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

An Open Letter...

To Santa:

I thought I was too old to make you a list, but here it is-my grown up Christmas wish list. I'd put world peace on there but come on-you may be able to wiggle yourself down a chimney but I know your powers are finite. And while its almost silly to make a list this year, as I don't exchange gifts with many people anymore, I am anyway. A girl can hope, right?

1. I wish that my family remains in tact and in Ohio. That Stella gains the strength (and weight) she needs to beat this battle of the heart.  That my daughter remains healthy (although I wouldn't mind-maybe as a stocking stuffer-the best butt rash cream out there. Because its getting the best of us lately). That everone in my family keep of sound mind and body-at least, as well as possible.

2.That my husband and I stick to our guns (and our own list) and really, really make those improvements to our house (and hence, to our lives) that we need to retain our sanity. That means, Santa, in laymans' terms-give me that new bathroom that I want. Really, I've been a very, very good girl. We need to clear out the clutter from our rooms and minds and run the tight ship that we keep talking about.

3. That those who love and know me quit trying to over-analyze everything I say, and do. I vent. Its what I do. Don't take everything I say to heart. I'm anal, neurotic, frustrated, Type-A, and I wear my heart on my sleeve. So yeah, I'm gonna act like a heap of laundry is the end of the world once in a while. All I need from you is to talk me off the ledge sometimes-not push me further off it. K?

4. Santa, my next request is 100% free. I want to know that Im doing ok at this wife/mother/career thing. Just an occasional "you're doing alright". You don't even have to lie and say I'm doing great. Just a positive note of reinforcement once in a blue moon. Because I spend most of my days second and triple guessing myself & my ability to be any of those things...-and then I feel like I'm failing at everything, and then I get sad ,or lash out (see above, #3).  I thrive on 'thatta girl' and I'm certainly never going to get it at work, so I look to you, Santa, and my loved ones to say those little words. I know I'm no Suzy Homemaker, but I'm trying, damnit. Does anyone know that?

5. I'd also love it, Santa, if you could tell my where my sweet ass Oakley Fives 2.0 are? I haven't seen them in months and they were my favorite sunglasses in the world. I know its Ohio so I won't need sunglasses to see past those gray skies, until, oh May or so, but I really want them back. The color , Santa, was root beer. They were great and made me feel like a movie star in them. (well, not quite but they were awesome.)

6. A Blackberry Storm. In pink, if they make it.

Santa, I've been a good girl. I've slipped a few times but overall, I've tried to stay out of "time out"" and the principal's office. And fufilling my wishes would make me a very, very happy girl :)

The Big One

pMore than just a few years ago, I moved back to Cleveland for a new job. Shortly after my return, I began to plan a weeklong birthday celebration for myself and my college roomate. After all, we were turning 27!!!! How did that creep up on us? Hadn't we just left home for the bars and hills of Ohio University?

As with all good weekend long parties, we gave this one a name. "3 Years Til The Big One" was a success-for the most part. We laughed, we partied, we hosted about 50 people in my tiny apartment, and we snickered whenever we discussed the BIG 3-0. Me-turning 30 someday? Wow-bet I'll have my shit together by then!!

And like birthdays do, 27 came and went. As did 28. 29. The Big 30 snuck up on me, just six short weeks after I said my 'I do's'. No major party necessary-we were all still recovering from the reception of a lifetime. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I had crossed over into something new. Adulthood. I know it really starts at 18 but I was no where near being an adult at 18. And my 20's were about getting to know me. Getting to know what I was going to do for a living. Getting to know what kind of men to NOT tolerate anymore. Getting to be comfortable in my own skin.

But 30? Now the experiment is over. If my 20's were dress rehearsals, then my 30's would be the first act. I had to start thinking like an adult, acting like an adult, and ENJOYING being an adult. Huh. Easier said than done.

I'm not just looking back on turning 30 for no reason. Today is an important day. Little Laura Lou turns 30 today. And as one of my college friends asked last night-How the hell did THAT happen? My baby sister who wouldn't make the bed (even when I bribed her with ice cream), who first came down to visit me in college at the tender age of 14, who looked at me at my '3 years til the big one' party and said 'oh God, you're old". Now she IS The big one! And yeah, if you're counting, that really makes me OLD!

So Happy Birthday Lou! I know 29 wasn't the best year for you. If pink is the new black, then 30 is the new 25. So go out, and celebrate and enjoy yourself! And before long, we'll be celebrating another big party-it won't be too much longer before I'll be planning my next '3 Years Til the Big One'-'cept this time, I'm thinking Hawaii!

 

The Straight Dope

makes me feel vindicated. That's because it confirms what I've strongly believed for so long-that I do have an addiction problem.

I don't smoke crack. Drop acid. Drink too much (well, not usually) or even smoke cigarettes(well, unless I'm drinking too much).

But I love my chapstick. Or lipgloss. Or anything that covers my kissers with slick, greasy goo. A co-worker once studied me from across the room and said I slathered the suckers 6 times in a 5 minute time span. I wasn't even aware -of her watching or of doing it. I'm sure I'm guilty. I love the stuff like a fat kid loves cake. 

Thank you, Straight Dope, for letting me know my addiction is real. Now, does anyone know of a 12step program I can join? 

http://www.straightdope.com/columns/read/1298/is-it-possible-to-be-addicted-to-chap-stick

Holiday Jeer...

So Thanksgiving is 2 weeks away which means, face it, the holidays are already here.  It won't be long before the retail world clusters in Halloween with Christmas b/c we kinda just blend from one to the other.  Maybe next year, I should give out candy canes for trick or treat.

Every year, I have to force myself into the holidays & that 'spirit' we're all supposed to have. But its not easy. The other day, when a co-worker mentioned a radio station already playing holiday music, I cringed. When I saw crews putting up the Santa display in the middle of the mall, I felt a sense of dread and panic in my gut. When I realized I only have 4 paychecks left before December 25th, I think I cried. Are these the feelings that Jolly Old St. Nick is trying to convey? Where is my holiday cheer???

For those who know me well, its a rhetorical question. There are deeply personal reasons why the holidays are tough on me. But I WANT to be jolly. I want to have that Christmas spirit, and cheer, and feel goodwill towards men. I want to BE a Norman Rockwell picture of a family, singing carols while stringing popcorn together for the garland, as my daughter watches 'Its a Wonderful Life' in her footie pajamas. Small problem with that picture. We don't sing carols. We don't string popcorn together. We have no fireplace. And I doubt my daughter will be interested in anything but knocking down our tree altogether this year.

The ghost of Christmas past would remind me that as a child, the holidays WERE magical. They weren't about complicated work & family schedules, spending money you don't have, fighting sweaty crowds & grumpy clerks at the mall, or feeling the slightest bit sad. The ghost would remind me that as a child, I couldn't WAIT to hear the first Christmas song on the radio-no matter how early! That I couldn't wait to make my list...or for my extended family's Christmas Eve festivities, or to leave Santa and Rudolph a note and some cookies. That waking up Christmas morning and realizing that the day had arrived was the BEST feeling ever! That the harsh realities of what the Ghost of Christmas future had to show us was unimaginable.

So now I'm a parent and I will try my hardest to make sure that Scarlett only sees that Norman Rockwell portrait for as long as possible. That she doesn't see the hardships and raw, painful emotions involved with this time of year for her mommy and other members of her family. That I smile -even if through clenched teeth. That I not allow my bitteress to seep through into her soul and leave a soiled imprint on her heart. That I remember to include Jesus, and Santa and charity and humanity in teaching her the meaning of the day. Maybe in teaching her to love the holiday season, I'll learn something too-and remember how to love this time of year, all over again.

short lived celebration

Election Day '08 came and went without any major problems or snafu's, amazingly. No hanging chads, no BOE screw-ups, no incorrect information being spewed over the airways. For a gal who works in the media, what else could I ask for? It made for a long day, but it was exciting to watch history in the making. For those of us glued to our tvs's, it almost felt a little like a superbowl party-lots o' food, drinks and the 'who's going to win' suspense. To top it off, my 'team' won. I felt great, despite 3 hours of sleep in 2 days.

But, as par for the course, my victory lasted only a few hours. Because 2 people I love are hurting and I can't help. Sweet little Stella experienced congestive heart failure yesterday and is back in the ICU -at the Clinic-not Boston-yet. God knows if they'll ship her back there. They've only been home 2 weeks. We just threw a welcome home party for her. I'm still not even sure what to make of this late breaking information because it just happened.

Just hours prior to receiving this news, I held a lengthy conversation w/ my college roomate about our very good friend, who's battling cancer-round two.I got a better idea of just how sick he is. But he's going it alone.  By himself. Because he's stubborn, and anti-social, and a man. And he doesnt' want to 'concern' us with his problems. How can men lie in bed and whine for 4 days when they have a head cold, but want to battle life or death illnesses by themselves? He's only in Cleveland for his job and he doesn't know a slew of people here, besides me.

So my grand plan is now to force my love on him. Showing up un-announced. Sitting with him all weekend, if I have to. Being brave for him, and not letting him see how scared I am. Now I'll be working that around trips to the NICU.

maybe this is why I never let myself get too excited or upbeat -for anything...I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop, and believe me, it always does.

I CAN bake but.....

you wouldn't know it to look at my "pumpkin cookies" that I tried to bake for Halloween. They became rock hard balls of orange-in fact, I think my husband mistook them for Sweet Potatoes. This is not the time to bring into question MY culinary skills.

The real problem is I'm grocery store challenged. I've been buying my own food for 16 years and I still can't figure it out. I always walk out without all my ingredients. Even when I try to play the boy scout game & come prepared, I seem to lose my grip while walking through the aisles. Prettily packaged products call my name and I am suddenly wandering around, in a daze.

I've tried everything.

I make lists.

I try to go through the store in categories.

None of it works.

So on Friday morning, I walked out of the store without flour-for cookies!!!

I had the vanilla, I had the granulated AND brown sugar, I had the pumpkin!

Didn't grab the flour.

Didn't have enough to make the cookies-a fact I didn't realize until the egg, butter, baking soda, etc. were sitting in the bowl- just moments away from becoming batter!!!!

I tried to improvise. Something else I suck at.

So the pumpkin cookies are orange rocks.

But they didn't go in the trash. I'm saving them. For something. I'm not sure what.

Batting practice next spring, maybe...