It's Scarlett's world...I just write about it!

They're Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!

and there's just no knowing how long they'll stay, this time. A few months? A year? I can't imagine much more than that. It's been a long, dry spell but I plan on enjoying every minute they're here, because I don't think they'll be sticking around as long this time. I love the 80's.(not to plaguerize a favorite VH1 show!). They were the best. And they're making a comeback. I know this, becaue I went shopping this morning for clothes. Walk into any one store that I have shied away from in recent years and you'll see them. Leggings. Long shirts. Big hoop earrings. JELLY SHOES! fake checkerboard Converse. Big, wide, black belts to go around the waist (but NOT to be looped into a belthole). Its (in 80's lingo) awesome, rad, and revolting all at the same time.The first time I lived the 80's, I embraced it.What choice did I have,really, at age 8? My formative teenage years were spent in the ME decade of bad music, bad hair, and bad clothes. And since we're a world that screams RECYCLE, we're getting in on the action-to the point of recycling eras. 've already got the bad hair and listen to bad music-why not rock out w/ some clothes that are now so bad, they're good. And in style. So I'm embracing it again. Today, I even surprised myself with my purchase. Of course, my hunt for the perfect outfit revolved around-what else? An 80's band in concert!!! (I'll write about more in the next week.) I'm totally stoked to bring back some of the stuff I wore when I was 14 (I mean, to re-buy it, since I've long tossed my original 80's apparel). But I can't help but wonder-what's next? Will we relive the 90's soon? Give it a year or 2-I'll be putting away the "Pretty In Pink" and trading it for flannel shirts and bajas. Ant-fashion WAS the fashion of that decade-and somehow, that just doesn't seem as much fun!

just sit back, relax....

and enjoy the ride! Isn't that what they tell us at Cedar Point? How can anyone rightfully relax about anything right now? I never fully believed in 'the end of the world as we know it" (although I'm a huge fan of the Michael Stipe rendition). But it seems like life in American can't get worse. Look at the two men competing to be our nation's leader. Look at thier 'running mates". Look at Wall Street. Do you even fully understand what this bailout will mean to your personal life? Have you given any thought to how John McCain or Barack Obama will impact your little personal bubble? If you haven't, it's time. Floating through life, pretending that nothing affects you, isn't going to cut it this time. I rarely jump on a soap box, and I don't normally have anything prolific to say about the state of world affairs. My shared opinions are usually limited to whether or not Eva Longoria wore that ugly ass dress to the Emmy's because she IS pregnant, or because she actually thought it was a cute little number.

I write about world, U-S and local affairs for a living. I read about it , for a living. I know more about it than I want to. Frankly, I'd like to hide under my bed in the fetal position until the smoke clears. Problem is, the smoke isn't clearing anytime soon. Probably not in my lifetime. I'm becoming paranoid that me & you are going to die homeless, penniless, naked and hungry. Because most of the time, it sure feels like the future has nothing else to offer. Who knows what this generation will be doing for cash when we reach retirement age. Who knows how many of us will lose our homes b/c of this banking fiasco. Who knows if anyone will ever be able to open a credit card again. Ok, I'm sure we will. Credit is the American Dream. But I practically started shaking tonight b/c of $20 I probably shouldn't have spent on something trivial. I don't want to live my life  fearful of the future. But I am because I know how much this election and this bailout will dictate wether I ever buy another house, or another living room set, or send my daughter to college w/o student loans. 

If you're one of those people, living in a bubble, enjoy it now. Bubbles burst.  And I'm afraid your time is running out.

A Hair Raising Experience

Hair brings one's self-image into focus; it is vanity's proving ground.  Hair is terribly personal, a tangle of mysterious prejudices.  ~Shana Alexander

  Somewhere in the midst of spiral perms, sausage curl bangs, wings, and walmart at home dye-kits in the 90's, my hair went from being a source of pride to a source of constant frustration. Growing up, it was beautiful, if I say so myself. Long, poker straight, and a white-blond mix that someone once told me was like looking at a sun sparkling beach, untouched by humans. Huh? I may have been too young to appreciate the compliment (and too naive to realize the guy was a major perv...) but I knew it meant I had pretty hair. 

Unfortunately, peer pressure called at about age 13 and wanted me to cut, dye, perm, straighten, cut again, re-perm, re-dye and re-straighten it until the chemicals had turned the perfect hair of my childhood into a bright yellow frizzbomb of many layers.  I've spent the last nearly 20 years trying to right my wrongs-trying to turn back the hands of time and return my locks to their long ago loveliness. 

Then, yesterday approached. I have not been thrilled, as of late, with the color or length of my hair. Or the insane process I must proceed with to make it look presentable. A 25 minute blow dry combined with a 20 minute straightening routine, and touched off with a big barrel curling iron for good measure (all with a toddler on my waist) was just too damn long.  I needed the 'mom cut'. So, I searched high and low, near & far for the best stylist in northeast Ohio. I asked. I sought recommendations. I googled hairstyles for 3 days straight. I was repeatedly told one stylist's name (who shall remain nameless) and how incredibly awesome, progressive, talented she was. I saw her work on the heads of those who spoke highly of her and decided that it looked and sounded like a great deal. 

Fast forward 2 1/2 hours and a hair cut/coloring that cost roughly a third of my monthly mortgage (ok, not quite, Mike, if you're reading this..). I leave the salon, nearly in tears. Yeah, I asked for short. Yeah, I asked for new color. Yeah, I told her I was ready for a change. I also gave her an example of what  Iwanted.  Yet somehow my new cut comes no where close to this...

I'm not quite ready to show you what it DOES look like but its the shortest, and least appealing I've ever seen it. I'd almost take the sausage curls over this. I guess I didn't expect to leave the salon looking exactly like Reese, but I thought it may come close. 

 I know in the grand scheme of things, this is nothing. I've got family drama that by far exceeds a bad haircut. But I'm vain and while I know it'll grow back (it always does), right now I want to hide under a baseball cap, or a wig, or some extensions, please.  While Mike says he actually likes it, I don't.  So now I have to play the waiting game until it grows back to a respectable length (those of you with short hair,this is no slam on you. It looks great on everyone else. I promise). To me, long hair symbolized femininity, and beauty. My current haircut symbolizes Meg on Family Guy. Come to think of it, maybe that's why SHE wears a hat all the time...maybe we have the same hair stylist. 

        

A Weighty Matter....

It's been bugging me, well, for a while now...but for some reason, more so lately than before. My weight is, to put it bluntly, much higher than it should be, much higher than it used to be, much higher than I'm happy with seeing on the scale. In the recent past, I'd avoided weighing myself b/c I knew it'd depress me. And I kinda hoped that, if I just turned down that one piece of cake (which shows up in a newsroom nearly daily)...I'd be back to fighting weight soon. That the 'I just gave birth' excuse would no longer be needed much beyond actually GIVING birth.

Well today, due to a irregular work schedule, I was able to reintroduce myself to the gym. Well, momentarily, anyway, thanks to my child (I had no idea tot watches didn't change poo. Far be it from me to think of bringing an extra diaper with me...). But I was in the locker room long enough to get on one of those 'scales that don't lie'. You know the one...the sliding scale you see in doctor's offices. Shocked. Appalled. Depressed. Plain Right Pissed Off. My child is a year old, so the 'just gave birth' excuse REALLY isn't flying now.

So, maybe now its time to cut the crap-no more excuses and no more cake, or pie, or fried appetizers, or beer.  I don't have alot of time, but I certainly can find 3-4 more hours a week to move my butt. I gotta let go of my 'mommy guilt' about leaving Scarlett for one more activity-if I lose my mommy guilt-perhaps I'll lose my mommy gut...and we'll be a much happier household! Then again, I may just continue with a steady diet of take out, pick up and Mike's home cooked goodness (fat equals flavor!). I dunno. I'm still weighing my options-it's not as depressing as weighing myself.

One Small Step....

For Miss Scarlett...one GIANT leap for mommy and daddy. Quick-hide the valuables! She's officially 'mobile' now on two legs. Of course she started walking while I was in Boston-why wouldn't she choose the 3 days I'm out of town to reach a major milestone? Anyway, everyday she gains a little more confidence in her walking ability and takes it a little further. I'm not as confident in my attempts to capture it on camera-the girl is simply too fast for that! This was as good as I could do on short notice (because she doesn't give us a whole lot of notice before she stops mid-crawl, stands up and begins her Frankenstein imitation).

Anyway, Scarlett, it only took you 12 short months to start standing up/walking on your own! That means nothing we own is safe and you'll be asking for the car keys in no time.

3 years til the big one....

Not so many years ago, when I was new (well, new again) to Cleveland and all it had to offer, my college roommate and I threw ourselves one helluva birthday party. We were turning 27 and had a weekend long soiree at my apartment to mark such an occasion. It seemed impossible a notion to believe-that we could be nearing in on the big 3-0 already. We were so young. And naive. But the party rocked. Well, everyone except Laura would agree.

I'm not quite ready to throw myself ANOTHER 3 years til the big one bash but a really odd thought came across my mind this weekend-My husband just had a birthday-and he turned 3 years til the big one...I mean THE BIG ONE. The one associated with black crepe paper and 'over the hill' banners and goofy gag gifts like Geritol. In just 3 short years from now, my husband will be 40 (sorry Mike, if you had been lying about your age and I just exposed the ugly truth...you still act about 20 most days, so its all good).

While his age doesn't necessarily directly affect ME, it is another gage of time for me...that party I threw for my former self at age 27 doesn't seem all that long ago...but it was. I didn't even know Mike then. Now we've got 4 yrs of marriage under our belt and a child. And a mortgage. And an SUV. We're, like, adults. I don't know why it didn't dawn on me before. I still feel like I did many, many years ago. I am not really any more mature. I still laugh at fart jokes and inappropriate sexual references. I am going to see 'NKOTB' in concert next month for God's sake. I still shop at 'Forever 21'. And I'm DVRing all the new 90210 episodes to watch later. So, I'm having trouble grasping the fact that middle age is approaching.  Good thing maturity has made me near-sighted-40 may be on the horizon but I just can't quite see it--yet.

A House Divided

 

Well, I really didn't expect OU to win against the Bucks..but it was fun when we were winning at half time!!!! 

Gimme a Break

I may not be Nell Carter but that song keeps running through my mind.

So does that old McDonalds slogan, "You Deserve a Break Today"....

We need a break. By "We" I mean my family. And by 'break', I mean a few less tragedies and heartbreaks to endure. I know, I know.  Every family has sadness. And death. And heartbreaks.  But we've seen more than most others that I know. And its time for a break.

It almost seems ironic that our family's latest heartbreak has sent them to Boston-where the famous Kennedies roam. Because take away all thier money, and our clans are tragedy for tragedy. Nobody in my family has died in a small plane crash, or smashed into a tree while skiing, or was assassinated. 

But there have been plenty of others for us to endure.  Like spending 6 months watching my dad die after a single car accident broke his neck. 6 months of sitting in the hospital room bedside, playing the 'will he or won't he make it" game. I was  22 yrs old and trying to graduate from college 4 hours away. My family spent holidays in the ICU at Metro Health Medical Center. He finally died-just days before Christmas. Deck the fucking halls.  How about my uncle (my dad's younger brother) dying just months later-on Easter-of a quick moving & rare cancer of the liver? How about my 24 year old cousin being hit and killed by a drunk driver, practically in my own backyard, and my boss making ME write about it on the new? How about 2 more loved ones succumbing to different types of cancer within weeks of each other-both of them were way to young to die. And then another aunt-not very long ago. An entire generation of one family has been nearly wiped out by freak accidents and disease.  I had so many bereavement days in one year that HR made me start showing proof of death.

The latest heartbreak-my new niece who's start to this life is tougher than anyone's should be.

When does it end? Why does my family know more about the in's and out's of living in a hospital than most other families? I don't believe this is God trying to teach us a lesson, because overall, we're really good people. I don't believe this is a character builder, because we have more character, strength and courage than we need. I really believe this is simply the luck of the draw-the hand we've been dealt. If it were a poker game, I'd just walk away. But this is our life. So I guess we keep plodding along and putting on a face of false bravity and hoping for the best. We don't always love the outcome that comes after 'hope' but we don't have a choice. 

So, Nell, when you sang of wanting a happy ending....and being tired of pretending...I'm right there with ya! I don't remember your show enough to recall exactly why you needed a break so badly, but I think you'd agree---perhaps someone else needs it more than you!!

Random Observations from Boston

1. I will never understand why it costs $40 and one hour to get 4 miles? Public Transportation sucks.

2.  Time flies in a hospital-even when you're NOT having fun.

3.  There is possibly nothing that will wrench your guts like seeing a hospital wing full of critically ill newborns.

4.  Boston is freakin HOT this time of year...its dry too, although I hear I'll just miss the Hurricane.

5.  When a doctor wants to meet with a family in one of the many 'consultation rooms'-its never a good thing.

6. I know Breast feeding is supposed to be the most natural thing you can do for your child-but watching (well, sitting with) my sister while she pumps breast milk for a child that still does not know how to suck is the most un-natural thing I think a body can do. It's hellish torture for her. Phyically brutal.  But she does it in the hopes of someday, actually feeding her daughter a bottle.

7. Being away from your own daughter for 3 days is pretty painful too....:(