Thursday, December 29, 2005

It's Good to be Loved

Oh, I got my birthday groove on last night. You know how it is, you’ve had two-past-your-limit drinks and everything just seems so damn funny. Then you wake up the next day and wonder what the hell you spent so much time laughing about. Yeah, that was my birthday.

We had so much fun. There was a great little partner-group of two guys with acoustic electric guitars playing obscure and not-often-heard songs. I cut a rug to “Feel Like Making Love” with my new almost-birthday buddy named Paul (cute, single, my age AND employed!) Nothing much developed between us, however, because he said something really strange on the dance floor. And then he left. C’est ca!

Not to be discouraged, Jamie and I danced to a quite a few songs, totally ruling the dance floor. At one point I did a ninja move on her (in a skirt no less!) and landed a rear high kick right in her tum-tum. Luckily, her legs were too short, and her foot couldn’t reach my ass. Otherwise I’d be skewered on the end of her elf boot. Later she made fun of me by making faces and I caught a totally Rosie O’Donnell moment on film. Mom and I squealed we laughed so hard. Mom, you gotta post those pics. We need to share the wealth!

All in all, it was probably one of the best birthdays I’ve had in a quite a few years, which honestly surprised me. I would not have picked this year as a good birthday year, that’s for sure! But I got three singing Happy Birthdays on my voicemail, two calls from my daughters, a huge gift bag from my co-workers and dinner plus drinks from my mom and sister. And several really nice cards. Which all adds up to one very big thing: it truly is good to be loved. Thank you, everyone, for not letting me forget that. You took what could have been a very gloomy and sad day and made it really, really special!

Hey, who the "F" needs a special man in their life when they have family and friends like this, I’d like to know!

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

It's my birthday

My birthday has always filled me with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I know that being sandwiched in the much-needed lull between the hubub of the hectic Christmas season and the build up of the New Year's bashes doesn't exactly put people in the mood to party, and I can't blame them at all. I actually sympathize with my family and friends, knowing the dread they must feel when the 28th rolls around.

"Oh, it's Laura's birthday....gosh, I should do something really nice but I'm broke and damn if I'm not tuckered out!"

That's enough to cause more than a few guilt trips. To make matters worse, we've got two other birthdays in December, my niece's being just the day before mine! And then Emily's birthday (that's my daughter, BTW) in two weeks and Ray's birthday the following week (Ray = ChillDaddy). This all just makes me think that it is just too busy to bother with my birthday.

On the other hand, I've always dreamed that when I met the special person in my life, he would know all this about me, but he would make a special day for me every year anyway because he would know that birthdays are about celebrating the birth of someone special; it's like saying thank you, God, for bringing this person into the world. In this fantasy-world where I actually have someone who feels that way for me, he would always remember my birthday, always spend special time with me and always make me feel loved, appreciated and valuable, as though the world got someone special on December 28th.

Hmph. I'm still waiting.

UPDATE: I can't say too much now....my co-workers showed up with a HUGE gift bag full of goodies just for moi! It warmed the crispy cockles of my grinchy little heart. I am loved.

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

The new, improved profile pic


Chilldaddy here -- I don't know why Bunny's getting all impatient for this, (referring to the 'where's my dang picture?' statement at the top of her blog). She only dropped off her disc yesterday, and I've had to spend more than six hours of my precious time editing out warts and scars and bits of chewed up food that had dribbled down her chin. Dammit Laura, I'm a blogger, not a miracle-worker.

Well here it is, hope y'all like it. Ask Bunnyjo what was originally in the picture that I had to magically remove using every scrap of graphical knowlege at my command.

Why Remaining Single for All of Eternity Would Be a Blessing:

True tales from dating hell.

After making out on the beach (spoken with surprise):
“I’d actually date you!” This, just before my recently-dumped boyfriend showed up and scared the hell out of him. He jumped in his van and ran over all his camping gear that was piled up in front of it. Apparently he felt he needed to make a quick exit! Ah, how I’ve relived that moment with relish over the years!

With fondness:
“You are easy on the eyes, you know that?” Actually, I didn’t - I had no idea what it meant. When he explained to me that he was complimenting me, I felt insulted.

“You’re the marrying kind of girl, not the dating kind of girl.” Perhaps he felt I wasn’t going to give it up anytime soon.

“You would be the perfect package-beautiful-irresistible-sexy-etc if you just lost 5-10-50 pounds.” This I’ve heard MULTIPLE times. Little did they realize, I am all of that now. I would just be MORE beautiful, irresistible and sexy if I lost weight…which would actually be good, because it would put me way out of any of those guys’ reach. J

“If the side of the barn needs painting, by all means paint it.” This was spoken by a man who doesn’t “believe” that women should wear make-up, but he was willing to make an exception in my case, I guess.

“It’s my pee-jar.” This was all the explanation I got after discovering a nearly-full milk jug in the closet containing a suspiciously yellow fluid. He did NOT find it humorous when I put it in the fridge and labeled it “for his drinking pleasure.”

“I’d just love to come home to some bologna in the refrigerator and some Hamburger Helper on the stove!” This was spoken by my ex-husband after I had been buying expensive deli select meat and rushing home from my exhausting, demanding corporate job every night to cook elaborate dinners. Was I lucky or what?

This I’ve heard from every boyfriend I’ve ever dumped (with some variation):
“Look, don’t do anything rash. If you ever feel lonely, before you go picking up some jerk from a bar or whatever, just know you can always call me.” Thanks, I’ll remember that.

“Unless it’s got blood, sex, aliens, serial killers or a lot of fighting, it’s a chick flick and the only reason a guy is going to see it is because he wants to poke-poke-poke.” So I guess seeing “Memoirs of a Geisha” is out, right?

Which just goes to show, crazy is as crazy does. Although I could go on in this vein for some time, I thought I would give YOU a chance to share the misery. What is the craziest thing YOU'VE heard from a man's lips?

Monday, December 19, 2005

My Personal Top Ten

Here's my top 10, not necessarily in order of preference:
1. Presents from my daughters. They came home on Saturday night with a present all wrapped up in gorgeous paper and sung a song to me. I had been feeling so lonely while they were with their dad, it was balm for my heart....I cried. Absolute sweet hearts! :)
2. Presents from my ex-boyfriend (he was the present-giving KING)
3. Great music, inlcuding my new favorite, James Blunt.
4. Good food: taco salad, Scrib's pizza (pepperoni, bacon, green olives), swiss steak, BBQ anything, BUFFALO WINGS, any kind of salad whatsoever, and certain sweets.
5. New clothes and shoes, especially boots, high heels, sexy shirts and skirts. Or VICTORIA SECRET anything! Yum.
6. LIPSTICK!!
7. Oh, yeah....friends and family and all that cr*p :)
8. Dancing with my high heels on...and just generally being bad!
9. Buying, wrapping and planning present-surprises for people I love. I'm a person who won't give a shabby present; I won't give it unless I can feel proud to give it. I often lead with my heart when I shop, which means I generally get very sentimental and buy things that really, really show my love. Like one year, I got incredibly fervently touched and bought everyone in my family emergency kits for their cars.
10. A nice, clean, good-smelling home, which I'm happy to say is nice, clean and good-smelling again after a two-week stint of piles of mail, smelly garbage, decaying food in the fridge, mound-o-dishes and strewn clothing. I had been dwaddling. If you were to walk in today, you would see no dust, clean and sparkling surfaces everywhere and a complete lack of clutter laying about. Yay! :)

Thursday, December 15, 2005

Gimme What?

Last spring I found myself trying to explain my email address to a classmate that needed to email me some notes for a project. “LJW” for my initials, “PSCI” because it originally was supposed to be just a dumping ground for crap from my poli sci instructor, and “1228” for my birthdate. All that at hotmail. Halfway through explaining my email address, I saw his face glaze over as though my torrent of words had numbed his brain. He left without it. C’est ca.

The problem is, we tend to choose email addresses that make sense to us, but make absolutely no sense to anyone else. For instance, my editor at the Bay Window uses her zip code after her name. Great for her, because she obviously is familiar with her zip code. However, I’m never going to remember it because I don’t live in Holland! Or how about an old boyfriend who used the number from the Fahrenheit book after some nickname of his. I can’t remember his nickname to save my life (although I know what I would call him) and the only number any Americans associate with Fahrenheit now is “911” thanks to Michael Moore. Yesterday I sent five emails to a colleague because each time she told me something different but every one came back undeliverable. Even she can’t remember her email address! Now that’s sad.

Wouldn’t life be interesting if we could choose email addresses for other people? We could choose email addresses that either embody what we think of them or we could cleverly hide our secret resentments within couched terms of good will. Like waytoohappy@home.com or findingyourselfistakingtoolong@wackedout.net. You know…fun stuff like that.

But until that day comes when we can choose emails for other people, we are going to have to live with the drivel they come up with themselves. Which makes my email address completely drivelishous! Yum!

Friday, December 09, 2005

Drug the Elderly

About five weeks ago, I began working at a company that is coordinating senior enrollment in this Medicare Part D Prescription coverage stuff. Let me tell you, it has been an interesting education into how the political machine grinds out half-baked policies and leaves it to the American public to try to put it back together again.

Many of you may remember that during the Presidential debates 2004, a lot of time was spent talking about prescription coverage for seniors. The problem is that all of us intend to retire on a small portion of what we now live on, predicated by the thought that our living expenses will be greatly reduced by the fact that we’ve paid off our home, got the kids through college, and no longer have expensive lovers to maintain. It sounds like a good plan, but unfortunately we had too many seniors eating dog food so that can keep popping those $35 each hypertension pills.

With the population in America aging rapidly, politicians suddenly realized that they needed to do something to keep seniors voting their way. Thus, the Part D plan was born. The Part D coverage is offered by literally hundreds of insurance companies across America. Each company offers three levels of coverage. Every plan is different, covers different drugs, and has different costs. But regardless of the plan chosen, the senior will pay $3600 out of the first $5100 in drug costs, including co-pays and deductibles. After the $5100 threshold, they reach the “catastrophic coverage” level where they are responsible for the first 5% and Medicare subsidizes the insurance company for the other 95%.

Advocates say that this is the best thing that has ever happed to seniors. After all, they used to pay 100% of their prescriptions. Opponents, nay-sayers and cynics think that the program leaves a lot to be desired, like a genuine release of prescription cost burden on the seniors.

Interestingly, our dear ol’ Prez hit a home-run just by passing this legislation. Now, the legacy of his presidency will officially include the fact that he gave seniors what they needed – desperately. However, as a wise person once said (myself!), you can’t just give people the help you want to give, in order to make an impact you have to give the kind of help they really need.

While “W” spends his political capital on crap policies like this, our soldiers are dying. While “W” writes his legacy about helping seniors in a pen of gold, there will still be a lot of seniors eating dog food. And while the blue-nosed bureaucrats pat each other on the back about what a wonderful thing they’ve done, the oil crisis builds.

If we can’t drug the elderly, the least we could is drug ourselves. With the way things are going, it looks like we are going to need it.

Monday, December 05, 2005

Dwelling in the zone where black and white clash

It is amazing the mental overhaul emotional trauma brings with it. I find myself each day under a new spate of realizations, as though the mental and emotional searing I experienced when those horrible words were screamed at me has resulted in a debriding of the deceptive thoughts that had held me captive for so long. I woke up today realizing that loving someone doesn't make them true. Loving someone doesn't mean that you would be happy together. Happiness is the result of two people who make the best decisions for each other. Believing in someone doesn't mean that they won't hurt you over and over and over again, and might never stop. Being true to someone doesn't mean allowing them close enough to strike if they've struck before. Loving from a distance is a far better fate than being up close, within striking range. And right now I'm in a safe place, a place I want to stay.