory be! – fits and fits well. It makes The Girls look good and keeps ‘em comfy at the same time. So I buy several, but eventually I need new ones and then I can’t find those anymore! Then the hunt begins and I just detest bra shopping. I put it off until a few weeks ago when things were desperate and after many failed attempts, I did finally find the 3 that I bought. I should have bought 900, but these babies aren’t cheap either!

*sigh* I miss the 36Cs I had in college. I think they might even have been perky then, without the underwire! (I think underwire is about the only thing that can make 40DDs perky…) Oh the good old days! Yeah. Right now if I could just have a little lift I think it might offset some of the torture of the whole bra shopping experience. Or at least The Twins would be back where they started in their glory days. Uh…I think they had glory days. I’d probably have to ask someone else for confirmation on that. Maybe that’s just a Bruce Springsteen song…

I also want to know why it’s hard to find decent fitting underwear!! What’s up with that? I do not want to wear a thong, people! My butt is the size of Nebraska (Ok, maybe it’s more like Montana, but I’m being kind to myself today. Work with me on this.) and a thong is never, ever going to be flattering. And besides, they look damned uncomfortable. And what the hell are “boy shorts”? If I was a BOY that might be fine, but I don’t want boy shorts. I want ladies underwear that is comfortable, covers my ample ass, and is also at least reasonably attractive. I mean, no one sees it but me (that’s a whole other blog we’re not getting into today), but still. Is attractive underwear too much to ask for?? I think not. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to Victoria’s Secret for it either. I’m a big girl. I was not made for the scanty panty I’m afraid. So please Victoria, share your Secret with, say, Fruit of the Loom so I can find some affordable undies in my size with a tad more material than a couple of scraps of lace and some elastic. The world would be a much better place. I assure you!

(Not Necessarily Such) Great Expectations

I was having a conversation recently with someone about expectation versus anticipation.  From simply reading the words, I see a slightly negative connotation to the former and a more positive one to the latter.  I realize that they are virtually synonymous terms, but to me, to expect something is more like having to do your homework or taking out the trash or, say, getting up at 4am to work out before going to work entirely too early in the morning. If I am anticipating something it’s more along the lines of what I see as more positive stuff, like cake on your birthday or a hot shower after the expected nastiness of mowing the lawn. That sort of thing.

So for a couple of weeks I’ve tossed those words around in my brain and this morning finally locked in on something. Part of my problem (ok, I have many problems, but today we’re just dealing with one of them!) I s that I think I expect too much. From basically everything and everyone in my life. Wow. That’s a biggie for sure.

Every day when I start out my drive to work, I take advantage of the time and the quiet to pray. I have the 5 things I’m praying about for the next year, but I also pray for the prayer requests I know about – friends and family and even strangers who need to be lifted up. Or sometimes I just let my train of thought jump the track because if no one else in the world can keep up with me, I know that God surely can. He made me, after all.  He knows my mind even when I do not.

My mind is always going 90 miles an hour which really drives me insane.  And others I am sure.  Am I the only one who can’t seem to make their brain slow down? Like, ever?  I think that’s part of why I don’t always feel rested in the mornings.  I know I wake up at least twice during the night, but when I do my mind wants to instantly jump back into thinking a thousand thoughts and I hate it. It’s so hard to control.

Anyway, to get to the point… This morning I was praying about the “usual suspects” and sometimes I pray more in-depth for my 5 things and others times it’s more of a hitting the high notes because God knows what I need and He knows what I want and He’s going to do the best thing, the right thing, for me regardless of what I want or think I want.  And I gave those 5 things up to go because I knew I could not do anything with them and that He had to take over.

As I am driving alone my commute, I clearly hear a voice in my head saying, “"Oh honey, you are not in control of anything that is going on right now! But you are so cute for thinking that you are!" And then I swear I felt God pat me on the head and laugh. *sigh* At least He said I was cute. *pouting*  But this is not actually the point. Merely a little side story. 

The point – going back to my original train of thought – is that I had a realization that I tend to have expectations about things and that are never fulfilled.  So maybe I need to toss those aside for a while and just go with some anticipation.  And maybe not even though in the end.  This is usually my favorite time of year. The weather turns cooler, the leaves turn the most beautiful colors. My birthday, Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas all roll around (I got no use for New Year’s Eve though).  What happens with it all, however, is that I expect all of those things to be something greater than they are. I always, always expect my birthday to be something special and it always, always falls flat. Always.  I can’t even tell you what it is that I want from my birthday, but I never get it.  So this year I decided to change my perspective and I no longer have any expectations about having this amazingly, fabulously wonderful birthday.  Quite a few weeks ago I decided to take the day off of work and made some plans for how to spend my day. Just me. Doing exactly what I want to do.  That way I can anticipate the plans I have made and have no special expectations of anything else or anyone else.  I’m really looking forward to my birthday next week because of that and hey, if anything else comes along to add in to my day, then that’s great. But if not, then I already have something to look forward to.

I decided this morning to apply that idea to the rest of the holiday season that is coming along. I always – for some reason that I can’t fathom – want some big Hallmark holiday to happen and it never does. And it’s not like it was that way when I was growing up, so maybe I’ve watched one too many Lifetime movies or something. LOL  I can’t necessarily even say specific things I want or ways I want those days to be, but they are always sorely lacking. So I’m putting away any expectations I have on what those holidays are “supposed” to be like.  Instead I’ll just anticipate the changing of the seasons and then holidays and take them as they come.  Well, at least that’s what I’ll try to do.  And if it doesn’t work out quite right this time around, it’ll just be good practice for next year.

Pap's Bible

I've been given many Bibles over the years and I still have them all. From the pink New Testament given to me as a baby at my dedication...

Please note the delightful brown crayon scrawling doubtlessly done by yours truly.

...to graduation gifts on through to the one I use today, that belonged to my late paternal grandfather.

The most wonderful time of the year?

It’s not even Labor Day yet and soon all the holiday decorations will be everywhere. I don’t mind so much because autumn is my favorite time of the year. I’m my happiest when the weather turns cooler and I can open the windows to let in the breezes. I like crunching leaves under my feet when I walk and how festive it gets from October through New Year’s. And it doesn’t hurt that I found candy corn already on sale in Walmart yesterday either.


As the song goes, it’s the most wonderful time of the year. Or is it?

I’ve heard for years about how the holidays (Thanksgiving and Christmas) are the time with the highest suicide rates and when folks tend to be the most depressed and as a rule I have “poo-pooed” that notion. Until last year.

The reason I start getting amped up in October is that my birthday is in mid-October and then Halloween happens. Those are 2 days that I enjoy, plus I like decorating for Halloween. With the cooler weather I just feel festive.

The trouble is…my birthday never turns out the way I want it to. In my head I have this fanciful notion that it will be the greatest birthday every. I have no idea exactly the specifics that that would entail, but suffice it to say that I always seem to come away disappointed with the reality. I’ve thrown a few combo birthday/Halloween parties around my big day, but something always ends up as the proverbial fly in the ointment. Most notably the year someone vomited on my front lawn after drinking entirely too much and not eating enough (if anything at all). Although I guess that was preferable to them vomiting somewhere in my house…

I wish I knew what it was that I wanted from my birthday so I could at least potentially achieve it, but I’m really just not sure. I guess I want it to be…better. I won’t ever have another party because I always want things to be “just so” and that is so hard to make happen. People always come in and do things I didn’t want done or want to turn the party into someone else and I get pissy and it’s downhill from there.

Perhaps my expectations are simply too high. I mean, everyone has a birthday, right? So why should mine be any more spectacular than the next person’s. To that end, I’ve made some mental plans on what I want to do this year on my birthday that should, theoretically, allow me to have a very enjoyable birthday. Guess we’ll find about in about 45 days or so.

After my birthday, I always get excited about Thanksgiving and then Christmas. I’m not sure why though since my family doesn’t actually get together for the most part on those holidays anymore. There are various – very good and valid – reasons and commitments that keep us from being together on the actual days, though we do have a family Christmas a few days before the actual day. I have found, however, that over the years I’ve bought into the Hallmark, Hollywood ideal of how a family holiday should be. Everyone together, squeezed into the house you grew up in with wacky hijinka and warm fuzzy family moments ensuing.

Uh…yeah. Doesn’t really happen in my world. I always want a big houseful of people (maybe I should consult Central Casting and see if I can rent a family this year…) with lots of food and peace and goodwill to men and all that stuff. Once upon a time, back in the days when I thought I would do the “normal” thing and grow up and get married and have 2.5 kids and a dog, etc, I thought how great it would be to marry into a family with multiple siblings (I have 1 brother) where everyone would come home for the holidays and it would be this big family fun fest.

Of course, my life has not worked out that way and I would bet most families would say that’s not how the holidays work anyway except in a Norma Rockwell painting.

But I still wish that it did.

The holidays last year were a very lonely time for me. I never realized it could be like that until it was. And it’s not like I did not see people and/or family on Thanksgiving or Christmas Day. I totally did. But something was missing. I want tradition! I want a gathering! I want…well, I do NOT want pumpkin pie because that is just nasty crap, but I want something. Whatever that “something” is that is missing.

Because I am an obsessive-compulsive planner, not only do I have my mental plan for my birthday, but I’m already thinking ahead to what I want to do on Thanksgiving Day. I haven’t gotten to Christmas yet, but there’s time for that. I will plot and plan and figure out what to do to make ME happy. At first I thought that notion was rather selfish, but then I realized that if I don’t look out for myself, who will? No one.

I guess time will tell as to whether or not this holiday season turns out better than the last. But I am going to do my damnedest to enjoy the coming season – everything from leaf crunching to celebrating the birth of our savior Jesus Christ – no matter what. And maybe if I’m really smart, somewhere along the way I’ll figure out how to help other people do it as well. Because I know I’m not alone in questioning whether this is really the most wonderful time of the year.

The Girl with the Dragon(Fly) Tattoo

Yeah, this post has nothing to do with the book The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I know nothing about the book except for the title and maybe it’s a movie now? Or going to be one? I have no clue.

What I do know is that in November 2006 I got my first tattoo. I’d been thinking for several years that I wanted a tattoo, but wasn’t sure what I wanted. So being the highly intelligent being that I am *snort*, I waltzed into Fantasy Ink Tattooz just over the border in NC near Myrtle Beach, SC and started looking at the designs on the walls. Yeah. That’s soooo the best way to pick a tatt, right? LOL But my eyes honed in on a picture of a dragonfly. I didn’t like the colors on the picture, but since I could pick and choose my own, that’s just what I did.

Sam, the tattoo artist, was great. I think he was slightly surprised by how willing I was to just whip off my shirt so he could have access to my shoulder – had I even realized that morning that I’d be betting tattooed that night, I would have come prepared with a tank top. But let’s be honest here; my flabby abs were not going to excite this man and I can’t imagine I have the worst body he’s ever seen either. So he’s pulling the curtain around the area where I’m going to sit and saying, “Are you concerned about people seeing you…” and I’m just whipping off my sweatshirt as if I don’t have a care in the world. Go figure. So not like me.

Moving on…

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure...

Our Deepest Fear

by Marianne Williamson

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.

It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

"Feelings are everywhere - be gentle."

There’s a line in the Meg Ryan/Kevin Kline movie “French Kiss” where Meg’s character “Kate” is on a bit of a tear and says, “Happy - smile. Sad - frown. Use the corresponding face for the corresponding emotion.” Kate, you see, has no problem expressing her emotions and expects everyone else to be able to do the same. I, however, am not Kate. (And I’m not that other Kate either. The one with the wackadoodle hair and the 9 gabillion kids.)

I’m not the most demonstrative person in the world. I’m not a real touchy-feely kinda gal. I’m not sure why that is exactly. It’s not that I don’t have emotions; I just don’t really throw them out there a lot (except to complain about stuff). Or when and if I do, one of two things happens – it’s a crazy eruption like some psychotic episode or I am made to feel like I shouldn’t be feeling the things I am feeling. If I’m sad, someone’s always telling me to cheer up. If I’m angry, they try to calm me down. If I’m happy, sometimes I’m made to feel silly for being so happy or excited about something. It’s much easier to just not express those emotions and keep them to myself and for myself.

I can’t say that it’s something instilled in me from childhood; I’m not inclined to be someone who blames all their adult problems and issues on their parents. I had awesome parents. But somewhere along the line I just lost the ability to cut loose.

Case in point, the Michael Bublé concert I attended a few weeks back. If you’d seen me you might never have realized how much fun I was having because I mostly sat in my seat, listening and not singing along and clapping politely at the end. Before the show I was bouncing around a bit and I might have sung along once or twice, but to the outside viewer, I probably was not having a good time, when in reality I was loving every minute of it. As I expressed – ad nauseum – on Facebook (I do much better with the written word it seems.)

Now, at the Bon Jovi show I attended back in April, I was much livelier. I always dance and sing and have a grand old time, but I gotta be honest – I feel really strange when I do that. As if someone is going to be watching me and wondering why I’m so happy. Yeah, I know. In an arena with 10,000 or more screaming people no one is paying attention to little old me, but it feels that way.

I don’t dance in public. The last time I actually danced in public was 1992 after the USC homecoming game and I’d had 6 screwdrivers in a 1 ½ hour time period and the world was still spinning around hours later. (But I did have a grand old time!) The last time I think I cried in public was at my mother’s funeral 10 years ago. I love a lot of people, but I seldom say so. That’s just a whole other level of discomfort for me.

A lot of this makes no sense even to me. I do so many things that scream, “Hey world! Look at meeeeeee!!!” and then when the world does look at me, I want to run and hide behind my mother’s skirts like I did as a shy little girl. Yeah. I know. It makes no sense.

I wonder about it all sometimes. Wonder if I will ever be someone who can just freely express emotions without worrying if someone is watching and judging me. Part of me believes that even with my closest friends, they still simply will not understand me and where I am coming from. Sometimes you just want to be able to say what you are thinking and feeling without someone else trying to solve your problems or tell you everything’s I ok when you know that it’s not. Or without someone jumping in with “Oh that happens to me all the time and it’s 900 times more interesting than what you just said!” Or without someone judging your feelings as if it’s ok to do that. Because it’s not. My feelings and emotions are just that – MINE. And yours are yours. So long as you are not homicidal I think it’s ok to feel what you are feeling and to acknowledge it. But usually I’m just told that it’s not ok, even in less-than-direct terminology.

Sometimes you just want to be able to express what you are feeling and have that be enough. Maybe that’s all I really want – I just want to be enough.

The Song Remains the Same

I reclaimed a song today on my drive in to work. I know that sounds strange (as do many, many things that I say and do), but it's true.  There is a song that I really like, but it reminds me of a boy I knew *coughdatedbrieflycough* in high school.  And while high school is 20+ years ago (when the heck did that happen?!?) every time I hear the song I am reminded of That Boy.  Oh, there are other things that remind me of That Boy, but the song is at the top of the list. 

I actually got over most negative memories associated with That Boy years ago.  And when I see The Man that That Boy has become, part of me does still want to smack him upside the head for his overall stupidity as a teenage boy, but really, why bother?  The mere fact that the last time he saw me - and I know he saw me - he retreated to a far, dark corner is satisfaction enough.  :o)

But back to the song.  Listening to it this morning I thought to myself, "Self, don't let negative memories taint this song! It's a great song!" So I reclaimed it. I banished That Boy from having anything but a fleeting association with That Song.  And I was so happy about it that I hit the "back" button on my iPod 2 more times so I could keep listening to it as I finished the last few miles to the office.  Smiling the entire way.

A Very Touchy Subject

I have recently deduced that I don’t really like to be touched. I haven’t always acknowledged that, but I’m doing so now. Not because people are running around trying to touch me (get any and all minds out of the gutter immediately if that sent you there for some reason), but because it came to mind today as I was making my way-too-early-in-the-frakking-morning trek to work.

Oddly enough, I do consider myself a hugger. Or at least, I don’t mind hugging people. I hug friends I haven’t seen in a long time when we get together. I reciprocate hugs when given to me and, as far as I know, I don’t try to dodge hugs. Although on a couple of occasions I have had people come to my house for a party and walk in and hug me and mentally scratched my head thinking, “Oh, are we ‘hugging friends’ now?” But less its Death coming to get me in a grip, I’m pretty ok with hugging. I especially appreciate hugging my nieces who gives the best hugs ever! They are the coolest people I know.

But, well, I don’t really like to be touched.

Maybe it’s because it doesn’t make much sense to me when someone walks up and talks to you and feels the need to reach out and touch you on the hand or the arm. Especially when it is someone I don’t know very well or in a context, like a work situation, that really makes no sense to be making that contact.

I’m also big on personal space. I always think of the scene in Dirty Dancing where Patrick Swayze is telling Jennifer Grey to stay in her dance space. I just want people to stay in their personal space and not get into mind. Unless it’s David Bryan. Or Michael Buble. They can totally get into my personal space any time they want to.

I don’t ever like to have my chair pulled up too close to someone else’s. I want a little breathing room. I also don’t like sharing an arm rest with another person. Exceptions being, of course, David Bryan, Michael Buble and a few other assorted names that readily come to mind. But mostly I figure if there is space to be had, then why not spread out a little more and make good use of it.

This need for space also extends to keeping at least one stall between me and someone else in the restroom and at least a full arm length away from anyone you are engaging in casual conversation.

So, yeah, I don’t really like to be touched. I know. I’m a freak. But I’m ok with that. So long as you aren’t touching me when you call me one.

There’s someone out there for everyone! And all that other horse hockey...

“There’s someone out there for everyone!”

“Oh, you just haven’t met the right guy yet, but you will!”

“I used to say the same thing and then 2 days later I met my husband.”

Stop.  Just…STOP!!

Seriously.  I can’t take it anymore.  I wish death and dismemberment on the next person who utters that kind of nonsense to me.  Bless their hearts.  *rolling my eyes*

I’m not sure why our culture feels the need to perpetuate the myth that there is someone out there for everyone because there’s not.  There is no guarantee that out there in the world is your perfect (or imperfect) romantic match.  There simply isn’t.  And to be honest, at 38-years-old and chronically single, I’m sick and tired of hearing the BS.

I realize that the speakers of that claptrap have good intentions.  They are simply trying to make me (or whoever) feel better and have some hope, but it really has the opposite effect.  It’s damned depressing.  As is listening to or watching lovebirds fawn all over each other or a bride-to-bed discussing the proposal or well, I could go on, but I won’t because someone will get offended that I feel that way and then I’ll get angry and it’ll snowball from there.

Suffice it to say that for me, at least, I am tired of people spouting nonsense that someday some guy is going to come into my life and it’ll be all hearts and flowers from there.  Because you know what?  No matter how many times you say that to me, I’m well past the point of being willing to believe it.  And that’s ok.

Years ago – and many pounds ago, for that matter – I believed it.  I did.  My generation of little girls was still brought up with the notion that one day Prince Charming was going to ride up on his white horse and whisk us away to the magic castle where we’d live happily ever after (HEA) and life would always be happy, happy, happy!  Well, ok, so that’s a bit much, but I believed that one day I’d meet a great guy, fall madly in love, and blah blah blah. 

But I grew up and realized that fairy tales are simply that and not reality.  That doesn’t mean I don’t believe that people fall in love and have the potential to live HEA. It just means that I don’t believe in it for me.  And that’s ok.  I’ve cried a few rivers over it and moved on. 

But it’s also at this point that all the clichés become extra annoying.  Honestly, HONESTLY, do you really believe there is someone out there in the world for me?  Seriously?  Because I don’t.  But the difference is that I don’t think that it is part of God’s plan for my life for me to meet someone. I think God’s plan for me is to be single.

I’m not saying I like that plan necessarily, but for the most part I’ve come to terms with it.  Sometimes it hurts. It can hurt a lot.  But at other times it’s very freeing.  I consider it a blessing that I have never wanted to have a child because I’ve watched friends who are single and desperately want to be mothers or even married women who have trouble conceiving and it’s just not happening for them.   I consider myself fortunate that I’m not in those situations.

Now, there are those that would say that I simply don’t have enough faith in what God can do and that’s not true.  I never said that God COULD NOT bring a man into my life. I’m saying that I think God CHOOSES NOT to do so. I can’t say why that is; it simply is. 

God can do anything my friends.  Anything at all.  But sometimes He chooses not to give us the things we want. He gives us the things we need.  Whoa baby. Big difference there you know.

If you give it some thought you will see what I mean and what a blessing that “not getting” can be in your life.  Ok, so maybe I don’t know why God hasn’t hooked me up with some front row seats to a Bon Jovi show, but maybe it’s because He knows I’d make an ass out of myself screaming over David Bryan and security would have to pull me away and there would be restraining orders involved and it’d just get uglier from there.  Or maybe it’s because that would only reinforce my Bon Jovi obsession and goodness knows it’s bad enough as it is.

But on a more serious note, I have to trust that God knows what He’s doing because He does.  I’ve prayed for years to have someone in my life. Just one man. I don’t need 15 boyfriends or 3 husbands (one at a time, mind you) or anything like that. Just one decent guy who is interested in me and i'ts mutual (I’ve had more than my share of the non-mutual from both sides). It seems like a small enough order, but God has never come through for me. Never hooked a girl up.  I don’t know why (and refuse to psychoanalyze myself and my character flaws), but that’s just the way it is.

Which brings this ramble back around to the topic of needs versus wants.  I find that in life we seem to focus so much more on what we want than what we need and that happens when we pray as well.  I often pray about something and even while doing it I realize that I’m only thinking about what I want.  Fortunately, God thinks about what we need.  And that’s what He gives us.  It’s not always what we want and we might not always like it, but it’s hard to argue with the decisions that God makes. 

Now, that doesn’t mean I understand a lot of those decisions, but I’ve stopped arguing with them. I don’t understand and never will why my mother had to get sick and suffer and die from breast cancer.  She was a good person, who never hurt anyone, but while I believe God heard our prayers; His will was different than our wants.  I stopped questioning it because there were no answers to be found.

The same with my friend Andrea who died last year (also from breast cancer).  I don’t know why God allowed it to happen, but if I stopped and put too much into asking why, I’d never get out of bed in the morning.  So I take a lot on faith and trust in God that He knows what He’s doing.  Because He does.

So at the end of the day I cannot say that I always appreciate my singleness.  It’s annoying at times.  It can also make me very, very sad and lonely.  I don’t want to think about being alone as I get older, I want someone to share my life with. 

At the other end of the spectrum, it’s freeing that I can come and go as I please and don’t have to answer to anyone except me and God.  If I have ice cream for dinner, I can have it.  If I want to spend my money on something, I can do it. 

In the end all I know for sure is that I do trust in God that He knows what He is doing.  That He is ultimately giving me what I need, if not what I (think) I want.  And hopefully through a lot of prayer I’ll come to even better terms with my singleness.  And not actually dismember the next person who throws a lovely platitude in my face.  Because they mean well. Bless their hearts.

An Evening with Michael Buble on his Crazy Love tour

I've been a Michael Buble fan for several years now.  Probably about 7 or 8.  I don't even remember when I first saw him, but it was on some television program and I was hooked. I remember later that year (1993 I believe) on Thanksgiving Day he was on The Today Show and I called my dad to tune in because Buble sings the standards and I knew that my dad would like his voice and his songs.

Unfortunately over the years I haven't been able to go see him in concert.  That is, until this past Saturday.

Trapped in the Body of a Fat Girl

I am trapped in the body of a fat girl.  I really want to finish that statement by saying that I’m a skinny girl who is trapped in the body of a fat one, but that’s not true. I’m a fat girl trapped in the body of a fat girl with a fat girl’s mind and behavior. It’s an ugly, unfortunate truth, but truth it is.

Food is the center of my universe. If I’m not eating, then I’m thinking about when I’ll eat next or what I’ll eat. I’m dreaming of what delightful culinary concoction is coming from my next meal. And it’s always about the next meal.

If I were a chef then this round-the-clock food fest might make sense. To have my mind so focused on food all the time would make sense to me then. But it doesn’t. I just want food around me all the time. I want tons of options and as much as I want, whenever I want it.

I have, more or less, always been overweight. I remember being weighed back in 3rd grade and the nurse saying I was 82 pounds. I also remember other kids laughing at me because of that. Fast forward to 5th grade where my former friend Melissa called me a whale one day. I responded that it was better to be a whale than a skeleton. Kids are so sweet to each other, aren’t they? I could list a few more things, but I’ll spare myself from having to remember it.

Sometime during high school I did drop down to my lowest “adult” weight of 120-125. I don’t really have any photos from then, but there are a couple of pictures and to my eyes, I look strange. Like my head is too big for my body or neck. I would speculate that anything from 150 – 175 would be a good, healthy weight for me, but I’m quite a few pounds over that 175 limit these days. That makes me sad, but it also makes me want to eat chocolate.

My Fat Girl Brain (FGB) just wants to eat. If I’m happy, let’s eat! If I’m sad, let’s eat! And after we’re done, let’s eat!! I’ve always been a huge water drinker so when someone says, “drink more water – it’ll curb your appetite” I just want to laugh out loud. It might for some people, but not for me. I could easily down a gallon of water a day without thinking twice about it. When people say they struggle to get in 8 glasses, I’m baffled. Truly. And no, I’m not diabetic. Doctors seem to freak when I tell them how much water I drink and a few have insisted of checking to see if I am diabetic, but I’m not. Nor do I have a thyroid problem or high blood pressure or hypertension or a B12 deficiency or anything else that the docs have tested me for. I’m just fat.

Actually, “obese” would probably be the correct terminology according to the charts, but to me obese people are the ones who have to be airlifted with a crane out of their house. I can work with “fat” thanks just the same.

But the FGB gets me into trouble. The spirit is willing you see, but the flesh and the FGB are quite horribly weak. I get angry when I can’t have what I want. I get angry that I can’t have what I want. I resent that other people can eat whatever they want and not gain weight. And don’t even get me started on people who complain that they can’t gain weight. Oh man, I can’t even go there with that one. That is just so not a problem that someone should complain about unless they truly have an eating disorder or some serious health problem that requires them to put on a few pounds.

My FGB is just a really dangerous thing. I have been known to eat cups full of bacon. CUPS FULL OF BACON. At work when the residents have a baked potato bar for lunch and there are leftovers, I will eat a cup full of bacon. I love bacon so much that I don’t even care if I feel lousy later on. I smell it and I have to have it.

I sneak food and eat in secret. I’ve been known to stand over leftover cake in the kitchen at work and just cut off little piece after little piece and shovel it in before someone comes through and sees what I’m doing.

I’ll eat even when I’m not hungry. Case in point – yesterday’s plate (though small) of chips and queso from a great Mexican restaurant that was left over from a lunch at work. I was stuffed from the lunch I had just eaten, but still wanted the chips and queso. It’s not just a lack of willpower, it’s an obsession.

I haven’t quite self-diagnosed with food addiction or anything just yet, but I’m just one Google search away from that probably. (Whatever did we do without the internet and the ability to diagnose ourselves with 7 different kinds of deadly diseases in a 5 minute time period?)

So while I wish I could say that I was a skinny girl trapped inside a fat girl’s body, the reality is that I am a fat girl. I think like one. I act like one. I certainly look like one. Even when I am working out daily (ok, so maybe only 4-5 times a week and not a solid 7 times every single week…) and eating well (meaning more fruits and veggies as opposed to that cup of bacon or secret cake binges), nothing seems to change. Oh, my body changes in some ways that are positive, but…well… not enough I guess.

I’m not writing all this down looking for any solutions or advice. I know what’s wrong. I know the ways to combat it, to fix it, to heal it. I’m well aware I assure you. I’m just putting this out there because maybe someone else needs to see it and know that they are not alone.

I had a realization while driving to work in Columbia one day last week. I have some of my best realizations and thoughts on that drive, even when listening to Van Halen or Bon Jovi and potentially ear-splitting volume. Hey, you never know when inspiration will strike!

But I had thoughts running amuck in my old noggin’ and one of them just seemed so simple. If it was a snake it’d have bit me! I was thinking about prayer and that age old question of why God answers some prayers and not others. I pray about a lot of things daily, but I admit I feel guilty about some of my prayers. Guilty because they seem so small and trivial and I should be praying about bigger things. Praying for others and not myself so much. Thinking about the bigger picture of life instead of just wanting my tires to last a few more months or something like that.

As I thought about all of this, I was focusing in one specific thing I prayed about a few months back. It was, on the surface, a very small thing. Just something that was driving me crazy and seemed silly to pray about, but I wasn’t sure what else to do at that point. I’d tried a lot of things on my own and even just trying for acceptance wasn’t working. (Any of this sound familiar?)

But this teeny, tiny, trivial thing I prayed about and asked God to deal with, He did. He dealt with it and it’s not an issue for me anymore.

Thinking about all of that reminded me that just because something seems small and insignificant it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pray about it. You definitely should!! If it means enough to you that it sticks in your brain and in your craw (what the heck is a craw anyway?? I know what a crow is…), then you should pray about it. And with those thoughts, it reminded me that if God listens and is willing to answer our prayers about the seemingly silliest thing, why on earth would we doubt that He is listening to our bigger prayers and why would be doubt that He is working on things and going to answer our prayers???

Yeah. Such a totally simple and elementary revelation, but it took a while for me to remember that. So now when I’m driving every day, that thought pops into my head (I start each day’s drive to Columbia with some prayer time) and I remind myself that God is working in my life (and yours!). We just don’t always realize it and for that big stuff, well, it might take Him a little while longer than we’d like.

Bon Jovi Charlotte concert recaplet

I should start this entry by saying I did not feel well on Thursday and that carried over into Thursday  night.  So while I wanted to be rocking out to my boys, singing and dancing and screaming my head off, it was a challenge to get into the groove. Unfortunately. I still enjoyed the concert a great deal - no shock there - but I wish I had felt good and been super-excited like I was 4 years ago during the Have a Nice Day tour.

That said, I was excited to have floor seats, but not so much once the show started.  There was an Amazon standing a bit in my way, so it was hard to see sometimes. I could watch the vid screens, but I was spoiled those times in 2006 when we were on the side of the stage and could really see EVERYTHING that was going on.  The plus, however, is that I basically could see David Bryan the entire time and as anyone who knows me knows, he's the one I've come to see.  I listen to Jon and ogle Dave.  That's my forte, actually.  ;o) I won't go after floor seats again and in the future will actually try to get side stage seats whenever possible. I just like them more.

 Not bad seats BEFORE everyone stands up...

Ooh! It's Dave!  And Jon and Richie.  And Bobby Bandiera.  But mostly it's Dave!

Overall it was a good show.  They always trot out Bad Name, Bad Medicine, Wanted, and Prayer. I think the audience would revolt if they didn't.  But having heard 'em live for many years, I'd be fine without them.  Prayer was the final song and the entire place went nuts.  The whole audience was finally engaged.

Engagement was a problem, in my opinion, for the audience that night.  It was like they wanted the hits and songs they knew, but if it was something they did not know - like the new record - then people all around me would sit down.  SIT DOWN.  AT A ROCK CONCERT. That's so, so wrong.

 I was able to take this shot because people were SITTING DOWN!  Looney tunes.

I realize I take it personally when the audience doesn't know the new songs and that's just a quirk of mine. If I'm paying the price for a ticket these days then I'm going to sing along.  We sat next to a mom who was my age with her teenage daughter (maybe 14?) and they had never been to a Jovi show before, so I know for the newbies in the audience it's important to get the hits like Bad Name, etc.  That mom was probably waiting for the past 20 years for that stuff.

 It's Dave on the big screen!!

It was still a bummer to see a lack of enthusiasm from the crowd during I'll Sleep When I'm Dead and Captain Crash. I love those songs and even if I did not, they are GREAT live songs.  I had no interest in Captain Crash till I heard it live in 2002.  And ISWID is just made to be played live.  So I sang and danced and clapped and everyone around me was SITTING DOWN.  That sound you hear was a knife going into my heart.  *sigh*  But hey, I love it even if others did not!  I had not expected to hear either of those songs so...BONUS!

The big surprise for me was Jon and Richie doing Diamond Ring.  Even if I did not get my Only Lonely, I got some oldies and some great songs. Another bonus!  It was also nice to have Richie doing something other than I'll Be There for You, which he did on the HAND tour. 

Richie, however, was looking his age.  He just looked kinda rough.  And I was very glad he was not taking his shirt off.  I love my Richie, but I'm guessing all that time before rehab was not kind to him.  Of course, I think my beloved Dave looked fab. Did you expect anything else from me?  LOL  There just weren't enough big screen close ups for me to drool over.  Bummer!

I wasn't trying to get his abs on film. Honest.  Or...was I?

The rest of the set list was good, but there are always songs I wish were included. I was sorry that Love's the Only Rule was not included (it was usually the set ender during the tour) and they did not do the acoustic set that they did throughout the tour.  I had been looking forward to both of those.  I know they were mixing things up as they went along, but I'm selfish. 

April 23, Charlottte, NC, Time Warner Cable Arena

Happy Now
We Weren't Born to Follow
You Give Love a Bad Name
Whole Lot of Leavin'
Born to Be My Baby
Lost Highway
When We Were Beautiful
Superman Tonight
We Got It Goin' On
Bad Medicine w/ Bad Case of Loving You [Robert Palmer cover]
It's My Life
Lay Your Hands on Me [Richie Sambora on lead vocals]
(You Want To) Make a Memory
Diamond Ring
I'll Be There For You
I'll Sleep When I'm Dead
Captain Crash & the Beauty Queen from Mars
Work for the Working Man
Who Says You Can't Go Home
Someday I'll Be Saturday Night

ENCORE:
Hallelujah [Leonard Cohen cover]
Runaway
Wanted Dead or Alive
Livin' on a Prayer

There are videos out there on You Tube if you want to check out performances, but I'm just going to link to Blame It On The Love, an unofficial Bon Jovi blog, where they are already posted because I'm too lazy to embed them here. LOL
  
It was a good set list, but in Shannonland, it would be different.  My ultimate set list would be as follows. In no particular order except by album:

She Don't Know Me (which they will NEVER do, so....)
In and Out of Love
Only Lonely
Silent Night
Never Say Goodbye
Born to be My Baby
Wild is the Wind
I'll Sleep When I'm Dead
In These Arms (with David Bryan on lead vocals)
These Days
This Ain't a Love Song
Edge of a Broken Heart
Just Older
Mystery Train
Have a Nice Day
Complicated
Lost Highway
I Love This Town
Love's the Only Rule
When We Were Beautiful
We Weren't Born to Follow
I Get a Rush
Someday I'll be Saturday Night
Always

I'm sure I'd add more songs to this if I thought about it, but I don't wanna think about it right now.  And you can't make meeeeeeeeee!!!

I do wish I had another chance to see them on this tour, but Charlotte was the end of the arenas and now they are on a break until mid-May and then start the stadium leg of the tour.  I thought for some reason that the tour was going to keep going into 2011 and I guess it might, but usually they end things at Giants Stadium during the summer or early fall, so I'm not holing out hope. But if another leg of the tour turns up, you bet I'll find a way to be there!

This is as close as I come to making New Year's Resolutions

I hope you all had a nice New Year's Eve, for those so inclined to engage in all the festivities. I have never been a fan of this particular "holiday" except getting a day off work. It was never a big deal in my home growing up and I don't recall my parents ever going out to NYE parties. I don't have anything against it, per se, just never saw the point. People seem to think that is because my mother died on NYE 1999, but that is not the case. Just general ambivalence.

That said, I did go to a friend's house last night to hang out with some folks I seldom get to see and had a nice time. I skew towards the low key end of the spectrum for fun. I watched a friend’s little boy giggle and giggle and just be too darn cute. I ate some yummy food. Someone even sidled up to me and said I looked like I'd been losing weight and someone else said when they first met me (a few years ago) they were shocked to learn my age because they thought I looked about 10 years younger. Yeah, can't argue with any of that. *grin*

As for 2010, I am hoping it's better than 2009. 2009 was probably half good and half bad. Not a bad balance really since I had expected it be a crappy year being unemployed. So the job situation is a huge plus, I had so much fun at my 20th high school reunion that it should have been illegal, but that is balanced by the deaths of two friends within the same week. Oh yes, and I got a kickin’ new job that I simply love and am so blessed to have landed in. For a year that started out with only the promise of looming unemployment, it turned out better in many ways than I would have expected.

I really don't make resolutions, but there are areas I'd like to improve in in my life, but that's a daily thing to deal with rather than something I think you should focus on on January 1st.

But for the sake of joining the resolution madness, I present Shannon’s Version of New Year’s Resolutions.

1) I will not do physical harm to people who cannot learn to spell the word “definitely” correctly. There is NO “A” in “definitely”!! Of that, I am DEFINITELY sure!!

2) I will not take up running. I tried it. I don’t like it. I refuse to do it. The exception to this rule is if I am being chased by a serial killer. In that instance, I think it would be prudent to revise this particular resolution.

3) I will not be growing my hair out in 2010. Tried it. Didn’t like it. Much like the aforementioned running.

4) In 2010 I will continue to wonder what my natural hair color is. I think it’s brown. Possibly dark brown. I’m reasonably confident there is some grey in there too, but we’ll never know for sure!

5) I will not be getting married in 2010. In conjunction with this, I will not be a) getting pregnant or b) having a baby.

6) I will eat too much on many occasions and regret it later.

7) I will never exercise as much as I think I should, but at least I’ll exercise.

8) I’ll miss the people I have loved and lost, but know that they are in a much better place, without sadness or pain and that will make me smile.

9) I will continue to think my butt is too big, my bank account too small, and my fabulousness frequently unappreciated.

10) I will continue to love Bon Jovi. I know. You’re shocked. Try to control yourselves.

I'm just hoping that this year is better than next - for more than just me.