The Hair of the Dog

I haven't written a post in a while.  Honestly, I didn't have much that was interesting or exciting to write about and then, well, there's that thing we call work. On a positive note, I had embarked upon a new relationship with a wonderful hunk which is going swimmingly.  So let's just say, I've been preoccupied.  And I'm happy to report that my family and friends are (reasonably) happy and healthy and I have some upcoming fabulous trips on the calendar, so life is good.

Except for the fact that I'm in the beginning throes of perimenopause at, what I understand, is an early age.  Which is all a bunch of horseshit, but the good news is, I'm learning how to curb at least some of the effects.  Natural remedies for hormonal roller coaster rides (and yes, these cause both hair flying in all directions and crazy looks on your face), sleep deprivation during the night and wanting to sleep during the day and the latest...  hair falling out of places you really would like for it to remain and sprouting in places you do not.  And this, ladies and gentlemen, is where I put my size 10 foot down and said "NO MORE!".  Now while I am pro the occasional Botox prick and face and body goo that plumps, smooths and rejuvenates, I do realize that we cannot stop aging.  We can take all of the healthy measures to fix and preserve for as long as womanly possible, but age just happens.  Damn it.  But when I found a near bald spot on my head and had to keep an industrial supply of Liquid Plumber in stock (and the gorgeous boys in the commercials were not coming to fix anything for me and I had to do it myself, which was no fun), I simply had to find a cure.  So, I've done my research and seen a doctor or 4, and am now on a regimen of enough pills, sprays and lotions to treat an elephant, but I feel much better and normalcy is falling back into place.  Whatever that may mean.

So this is a Not Knowing What the Hell I Was Doing.  I hope I do now, for the sake of my sanity and vanity.  And let me tell you, I've got a combo remedy that's better than the Hair of the Dog, and instead of him coming to bite my ass, I can turn around and bite his.

Birds, Horses and Feathers

I love diversity, simply put.  I relish in hearing others' ideas and thoughts even though I may not agree or believe or want to live the way someone else does, but almost every time I encounter a new person or a new thought process, I learn something.  About that person, about lives different from mine and about myself.  I just spent yet another glorious weekend experiencing music with a menagerie of robust, talented, gorgeous women (no offense men, you are too) and met some new friends and spent time with some I already knew.  I swear, if I could live my life doing THAT, I'd be a happy camper.  Probably a drunk, but happy nonetheless.

On this trip, I was pretty much odd woman out - they have all traveled and known each other for some years, and I was a first-timer.  And for one with my personality, that can be dangerous skies to fly in with a flock of other women of the like - it's like sticking us all in an aviary with a bird feeder full of booze and expecting perfect formation in flight at all times and no flying feathers.  Impossible.  Luckily, we were all smart enough to know when to fly out and flap our wings and maybe take a nap.  Or lay an egg.

However, some people are not that smart.  They literally have bird brains and I, unfortunately, encountered one the other day.  Let me begin by saying, I really don't give a chicken shit what people think of me.  Of course, you must treat people with kindness and respect - I never want to or mean to hurt a person's feelings and if I do, will be the first to recognize and make amends whether you're family, friend or stranger.  But as far as who I am at the core, well that cake has been baked.  So I'm talking with this person I'd just met and we're sharing life stuff - kids, family, career, places in life, stories - and this person, we'll just call them "Horse's Ass", took a liking to me... and I to them... until...  they noticed my tattoo.  Gasp.   To make a semi-long story really short - because it became really short after Horse's Ass said (with a look of disgust) "Why would a beautiful, successful woman like you scar her body like that?".  At which point I took notice of how big, crooked and buck Horse's Ass' teeth were, but did I ask said person why they never considered braces?  NOOOOO, I did not.  I simply answered:  "Because I'm a woman who expresses herself in ways you would never understand and is not fearful of being different.  And just because I am not like you, does not make me scarred, it simply makes me different."  Their jaw dropped open and let me tell you, Horse's Ass had horse breath too.

So we've had birds and horses in this story, and here's the moral:  Birds of different feathers can flock together, our feathers just may be of different colors and fly in different directions.  But a horse's ass is always a horse's ass.

This is a Doing What I Know.

Doing What I Know, Doing What I Thought I Knew, Not Knowing What the Hell I Was Doing: I'm Giving Up and Giving In

Doing What I Know, Doing What I Thought I Knew, Not Knowing What the Hell I Was Doing: I'm Giving Up and Giving In: Recently, I celebrated a birthday.  I must tell you, this was the best ever.  No surprise party, flowers sent to my doorstep, and I didn&#39...

I'm Giving Up and Giving In

Recently, I celebrated a birthday.  I must tell you, this was the best ever.  No surprise party, flowers sent to my doorstep, and I didn't see the first red balloon - I did, however, wear a tiara one night.  It was the best because I was surrounded by such incredible people for several days - new and old friends (and I don't mean old aged, just that I've known them for eons), near and far, in person or by message or phone, my family - I was surrounded.  These folks celebrated with me and made me feel like the the Queen I've always aspired to be (here, I jest, quit rolling your eyes).  I felt loved, plain and simple.  Not a shabby birthday, I must say.

So just yesterday, I went to Bed Bath & Beyond and had a chat with the lady that showed me where the plastic ice cube thingy-bobs were.  Of course, I had to explain WHY I needed them (which, by the way, is because my ice maker produces crappy tasting ice cubes which has been a real problem for me and my vodka sodas), so we had some fun dialog.  And then she looks at me and says, "You know, you have a real shine and energy around you that not many people have."  Which made me tear up, obviously.  Who wouldn't?

Here's what bubbled up from my BB&B visit:  I'm Giving Up and Giving In.  I'm giving up the notion that what much of the external world deems to be "perfect" (whatever in the hell that means) is just that, external.  And I'm giving in to simply being the shine and energy that exists within me.  Did this realization come with age?  No, it came with time.  I believe you can only zig-zag around so much trying to hit all of those points of perceived perfection - be they where you are in life (fill-in-the-blank) and where you want to be in life (fill-in-the-blank) - before you wear yourself slap out.  Don't get me wrong, people - I am NOT giving up my quests for a rockin' bod, finding the Hunk of my life, continued career successes, knowledge, spiritual bliss and  life's great expansion.  Nor will I give up Botox, that is just ludicrous.  But I think I'll stop the zig-zag and just look straight ahead and look forward to what is in front of me.  And it looks damn good.

This is a Doing What I Thought I Knew.

Live Your Talent and Live it Loud

I'm just back from my latest trip.  Hold on, let me rephrase - I've just returned from an experience.  I took this trip a couple of years ago with my daughter and both of us emerged changed.  I went by myself this time (she couldn't make it because she has a new, fantastic job - Halleluja!) and as those who know me, I travel by myself often but I was a bit trepidatious this time.  A fellow Rock Boater (I'll explain that in a moment) convinced me to take the jump and I'm so glad he did.  I came back enlightened, full of hope and flush with new friends.  I did a couple of things I normally wouldn't (don't ask 'cause I ain't gonna tell) that brought me out of the careful box I had wrapped myself in some time back.  I repeat:  I'm so glad I did.

So allow me to explain The Rock Boat (here is some pro-bono promotion guys, hope you don't mind):  It is a cruise that goes 4 days from somewhere to somewhere, but that's not the point.  It is a magical, floating music reverly.  There are 30ish musicians that play day and night - some you'll know, some you won't.  You can't possibly see them all, but you sure do try your damndest, and those you can't see, you'll meet or hear about, find their music, fall in love with it and make plans to go see them another time.  You make friends and many of them will stay in your life for years and hopefully forever.  Listen to me ladies and gents, Hunks and Sisters - go on line and look it up.  Check out the lineup from the last cruise and listen to the artists' music and just like meeting new friends that you never would have, you'll open yourself up to talent you never would have.

But this is not about The Rock Boat, it is about the message that was impressed upon my soul:  Live Your Talent.  The talks I had, the stories I heard, plunked me into a fantastic place of awe.  And it comes down to people with unimaginable talent doing what it takes to realize their dreams and allowing us to become the audience of these dreams - to make us laugh, cry, shake our asses, remember, imagine, share, be inspired, believe, love.  Most people don't have musical talent - I happen to have some but I never followed through with it and there are days I regret it.  But we have other talents and I don't give a hoot if it's song, painting, speaking, listening, writing or making cupcakes for your child's class (fill in the blank) - whether it's in your work or your play - Live Your Talent, live it loud and let it sparkle.  Because I'll guarantee you a fistful of dollars - hell, I'll guarantee you TWO fistfuls - there is at least one person out there that needs what you have to make them smile, give them hope, inspire them, to fill a spot that's missing in their heart.  And you will light something in them, however minute, that they needed, that they desired, that they've dreamed of but didn't know how to wake up and live it.

This is a Doing What I Thought I Knew - this has inspired me to live my talent.  I've ignored it and is begging to come out and play.

Mujeres, Muchachos, Moving and Merriment

I'm going to squish the last couple of months into one writing with some highlights and then look forward to some new stories and enlightenment for the coming year.  Don't get me wrong, I've enjoyed what I've experienced over the past couple of years, but I'll be straight with you, I'm slap wore out and tired of vagabond-ing.  I'm ready to settle in to a life.  There, I've said it.

Mujeres - My Mom and I took a trip to an island off of the Mexican coast called Isla Mujeres, Island of Women.  Probably the best laugh we had was when we were shown to our room and there were 2 swans made of towels on the bed that appeared to be kissing and, get this, rose petals scattered over them and the bed.  Now I knew this place probably catered to love bugs when I booked it and they told me there were no rooms with double beds, but COME ON - rose petals?  Pre-coitus birds?  Talk about rubbing the salt in the wound of a single gal.  Then to add some jig to the jag, we went to get the massage that was included in the hotel package, and when I told them I really preferred NOT to have a couples massage with my MOTHER and requested a separate room, they told me there would be an extra charge.  I think I said something to the tune of, "Come on, Mom.  Let's go get rubbed down."  We laughed a LOT on this trip and I will cherish the memory forever.

Muchachos - Unfortunately, I have no steamy stories of new hunks as I remain hunk-less.  Actually, I've come to realize I've been too busy and preoccupied to even consider a new hunk until as of late.  So this is about my Dad.  I know "muchacho" means a young man in Spanish, but I don't know the word for older dude, so this will have to suffice.  Let me preface this story with some info - my Dad is legally blind and can't hear a damn thing without his hearing aids.  Poor man was dealt with some shitty cards, but he still golfs (and as I understand it, hit a hole-in-one the other day; I wasn't there to witness the feat, but I guess I'll have to go on faith), tools around on his golf cart and keeps up a great lawn.  Nothing keeps him back.  Anyway, his task while Mom and I were in Mexico was to dog sit the pipsqueaks.  No big deal to those of us that can see and hear, right?  Add into the equation that Wiley, my rescue pipsqueak, is slightly neurotic and considers everyone a stranger until he deems you otherwise.  So getting him on his leash to go outside to do business was going to be a challenge for my Dad.  But by God, they made it happen and had no issues.  Guinness, however, the one we had no worry about, decided she was going to hide one day and my Dad spent an afternoon in panic thinking she had been carried off of the deck by a hawk.  After asking Wiley where she was and getting no reply, he spent the rest of his afternoon with a flashlight looking under beds and finally found her nestled into a corner.  She can be a real bitch sometimes.  When we returned from our sunning and funning, Dad and dogs were fine.  His dog sitting days are probably over, however.

Moving - It just sucks.  I don't give a rat's ass if you hire movers or not, it is exponentially more painful than having a pap smear, mammogram and Brazilian wax combined.  Times 2.  And that's all I have to say about that subject.

Merriment - Here we are on Christmas and I am by myself due to getting sick.  Thank LBJ (think The Hangover, not politics) for antibiotics and I'm on the mend, but I still missed out on seeing dear friends, my brother & family and what is always some of the most amazing time I ever have the pleasure of spending.  I don't believe I've ever spent a Christmas Eve totally alone, but I did it yesterday and I'm still cruising this world, so I know it's do-able.  (The pipsqueaks might be offended as they were my company, so don't tell them I wrote that.)  But today, I've been invited to the Gaybors for a cookout on the new grill they bought one another and my beautiful daughter is coming over to eat leftovers with me, so all is definitely not lost.  I refused to allow Christmas Eve to be a complete bust, so I baked a stuffed turkey, cooked green bean casserole and homemade gravy (there is NOTHING better than comfort food when you're sick or sad, or both).  I listened to the music of the season, watched movies and allowed, once again, the combined 25 lbs. of dog that live here to take over the couch.

Is my life exactly full of all of the magic and fulfillment I desire?  Honestly, no.  But is what exists  in the experiences and the people I am blessed to have filling it NOW enough to keep me hopeful and smiling?  No doubt about it, yes.  This is a Doing What I Know.  Merry Christmas!

Ships, Soap and Sunshine

Recently, I read a quote that was Shared on Facebook that disturbed me.  The skinny of it was that too many people bail out of relationships - be they marriages, family or friends - when the person with whom we are in said relationship shows their true colors during their time of dire need, desperation and despair.  And that we should "serve" and "be" with someone "in spite of their filthy heart."  It then goes on to speak of Love being patient, kind and deliberate, sacrificial and so on.  Then mentioned is recognizing the "darkness" in another person and not following your impulse to "jump ship".  Okay, really?

Now I realize that this author's meaning and how he or she believes and relates to what they wrote is very personal and can be construed in many ways by different people.  I get that.  How we absorb and translate every writing is personal.  For instance, I translate a "filthy heart" and "darkness" as attributes of a person I want nowhere near me. If I discover that an individual chooses not to and/or is incapable of putting some soap and water to their heart and chooses to stay in the dark and not find some sunlight, you're damn straight I'm jumping ship.  That's like choosing to remain on a scurvy-invested vessel instead of hopping on a lifeboat and paddling away.  No matter how difficult.  We can only lend someone a bar of soap and a bucket of water so many times.  We can lead another person to a patch of sun, but we cannot make them bathe in its light.  We can try and teach our family member/friend/lover/spouse/fill-in-the-blank how to scrub and seek out the warm, sunny spots, but we cannot force them to believe they can do it on their own.  I find it challenging enough to do this for myself every day.

The years have delivered me knowledge and realization, with much more to come, of course.  What I do know is surrounding oneself with as much fabulous as you can muster and eliminating that which makes one feel non-fabulous as much as possible has had a tremendous impact within me and my outlook as it comes to this life.  Have I jumped ship prematurely in the past?  I'm sure I have.  Will I do it in the future?  I sure hope not.  Has someone(s) chosen to haul off the Ship Laura?  You betcha.  But I'll tell you one thing, I'll fight a helluva battle before surrendering.  This is a Doing What I Know.