Being 40something...

Is being homesick a real illness?

2009-01-04T05:52:00.002-05:00

I've had the fortune, or misfortune, to work in Europe the past 1.5 yrs. During that time I've made absolutely no progress in making friends, enjoying my time here or building a life. I still have unopened boxes in various rooms, no curtains or blinds on the windows and generally have a temporary living situation look and feel to my life. As if I'm walking in space, treading water, in a holding pattern. I want to go home. I want to go home so badly my heart aches the same it did when I lost the love of my life.

I go to work in the morning to an office where my German colleague nitpicks my American ways to death every chance she gets and constantly reminds me what I can and cannot do. Innovation and pro-active thinking is discouraged and I am supposed to just buck up and conform. I am miserable there. Unfortunately we sit across from each other in a rather small office, so there is no escape. We work mostly in silence or minimal conversation as required to get the job done. I am bored, unchallenged and dismayed. Speaking with my various supervisors and HR has had no results (you don't have to like your co-workers), speaking with my colleague only resulted in her pointing out my failures as a "German" employee. A request to be transferred to HQ in the U.S. has been shot down with my boss pointing out the terrible financial crisis that this is just not going to happen. Wouldn't I be better off looking for another job on my own?

She may be right in a way. However, a little over a year ago I dissolved my U.S. household, tore my teenage son out of his life and made of to Germany to work for this company. I received no assistance finding an appropriate school for him, no assistance in assimilating into this "new" culture - I was simply left to my own devices. I still have no clue how various things work over here and am currently embroiled in a fight with the wicked witch of the west in a landlord-tenant dispute (me being the tenant) over mold in the house. She's given me three months notice as required by German law and wants us out. My son thinks I should take this opportunity to find a job back home and blow this joint. Lord, do I ever wish this could happen!

For an outsider the question always comes up: "Why did your company move you here?" I will tell you why. I was born and raised in Germany. I lived here until 1985 before I emigrated. After that, I had never set foot again on German soil, never spoke another word of German. I assimilated into the American culture wholeheartedly, raised my two boys there, went to college there, had a life and a career. Life was not always easy as a single mom, but I did alright for myself.

The assumption was, that I was born here, hence I should have no problem readjusting to life here. Nothing could have been further from the truth! I spoke very little German when I first arrived and I still have difficulty with the language. I have no experience with German accounting and hence am delegated to responsibilities that have nothing to do with my skills, experience or talents. I am an MBA that opens the mail. answers the phones and does data entry. Once a month I am working on budgets and forecasts. Woot! Shoot me now, please. Why did they want me here???

We speak English at home, we watch English TV, we live as we did in the U.S. Yes, I enjoy the occasional typical German dinner, evening out or going to any one of the festivities. But then I go home and wish I could get on a plane and fly back to the states.

I am so homesick that I fight depression every day. I find it difficult to function on a normal level, have no interest in anything other than devising ways to get back home. Given the current economic situation in the states I realize this is an uphill battle. No, more like Hamburger Hill. And there's me fighting with no more ammo. I'm simply out of bullets.

My son attends a private school, a good school and I'm grateful for that. He will have a great international education he can take to any college. He will also be 18 in a year and has made it known that he will leave to go back the first chance he gets - I guess with or without me. On the surface this should be ok since all kids are going to leave eventually. In our case this is not so ideal. He has no one in his life but me. No father, no family, no support network. It has always been just me and the kids. To think of my youngest without a support net in the world only deepens my depression and adds to my many sleepness nights.

I'm praying for a miracle, something ...anything...to light my way to the solution. I want to go home.

Career paralysis

2008-09-03T13:18:00.002-05:00

I've gone through some incredible changes in the past few months and consequently haven't posted much. My thoughts were to disjointed to even articulate - let alone share in a medium such as this. I have however figured out the cause of my increasing discomfort and inclinination to take flight immediately. I am in career paralysis.

I've worked in my field off and on for almost 25 years and I can do my job with my eyes closed. It poses no challenge, no reward, no excited and definitely doesn't motivate me to get up in the morning full of gusto. I've simply reached a stage in my life where I need meaning to my existence - and that includes how I earn my living. Changing careers won't be easy. Exploring my inner abilities, talents and drive on the other hand is quite easy. Finding a job that combines all of those? Tough but doable. Wish me luck in this new journey.

The joys of buying a car. NOT!

2008-06-06T11:57:00.003-05:00

After a year of riding the streetcars and buses of Bremen (great public transportation over here!), I thought I might want a car. It's just a hassle to have to take a cab home with larger grocery purchases. Add to that the exorbitant costs of train and flight tickets anywhere in Germany or Europe, buying a car seemed like a prudent idea.

The financial whiz that I am I sat and worked out what it would cost me to own a car over here. Let's pretend I'm buying a new car. A brand new Ford Focus with minor options such as AC and a GPS system will set you back about 20,000 Euros or 31,448 dollars at today's rate. Add in the cost of insurance at around 140 Euros a month for comprehensive ($220), annual taxes at around 400 Euros ($628), TUV (inspections) at around 80 Euros ($125), two oil changes per year at 70 Euros a pop ($220) PLUS.....drum roll... gasoline of course.

I know that everyone is in an uproar over high gas prices in the U.S. right now; try paying 1.60 Euro per liter which translates to roughly 10 bucks a gallon. Yes, I said TEN BUCKS A GALLON! It's not just expensive - it's obscene!

Final tally: to own a car you will need to shell out 3,500 Euros a year just for upkeep, 190 Euro for car payments and roughly 2,000 Euros for gasoline. Grand total: 7,780 Euros or 12 grand in dollars. I know this is mind boggling and I am amazed as to how many people own cars over here!!

On the flip side I spend maybe 50 Euros for public transport, plus the occasional 25 for a cab. Being the math wizard that I am, I will either have to get a second job to pay for the privilege of owning a car or stick with public transport. Goodness, I still can't get over 10 bucks a gallon...

I am not a prude! Am I?

2008-06-05T12:50:00.007-05:00

The Germans are a curious bunch. They will tax you to death, provide ten pages of paperwork to fill out if you want anything done and demand months of patience to receive your tax refund. They also embrace nudity whole heartily and with such fervor that I am sometimes taken aback. News in the nude? No biggie. Ride the streetcar in a pair of thongs? No problem. Take a stroll down the street on your bicycle complete nude? Yeah, and?

Switch to German TV and you will be bombarded with nudity everywhere. The favorite amongst all TV ads these days is a model advertising LCD televisions and computers for a local chain Saturn (the German equivalent to Best Buy) completely in the nude. You can see part of the young lady here. Late night German TV is dominated on most channels by various gals (and sometimes guys) begging you to call them and make a date. While this is done in the U.S. as well the Germans take it to an entire different level. Each ad is a soft porn all by itself. Wow, is all I can say.

My first experience with this nonchalance toward nudity came about my second day in Germany. Riding the streetcar a young man entered wearing nothing but a pair of thongs, an undershirt and shoes. "Stuff" was hanging out everywhere and my son almost had a heart attack. Then of course it was the full assault of German TV (I've since given up watching late night TV here). Today, as I was working away at my desk I happened to glance out of my window and saw... Egads!... a butt naked man in his sixties riding by on his bicycle! There was not a strip of clothing on the old man. I had no words!

I asked my co-worker if she had seen it too and she didn't; nor did she believe me. Until someone from down the hall in the IT office screamed: "Did you just see that old guy riding by? He was NAKED!!!!" So there you have it, story corroborated. It was the talk of the office all day.

Entire sections of the beaches at the local lakes are sectioned off for FKK folks (Freikoerperkultur - Free Body Culture, or if you want to be lose, or just plain old nudists). There are resorts that cater to these folks and entire planes can be booked to get there - in the nude. I have to say they take their nudity as seriously as their taxes! Nobody is bothered by it and I suppose my prudishness is viewed as typical verklemmt (inhibited) American. I never thought of myself as verklemmt but I have to admit that in the face of German reality maybe I am, just a little.

All that in your face is just making me a little uneasy and I don't really have a ready answer as to why that is. We are born nude. As kids we love to be nude. We have sex in the nude (most of the time). We shower nude. So where is this reaction coming from? Somewhere along the line someone bread it out of us, that's where! We are taught at Sunday bible study that the body is to be respected and all that and being nude just doesn't demand respect.

Since I no longer subscribe to church doctrine I think I will have to get used to respecting all that nudity around me. Not that you'd ever catch ME taking it all off in public!

The value of keeping a diary

2008-06-03T12:29:00.005-05:00

I started keeping a diary at 14. During those tumultuous days my mother was married to husband number three and he was barely 10 years my senior. I still don't understand whatever possessed her to marry him although I can well imagine what possessed him to marry her. After all, I was the hapless object of his crude advances until I finally got out of there. One should not speak ill of the dead, or so I've been told, but he was one sick perverted puppy.

It was a truly trying time for the teenage girl that I was; already lost and confused with my growing up and oft mental confusions, I had no outlet for my frustrations and heartaches. I started a diary. Carefully hidden under my pillow I faithfully jotted down disjointed thoughts and was as brutally honest with my paper friend as I could never be with anyone else. Until one day my step-father announced that he had read it and I got the beating of my life. I guess he didn't like my candid evaluations of his deformed brain.

Since then, I've started keeping diaries through the years, especially during my less than happy marriages. One thing I never could do again is brutally honest and pour my soul into this self-help tool. I always wrote with the underlying fear that someone would eventually get their hands on it and read it. Such a breach of privacy and trust can never be restored with the reader. My most intimate thoughts are not the bestseller of the day nor did (or would) I ever invite anyone to do so. I censored myself and consequently the value of keeping a diary in the first place was nil. I may as well have been working on a novel.

Since I am no longer in a relationship and my son has no interest in my inner workings (I am just mom and a non-person) I do believe I will give it another try. To bear my soul and have a dialogue with myself could be therapeutic and provide some relief. Lord knows I need it! The cynical me of today is not someone I like very much most of the time. I long for the joy that I was able to experience before I got whacked over the head with reality. And boy did it ever whack me hard.

I suppose you could deduce that writing a blog is therapeutic in a way since I am writing. However, I am censoring myself and most of the thoughts that need to be said out loud never make it on this page of mine. They may be implied - but never expressed. I have no idea who is reading my rantings on a regular basis or who is simply engaging in a little drive-by reading when landing here through some random Google search.

I argue with myself on this point quite a bit. Do I really expect anyone to read between the lines of a blog? Most folks don't have that sort of patience cruising Web 2.0. Information overload is not conducive to keeping any one's interest for long. Besides, if I really ripped lose someone might call the paddy waggon. Ha!

I'm feeling a bit contemplative tonight, but I am 40something and I'm entitled dammit.

I is more than a pronoun

2008-06-01T06:31:00.003-05:00

My English teacher would always remind me not to start every sentence with "I", which proved difficult when recounting for the 10th time "What I did last summer...". Even now I have to re-read my writing (with his grating voice in my ear) and often end up re-writing it. Naturally, if I'm recounting a memory and every other sentence begins with "I" this merely means that I am at the center of all the great action. I am the heroine and the center of the universe in my recount of whatever adventure (real or imagined as it were). So why such disdain for "I"?

In management classes we were taught "there is no "I" in team". Granted, this makes sense - even if quite a few of my past and current co-workers apparently never took a management class since I get to hear "I did this, I suggested this, I re-worked that..." on and on ad nauseum. But I digress again...

In the context of a personal blog this little pronoun will inevitably creep in countless times. Afterall I am talking about myself, my thoughts, my ponderings and endless philosophizing. Although I have learned over time to be courteous to strangers, put others before me, care for those not able to do so (at least where my children are concerned) and have general compassion for other's plights.. the fact is my ego, my Id, my superego will always take precedence over anything else.

For better or worse I am stuck with me. I can no more divorce myself than I could chop off my right arm and eat it. Ok, maybe a strange analogy but if you really think about it, it fits. Our thoughts as people always revolve around us, even if our mouths say otherwise. We think about the wrongs done to us (real or perceived), dreams and goals we want to accomplish, beat ourselves up for making mistakes, regret our actions (or not), draw conclusions from our own experiences and often project those unto others. It's all about ME, MYSELF and "I". Always.

One could argue that Mother Teresa never thought about herself in her quest to aid those unfortunate souls in Calcutta slums. I'm of the opinion that unless she had defective genes, she did indeed think about herself a great deal. At the very least I am willing to bet that she often grappled with her faith being exposed to such suffering all the time. So again, there is the "I".

Even when we pray, which I don't much anymore, we often talk with God or whatever we want to call this higher power in terms that are comforting to us. Psalm 23 says, "The Lord is MY shepherd, "I" shall not want..." So there we have it. Even in the bible it was all about us. Being that I am really not a religious person nor really know much about the bible save for this remnant of my grandma's teachings, I will rest my case.

When I lay awake at night ruminating my past, my day, my week... I certainly don't attach meaning to everything, but I do try to draw conclusions that will help me get up the next day. Else, what is the point? I can draw paralells all day long in what others have done or said but in the end it is only my decisions, my thoughts, my experiences that really matter. Those are the only reasons that could convince me to change my mind, change my ways or change my way of living.

My thought for the day: unless it is the business world where "I" certainly doesn't have a place, in every day living I feel it's paramount to inject a lot of "I" into our thoughts. I certainly would go bananas if I were required to only think about you, them, they and theirs.

The case for selective amnesia

2008-05-30T05:52:00.002-05:00

After seeing Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind I often pondered whether there would be an ultimate benefit to erasing bad memories. While I admit that my negative memories often outnumber those of a more positive nature, my life hasn't been all about drama and chaos. There are quite a few months and years in between that were full of joy and happiness. Granted, these aren't as numerous as I'd like them to be - not even close. However, if I chose to remove those that still haunt me and which happened to occur in the middle of a more, shall we say, relative calm period, wouldn't I do myself a disservice?

And how does one pick and chose what stays and what goes? Do I discard the horrible fisticuffs I got into with one of my exes but leave the make-up sex after? What would be the context of the sex then? It couldn't be make-up sex anymore since there was nothing to make up for...

My mind has done a wonderful job applying selective amnesia to a number of periods in my life. I did not have to consciously go out of my way to forget, they are just gone. What a wonderful survival mechanism we have at our disposal at times. Areas of our mind will band together and form a barrier to keep us sane. I must say I wish my mind, at times, was a bit more on top of things. I'm remembering way more than I appreciate.

I suppose at the same token I've often wished I could go back and change some things, but then I'd end up creating a paradox by undoing a whole lot of other aspects that I really do want to keep. So, the case for selective amnesia isn't as simple as the above mentioned movie would make it out to be. One, I'd have to accept the complete loss of entire years of my existence. Two, a lot of those memories have formed me to be the person that I am today. I would never profess to be perfect, far from it. Still, who would I be without those ugly experiences?

Could I still feel compassion and empathy for those going through the same troubles? Or would it leave me distant for lack of understanding? If I chose to forget my entire childhood, or let's just say a third of it, would I still love the taste of cherries on my ice cream? Riding my bike? Would I even be able to ride a bike still? Would I forget how to swim? The smell of roses? The list is endless.

Yes, I wish I could erase some of those ugly things in the back of my mind that seem to have a way of popping up when I least want them to. Naturally I also wish these had never happened in the first place. Wishing never got me very far. Dealing with them in a more realistic way is tough, as I have a tendency to keep shoving it way, way into the depth of the dark corners of my brain. If I want to have any chance of normalcy I'll just have to forget screwing a hole in my head. Facing my demons head-on at some point sounds a lot less painful.

Single - to be or not to be

2008-05-29T07:11:00.002-05:00

While intellectually I know that I have been single for nearly 15 years, if you don't count my three month half marriage a few years ago, emotionally this is still a bit abstract. When my youngest was not even two I was thrust into the world as a newly minted single mom. Still being fairly young there were plenty of dates, having fun and the occasional boyfriend.

Nothing ever lasted. Thinking it over, I think I was pretty cynical about the happy for ever-after thing already. My heart broken a few times I was in no mood to set my needs aside any longer and go all out to satisfy "my man's" whims and wishes 24/7. At the first sign of trouble I either bolted or showed him the door. I had no patience for jealous bullshit, trying to change me or make me over, projected an image of me as the wifey-type and various other methods of keeping my man happy - all while forgetting about my own happiness. I grew pretty resentful after my third divorce about always putting the man first, the kids second and me last. Obviously that method didn't work out so well for me.

Over time, I've still not become a master at keeping myself happy. I poured my energy into keeping my kids happy, well, at least the best I could considering the first three years I really was an emotional wreck. Add to this that my middle son was diagnosed oppositional defiant, depressed and ADHD - my days were so full of them and their problems, you get the picture.

My youngest is 16 now and while we are still close he is growing up. Friends and personal interests are much more important than hanging out with mom; as it should be. Yet, the thought of him leaving, the last one of my boys, scares the crap out of me. Mainly because I truly have not learned to take care of my needs. Most of the time I have no idea what those even are. So much time have I spent on giving to others that the rest was forgotten or ignored.

I struggle to remember what brought me pleasure before I was married, before I had kids. Those past times seem childish now. But are they, really? What would it hurt to pick up a paintbrush and paint a picture? Grab paper and write again? (This blog doesn't count!). Go out and go dancing? Hang out lazily at the public pool all day? None of those have any real draw on me at the moment.

Perhaps it doesn't help that I have this view of myself at times, that runs counter to what comes out of my mouth. I am pretty adept at putting up a strong, cheery front when all I want to do is curl up in a ball. I really struggle to yank myself into 2008 when inside it is often 1980.

Then, some men view having multiple divorces as me being somehow damaged goods. Maybe they're right in one sense. But does that mean I am untouchable, unteachable and unreachable? God, I hope not.

One missing link recovered

2008-05-28T06:52:00.002-05:00

For giggles I joined one of those classmate search engines and created a profile. I never really thought that I would find anyone I went to high school with. For one, I couldn't for the life of me remember first names, then the last names. Tough to find folks if you only have a face in your memory. Maybe I supressed them for whatever reason. Thinking back it probably wasn't that traumatic of an experience. I honestly don't remember all that much. That's bad, isn't it? If you think you spend years with the same people day in and day out and then 30 years later it's all gone.

Then again considering I was incognito and out of the country for over 23 years, I forgive myself for lapses in memory. Ha!

I searched my old high school's class mate entries and when I saw the names a light bulb went off in my head. There they all were! Some were unrecognizable to me. I looked at the photos of them now, their names (which I did remember) and then tried to picture them back then. Impossible. Although I will say there were one or two that looked exactly the same. Wow.

One old class mate even emailed me back but I don't think she liked me response. I saw her face and instantly remembered our 9th grade dance recital. Silver Convention was really big back then and my best friend and I had choreographed a dance to Fly Robin Fly. For reasons that I cannot recall this other girl ended up with my spot of the final recital in the gym in front of the whole school. I was really upset about it since I felt I had put my creative juices into it and there she was - stealing my thunder. Pissed me off to be honest.

In my email to her I mentioned the Fly Robin Fly song and she hasn't replied since then. Now either she's forgotten about it or she doesn't want to talk about it. Either way I've been hit with a merciless barrage of forgotten memories since signing up. Talk about a headache!

Foray into current politics

2008-05-25T03:47:00.002-05:00

I'm not generally a very politically engaged person but have been inspired by the phenom Barack Obama. He is the first presidential candidate that I have ever donated money to. Being far removed in Germany at the moment I can't help with volunteers, canvass or phonebanking - but I can express nevertheless my unwaivering support.

Yesterday I entered "my" regular chat room on AOL (Places: Charlotte for anyone who cares to know). The usual banter took place and I can't even recall how the conversation took a turn into politics. Considering Obama on the state handily I expected to see support and enthusiasm. Instead the chat turned ugly, at times brutally racist (the N...word was thrown about a LOT!) and the right wing conservatives outnumbered everyone else probably 6-1. No matter what I said or how logical my argument for Obama, I was shot down with hateful verbal beatings. To say that I was in utter shock and dismay is an incredible understatement.

I really don't want to get into details of the entire chat mess but I will say that I am disappointed and ashamed. I thought Charlotte was better than that. Sweeping generalization of the entire Charlotte population is not intended but there you have it. I saw ugliness, hate and racism in a raw form that took my breath away. I gave up after an hour of defending my views and my candidate of choice. It's probably time I found myself a different crowd to virtually hang out with.

My musical evolution

2008-05-24T05:41:00.003-05:00

As I find myself once more tuning through various radio stations to find just the perfect song, it strikes me how music can define ones life in terms of lyrics and rhythm. A song can bring instant recollection of summers spent at the lake (In The Summertime, Mungo Jerry), my hands sticking out the car window capturing the wind on the way home as Simon & Garfunkel's "Cecilia" blasted on the old radio. These are early memories and I could not have been older than six or seven at that time.

My early teens were spent listening to the Bee Gees, Chic and Dr. Hook, wearing gold skin-tight satin pants with incredibly high heels attempting to mimic Olivia Newton-John. It was a carefree and fun time.

My family pretty much fell victim to all sorts of dysfunction and alcoholism run rampant during my mid-teens and my musical taste went right along with it. Black Sabbath, Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin blared through my days of anger, disappointment and gave me a shield of the horrid day-to-day realities. This was also the time I got my first tattoo. Rebellion to the max!

When I met the love of my life, he introduced me to classical music and Ravel's Bolero will forever remain in my memory as the song to make love to.

During the 80s (and after my first and second divorce) I wasn't really certain who I was, who or what I wanted to be; consequently, my music choices ran the gamut from Duran Duran, Aha and Eddie Money all the way to Toto, Kansas and America. I never bought entire albums, it was one song from each artist that spoke to me and that's what I stuck with. Still do today.

In the 90s I discovered jazz and R&B; George Benson, Najee, Grover Washington Jr. and Marvin Gaye. The soothing guitar rifts, caressing sax and gentle crooning calmed my frayed nerves and oft frazzled chaos that was my life.

As I survey my digital library of tunes, re-arranged to suit my every mood, I can at an instant transport to good times as well as bad. I sing along, most often out of tune, sometimes not (I can do a hell of a Marilyn Monroe. Ha!). I cry when the memory is painful, I get up and dance around my living room if the sun is shining and Huey Lewis tells me that "It's hip to be square". I can recall jumping up and down on my bed as a four-year-old when Evans & Evans lament about the year "2525". Elton John sang about Daniel on my way to the hospital to give birth to my first-born; that's the middle name he got as my first gift to him. I sang to my now last ex-husband that he would "never get my love" although En Vogue sang it much better.

Of course, the list of musical genres is endless, as are memories that shaped who I am today. I still cannot decide who I really am, maybe I should just leave it be and enjoy the variety.

The red-headed stepchild - Envy

2008-05-23T00:50:00.002-05:00

I work with a woman six years my senior; she has worked for this same company since completing her apprenticeship there almost 30 ago. She's been married to the same man almost 25 years and has lived in the same house and same town just as long. I find this vexing and at times can feel pings of envy.

Having moved about the world for most of my life, having survived three-and-a-half failed marriages and having switched jobs quite often I cannot fit my idea of life into hers. I am forever searching for the next best thing while she is content plodding along doing the same thing every single day.

She is content with managing her household, going on the annual vacation with her family and starting all over next year. Just the thought of repetition and drudgery makes me want to pack my bags and move to New Zealand.

I do ask myself though if there is not some comfort in this predictable pattern of life. Afterall, there are no real surprises. Tomorrow is another work day, Saturday we do the laundry, Sunday we weed the garden and in-between we take care of a husband and child. On the surface she has the perfect life.

Yet, I can't help but notice a slight twinge of envy when I have conversations with her about my many travels and moves. My experiences in other places, towns, countries are the polar opposites of hers. I am what they call here a multi-culti. Apparently this label is applied to anyone that can't sit still and be satisfied with their lot in life as well as somewhat of a world traveler who speaks multiple languages. I'm still trying to figure that one out. But I digress.

Should I be satisfied with my lot in life? And what exactly is that? I tried the marriage and housewife route and failed at it miserably. I couldn't be bothered chasing down every single dustbunny lurking under furniture and have a smallish zoo of various spider populations keeping my house fly and mosquito free. My windows get washed when I feel like it (which is next to never) and cooking receives the same dismissive attitude.

My co-worker's views on the world and how people should live their lives sometimes come across as small-minded and judgemental. She can't understand why I would want to switch jobs every three to five years and finds this manner of working almost psychotic. To her, this is a surefire sign of inadequacy and a lack of ability to adapt. Adapt to what? Groupthink?

I think I have managed to adapt quite well to all sorts of challenges. It's not that easy to move from one continent to the next on your own and hit the ground running. The inevitable bumps in the road have served to strengthen my resolve and given me tenacity. Starting over is harder as I get older yet I am still willing to subject myself to the ordeal. Why?

If you saw my home you would see a reflection of me - no artwork or fancy curtains, nothing permanent affixed anywhere. It is much easier to pack up and leave without the trappings of what I consider giving in to a life of permancy and boredom. I see a transatlantic job search in my not so far future.

Body image..Germanstyle

2008-05-22T04:13:00.002-05:00

In getting older I, as so many of us over 40, have noticed my expanding waist and tummy. Since I loathe exercising for a number of reasons, the least of which is of course sheer laziness, I've sort of learned to tolerate the extra weight. I say tolerate because I honestly don't like it, just put up with it until I can figure out a way to get rid of it. Kind of like letting down a lover easy because you don't want to hurt his feelings. Yes I know, I have a strange relationship with my body fat. Whatever.

For whatever reason I switched on German television yesterday, the movie sounded interesting so I tuned in. I'm not going to rehash the whole plot but will say this: German women seem to have a much healthier body image as well as relationship with their curves. The main character of this movie was a single mother about my age and with a few extra pounds as well. She wasn't particularily beautiful in any sense, not like US standards where all actresses are made up to the hilt. She was pretty and homely and a little pudgy. She didn't seem to care much and throughout the entire movie I got to see her buck naked a few times as she was having sex with her new man or even just running around the house naked. I was a little stunned. Oh and the ladies daughter came home in the middle of this giggling and jiggling and the mom didn't even cover up! Wow. She actually put on an apron over the nakedness, barely covering anything of course, and proceeded to fix lunch for the daughter. Yikes, is all I could think.

I mean my American moral compass tells me that this is an 8 pm movie and for God's sakes the kids are still up! I was also slightly in awe that society here views the human body not as something to be ashamed of but to revere no matter what its size. Probably explains the thousands of folks naked on European beaches. Nobody cares.

So why do I have such a warped view of my not size zero body? Why is it so damned important to me to be thin again like I was at 23? Why do we as women constantly buy into this thin is beautiful crap and torture ourselves with endless diets and hours of gym visits? Yeah, yeah, eating healthy is important and the 30 mins of exercise a day I get in easily with all the walking and biking I'm doing here. I'm referring to the whole beat-yourself-senseless personal loathing were we become damn near suicidal because we are voluptuous and not Keira Knightly.

Well, I have vowed to throw out all my size 7 pants and suits and shirts that I've been hoarding for 10 years hoping to eventually fit into them again. I think I'll reward myself with a trip to the mall this weekend and celebrate my newfound freedom!

Desperately seeking...

2008-05-21T12:52:00.002-05:00

A couple of weeks ago I decided to grab the bull by the horns and posted an ad in one of the local community boards. I felt a bit silly asking for "friends" to hang out with but truly didn't really have much choice.

In the states, I had no problems going out alone and always met people fairly easily. The folks in Bremen are a bit suspicious of any female out on her own. Especially if she starts talking to you and she doesn't even know you! I never thought I had the lady-of-the night sort of look, but apparently they look like average everyday women here. Why else would I get such strange reactions?

Sure, if I want to sit in one of the local pubs and proceed to get soused with some beers and Korn (the German equivalent to Everclear and nasty stuff!) I would certainly find someone of adult age to talk to. However, the conversation would quickly deterioriate into drunken blabbering. Not my idea of a good time. Plus, I like to remember what I talked about - what would be the point otherwise??

So this ad of mine was difficult to write but I made myself to it anyway. Surprisingly enough I did get quite a number of responses. Mostly women but some married couples as well. Interesting I thought. I mean, the ad didn't in any way even hint that I might be looking for swingers but hey, to each his own, right?

I've met up with a couple of nice ladies for coffee and a quick chat. I'm not sure that I really connected with them though. I'm a bit of a loner to begin with so it's hard for me to make instant friends. Add to that that I've been on my own and without any close friends for close to 10 years, it's really a big jump for me to put myself out there like that. Ugh. I get nervous just thinking about it! Right up there with public speaking!

I'll meet up with a couple more ladies and if that still doesn't pan out, maybe I'll have to join the local Sportsverein (it's like the Y I guess). Nothing will forge friendships faster than working up a sweat I've been told. Ha!

Charlie's Angels to the rescue? Eeek!

2008-05-19T06:50:00.002-05:00

A shrink would've had a blast with last nights goings-on in my dreamworld. Seems Farrah and Jackie dropped in for a visit to helpfully point out that I really need to pull myself together for my son's sake. Where on earth did they come from? I certainly don't remember inviting them.

Most importantly, what does it say about my state of mind to be offered advice by 70s sexkittens? Never mind that they were (and are) absolutely right. My oh my.

The heartbreak of losing my house

2008-05-18T04:46:00.002-05:00

Photos of my now foreclosed home in Charlotte and my now rented home in Germany.

When I took the position here in Germany, I had my house on the market for almost six weeks already. The market was still relatively strong and my agent assured me there would be no problem selling it pronto. He was wrong. Not only wrong, but dead wrong. It didn't sell.

This was the first house I purchased (and my only house) with the help of a HUD loan. I paid 127k for it in 2000. Five years later I took out a second to replace the roof and fix various other things. By the time I left I owed 170k, and the house as appraised at 190k+. Great deal right?

Then the move to Germany happened, as mentioned, it didn't sell. There was no way I could maintain a mortgage in the states and rent a place overseas as well. When it still didn't sell two months into my Europe adventure I had to make the most excruciating decision of my life. I had to stop paying the mortgage. Somewhere I had the illogical hope that by some miracle it would sell still and I would be ok. Never happened. It went into foreclosure.

I resisted the urge to look at Zillow to see what was going on with it. Yesterday I caved and looked. The house is currently on sale for 137k - way below appraised value. To make matters worse the agent that bought it at auction was using MY original photos of it to post it for sale! I was not only heartbroken but also livid! I summarily logged in with my own screenname and deleted the photos. I suppose I was feeling spiteful for being robbed of the home that I raised my children in. How juvenile you say? I don't care.

So with all that said, this is then another kink in my return home. A foreclosure on my credit report is definitely a big whammy. Then again, half the country can boast this tidbit on their reports now, so maybe one more is not so bad.

The emotions of failure and dispair are punishment that I try valiantly to endure and sometimes ignore. I don't think I'm doing so well with that.

Running on empty

2008-05-16T05:40:00.002-05:00

I've always been a Jackson Browne fan, so his song (see title) is more than appropriate at this time in my life. It ends with "You know I dont even know what Im hoping to find, running into the sun but Im running behind". I couldn't have said it any better. Truthfully I don't have words to describe just what I've been doing with my life since I became a legal adult. It has been such a chaos of relationships, places, people, my children. The more I got entangled into this crazy web called life the less I knew what the hell to do with it.

I guess we all ask ourselves "is this all there is?" I never really asked myself that question until now. I was so busy moving forward, keepin' on truckin', running this way and that and trying to stay sane. Somewhere along this timeline I've become a cynic and somewhat numb.

I suppose in a way I caved in to the endless barrage of abuse life heaps upon us. Sure, as a survivor I often came out relatively unscathed - at least physically. The emotional scars that one bears are invisible to the eye but ever painful and relentless.

I had a period where I devoured all kinds of books: self-help books, eastern philosophy, metaphysics, western religion. You name it, I've read them. They now collect lots of dust in my bookshelf and give my living room an intellectual flair. That's about it. Help they did not. I was more confused than ever. Religion just turns me off with all the rules and shall nots and I can't quiet my mind long enough to meditate.

I go through the motions of living but must admit that I feel bored most of the time, bored to tears. Nope, I don't feel particularly depressed. It really doesn't matter what I'm doing or where I'm going or who I'm with. I am just bored. Maybe disillusioned would be the better to say. That's brutal considering I am still young if the 40s are the new 30s. Have I really lived so much in so little time that I can't drag myself out of my shell to experience ..well, what...life? I have folks telling me to get out there and experience life and all it has to offer. Maybe I'm still waiting for my near death experience or that one A HA! moment to shake me up.

And the end has finally come

2008-05-15T09:46:00.002-05:00

For years I tried to distance myself from my less than stellar childhood, less than motherly mother and everything that occured in-between. The older I got, the more I somehow felt that I had to make amends or at least try to establish a semblance of a relationship with my mother. I'm not really sure if these were noble intentions or just blind stupidity on my part. You can't undo the past, nor can you make folks see the error of their ways. It just doesn't work.

I guess I finally woke up and smelled the coffee the one day the year that is supposedly in honor of thy mother (however commercially contrived it may really be). I sent the obligatory flowers and followed up with a phone call at 9:30 am. My thinking of course, it's way early in the morning and she will be sober. We can have a conversation. Or so I thought. All it took was for her to pick up the receiver and say "Hello" followed by screeches of delight and I realized: she was already soused. 9:30 am. I can't say that I was particularly stunned or shocked. I will say that it marked the end of the line for me.

The conversation that followed can only be described as a struggle; mine to keep things on an even keel and hers not to slur her words too terribly. It was moot. The conversation turned to old wounds, accusations and sparring unlike anything I have participated in since divorcing my husband. I took to my soapbox and declared that I would sever this once and for all. I don't think she believed me. Matters not.

If you take into consideration that my own teenage son somehow overslept Mother's Day (he didn't roll into consciousness until almost 3 pm) I was rather depressed that day. My solution? Drown myself in a round of good ole German Becks. What a hypocrite I am.

It's taken me all week to digest all of this. While my brother is completely on my side since he disowned my mother years ago, my sister on the other hand still has it somehow in her to keep her relationship going. I'm not sure how she does it nor am I really interested in learning.

Strangely enough I ran across some article by Oprah today (I never, ever watch her show!) that one should let go of the pre-conceived notions of what a mother should be. Or at least what my mother was, is or should be. I am for all intents and purposes now an orphan. Then again, I think I have been since I was a little and just never wanted to face the truth.

Should I be mourning now?

One year later...

2008-05-14T08:20:00.003-05:00

If this was a movie, my life that is, I'm not sure where to categorize it. Would it be a tearjerker and the heroine in the end does defeat the impossible? I'm honestly beginning to wonder.

My blog has been neglected over the past year. I think I put it off as long as possible to give myself, and this place, my life - a fighting chance. I am however ready to admit defeat on a few aspects whereas I've gained a whole new perspective on others.

I've endured the family reunions and visited old haunts. Not much has changed, except they could all use a fresh coat of paint. It's as if everything has been frozen in time somehow. I'm not really sure what I expected, perhaps my nostalgia got the better of me. I suppose "you can never go home" really is true.

I've come to the painful realization that while some folks look at all my moving around the globe as enviable, I on the other hand know now that I've done nothing but run. Attempting to put distance between myself and the places that evoke painful memories, people that do the same. I've also come to the truth that I do not have a mother (not in the emotional sense), never had a father and everything I imagined was just the memories of a little girl. Somehow I tried to hold on to all the good stuff for most of my adult life but have failed to move past the bad stuff and grow up. I'm 44 years old and honestly just a teenager stuck in an adult body.

I am here in a country that I was born in that feels as strange to me as the moon. Yes, the scenery sure is pretty; however, all the wonder leaves me somehow cold. I am torn between staying and leaving at the first opportunity. I talked myself into going last year by convincing myself I would see all the places in Europe that I missed on my last go-around. I haven't been anywhere further than England thus far. It's still on the table. I suppose I should be grateful I have another 4 weeks of vacation to burn. Not sure what to do with it all.

I also envisioned that I would somehow reconnect with my mother, but I suppose after 25 years of relatively little contact via phone and none in person that was a bit naive of me. We are strangers, she is worse than I remember her 25 years ago, a full blown alcoholic and completely emotionally unavailable. So much for that. I gave up on the whole family thing. Especially since it appears to want to draw me into the abyss that I ran away from so long ago! Just can't do it.

My son hated me for the first four months and only now has learned some German and made a few friends. Of course attending an English speaking school everything is hunky-dory for him (he has no clue how expensive this school is) and he now wants to stay and finish high school here. He confuses me - then again, he's a teenager so it's par for the course.

My desire to throw in the towel is sometimes so overwhelming that is all I can do to hang on just one more day, one more week, one more month. How much longer I can bear it...who the hell knows. I don't know anyone outside of work, don't really go out (it's frowned upon as a single woman over here, go figure...) and have pretty much turned into a hermit. I have my US satellite TV, my link back to the US over the net and well, we only speak English at home of course. My co-workers don't understand this at all. To them, I am a German that has returned home and I should damn well just fit in. Well, I got news for you - I don't! Maybe I just don't want to.

By all accounts I should look upon my accomplishments with satisfaction. I've moved to Europe where everyone else apparently wants to be. I have a good job, a decent kid (so far! lol) and want for nothing. I have almost 44 days of vacation and national holidays to blow per year, although since I am used to blowing my measly 10 US days on family emergencies and doctor visits, I honestly have little experience with this much time off. Sounds weird, I know.

I don't have, or need, a car. With almost 9 bucks per gallon who wants a damn car? Putting a kid through private school is expensive enough and the public transport system is excellent here. I live in a rented house with a terrace, quiet and privacy and a basement (which I always wanted). yet I am completely and utterly miserable. How can I explain that?? I've spent countless sleepless nights on that quandry.

My musings will no doubt drown in the bottomless chaos that is the web. At least I'm having a dialogue with myself - finally. 'bout time I think.

Finally somewhat settled

2007-07-21T00:18:00.000-05:00

I've been in Germany since the beginning of June now - it's been in experience! We are in Bremen and the weather is like Charlotte in spring time... only every day! It rains quite a bit here but overall the weather is temperate in the 70s unless St. Pete goes nuts and cranks it up. To almost 100 the other week. Crazy!

We had to wait until yesterday to get a telephone line and Internet installed. Generally everything takes absolute ages here and the paperwork and bureaucracy can drive you batty! Everything has to be done perfectly and in triplicate Ha!

We take the bus and streetcar just about everywhere and the town is really very connected. Lots to see and do, even get a lot of tourists from the Netherlands coming through. BUT! The Germans can be sooo rude! Lots of bumping and shoving getting on and off streetcars, shoving in line at the store, bumping into people in the street - nobody apologizes. Ticks me off. Anyway... I'm off to get some work done.

Hope to see everyone soon :)

I did it. I actually did it! Germany here I come!

2007-04-29T12:55:00.000-05:00

After months of preparations, sending out resumes, interviewing transatlantically (is that even a word?) I have a job offer! I am so excited! The position is in the northern part of Germany in Bremen, very nice town and one of the oldest in the country.

I have received so much negative feedback from all kinds of folks the past few months that I was beginning to believe they were right. Most specifically, most everyone told me that I am just too old at 43 and that no one would hire me. They were WRONG!! There is a job for everyone out there, you just have to find the one that is the perfect fit for you, an employer that wants what you have to offer and off you go!

I thought about calling my sister and give her the good news, but considering she just lost her job and is having trouble with her apartment... I don't think it's a great idea.

The universe must really love me as I have already found an apartment as well. I am still negotiating with the landlord, but I think it's a go. Some folks in the same company moved over in Feb and still haven't found anything! I think it helps that I speak fluent German.

Wow. I am so excited. Off to celebrate!

Life as we know it...

2007-04-27T08:24:00.000-05:00

So many things have changed since the beginning of this year. It seems that I am undergoing a transformation that at first was subtle but now has definitely picked up momentum.

The job hunt in Europe is still going strong and I am interviewing with several companies in Germany, England and Switzerland. We'll see what happens on that front.

On the other hand, I have quit smoking after almost 29 years of the nasty buggers polluting my life and body. I won't say it has been a piece of cake but with the assistance of Chantix it has been manageable and I am proud to say that I am now a non-smoker!

And then there's this whole life-changing feeling that seems to permeate everything these days. I spend a lot of time thinking and pondering the meaning of myself and my life. As in, if I died today who would miss me other than my children? Who would mourn me? Would the world even remember me?? What do I have to show for my 43 years of my life?

I graduated with my MBA on March 26, 2007. Yay me. What didn't happen was a feeling of accomplishment and pride. I was just done and that was that. I've always been that way. I set my goals and twist heaven and earth to get there - but once I am, it's like...okay, NEXT! I am constantly challenging myself to something else. So I suppose starting over in Europe is my next challenge. I am going at the search and finalization of this goal with the same gusto that I persued my college education.

I haven't posted in so long, what with my head stuck in revamp-mode, that I am a little disjointed with my thoughts right now. I think I will leave today alone and try again tomorrow... :)

And she's at the finish line!

2007-03-30T15:13:00.000-05:00

As of today I am officially an MBA. I should feel elated to be rid of the debilitating workloads every week - yet, I am not. What I am feeling is a sense of loss and I'm even a bit depressed. Can someone tell me why? This makes no sense at all. I pushed myself for six years first through the undergrad and then the master's program, while simultaneously raising two boys alone and holding down a full-time job. I gave up dating, hobbies and a social life for excellent grades. I learned how to hammer out 15 page papers over the course of a weekend but evidently have forgotten how to live! As it stands, I now have all this 'extra' time and no clue what to do with it.

Yes, I am trolling the net for french cooking and art classes but it's more of a symbolic gesture. Symbolic because it's on my list of to do things once I graduate. In my heart, I really don't feel like doing any of them right now. My house is much cleaner since I am constantly fidgeting with something as well. Maybe this will eventually go away but as of right now - I am seriously down with the post-grad blues.

I've been applying and discussing various jobs in Germany but nothing concrete has manifested itself just yet. So I plug away at it while being completely bored out of my brain at my current job. I'm not sure how much longer I can take the daily tedium but I'm hanging in there. I suppose part of my discord stems from the fact that I just don't feel challenged; no one seems to care what I am capable of doing and the upper echelons are perfectly happy keeping me pigeonholed in this go-nowhere role. It's maddening! Hey, I've had folks tell me that they wish they made the money I make and sit idle most of the time. 'It's not about the money people', I tell them, because truly that is a small part of job satisfaction. I need to be pushed, challenged, thrown some deadlines - ANYTHING! Just don't make me sit in my office and churn out meaningless reports. AAARGHH!!

Seriously though, it eats at my confidence. I mean, here I am, a full MBA, yet my in my boss' opinion it's 'way more than we need' and 'all those fancy classes'. Why the hell did he even hire me? I don't get it.

Anyway, I'm still here....with nothing to do now but cry in my beer and try to get my bearings. I wish I could've gone through this in my 20's - that whole 'what should I do with my life now?' thing. Alas, here I am: 43, a new grad and no clue what to do with it.

My, how time flies....

2007-03-07T13:36:00.000-05:00

I've spent the past month doing nothing but weighing pro's and con's on this whole Germany issue. One month later I am no wiser nor am I any closer to making a decision.

On one hand, I think I really do want to move back. Then I asked myself, what exactly are the reasons that I want to do this? Obviously, it would be a noble thought if I did it to be closer to my mother and family. To be honest, I don't really think my mother has anything to do with it. As a matter of fact, I'd be subjected to endless late-night phonecalls and other situations I am spared now. So what is the draw? I've come to the partial conclusion that I am simply in denial. Yup. That's it. I've spent the past 22+ years here, building a life, raising children, cursing ex-husband's - well, you get the picture. During these 22-odd years life in Germany went on without a lot of change. People got older, the country is still beautiful (and yes, I do miss the country) but overall, all is as it was. Time went by and I never really thought about the fact that indeed I am getting older, growing up and so on and so forth. Perhaps by moving back there I can force some change (I am such a rebel). Perhaps not. Who knows?

Then, I have endless other reasons why it would be cool for my son to spend his high school years in Germany (or any other European country come to think of it). What a unique expierence for him to have. Never mind that he doesn't speak a lick of German (he can learn, right?) and is as American a teen as can be. He may initially feel a sense of adventure but everyday hohum has a way of creeping in - no matter where on planet earth you are. Do I have the right to be selfish and make him move anyway? Or am I even being selfish? That one I still haven't figured out.

How does the saying go...no matter where you go, there you are.

Where's a good psychic when you need one?

2007-01-30T20:45:00.000-05:00

I've been so torn up about this whole moving across continents thing that I've hardly slept in days. Perhaps my visit to Germany wasn't such a good idea after all. I had my homesickness under check for years and it only reared its ugly head during the obligatory holiday seasons. Seeing my mother aging and ill though has given me quite a bit of food for thought. Then again, I've always been the caretaker so maybe that's what's kicking in?

I toss and turn at night thinking about all the possible scenarios. What if I decide to go ahead and do it and then I miss the States? I mean, I basically spent more than half of my life here. Would I get homesick? Then again, English-language TV is just a satellite away. With the world becoming more and more global and without boundaries, I can have the best of both worlds. Right?

Then I am thinking about my son. He's grown up over here and isn't all that enthused about going to high school in a (to him) foreign country where he doesn't even speak the language (yet). On one hand I give him a valid point; on the other, I would have given my left arm to have the opportunity to live in another country at his age. What an adventure! Plus, if he really hates it, then he can always come back to the US and go to college here. No problemo.

Boy, I just don't know. I lost my train of thought and off I go, tossing and turning some more.

Slow going and happy birthday to me...

2007-01-17T13:44:00.000-05:00

A lot of thoughts have been keeping me up at night. Although I really do want to go back home for good (I think, see?!) it doesn't seem to be so easy. For one, I am fairly out of touch with life in the fatherland. While I currently work for a German firm, I'm also employed in their U.S. division, so no cultural difference there. However, I have a tough time even remembering what it was like to work in Germany at all. Probably due to the fact that I always worked for either the military or some other US affiliated company. I can imagine it will or would be quite a shock to me to suddenly work for a true Germany company. I'm not even sure that I want to do that. So it's a dilemma.

I've lived here almost 20 years now and the world has changed so much. I've changed along with it, grown older (not necessarily wiser sometimes - HA!) but I've also become extremely americanized. I even sound like an American when I speak German, having forgotten so many words and phrases. I couldn't even figure out how to work the ticket machine to ride the bus, for crying out loud! What a tourist!

At the same time I am reluctant to go the final step and acquire American citizenship. Not because I don't love this country but more because I do not feel ready to give up my German citizenship. Still having that last bit of the old world doesn't make me a true German any longer; I suppose it's my way of holding on to the past. I am really confused about the whole thing, to tell you the truth. I mean, switching nationality is so darn final. It almost feels like I'm cutting something off that really shouldn't be. Anyway...

...I'm 43 today. And what an uneventful birthday it has been thus far. No fanfare, no phone calls, presents or flowers...just another ordinary day. Should I be depressed about it? I don't feel depressed really. A bit miffed maybe that my children seem to have forgotten. Then again, could have something to do with the fact that they are both in the doghouse. Yeah, let's get back at her by forgetting her birthday, that'll teach her. Whatever. I'm going out for a few drinks after work and who knows...maybe I'll run into my Prince Charming. Rrrright.

On the bright side, I only have 12 years to go before I can qualify for the senior discount.

Another door closed...hummmm

2007-01-14T15:03:00.000-05:00

A few months ago, in one of my moments, I set out to find my best friend from junior high. For some reason, it seemed really important to me. Perhaps because as troubled as my teens were she was for the longest time my only friend. Our relationship was only made tighter by the fact that my mother didn't want me hanging out with her. We got into some doozies, but mostly it was just typical teenage girl stuff. You know, discovering sexuality and boys, running away (even if it was only a few hours), hanging out and clubs - you get the picture. We were for years inseparable. For some crazy reason I had been thinking about her quite a bit lately and well, I wanted to find her. Reconnect, see if we were still as we always had been.

I did find her eventually and the initial joy of speakig with her over the phone gave way to some confusion. She didn't seem too interested in talking with me at all. Just a few days ago I ran across a message board posting by her by chance. I mean, what are the odds that among millions of message board postings you run across the one from your junior high best friend? Astronomical I'd say. So I sent her an email and attached a few photos of me all grown up and my family from my Germany visit.

It didn't take long for her to respond. Only, the response was not what I expected. I'm not going to repeat it verbatim but the essense of it was, "don't email or call me, not interested in restarting our friendship." No signature, no have a nice life, no anything of that sort. Short, cold and dismissive. I was in shock. Truly.

What had I said or done to have her brush me off like this? I can't think of a thing other than the fact we hadn't seen each other in over 20 years. But hey, people reconnect after 40 years with old friends, so what is different in this situation? I don't get it. Been thinking about it ever since too. I am going to respect her wishes although it doesn't feel as though she gave much thought to my feelings at all. No point in pursuing someone that does not want to be pursued, right? The same goes for male-female relationships, but I digress again.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that our lives have turned out so differently. She is perfectly happy being a housewife and going to church everyday, all she needs is God in her life. (her words, not mine). Me? I've always been sort of a globetrotter, always looking to the horizon for bigger and better adventures to go after. I am never satisfied with where I've gone until I've achieved just a bit more. Overachiever maybe? I dunno. But I like myself just the way I am. Sort of a worldly femme fatale. Ha!

Maybe I reminded her of what she could've been. Maybe she really isn't as happy as she says she is. I'm just speculating (obviously) since I cannot for the life of me think of any good reason for the rude brush off. I suppose I will have to just make do with the memories of those days in junior high and quit chasing something that simply no longer exists.

The hunt....

2007-01-08T08:50:00.000-05:00

I've been perusing the job market in Germany and sent out some resumes. All indications point to a dilemma though: it appears that I am a bit out of touch what constitutes an acceptable resume there. I had forgotten that they require your date of birth as well as a current photo for consideration. To tell you the truth I find this to be discriminatory. Nobody would dream of asking your age over here with a job app, let alone demand a photo. What, if you're less than attractive you're not employable?

One of my cousins ominously pointed out that at 42 I will have a tough time finding a job, even with my bilingual skills and my MBA. German companies want nobody older than 35, she tells me, and on top of that they would prefer someone really attractive. Ok, I'm no ugly duckling but the age thing I cannot change. I have to admit it has me a bit worried. Is there really truth to this?

I've sent out a few "American-style" resumes to German companies in the past few days; mainly to see if I would even get a bite at all. I suppose if push comes to shove I'll have to shell out some serious dollars to put a "German-style" resume package together and have all of my transcripts, diplomas etc. translated into German in a chronological format. What a pain!

Then I am also a bit stumped on the housing situation. Do I really want to sell my house and move into an apartment over there? It would take me years to save up enough money for a downpayment on a mortgage over there. I did some preliminary searches in the real estate market and I haven't seen a decent house under 200,000 Euros ($265,480). I could get a semi-mansion for that kind of money over here!

Oh and let's not forget television programming. Ok, so I'm spoiled with my DVR and satellite programming; plus, during my visit, I really didn't enjoy German programming. I want my CSI in English!! Am I willing to trade that for cobblestone streets and fresh Broetchen for breakfast? This is going to give me a lot to think about for sure.

Does anybody really know what time it is?

2007-01-06T16:43:00.000-05:00

Now here's a photo of my mother, me and my siblings. I am still struggling to put this whole thing into perspective, struggling to reconcile the image I had of my mother in my head with what reality is. And time has a way of merrily skipping along not giving a crap what else is happening.

When I get contemplative I exhibit much the same symptoms as a depressive state, I won't eat right, I sleep very little and I have no taste for a beer. Which, as a German, I love my beer. Not since I've come back. Well...alright, I had two with lunch at the Waldhorn today (having a Wienerschnitzel, yum!). I just keep seeing my mom's face in my mind's eye and it truly disturbs me how sad her eyes are. You know what they say about that, "The eyes are the windows to ones soul." I can readily agree with that.

Whereas her eyes used to hold a sparkle, her laughter used to be hearty and excuberant, her step quick and lively....she is now sad, lonely and trying to put up a front. I hate it. I hate that I feel no remorse for moving across the Atlantic and building my own life, away from all the hold hurts and agonies. I want her to be happy like she used to be but have no means of accomplishing that. I can't send her money because she would only buy alcohol with it. I can't pay her bills since she is on welfare and they would question that. Talking with her on the phone seems to give her no joy (if it does, she doesn't show it) and...well, I am just at a loss.

My mother divied up her last earthly possessions of jewelry between me and my sister. I also got my grandmas garnet earrings. I understand her thinking in a way but it made me uncomfortable. Who wants to think about their mother dividing inheritance? What, does the think she's going to die tomorrow and I will never see her again? There again, that is truly sa and depressing. She's 59 for crying out loud!

On a lighter note, I got my old albums back. She saved them for me. How weird is it to go home 20 years later and pick up your old Ummagumma or Deep Purple in Concert albums that are now almost 30 years old??? What a flash back! lol

Anyway... I am still chewing this over....

Sometimes you can go back home...or can you?

2007-01-04T13:44:00.000-05:00

It was an interesting trip back in time to see family and visit old haunts. My hometown really hasn't changed that much, the food is still what it always was and it's still cold as hell in December. I have no idea why they changed their beer brewing practices around though; I was surprised by the weird taste of some of my favorite brews. Don't mess with a good thing I say!

Meeting my family was an experience in and of itself. I met up with my sister first and while we have both grown 20 years older since we last saw each other nothing much was all that different. I suppose our intermittent chats via online and some phonecalls helped in that aspect. Meeting my mother again after 18 years though really gave me a jolt and a lot of thoughts to ponder. I have been back stateside since the 1st and I am still struggling to put the whole thing into perspective. I truly was not prepared to see her as she is today, older, tired, worn, puffy and ravaged by her progressing alcoholism. Although if you listen to her she has no problem. I digress.

Seeing her reminded me of the last time I saw my father a few years before he passed away from liver disease. Alcohol can take such a toll on your whole body and soul. I felt that my mother wasn't even all there, struggled to find common ground to talk and well, the whole thing was painfully uncomfortable for me. Yes, I wanted to see her; Lord know when, or if, I will ever see her again. I had entire speeches in my head, things I wanted to clear up, things I wanted to talk about. None of it happened. I found myself looking at her sort of out of the corner of my eyes as if looking directly at her somehow hurt. I suppose in a way it did and still does.

She used to be such a beautiful woman and full of life. Now she is a mere shell of her former self, lonely and depressed. I am helpless to do anything about it. She is helpless because she lives in a dark world called denial. Some things never change. Where I used to harbor such anger at my mother for being such a rotten mother to us siblings, I now feel pity; I also feel grateful to a certain degree that I am so far away from her. I saddens me to know that where she was once the life of the party surrounded by lots of friends, she now scrubs toilets to supplement her meager disability payments. I honestly have no idea how to work through all this right now but it helps to put it out there in the open I suppose.

Visiting with family catapulted me back at times to when I was 12 as we sat around the dining room table with various cousins, uncles and aunts; for the most part, it was evident that all of us carried our own burdens from childhood through now and that we are as a whole probably a fairly dysfunctional family. How about that? There I thought just my end of it was screwed up! Ha! There was a lot of reminiscing going on, a lot of complaining about various mom's and dad's and that feeling that we were all just trying to put on a show because I was visiting after so many years.

I even went out a few times, had a few drinks but felt totally out of place. The fun and such that I used to have just wasn't there anymore. I was bored. Unbelievable.

For so many years I was stuck in 23 year old mode, nobody ever aging in my twisted little mind and me never really growing up. Or so I thought. Now that I am back from the happy reunion it dawns on me, that unbeknownst to me I was slowly growing up anyway. I am now a 40something woman and no longer a 20something party girl. I am more serious and dedicated to causes and opinions than I ever was. Visiting Germany shocked me into reality.

Maybe it's a good thing?

War is brutal...Silly String to the Rescue!

2006-12-07T19:13:00.000-05:00

I try not be political in my postings, as this is really supposed to be about me growing up. Well, I still have a ton of it to do and there will be hundreds, if not thousands, of opportunities for me to rant about it. However, with the Iraq war going as badly as it is (some have likened it to the Vietnam fiasco - I tend to agree) and Christmas right around the corner I felt I needed to at least say something.

I read a story today about a lady sending her son Silly String - the soldiers are using it to detect trip wires around bombs. Ingenious use for the stuff (personally I can't stand it..but I digress again. Ha!). I think the soldiers know how to improvise and protect their butts, so I'm all for it. I advocate that the Army take money from the general federal fund for $1,000 toilet seats and issue a few truckloads of silly string instead. Toilet seats aren't saving anyone last time I checked; I for one, can do without a toilet seat but not my life. So for anyone that reads this contact Mrs. Shriver in Jersey and send her some silly string!

Now, my youngest is seriously thinking about joining the Marines at some point. I am torn about it. On one hand, I am proud that he wants to serve; on the other, I am petrified because of all the messes Mr. Bush has gotten us into. And the Marines, well, they go in first. My heart breaks for every Marine mom that lost a son anywhere (and the Army, Air Force and Navy mom's too). I cannot imagine going through that. I yell at him for not doing his chores, or slacking off on his homework... but he's still my baby. My youngest, my last. Saving Private Ryan was a good movie, but gut wrenching.

I don't really have a lot more to add right now. I suppose in a way, we all try to tune it out to keep from losing our marbles over our boys and girls dying over there. Or anywhere for that matter. What a mess this truly is.

Abominable Winter Blah's

2006-11-30T21:49:00.000-05:00

It's that time of year again where the primitive side of me wants to take over; I gorge on carbs, unpack all my big sweaters and tend to lounge around the house in them for what seems like - the whole winter!

What is it about the cold season that makes me want to turn into Mama Bear and hybernate? I can't drag myself up long enough to get much accomplished. All I want to do is eat and sleep. I do believe in the psychology world this is called "seasonal affective disorder" and is some form of depression. Combine that with my ever depleting hormone reserves and I am disaster waiting to happen. A ticking time bomb. Ha!

I am three weeks away from going home to Germany - in the dead of winter - for the first time in almost 20 years. I don't know for sure what came over me to pick this time of year. Perhaps it was the nostalgic notion of snow and Christmas markets, the old world charm of an ancient city covered in the white stuff and a cup of hot mulled wine. Or, more akin to the truth, I fear that if I do not go now, I may never see my mother again. She's been quite ill for a number of years.

I actually had a dream about her dying a few months ago which was followed with my decision to go visit. I foolishly told my sister about this dream and she in turn told everyone else. My mom's been talking about dividing out her worldly possessions ever since. Preemptive she calls it, so us siblings won't fight over her things when she goes. On one hand it bothers me that my sister told, on the other, I am flattered at how much stock my mom puts into my psychic abilities. I suppose if you throw in my partially gypsy grandma and my occassional bouts of accurate predictions and such, she probably figures I have the gift. I'm not so sure that I want it right now.

I mean, who wants to predict their mother's death? It's just morbid. Yet somehow, I do have the distinct feeling that this may very well be the last time I do see her. If you toss that notion in with my inevitable annual winter blues, you have yourself a mighty lethal combo, mon ami.

I try to keep my spirits up by looking at gorgeous photos of my favorite haunts covered in brilliantly white snow; reminiscing about the scent of anise candy and my grandma's cookies and generally wallowing in nostalgia about the good old days. It's going to be a tough winter this year.

Berlin Wall for Sale

2006-11-23T22:32:00.000-05:00

I sold some things on Ebay over the weekend and while I did not make as much as I thought I could or would... it has been an experience for sure. For one, I discovered that I own a rare out of print UFO-nut book. That was interesting as I paid nothing for it and now it is worth almost 200 bucks. Go figure.

The other thing... there are pieces of the Berlin wall for sale on Ebay as well. Some come with authentication certificates and everything. It makes me ill. How can you certify a piece of concrete???

I have pieces of the Berlin wall as well. They were sent to me by a friend that was still stationed over there and happened to be in the midst of the whole "Let the people go" movement. I do however, still recall all the news stories of people being shot on live TV for the mere desire to be free. West German TV stations reported on this about as regularily as we watch the news on the Arab world these days. The folks "over the wall" were...well, lost souls and at the mercy of the Stazi and the KGB. I watched them try to jump the wall, navigate the barbed wire and try to escape the lights and AK-47's. Most of the time they did not. I saw a young guy, maybe 18 or so, try to jump the wire and the wall, desperately making a run for it - only to be mowed down, and left hanging in the fence for all the world to see. I think that picture got a prize of some sort. Morbid.

I have pieces of the Berlin wall in my possession. To me, they are much more than just memorabilia. They are part of my life, my history, my heritage - ugly as it was. I had not taken them out in almost 10 years but today I did. I looked at them in their unremarkable splendor. Just pieces of grey concrete, occassionally marked with ugly blue or green spray paint. No certificates. No authentication. Nothing. Other than what lingered in my memories.

Is it kosher to sell part of your life? How desperate would I have to be to sell these? Surely, to the average collector they are only worth a couple of bucks and the fact that they can state, "I own pieces of the Berlin wall." So what? If you did not live through it, you do not deserve to own them. Collectable or not.

Just my two cents.

Thanksgiving is every day

2006-11-23T06:41:00.000-05:00

Once again we are bombarded with Black Friday flyers and news stories about insane mobs descending upon malls (and ensuing chaos, murder and mayhem over terry bath towels for 1.99). I tuned into my favorite oldies station just a few days ago and found that programming had changed to have Old Blue Eyes crooning Christmas songs 24/7. I am aghast at how commercial the holidays really have become.

I don't buy into the retail frenzy, nor do I spend unGodly amounts of time planning an elaborate dinner, decorating the halls or sending boxes of holiday cards to everyone I have ever known. This sort of thing just leaves me cold. Not that I don't like the holiday season, au contraire, mon ami. I love the smell of fresh blue fir in my house as well as fresh baked cookies and applepie. Yet, to me it's more about the season itself and not all the stress inducing trappings that seem to come with it these days.

There is something cleansing about the trees in my yard shedding their leaves to rest up for the next Spring (I could do without all the raking though, Ha!). The closer time is to the end of yet another year, the more contemplative I become. Could I have done things differently throughout the year? Should I revisit my decisions and vow to do better next year? Somehow next year comes all too quickly with each passing year and somehow decisions do not get a do-over - most of the time.

Thanksgiving is one of those holidays that actually doesn't have a lot of meaning to me, being a German immigrant and all. We don't celebrate Thanksgiving American style in Germany, it's more about giving thanks to the one above for a great harvest. That makes a lot more sense to me than fighting for the plumpest Turkey at the grocery and spending hours dressing it up. Plus, I'm not too crazy about eating Turkey in 50 variations for the next few weeks.

Sure, giving thanks for our fortunes is a nice touch. Yet, why not be greatful every day? All too often we hurry along through our days without a second thought and go to sleep at night checking off our to-do lists for tomorrow. Perhaps we ought to just stop and say thanks on a daily basis.

I received an email from a family member the other day. It included a photo of a starving child in Africa about to be devoured by a vulture. I wasn't too keen on being included on this family distribution list; however, the picture did give me pause. We have become so spoiled with our ready availability of food and abundance that we forget how fortunate we truly are on this side of the planet. We toss things out that could have a million other uses for someone else, we leave left-overs in the fridge until they grow lovely green appendages, and generate so much trash that we are running out of space to hide it. It's all about "more, more, more" for "me, me, me".

So, while I will straighten up the house some today and plan on roasting a boneless Turkey breast for myself and my son (he is out of the dog house now), I will also vow to be more greatful on a daily basis. I will also snuggle more tightly under the covers come 5 am tomorrow when millions of folks will put on their running shoes to head to the mall for that incredible deal. I have everything I need right here.

I am greatful for: my son apologizing and actually meaning it, my health and continued ability to provide for my family, my soul and conscience, all those that have lent a helping hand when I needed it without asking anything in return and the fact that I live in the greatest country on Earth (well, second greatest - cannot diss Germany, sorry).

I hope that all those serving our country and are away from home will be safe and able to return home to loving arms. Thanks to all the civil servants that have to work today and keep us civilians safe from harm (sometimes from ourselves).

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Life as a single mom of a teenager

2006-11-21T15:10:00.000-05:00

Can we say puberty induced insanity? I cannot even count how many times I've gotten calls and emails from my son's teachers, principal, counselor, vice-principal and janitor the last two weeks. Ok, the janitor I made up but he may as well have joined the fray!

I honestly wonder what is going through his head these days and I truly am about to snap. I walk through the halls at work huffing and puffing like old lady Higgins because I am constantly stressed about him. I see the school's number on my caller ID and instantly my eyes dart toward my wayward kid, "What did you do now?" Naturally he professes innocence 9 times out 10; and 9 times out of 10 he's making up stories.

I keep telling him he should become a lawyer with his gift of inventing unfortunate circumstances. The boy can fabricate some whoppers I tell you. If he spent half that much energy on his grades he'd be valedictorian 10 times over!

I've been a bit consumed with all this teenage issues lately. What followed was neglect of my other musings, hiding out in TV land and generally mulling this over until my head hurt. I've hit up friends and acquaintences for advice all over the place as well. I didn't always like the answers seems most of it seems to boil down to me having spoiled him rotten and there I have it.

I will admit that me being a single mom for most of his life has somewhat led me to spoil him a little; but I cannot for the life of me recall instilling this utter sense of entitlement and non-responsibility in him. Where do they get this stuff? As in, everything you have is mine, and everything I have is mine. I didn't raise him that way and I am totally stunned and somewhat at a loss. Maybe a good ass whoppin' would do him good.

Now I am off to pick him up from school since he got himself kicked out for 10 days. Nice little lunch line brawl I hear....

Blasted haircut!

2006-11-05T18:46:00.000-05:00

I got a wild hair up my you-know-what on Saturday and decided I'd go and get my hair chopped off. I say "chopped off" because that's what it ended up being. I am so miserable right now. She completely butchered me and I am inclined to buy a big floppy hat this evening and tell my boss I accidently fell under a lawnmower over the weekend. If I had cut it myself with a Flowbee I could not have done any worse..I swear.

I have no idea what the stylist was thinking when I was very clear on what I wanted. She cut off at least 3 more inches than necessary and now I look like my mother. Not that my mother looks bad necessarily but.... I digress.

It's uncanny how tightly we are tied to our personal image via our haircut or style. If we get a great cut we feel sassy, sexy and confident. With a bad one however, we want to crawl under the biggest rock available and remain there for as long as it takes for the mess to grow back. Which is where I am right now. I am on a recon mission for the biggest rock in the neighborhood.

If that fails I will have to resign to playing the Bangles all day tomorrow as it defininitely will be "Just another Manic Monday".

On a side note with the manic Monday theme - my brother left me a message that he safely arrived back home but US Airways had summarily lost all of his luggage. So maybe I should shut up about my bad hair cut....

Running on empty

2006-11-03T14:22:00.000-05:00

I just delivered my brother to the airport. Immediately when he was gone I felt this incredible sense of emptiness. A piece of me was gone. To truly understand how this affects me you'd have to have grown up as me. I used to wipe his butt and give him his bottle. Obviously, he's 29 now and a grown man. Somehow though, we fall back into that relationship where I am the older sister and he's my little brother.

We talked about this phenomenon; almost 20 years we lived apart in separate worlds, separate continents even and yet, as soon as we get together there is a familiarity that cannot be denied. Yes, I still have a tendency to want to mother him but I am working on that. It's tough though. In my memories he was always the cute little boy who just adored me. I suppose in a way he still does. I could feel his ache when he had to pack up his belongings and leave. And our good-bye hug may have been short and sweet but there was something more there.

Since I am so much older than he my life experiences before he was born and after I moved out are completely different. We can reminisce about our childhood only up to the point where I was an adult - that covers about the first five years of his life and then intermittently for another four years when my mother decided to dump him on me. She did that sort of thing on a whim. I digress ...

I've lived half of my adult life in the US. My life in contrast to his and that of my younger sister is a difference of night and day. Sometimes I feel guilty that I got out of that dysfunctional muck we still call "family". Other times, I get rebellious and indignant since I worked damned hard for everything I have and have accomplished. It's a fine line I have to tow when I speak with them sometimes. I certainly don't want to rub it in - but come on, why shouldn't I be a little proud of it?

20 years go by faster than one would think. When I was 18 I used to think about the year 2000 and that I would be 36 then. Well, 36 has come and gone - I am still here. Still remembering things I sometimes wish I could forget and have forgotten things I sometimes wish I could remember. It's funny how when I talk with my siblings they ask me: "Hey, do you remember this and that?" and it's a complete blank to me. And then I will remember events and they have no clue what I am talking about. Strange what's important to us as individuals, isn't it?

So after 20 years I am reconnecting with family. I knew that eventually I would have to face up to the fact that I had an entire life somewhere else before this one. That there were a host of people and players in it that I haven't given any play time in ages; I simply benched them all and went about my business with replacement players.

When my brother came to visit the first time in March, it was a great feeling to see him again. This time, it was all about getting to know each other all over again - only as grown ups. And I miss him even more now.

In six weeks time I will be on a plane to Germany with my son. Visiting my old haunts, playgrounds, schools, places I used to live, places I got in trouble, places I used to cherish. And I can only hope that my son will fall in love with my hometown and understand why I get nostalgic over it at times. And he will for the first time meet his German family. Up until my brother started visiting, my past and my family were fairly abstract to him. Like non-entities; really no concept of the country, the people or his "other" family. Sure, I've told him lots of little anecdotes about my crazy drunk uncles, my cousins, my mother in complete denial of her illness, his ancient great-grandmother (it's unbelievable that she is still around actually) - but, obviously he still has no concept of all this until he actually experiences it for himself.

I've been running from my old life for so long, tried so hard to distance myself from old hurts and grievances. Now that I've jumped into the deep end, it's actually not so bad and I'm treading water quite nicely. So far, so good. I can only hope to get over my anxiety of seeing my mother again. That's a biggy I am still worked up about. One family member at a time I suppose...

The ties that bind

2006-10-24T13:13:00.000-05:00

My brother has been visiting from Germany for a mere three days and already I feel antsy. Not because I want him to leave but because it was in an instant that I regressed to the role of big sis. He's celebrating his 29th birthday tomorrow and yet I still have the urge to mother and scold him.

Granted I was his substitute mother as I am 13 years his senior and our own mother, well, she was more often absent than not. I changed his diapers, gave him his formula and played patty-cake with him until I was moved out. Then I didn't see him again until March of this year - which means a good 18 years passed between me playing surrogate mom and him ultimately growing up. I just can't seem to shake that caretaker role; it's weird.

I was upset with him yesterday about something..hmmm... oh yeah! Porno. German porno on my computer while I wasn't watching (on a side note - porno in German is not sexy at all). I was trying to be nice about it but I don't think I was successful. He looked at me like I was nuts. Well, it's my house, my rules, no porno on the damn Internet. Grrrr. I changed my password and that's that. But I digress....

I think he's still trying to feel his way into this "new" relationship of us being (supposedly) grown up and responsible (Ha!) adults. Although when I see him playing with my son he reminds me more of a child than ever. Then again, I think that is just a guy thing.

He's going to be here for a full two weeks and most likely will spend more time on his own than with me (work schedules will do that). So maybe it's not so bad. I just can't help the mothering thing and he can't get used to being mothered. We'll just have to muddle our way through it somehow...

The money pit

2006-10-20T13:40:00.000-05:00

I fulfilled my dream of homeownership six years ago. After the initial joy and pride wore off I was faced with the same problems every other homeowner deals with – maintenance. I don’t mind the grass cutting so much- I do have a teenage son for that. It’s all the other little annoyances that are really starting to get on my nerves. Toilet issues, backed up pipes, water pressure issues, bug problems, leaky roof, draft windows, handprints on the walls…the list goes on and on.

I just had to replace my roof about a month ago although the seller six years ago assured me it was a brand-new roof. He lied, oh the shock! He didn’t even use underlayment and the subsequent leaks had me scrambling for a contractor that was honest, hardworking and reasonable. It took me three months to find someone! Most of the guys that showed up at my house were quite evidently members of the good ol’ boy network as the Southern drawl and repeated “hun” and “Ma’am” sprinkled conversation showed. That I could’ve put up with (gritting my teeth of course); it was the abhorrent estimates I was getting. They fluctuated wildly and the differences were several thousand dollars. Now, I don’t have the word sucker stamped on my forehead but they saw a single woman and thought, “Wooohooo, doesn’t-know-a-thing-lets-get-her”. Really, some of the explanations were downright condescending and I am not about to hire you if you elude that you think I have an IQ of 60. I ended up hiring a friend of a co-worker and he did a great job; reasonable price too.

Now I have to address the plumbing issue. Backed up pipes, broken hot water handle in the tub – you get the picture. I have been taking showers with a vice grip for a hot water handle for oh, probably 9 months. Who can afford a damn plumber anymore? It’s getting ridiculous. The flat-pricing, the exorbitant mark-ups on the PVC pipes and supplies, the service charges; it just makes me ill. Until I find a guy (or girl) that won’t try to rip me off, vice grip it is. It’s so white trash but who cares?

I am reasonably adept at fixing minor things around the house, own a decently stocked toolbox and can put furniture together without assistance; however, I am no plumber, electrician or any sort of handy-woman whatsoever. So my long-term independence has put me in a position where I no longer have a live in handyman and I’m stuck having to pay hundreds or thousands of dollars to get crap fixed. Sometimes I wish I could just pack all my shit and move. Ha! The perils of homeownership, folks should get a medal for putting up with the money pits.

The money pit

2006-10-20T10:37:00.000-05:00

The devil doesn't wear Prada - he invented it!

2006-10-14T17:17:00.000-05:00

I don't know what possessed me to head to the mall today. Ah yes - I was going for a pair of jeans. Still, I probably didn't need to go to the mall for that; should've known better.

Parking as usual was a bane, there were crowds of people leisurely strolling the hallowed halls, kiosk sales girls perkily requested that you try on a new hair piece, play with a new cell phone/computer/hat/sun glasses, and whining children followed their bedraggled parents around. It just wasn't my idea of fun really.

I think I hit maybe six stores when I finally gave up finding that elusive pair of jeans. It was either the extreme low-rider (wouldn't catch me dead in that), some spandex ladden contraption, grandma pants with a waist that sits somewhere under your armpits or a size zero. Yup. Zero. I don't know anyone that wears a zero. Maybe Nicole Ritchie but I don't know her, I can only assume.

It was depressing to walk from store to store and not be able to find a single thing for a 40something that looks hip and actually fits. Add to that that I got a nasty papercut in one of the stores just by checking out a pair (who makes those tags - Gillette??) , summarily bled all over my white sweater (!) and for some crazy reason the elastic in my left sock died a horrible death and the whole thing slipped inside my tennis shoe. It also became evident that I must have stepped into some dog doo in the parking lot. It just wasn't pretty.

I truly felt out of my element. Not that I ever liked going to the mall to begin with but today was just a depressing experience. Being surrounded by beautiful (and quite evidently) rich people, skinny and giggling teenagers in every store and waves of expensive perfume and cologne wafting everywhere... I tell you. It's enough to make you want to slit your throat.

Do men feel the same way when the enter the halls of Abercrombie? Do they secretely compare themselves with the other manicured male Adonis' shopping? Do they avoid the stores sure to be filled with the elite?

I know that I do. I am overcome by feelings of inadequacy whenever I step foot into a Nordstrom, Neiman Marcus or walk by Louis Vuitton. People like me (normal folks, that is) just don't hang out there. And I surely don't feel like torturing myself with oggling a size zero jean that I will never fit into, try on a pair of $3000 boots just for the hell of it or even some dazzling new pair of designer shades. It just feels weird to me.

At any rate, I high tailed it out of there; finger still throbbing from my nasty cut, one sock dispappearing in my shoe and dog poop smell trailing me. I think I will do some leisurely Internet shopping now.

All Hail Al Gore!

Coming to America

2006-10-12T19:49:00.000-05:00

Whenever I tell folks that I was born and raised in Germany, I inevitably get the questions... "What's it like over there? Is it really different? How come you don't have an accent?" Stuff like that... Which is a little strange to me, because I don't think about these things.

Yes. I was born and raised in Germany and yes, I lived and moved and travelled all over Europe before I moved to the U.S. I suppose I still have the old world thingy in me. It truly is not in the realm of definition..hence I will not attempt to do so. Define it, that is.

In the recent developments with all the illegals coming in etc. it got me thinking back to the the very first days, weeks, even months that I experienced the good ole' US of A. And it was a hoot. No. More like a shock!

Anyway..I thought I would share my very first experience in an American grocery store. As I was made fun of many, many times after this...so it must be funny.

When I first came over my ex and I were stationed at Ft. Benning. We rented an apartment off base complete with the obligatory vinyl couch etc. Yum. Anyway. On one of my very first trips to the PX (grocery, to those outside military folks) nothing seemed amiss. Just a store. However! When we got to the checkout, some guy took the groceries off the belt, put them in a cart and walked off with them! I freaked!!!!! I yelled, I pointed... I went ballistic. Truly.

My husband seriously had to subdue me because I was about to call the cavalry to take care of this lowlife!

You see, where I came from - you bagged your own groceries, took them to the car (or the teaxi, or the bus..whatever)....and nobody else ever touched them.

So, to see this man walking off with my cart full of food completely freaked me out. I think it took a lot of convincing of my ex and the Sgt on staff that day to assure me that this was normal. Huh?

I wonder if any of you have stories like to tell?

This is not the movies!

2006-10-11T08:27:00.000-05:00

On my way to work this morning I noticed two Hispanic gents walking down the street. I don't mean that I noticed them because there was anything particular about them. It was one of those, you just notice in passing sort of thing. I digress...

In passing them one of the men suddenly started behaving like Gumby! I mean, he was all jelly and waving back and forth and WHAM! Falls face first right into the street about 10 feet ahead of me - right into my lane. I freaked! I was already driving slow since I was getting ready to turn but stopped when I saw this guy fall down. Parking my car I jumped out and yelled at the other guy (who just had kept on walking!). He finally turned and came back.

I don't speak Spanish so asking him what happened really was pointless and I gave up after a bit. My cell phone wasn't cooperating but I tried calling Medics twice. No dice. Finally a lady from across the street at the Bojangles yelled at me that the Medics were coming. Cool. Now I can get to work. So I left. There wasn't anything I could do anyway. Maybe I'll call the Medics later and find out what happened to the guy. Come to think of it, jeez, I hope that Bojangles lady didn't think I hit the guy?! Whoa. Just dawned on me as I'm writing this.

I'm still shaking. I mean, this was really disturbing to me. We see people getting slaughtered in the movies all the time, there is blood and gore everywhere and yet we sit and eat popcorn while we're taking all this in. In real life, well, let me tell you - seeing a bloody person on the ground, twitching and convulsing (I think he may have had a seizure but who knows) that really gets to you! I knew there was something wrong with him, but since I am not a doctor or a nurse and have no clue about CPR, I didn't want to touch him. I just sort of stood there like an idiot trying to get my cell phone to work. (I hate Sprint!)

The whole thing creeped me out and this is going to bother me all day. Now I'm wondering if I should've stayed to explain to the Medics that I saw the guy falling into the street? What a hell of a way to start my day.....

Germany calling.....

2006-10-09T13:34:00.000-05:00

I was recently presented with an incredible opportunity to accept a management position for a global communications company. Sounds great, right? The only drawback to this is - it's located in Germany. That in and of itself doesn't present a problem; afterall, I am still a German citizen and free to go anywhere within Europe for work or otherwise.

My son however, is not so thrilled with the prospect of moving across the big ocean and starting a whole new life. No matter how much money and perks they toss at me - my son is still going to be on the losing end.

Do I have the right to ask him to give up his friends, start a new school and learn a new language? No matter how wonderful Europe is and how much I know he would love it, eventually I think he would resent me for exerting parental control and forcing him to move.

Then of course is the matter of - what would I do with my house? Relocation assistance is great, but in the current cold real estate market I would most likely end up having to pay a mortgage in the US while I try to establish myself in Germany.

Ah let's not forget tax and citizenship implications. If I leave now, I may not be allowed to retain resident status. Is a great job really worth giving up 20 of my everything I've worked so hard for?

If I were alone, without children that is, I wouldn't think twice about this. I'd jump on the chance to move to Europe and have a challenging position that will allow me to grow. The globetrotter in me would gladly hand over management of my property to folks that can handle it.

Alas, I don't think I can do it to my son. I can't be selfish in this instance and only think about what I want. I debated it long and hard all weekend long, I was truly torn. First, I was giddy and happy at the prospect but after talking with my son about it, it was clear that he was not that thrilled.

It's a good thing my name is not Susan Smith.

Other people's trash....

2006-10-05T08:44:00.000-05:00

I've done a lot of housecleaning lately as my older son's room turned into a storage facility after he left for the Army. I've tossed out a bunch of worn out and tired furniture and the very accommodating city of Charlotte has helped out. However, there is a very quirky phenomenon: every time I put something to the curb it disappears!

I've put out a beat up Microwave stand, some ancient Rattan tables and various other pieces of odd furniture and knick knacks. They just disappear. I'm assuming that someone is actually roaming the neighborhood looking for new and exciting ways to furnish their house/apartment. Personally, I wouldn't want other people's trash in my house. I don't have a problem with buying stuff at Goodwill (got some great deals there before) but I draw the line at rummaging curbside. Somehow I picture snakes slithering around in beat up drawers or worse yet, SPIDERS! Yuck. I hate spiders.

In a way though, I suppose I'm guilty of the same behavior though. I have a tendency to collect other people's discards as well; only in my case, it's people. Ha! I've always had this notion that I need to save people. By itself helping folks isn't a bad thing - after all charity is a good thing right? For some reason though, I always ended up with the short end of the stick. I help someone out and next thing you know, they take everything that wasn't part of the deal. As my grandma would've said:"You offer the little finger and they take the whole arm!"

I have gotten better at it though. I've honestly exercised restraint in collecting any more people in need of repair. The ugly lessons I've learned with a few of them were enough to make me reconsider. Afterall, you can only be walked on so many times before the threads are bare. In a way, I've gone from one extreme to the other. Since my people picker was broken, I've put it on hiatus until I can find someone qualified to repair it. Perhaps I just need to find the golden middle...wherever that may be.

The dynamics of dysfunction

2006-10-03T07:24:00.000-05:00

On my way home yesterday I contemplated my rueful and irrational emotional state. Finally the root cause of my current anxiety dawned on me. I am not irritated at life in general, I am anxious about my upcoming trip home to Germany to visit family. Now, generally visits to family can be somewhat taxing once a year. Multiply that by 20 and you have the answer.

I haven't been home since 1988; since before the Berlin Wall came down and since before I had my last two children. And yes, that is a long time not to go home.

I grew up in an alcoholic home and spent a good part of my teenage years in and out of group homes for girls (I suppose the equivalent would be the American foster system?). My sister was taken by the state after a particularly brutal beating at my stepfather's hands and I was soon to follow. In essence, our relationship froze at age 9 and 13. I don't think we ever grew past it.

Chronologically we've gotten older of course, but every conversation seems to want to take a turn toward old memories and experiences and nothing good ever comes of it. Hence, I try not to make contact too often. Shame on me, I know. I just can't take the constant bickering, whoa is me and the like.

As kids, we all had our roles in the home. I was the mature one, always cleaning up messes and taking care of things as well as my siblings; my sister was the mouthy and rebellious one (which consequently got her a beating, see above) and my brother, well, he was just a baby. Although he certainly carries his own scars as evidenced by his Satanist leaning tats he wears all over his body now. I digress...

I decided that after almost 20 years it was time to make a visit; show my son around my old stomping grounds and visit my family. My cousin is planning a get together for all the cousins (and there are a LOT of them) and of course my sister was invited as well. Come to think of it, I was a little surprised at the thought since my cousin hated me as a kid because I decided to brush her prized Barbie's hair and summarily was forbidden to ever play with any of her toys ever again! Ha! I digress...

My sister however did not take to it too kindly - the invite to the cousin's meet that is. As a matter of fact, I had to listen to how selfish I am to think that her world stops revolving just because I am visiting after all this time, carrying on about having to care for her cats and needing to work because her life is just so damn shitty.

In essence, I am supposed to feel guilty for moving thousands of miles away, making a life for myself and leaving her to fend for herself and looking after my mother. I always told her to get away from that situation but maybe the role of martyr fits her, I can't really say.

What I do know is that this whole visit is making me anxious. I've distanced myself from that whole mess so long ago, yet now, I feel that black hole of a family trying to suck me right back in. And I am not willing to go quietly; I worked hard to raise myself out of the emotional cesspool of dysfunction. Yes, I've had my battles, made some wrong turns and bad choices - but who hasn't? Overall, I think I've done well - so why should I feel guilty about this?

20 years is a long time to be gone, I know this. I'm hoping that perhaps my visit will at least bridge the gap somewhat and I can connect my son with his heritage, if nothing else. Some things may never change though. I fear that my sister and mother are forever locked into this co-dependent dance that I left behind so long ago.

All I want is some aniseed candy, a Nuernberger brat and maybe some Kartoffelpuffer with applesauce at the Christmas market. That ought to tide me over another 20 years or so....

Big hairy spiders.....

2006-10-02T15:30:00.000-05:00

Lately a series of mundane events that would've never bothered me before have triggered allergic reactions. Everything and everyone irritates me, I'm not sleeping well and no matter what I do, I just cannot seem to find my rhythm these days. I have my moments where a song on the radio can get me to sing along with it, but that lasts well, the length of the song. As soon as I exit the vehicle I'm just irritated again. There really isn't any reason for it.

Which led me to thinking...jeez, maybe it's the dreaded peri-menopause coming along? Maybe I am heading straight for the rollercoaster of nightsweats and an expanding waistline? Should I recognize this if that were the case? I can remember full well the ups and downs of pregnancy and if it feels anything like that - being subjected to my being annoyed is the least of the world's problems. Ha!

Seriously though, I've gotten into a funk and am guilty of wallowing in self-pity for a minute or two. Although I have no clue what I am so rueful about. I just am. I think I've read somewhere that depression starts this way. Now, what on earth do I have to be depressed about?? So that can't be it.

I'm staring at my blog, the cursor blinking relentlessly - reminding me to "Write already!" Well I am writing dammit, I'm just not really saying anything. Ha!

I was telling my son a funny story the other day. When I was four (yes, I do remember that far back) I was spending the night at my aunt's house with my mother. I was supposed to be sleeping on the couch while they sat and watched an old B&W Tarzan movie. I can't remember the name of it but it involved a huge spider that was about to eat Tarzan (or something like that). Me peaking under the blankets at the TV saw this and screamed at the top of my lungs, while jumping up and sending my shoes flying across the room toward the TV set. Obviously I scared the crap out of everyone in the room and was in big doo-doo for watching in the first place.

The point of this is, I'm sort of feeling like Tarzan there...being all swallowed up by the big, hairy spider named "Life". If kicking and screaming could drum up some excitement, I'd gladly do it every day! Alas, making noise doesn't seem to help any... slinking around in the background doesn't help either. I'm half-way through this mess and I still haven't quite figured out the right balance. It really is quite irritating....

The value of an MBA...

2006-09-28T07:26:00.000-05:00

..or I should say, the non-existant value of my MBA in the context of my respective employer. I requested a meeting with my boss yesterday, mainly to go over some things and also to get his pulse on where I fit in within the company. I brought a lot of experience to the table when he hired me (which is probably WHY he hired me in the first place) but since have become pigeonholed into a role that I am not comfortable, or happy, with. I told him that I am capabable of so much more and that in essence my previous position was a mix of what dadd's girl is doing on top of what I'm doing. He replied, "Well, I know you've been taking all kinds of fancy courses but I don't think we need them anywhere." I just looked at him a bit stunned.

I mean, with one sentence he pretty much cut me down to size, devalued my pursuit of an MBA to a meaningless venture and made it clear that there is no room for advancement at all.

I took the job because I needed it at the time, but I was also led to believe that he would retire soon and I would be next in line. It appears to be just a bunch of snow at this point to get me in the door. I also took a fairly big paycut at the time. It will take me two more years to recapture my previous salary. I digress....

I felt truly, well, depressed for a minute or two. Then I was pissed. Now I am just resolute in finding another job. And just to really get him going, I think I may even go after my doctorate next year. I like the sound of Dr. Gina.

Coming out of hiding....

2006-09-25T20:48:00.000-05:00

I've neglected my blog somewhat the past week or so. There is a perfectly good reason for that and while I feel a bit reluctant to put it out there - I'm going to do it anyway. That's how brave I am! Ha!

I've had an ex resurface after many years. Again. He's like a boomerang that just will not quit coming back. This is the same one that sort of left his wife for me (without informing her), that ended up leaving me for some other woman, eventually bounced back to me...well, you get the picture. I've been done with it for a long time. Years. I've moved on.

Every once in a while he will surface again and want to reminisce or whatever the purpose may be, I'm not sure. I made the mistake to email him a few times, I should've never done that. What was I thinking!!

In the meantime, I've noticed that he's found my blog (darn siggy's) and has repeatedly come back to read. Well, I suppose I am out there in the blogosphere exposed and any Tom, Dick or Jane can read what I have to say. I just never thought one of the masses would be him. In a weird sort of way I felt violated.

I tried to ignore it, but every time I sat down to write I found that I would censor myself, my words, my thoughts. Always thinking... "what if he thinks this is about him?" As in one of my previous posts about the love of my life. And no, it had nothing to do with him. He read it like 51 times though. Almost obsessive methinks.

However, today I thought, dammit, this is my blog! Why am I giving him power that I took back years ago? This is truly counterproductive and a little retarded. So here I am... Maybe he will stay gone after he reads this....

Drowning in boxes

2006-09-16T09:24:00.000-05:00

I've been missing a few days, mainly because I am virtually drowning in boxes. I've taken advantage of some great Labor Day sales and replaced my oven, the cooktop and my coffee tables, plus added a sofa table.

None of this stuff comes pre-assembled (well, except for the appliances) and is stuffed into oversized cardboard boxes. It took me 5 minutes to get the sofa table out of the box and almost over an hour to figure out the instructions to put the thing together. All Chinese to me. It's done but I think I missed a few screws - looks a little uneven. Ha! The perils of not having a handyman around. sigh.

Trying to break down this cardboard box mess has left me with a stack almost 3 feet high! I realize this stuff is supposed to be recycable but the city won't actually come and get it unless I cut it into neat little 3x3 squares. Ugh. I don't even have a box cutter.

Hence, I've abused various kitchen knives in an attempt to get the desired 3x3 size; it's not working real well. Turns out it is a great stress reliever though to just jump on them and crush them. I think I hurt my ankle on one of my jumps - those appliance boxes are pretty strong.

Anyway.... those darn boxes remind me of myself a little. Various folks in my past have attempted to fit me into neat little boxes according to their specifications. Now, I get pretty rebellious when forced to fit and I am pretty tough to break down. Hence I think the frustrated "fitter" often tried to jump on me and just make it fit. Never worked. I was put out to the curb a couple of times due to my reluctance to conform and a few times I put myself out. You just cannot make someone fit.

The older I get the more I revel in my individuality and my skin gets a little thicker each year as well. Maybe I should try to be a bit more pliable but I just can't seem to find it within myself to bend too much. I am content living outside of the box, thank you very much.

As for this buggers all over my floor, they will get put out to the curb no matter what size they are.

I am a credit whore

2006-09-09T07:09:00.000-05:00

While the title may be a little shocking or misleading, let me explain before I get flamed by the feminist left (or right) for objectifying myself.

I obtained my very own, very first credit card at 23 or thereabouts. At the time I was a wild one and fiscal responsibility was low on my list of priorities. I didn't give it a second thought to run the card up and never pay back a dime. In essence, I had no clue what credit was all about. That revelation didn't hit me until I tried to buy a car a few years later - you guessed it, on credit. Since I had so gleefully trashed mine, I ended up paying something like 19% on the car loan, maybe it was even higher than that. I paid almost twice for my car what it was worth. Again, in my stupidity it never occured to me that not paying my bills years before was the problem.

Fast forward to 2004. I am now just about to graduate with a BS in business, have worked in the finance world long enough to know what credit is all about and am mature enough (methinks) to understand, "Dang, I better do something about this!" Hence, I resolutely go at cleaning up my credit as though my life depended on it. And in some ways it really does.

When you have bad credit you most likely need it the most but can't get it; when you have good credit you most likely don't need it but can get it easily. It is a paradox, but the way of the credit world.

It has taken me another almost two years to reach a point where bad stuff is gone from my credit report, good stuff has been added and I am able to enter the world of lower interest rates. I'm not quite superprime elite just yet, but getting there. In my giddiness at watching my scores rise on a monthly basis I went on an application spree - and added a ton of new credit cards to my portofolio. I was never allowed into the elite circle of the Big Five. You know - the circle where only those that are worthy are allowed to enter? American Express, Citibank, Chase, MBNA and Discover. The Illuminati of the credit world, quietly controlling everying without anyone's knowledge. They pull the strings in the finance world and you better believe you want to be part of that elite or else be left behind. I digress....

My application spree was successful but it has produced an unexpected side effect. I have become a credit whore. I am addicted to the high of "CONGRATULATIONS! You have been approved for the super snazzy razzle dazzle elite XYZ card with a limit of XXX dollars!" I cannot get enough of those words and go out of my way to get them. Mind you, I don't really need the cards per se but let me refer you back to paragraph four above.

How did I pull this off? I joined a group of credit gurus online. A hodgepodge of former credit terrorists who have banded together to demystify the world of credit card companies, assist each other through the ups and downs of ridding themselves of the addiction of overzealous and irresponsible spending (and consequently trashing their credit or that of their spouse) and dispensing wise anecdotes so that us stupid young'uns may learn and prosper. I owe this group a world of gratitude in that respect although now I must learn to nurture the beast of high finance and not fall flat on my face again. But, I say it again proudly - I am a credit whore; there is not a feeling better in the world than to whip out my American Express card to pay for dinner. Well, maybe great sex but I digress again....

Productivity? Buh Humbug!

2006-09-04T10:55:00.000-05:00

I've spent the entire long weekend doing absolutely nothing. Not that there aren't any projects to do around here, I just didn't do them. I suppose my son's ability to turn a blind eye to the dust bunnies in his room has rubbed off on me. I see them, but I don't. A strange optical illusion going on there. Ha!

On my way to the movie theater yesterday, here I go again, on the way to somewhere and always thinking whilst doing so (...interesting!)...I digress. Start over, on my way, it struck me that I am a mere three months away from being released from the torture that is graduate school. No more papers, research, analysis, hours and hours spent reading and writing. What ever will I do with myself on graduation? I can't even get the energy up to get motivated on my long weekends off!

My son already has me pegged as the lonely and crazy old cat lady when he finally moves on to college. How frightening is that? What happened to the hippest mom on the block? Ouch!

In my mind I always have to-do lists on things I want to see or do or accomplish when I finally have my life back. Yet, when I have the time to do them, I'm like Scrooge... Buh Humbug! It seems like nothing really entices me or gets my juices flowing these days. Quite frightening. Well, maybe if I could write a column and just gripe all day, that would be cool. Ha!

I seem to have lost that sense of wonder and excitement somewhere along the line. I'm not entirely certain if this is due to me growing up and seeing the world in a grown-up sort of way, or if I have just become old and boring. Ha! I've traveled and moved around so much in my younger years, there doesn't seem to be a whole lot that just really beckons me. Perhaps if I had a partner in crime this would be different. As it is, I am constantly swamped with responsibilities and the whole seriousness of living and life. Quite frankly, I am sick of it at times. My inner rebel wants to say "To hell with it all!" and just do something really stupid and immature - like paper someone's house or run down the street buck-naked. Well, maybe not naked. Scratch that one.

The point is, I am really struggling here! What is it I am supposed to be doing with my free time? I am constantly reading about all these fine people out there that partake in all sorts of activities and never seem to be home. I on the other hand, always seem to be home and when I am going somewhere - I can't wait to get back. With all the craziness in the world it seems to be the only place where I have a safe bastion. Then again, maybe playing it safe is what keeps me stuck in this mode... I am open to suggestions to dredge up my inner child and go hog wild.

Anyone?

Buy me, buy me!!

2006-08-31T11:27:00.000-05:00

On my way to work (seems I am always on the road these days?!) I was struck by how many new retail shops and strip malls are currently under construction in this town. This on top of 6 (maybe more?) already huge malls, hundreds if not thousands of smaller stores and retail outlets.... Methinks, who do they think will buy all this stuff? Granted since Bank of America has set up shop (pardon the pun) with their HQ here we have inherited the affluent banker types, but come on?

I think what galls me about this is that while they are building all of this shopping Nirvana, there are still thousands of people below the poverty level in this city that will never, ever shop in any of those places. While we are throwing our money around at the malls, there are families out there struggling to put food on their table still. It's apalling.

This consumerism, all this buy, buy, buy...is really disconcerting. Yes, we have charities that pick up some of the need but overall we are not doing enough in my opinion. The job creations that were supposed to come along with new businesses coming into the area (after hefty concessions and incentives from the state mind you) never really materialized. Nobody talks about that. What they do talk about is the grand opening of Macy's at Southpark Mall. How about that.

I speak from experience when I say that I would've rather had a well-paid job, decent housing and the ability to provide adequately for my children than having another gigantic (and expensive) store in my area. The programs for subsidized child care are continuously cut, the minimum wage is abhorringly low and people are still sleeping in their cars or on the streets. So when I see yet another store going up, pardon me if I don't wet my panties over it.

The city can only ignore the poverty in this town for so long. Poor people don't shop at Louis Vitton.

Breaker Breaker 1-9

2006-08-30T08:56:00.000-05:00

As I was stuck behind a convoy of 18-wheelers in traffic this morning, yesterday's post by fellow blogger Dawn got me to thinking... these darn truckers think they own the road!

While I was a great fan of the movie Convoy (I actually saw it in the theater in 1978 - that's how old it is! Ha!)....I am not a fan of big rigs acting like bullies on the road. It occurs to me that the bigger the rig, the more obnoxious the driver.

My kids used to love making those pumping motion on our highway travels and get the truckers to blow their horns. It amused them..but they were kids. Ha! And I'm digressing....

Now, I am a generous sort when it comes to sharing the road and I will let you in, including big ol' trucks if I'm not in a hurry. Sometimes they will blink at me and ackowledge the gesture but most of the time they just squeeze in and go about their way. This morning, stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic, I had nowhere to go anyway, so I let one of the truckers sitting next to me in. He graciously thanked me by blinking his tail lights. There was another truck right behind him and he didn't even wait if I was going to let him in too. He muscled his way behind the first truck and just went! No thanks either. The rat. Now that made me mad.

I can't begin to count how many times I was on the freeway trying to keep steady on the road in torrential rain, hardly able to see five feet in front of me and there comes a truck barrelling down the road with his demon lights right in my rearview mirror. And they don't slow down either. Nope. They expect ME to get out of the way. Given that I cannot see to the front, left or right of me with all this rain pounding down...well, let's just say, I was sweating bullets with this rig riding on my tail like glue. I was certain I was going to die that day. Sigh.

Nothing personal against you truckers out there - but sometimes you scare the hell out of me and truthfully I think you enjoy it! Be nice to those that are nice to you and quit being the playground bully!

The thing about respect....

2006-08-29T06:09:00.000-05:00

I grew up believing that it was important to have respect - for authority, for your elders, for other people's property and lightning. I'm still fairly big on it although my qualifications for respecting authority have diminished somewhat over the years.

Yesterday I come home to find my entire bag of gummy bears missing. I am a fanatic about my gummy bears! If I was addicted to crack I could not be more fierce about protecting my stash! Since there are only two people living in the house (and my dog has no particular affinity for gummies) the instant culprit was my teenage son. I was livid!

Now before you say that I am being ridiculous over some gummies (which he thinks I am by the way) let me just say this: it's NOT about the gummies. It's about respect. As a kid I would not have dreamed of taking anything out in the open if it did not belong to me. It just wasn't done. My son on the other hand, appears to often live under the mantra, "What's mine is mine; what's yours is mine." He routinely gets into the holiest places of all: my purse. Sometimes it's the gum, sometimes it's a couple of bucks..whatever, not even the point.

The principle of the matter is that no matter what it is, if it does not belong to you - you do not take it! I can't seem to be able to get this through his head. When did kids turn into such selfish demons?? Everything seems to be about instant gratification and "I want it now". I certainly did not raise him this way! I've always been a firm believer in making my boys work for whatever they wanted. Granted, some of this was driven by the fact that when they were small we had very little but I still believe it is a good lesson for real life. Once they get out there, nothing will be given to them - ever.

So I grounded him. He looked at me like I was crazy. Oh well. A few minutes later one of his buddies comes over to get him. He walks to the door, puts on the "Whoa is me" look and says, "I'm in trouble for taking my mom's gummies" with a voice full of disdain and disbelief. So I grounded him another week for acting like it's nothing and trying to garner sympathy from his buddy (who by the way is notorious for being in trouble himself). Am I overreacting? I don't think so.

I think he needs to understand that it's not what he's taking but the mere act itself. Right now he's fairly safe under my wing, but in a few years he will be out there making his own way. Taking some gummies from a complete stranger or a store shelf could earn him a beating or a criminal record. So he's grounded. One can only hope that he will eventually understand what respect is all about.

Workouts and fun

2006-08-27T09:36:00.000-05:00

I've posted an ad on Craigslist recently for a woman workout partner. I don't like going to the gym it just makes me uncomfortable; too much testosterone and ego floating around if you ask me. Although some folks are motivated by seeing all that sweating and muscle around them to work harder; well, me I just want to slink into a corner and become invisible.

Hence, I invested in various pieces of home exercise equipment. I used it religiously for a while until life intervened with a rather demanding schedule and well...me becoming less and less motivated and more and more lazy. Ha! But I digress.

Back to the Craigslist ad. It was a very simple to the point ad, stating that I'm a single mom that wants to find a female workout partner to get myself back into shape. Guess what happens? Yup, you are right. Out of all the responses I received a total of ONE was from another single mom. The rest? All men. Now, I was very clear that I was looking for a female to work out with. Or else, what would be the point? I could just as well fork out the gym membership fees and go there. Sheesh. Either some folks can't read or they thought this was an invitation for some sort of date.

I didn't respond to the male ads; as a matter of fact I was annoyed by them. What made these guys think that I would respond to a line like, "I'm so and so and love to work out and have FUN!" What is that supposed to mean? Have fun with what? Maybe I'm reading too much into this but to me it sounds like he was looking for a little afternoon delight, if you know what I mean. And I am so not interested.

I did however email the single mom back, so we'll see what happens with that.

Come to the dark side.....

2006-08-23T19:24:00.000-05:00

I think over the years I've developed a case of impatience. I find myself sitting in traffic, moving two feet every five minutes and quietly seething until I blow up. I get irritated when drivers cut in and pissed when I let them in (in my generous moments) and they don't even say thank you.

I don't mind parking on the far side of the lot at the grocery store and walking a bit, but I do mind inconsiderate drivers cutting in my path, backing out of their spots without even looking where they are going. I try to be a conscientious driver, pay attention to traffic and don't generally get into wild antics (like doing 60 in a 35) that could get myself hurt.

I find that a lot of people on the road these days have no business being there. Someone ought to forcibly drag them through the driver's window and extract their license by any means necessary. Part of the problem in this town is the hundreds, if not thousands, of unlicensed illegal immigrants driving. I'm not going to harp on that issue today, I'm already irritated enough (illigal immigration I mean) but really. Every police road block produces tons of arrests for driving on suspended, revoked or no license at all. Lot of accidents happening with crazy drivers eating, talking, primping, reading - all while driving at 70 miles an hour. For God sakes!

The city is growing by leaps and bounds, there's always road construction going on and yet - we have no workable throughways. Everything is constantly backed up, jam packed and generally a nightmare. And it's starting to get to me. I actually find myself cursing people out - out loud; whereas before I would just quietly give them the evil eye. Now I am spewing forth unmentionables and staring folks straight in the eye while banging on my steering wheel.

I'm a woman (last time I checked anyway) but most women are the worst drivers - ever! I can't even count how many times I've gotten stuck behind a lady doing 45 on the freeway just stoically staring ahead while the rest of us are checking our watches and cursing her out for making us late to wherever we are going. Or the cell phone issue. Boy. What is so damn important that you have to be talking on the cell while you are driving? You are swerving all over the road, cutting people off changing lanes and are being a total irritant! What did you do before they invented cell phones? Send smoke signals to the other party to alert them to your imminant arrival?

So I have this dark side now; I don't particularly like it. For some reason it makes me feel better though to curse like a sailor at all the other idiots on the road. Or maybe I should give up big city living and get back to the country. Wait - that's exactly what I did when I moved here! Mid sized town with a country feel; now they've turned into a metropolis that attracts all the horrible things that come with big city living... traffic and morons. But I digress..... come to dark side.. I'm already there....

Daddy's girl, round two...

2006-08-22T17:41:00.000-05:00

I spent the past week or so with loads of overtime trying to get this audit complete...including a full stint on Sunday. Now, I thought that I was the queen over my domain but the last week or so I've sort of questioned that. Some things were discussed, people were stressed out and tired - you get the picture. Instead of addressing concerns with me Daddy's girl turns around and rants and raves to my boss. Which left me with no recourse to defend myself.

I mean, how do you go to your boss and tell him that his daughter is overstepping her boundaries? I feel like such an outsider when she does that and it truly, really bothers me! Not so much that she has concerns or whatever, but the fact that she keeps running to her daddy to whine about it. I wanted to throw something yesterday (but did not) I was so irritated with it all.

Nepotism is a bad situation to be in at any company in my opinion. You just cannot win the fight against the children, it's impossible. No matter how brilliant I am, or what I do, I will always be at the losing end of the battle. Sigh. It bites.

Looks I need to polish up me resume methinks.

Resistance is futile...

2006-08-20T09:44:00.000-05:00

Part of corporate takeovers is change. Sometimes small and subtle changes, sometimes sweeping and painful ones. Our company changed from a small distribution company to a subsidiary of a global German corporation. Employees were inevitably laid off due to these mergers, such is the dynamic of ever increasing demand for cutting costs.

I was brought in to replace one of those laid off but feel at the moment that even my job security is nill to none. Expectations from our German parent company are often (in my opinion) unreasonable. They are so far removed from our daily operations that trying to explain what we were up against was a thorough attempt at futility. They want what they want, when they want it.

Most of the office staff has been around for a number of years (me excluded) and were certainly used to doing things a certain way. For months I've been told to stop doing this and that immediately but when I passed this information on..well, it fell on deaf ears. People can be so resistant to change they just don't hear anything.

Friday afternoon I was subjected to a barrage of expletives from one of the corporate folks, I passed this on once again. Although I have responsibility over my realm as it where I have no influence on actually bringing about these changes. Instead, here it is Sunday morning and I am heading to the office to fix the problems that should've been fixed months ago. I am not happy. Not happy at all.

I've experienced a couple of mergers in my career and inevitably there is always someone that just flat out refuses to succumb to the changes and continues going about their daily routine as though nothing had ever changed at all. So here we are, in damage control mode when we could've been proactive and staved off all this Sunday work crapola.

I think this is true for just about any change in our lives. We hold on to what is familiar because it gives us a sense of comfort. When the changes are forced upon us we have the uncanny ability to ignore them, go into complete denial and then wonder why the rug is eventually pulled out from underneath us. Such a human thing, really. We do not want to change, we like things just the way they are...

I for one try to embrace change whenever I can and chalk it off to a learning experience. I'm not always entirely succesful at this, but hey... I am human too. So off to work I go on a sunny Sunday morning, when I should be lounging on the couch playing remote control jockey. Isn't change grand?

It's your brain, stupid!

2006-08-18T18:42:00.000-05:00

I am a Sci-Fi nut; I believe in extraterrestrial life, a civilization beyond our own and believe homo sapiens to be extra-ordinarily arrogant to think otherwise. In such a vast expanse of a universe that no human being can wrap their brains around...why would we, or could we, ever believe to be the only living thing out there? To me, this seems ludicrous.

I read metaphsyical texts, as well as Plato and Socrates (yes, I do, really) and philosophy has always centered around the one question "Why are we here and could we be more?"

My favorite Sci-Fi show isn't about aliens invading or little green men leaving crop circles. I will readily admit that Friday nights are generally reserved to being glued to the tube watching SG-1 battle yet another foe and the like. I just love those for the entertainment value. No, my favorite show is Roswell. I realize it's been taken off the air for quite a while now (thank goodness for re-runs) but the premise of the show still gives so much food for thought.

For brevity sake I won't recap episodes or even the plot or cast. I will only say this much - it has gotten me to thinking... what IF we as a people truly could develop the ability to use more than the measly 10% of our brains we use now? What IF, we truly could develop our cerebral cortex to enhance our abilities and perform feats only seen in super hero movies? What if??

Nobody really knows the true nature of our brains, nor how the neurons interact with anything else or what a soul is. It has been the debate of thousands of scientists over hundreds of years and we are no closer to the answer now, nor do I believe that we will truly ever be. Some things just cannot be explained - they just are!

I would love to have the ability to move things with a mere thought, or alter the molecular structure of things (how about changing an Explorer into a Ferrari? Ha!..just kidding), or perhaps turn all the deserts of the world into plains of crop? Methinks this would be amazing.

I am fascinated by the thought that if we could find a way to harness the true powers of our brains, just by say, a mere additional 10 percent or so - amazing things could happen. But then it strikes me, any ability that can be used for good can also be used in reverse.

So what if, we develop these amazing abilities - regardless of race, creed or conviction? I can see armageddon in that scenario. I cannot even begin to imagine if the necessity of weapons became pointless as everyone would have an ability to murder people at will. We as a people have always throughout history exhibited this innate need to fall into one spectrum or another. Either we are good or evil. People have always killed, people have always loved.

Entering these abilites into the equation without a fail safe spells certain doom to me. Don't get me wrong, I would like nothing better than to be able to study and just look at the page...BOOM, it's there. ::sigh:: For the time being, I will have to do it the hard way and actually read all those books.

Just do think about it though....with every good thing that comes your way there has to be a counterforce. A ying to the yang. This is how it has always been, and always will be.

Chicks, broads and old ladies

2006-08-17T19:22:00.000-05:00

I have a friend, a male friend, who every time he sees me greets me with an exuberant, "Here's the old lady from hell." Now, I truly have no idea why he calls me that and even repeated ribbings have not made him stop. I told him the other day that after every encounter with him I feel depressed and well, old. Who wants to be the old lady from hell? I wondered if he calls his wife that at home and he just laughed it off, "She would kick my ass!" Well, hello?! So why am I the old lady then? I thought the term old lady implied wife, girlfriend or mistress - of which I am neither to this man.

Hey, when I was young I thought it was kind of cool to be someone's old lady. Then again, I was running with the biker crowd at the time and the women were all old ladies. It was just a term of endearment as I suppose.

Now, I'm really not so crazy about people using any sort of terms of endearment on me that sounds negative. Chick and broad is another one of my pet peeves. I am neither a chicken nor a, well, hell, what's a broad anyway?

I have a tough enough time coming to terms with being in my 40's, do I need to reminded of that? I think not. I prefer to be just a girl. Or if you want to be respectful, you can just call me lady - just leave the old part out of it.

The value of reminiscing

2006-08-15T09:55:00.000-05:00

My horoscope suggested today that it is a good thing to reminisce as long as my foot is firmly in the present. I will agree that stepping backward in life and continuing to live in the past is completely counterproductive. However, to reminisce merely means an account of a memorable experience and in and of itself is not a bad thing.

I practice reminiscence quite often; sometimes consciously, sometimes not. The times when memories are triggered most often occur through sounds or scents. For example, the scent of bananas reminds me of first grade as my mother continuously stuck a banana in my satchel and it always got smashed. First grade also is triggered by the smell of floor wax. It’s a comforting thing really.

The sound of seagulls and crashing ocean waves remind me of the summer I spent in St. Peter Ording on the German Nordsee and it calms me down to a point of complete serenity. There was something magical about that summer and each trip to the beach bears the same result of reminiscence.

The smell of fresh baked pastries reminds me of my grandmother’s kitchen as she was always baking something and again, I love the feeling of security this triggers.

On the flipside, the smell of stale tobacco and alcohol triggers a definite discomfort as my father was an alcoholic who consequently died of liver cirrhosis. The fights at my home during those years still linger in my memories and I do not like to revisit them; they make me feel helpless and put me into survival mode at the same time. I understand this about me so I truly try to separate the now from the then; it can be difficult at times.

There is value in reminiscing. It can serve as a compass to your character, guide you in your decision making and help you understand your reactions to certain (and oft inevitable) life events. It’s impractical to wallow in the past as it can district from day to day living and moving forward. An occasional visit to the past can be quite comforting though. I chose to embrace the memories that trigger feelings of security and comfort; the rest, well...you learn to live with it and deal with them from a detached adult point of view.

Dreamland

2006-08-14T15:25:00.000-05:00

It was one of those mornings where I kept rolling over trying to stay asleep. I fought the emergence from dreamland for as long as I could and finally spat out, “Dammit!” and got up. I am not a morning person. As a matter of fact, I am downright grouchy when I first wake up and rattling my cage before I had coffee is generally ill advised. Perhaps it’s a reaction to having to leave my land of dreams where anything and everything is possible. I have entire movies playing up there in full Technicolor and Dolby surround sound – it’s an awesome experience. Hence, I hate to get up.

Strangely enough, when I’m in a committed relationship that includes the sharing of my bed, I can get up just fine. I don’t mind it one bit. I’ll cuddle and spoon and snuggle for a few minutes and then happily bounce out of bed off to the kitchen for coffee. I can go about my morning with a smile and not think twice about rousing a grumpy teenager out of bed. Maybe it’s the knowledge that someone else is there to lift some of the burden of living. It can get downright ugly out there! Two heads are better than one and two bodies snuggled under the blankets provide much more protection against the onslaught of reality.

My dreams have become my safe havens over the years. It’s a place where I can be anyone, see anyone and do anything without repercussions. Mornings like today, I still wish I could turn and spoon up to a better half. 7 more hours before I can go back to sleep.

Oooo....I've been so bad today

2006-08-13T18:24:00.000-05:00

I bit the sour apple and went shopping with my son today. It's almost back to school time so I figured, I'd have to eventually. We ended up at Hecht's (part of Macy's now). Ah, the clearance rack beckoned. I had no intention of spending any money on myself since I sincerely loathe shopping. I truly do.

However, browsing through the isle I couldn't resist and ended up purchasing a new outfit for work. Maybe More inspired me, who knows? On the way out we walked through the fragrance section. I haven't really bought any new perfume or cologne in a long time. It's a really clever marketing ploy if you think about it. Right at the exit, bright and beautiful with the various designers lined up like little soldiers.

I was drawn to them like a Geisha to GI's.. ok, bad analogy maybe. Ha! I digress. I ended up buying a bottle of Dolce & Gabbana's Light Blue. Don't even ask what I paid for it, I will not tell for fear of embarrassment. It's obscene. I will say this though - I absolutely love the scent!

I won't post a link to it but you can get it at various online fragrance shops as well. Ah, how to describe it... I found this description and it fits very well...

A stunning perfume overwhelming and irresistible like the joy of living. Surprising and coloured: the liveliness of Sicilian citron, the happiness of Granny smith apple, the spontaneity of Bluebells. Feminine and resolute: the intensity of jasmine, the freshness of bamboo, the charm of white rose. Deep and true: the character of cedar wood, the fullness of amber, the embrace of musk.

I can't stop smelling my wrists! It's almost a giddy kind of scent and if I had some bubbles to blow I'd be doing that right now. What a perfect complement to my earlier post today. Break out the water balloons!

Putting the fun back into life

2006-08-13T09:58:00.000-05:00

As I sit here on a gorgeous North Carolina Sunday morning, sipping my obligatory coffee and catching up on the news online... I wonder... when did I become such a homebody? I clearly recall the many nights on the town, the trips out of town and generally having a blast painting the town. Now it seems the town is not so interesting to do these days.

Every Friday rolls around and I make all sorts of plans in my head. Do this and that, get in the car head to the beach, visit a museum or something. None of that ever seems to come to fruition. The past seven years have zoomed on by and all I have to show for it are two college degrees, one teen out of the house and another well on the way. I spend most of my weekends still writing papers, catching up on the (yuck) housework I neglected during the week and well, goofing off on the net and musing away on here lately.

Right before I finished my undergrad I promised myself that I would take a trip to the beach. Never happened. Instead, I took a short break and headed straight to graduate school. Another two years of writing papers and lazing around the house. I am four months away from my MBA and totally clueless what I'm going to do after that. Why did I push myself so hard anyway? I have a list of things to accomplish and thus far have reached most of my goals. Yet, there is no leisure list. I just dream of all these exotic places I want to visit. Australia's coral reefs, Egypt's pyramids and Rome's coliseum...

Always something seems to take precedence over my plans; always life intervenes with one minor crisis or another. Or am I just stuck in this work, work, work mode? Have I forgotten what it is to have fun with all this self-pushing I’m doing? And the strange thing is, that once I reach my self-imposed goals….it never seems to be enough. Why am I constantly trying to one-up myself? I push myself to the point of mental exhaustion – until there is nothing left to give to myself.

They say, take care of you first. I’m still in caregiver mode where everything and everyone else has priority over me. The kids, the job, school, the house, the dog. Everyone wants a piece of me all the time and in the process, Gina is sort of sitting at the sidelines watching life zoom by. Granted, some of it is my own doing – but why do I do it? It’s as if I am constantly waiting for that attagirl from someone, somewhere. Perhaps I need to pat myself on the back and just let the exhausting ambition take a rest. Being all grown up and responsible is tiring when you’re going it alone.

Maybe recapturing youth isn’t about looking younger; maybe it’s about putting the childlike fun back into my life? Baby steps methinks. The next fountain I see on another searing hot day – I think I will run through it.

The fountain of youth....

2006-08-12T15:03:00.000-05:00

Two things got me to thinking today. First, I watched an installment of Morgan Spurlock's "30 Days" series. This 34 year old gent injected himself with testosterone and HGH to supposedly recapture his college bod. What happened instead was that his liver function tanked (due to the high number of supplements he was taking on top of the injections - 40+ pills a day - INSANE!) and his sperm count went from 80 million to zero. All within a matter of a mere three weeks. The poor guy didn't even make it the full 30 days.

I thought about this for a minute as I have a virtual smorgasbord of various supplements as well. I have read hundreds, if not thousands, of pages on recapturing your youth via this route. I must have spent well over a thousand dollars in the past two years alone on all this junk. I start out enthusiastically enough but soon forget to take them. And here they are, collecting dust and wasting valuable shelf space in my already too small kitchen. Maybe I didn't stick with it long enough to make a difference, who knows. I just get tired of swallowing a ton of pills every day.

Secondly, my More magazine showed up and emblazened on the cover: "Great Style After 40: Fashion that fits your life now" Jamie Lee Curtis is also on the cover and a bit more chunky than I remember her. But I digress. Which got me to thinking again. What exactly is that supposed to mean? It reminds me of my grandma always telling me to dress my age. I still don't know what that means either. Am I supposed to be breaking out the mumu's? They looked comfy on her but she was 80 something...

I still wear basically the same style I wore in my 20s; lots of jeans and casual shirts. I will admit that as I have gotten older I've added a few skirts to my closet - which I honestly never thought I would. Try as I might though, I cannot imagine me dressing up with $300 pants because I'm over 40 now. Sure some of the outfits in the mag look snazzy but way to office and business like for me. I can't wait to jump into my sweats when I get home from work. Dressing up in suits always makes me feel so confined and well, not me. Same with makeup. I couldn't be bothered to put it on every day, way too much work. And what's wrong with au naturel anyway?

I feel comfortable in my skin just the way it is, prefer to dance to my own tune in the clothing department and generally don't pay a lot of attention to trends and such. Sure, I love to look younger than my age but all the potions and lotions and pills in the world aren't going to stop what's happening - I am simply getting older. Grow up already Gina....you're fine the way you are. Time to toss some of those bottles of pills out. Maybe go for a walk. Drat, it's raining again...

Ah...sweet relevations

2006-08-11T06:31:00.000-05:00

I've had the fortune (or perhaps misfortune if you will) to come across some recent photos of two of my exes this year. It was an eye opener.

I've been guilty of wallowing in sweet memories for half of my adult life. Well, not so sweet actually in case of ex #2. I've said this before but.... it's unnerving how people in your memories never age. Everything is frozen in time. Then, when you are presented with reality it's a rather shocking jolt. I'll be the first to say that I do not quite resemble myself as I was 20 years ago; then again, I'm not half bad either, if I may say so myself.

So, seeing various exes in various stages of aging and letting themselves go over time....it actually gives me a bit of a confidence boost. Is that sick or what? Ha!

I suppose this is the same reason funeral directors put make up on the dearly departed and in the case of horrible accidents it is ill advised to view the body. I am very visual person. I retain snapshots of everything I see fairly vividly in my memory. Sometimes these new images replace the old ones. This could be cause for endless nightmares (as in the case of seeing dead babies in the recent Middle East conflict), heartache (as in the case of abused and suffering animals) and so forth. In that case it's not a good thing to have such a photographic memory.

In the case of my departed exes (no they are not dead, but some may as well be) it is actually a good thing. All part of growing up. You finally see them as they really are, as they have become and as they will continue to be and change even further. It serves as a catalyst for me to keep growing and as fellow blogger Dawn so aptly says, "growth is shifting".

I am shifting into a new phase of my life and while I was seriously depressed upon hitting the big 4 0 for a while, I am only now beginning to embrace it. You simply cannot be 20 forever. I hear "you are only as old (young) as you feel" all the time and I'm not so sure of that makes a lot of sense for me. I felt 20something for most of my adult life while my body decided to just keep on getting older. Which is not to say that I now feel 40something per se. I simply am in the process of acceptance and you know, it's not so bad. I'm actually enjoying the ride!

Should I stay or should I go?

2006-08-10T12:23:00.000-05:00

Just yesterday I mused about the media hype surrounding the 11 missing college students from Egypt. I still am against stereo-typing and tossing all peoples of Middle Eastern decent into the same pot with the rest of the Islamic fanatics.

The news today however has me contemplating somewhat. Is this a mere coincidence that these men went missing and a couple of days later air traffic out of London to the US is all but shut down? Any self-respecting conspiracy theorist would answer with a resounding, “Yes! I told you so.”

I on the other hand have my doubts that these two events are necessarily connected. I will agree that on the surface it appears to have relevance, yet I do also believe in innocent until proven guilty. It seems that lately we’ve been subscribing to this in a backwards fashion – guilty until proven innocent. In my opinion that can only erode what we as a country stand for, freedom of choice, freedom of speech and freedom to practice whatever we want whenever we want. Well, within reason of course. Ever try being free of taxes? Ha! But I digress again.

I’m supposed to be flying to Germany this Christmas. My son fought me on this for weeks. He did not want to get on a plane (he’s never flown) and be blown up by some terrorist (his words). I presented all the arguments about flying being the safest mode of transportation, increased security at the airports etc. I eventually calmed him down and he agreed to come on a visit to see my family.

He has not seen today’s news yet and once he does, how will I alleviate his fears once again? Hell, even I am a little rattled now and I love flying! Do I want to succumb to a somewhat rational fear of being targeted whilst flying the unfriendly skies? Or do I want to say, screw it, we only live once, let’s go. I’m honestly torn. For the sake of seeing my family once again after an almost 20 year hiatus – I think I will have to chance it and hope for the best. Hiding in a panic won’t change the outcome if “they” do decide it’s time to attack.

Letting go is the hardest thing to do

2006-08-09T20:27:00.000-05:00

When I met him, it was one of those moments that are forever burned into your soul. Our eyes did meet across the room and we did fall in love instantly. It was a crazy, no-holds barred kind of love. The kind that makes you believe that nothing can hurt you ever again, nor ever did. I was barely 17 with too much life experience and not enough maturity to match it. I loved him with such fierceness and intensity that every man that ever crossed my life path after that was always silently compared…and ultimately dismissed.

22 years later, I have missed so much. I have held my potential mates to a standard that was flawed by youth, exuberance and innocence; none could have matched that. I was unfair.

When you are young and full of hope anything that comes your way is a sign of fate, a wink of destiny. Once you turn the corner of 40something, you know this not to be true. I held on to the love of my life for half of my life. I saw him in my dreams, made love to him again, held him in my arms…but it was all…well, just a left over. A remnant if you will.

I have wasted half of my life yearning for something that can never be again; lost in memories, what once was….

I have no regrets. I loved him. I loved him with every timbre of my being. Only now, it seems so futile.

Part of growing up is letting go. I know this to be a true fact; yet, it still hurts.

Egyptian exchange students - "missing"?

2006-08-09T06:17:00.000-05:00

The latest and greatest from our trusted news media and once again I am simply aghast at the sensationalist connotation. As I was scrolling through some of the comments left behind by CNN as well as MSNBC readers on this particular story, it struck me how misinformed the American public can be at times. The instant knee-jerk reaction to this newsstory is amazing! Half of the responders are of the impression that these young men simply waltzed through JFK illegaly from the start - when it was very clear from the story that they had F-1 student visas to begin with.

Now I was stunned and horrified by the event of Sep. 11 as much as anyone else (well maybe not Osama) but does this automatically indicate that all people of Middle Eastern descent are incognito suicide bombers or Al Quaeda? This sort of profiling could ultimately lead to vigilantism in my opinion and possible incite riots or worse. It scares me to tell you the truth.

Of course I am concerned as to where these young men are - who wouldn't be? I do not, however, subscribe to the instant belief that they are out to get me. It could all well be very innocent and perhaps they are just sight-seeing somewhere on the way to Montana? Classes don't even officially start until the end of the month!

If anything, I would say that the FBI is on top of things by making this information public so quickly albeit devoid of photographs of these men. Hey, I am fairly intuitive but psychic I am not. I am not about to suspect every person of Middle Eastern heritage as one of them.

I truly do not want to live every day in fear that some other horrific event is going to happen at any moment. I will admit that during the weeks after 9/11 I did just that. I spent way too much time glued to the news, way too much time worrying and way too much time at home in general. It's as if I was trying to spin a cocoon around me and my son, keep us safe from harm and if the end should come, at least we were together.

Five years later, well, I am still worried when he doesn't come home on time. The subsequent barrage of phonecalls to his friends in an attempt to find him does not however include thoughts of a possible terrorist attack or kidnapping. I am much more concerned about his inability to make rational decisions, his typical teenager thoughtlessness, the fact that there are numerous sex offenders residing in our Zip code and well, I am a mother so I am entitled to worry dammit.

I hope they find those young men and they get to start school as intended. I am not, however, going to be judge and jury in regards to this situation without having all the facts. Our American teenagers and college students give us enough grief on their own, thank you very much.

Daddy's Girl

2006-08-08T17:28:00.000-05:00

I like my job, I think I am lucky enough to have a great boss too. He never badgers me for anything and is one of the last hands-off types; as I said, great boss. I have no complaints. The pickle I am often in has nothing to do with my boss.

Before we were taken over by a much larger corporation (not dropping names, ok?), the managers in the office were mostly comprised of my boss - and his children. Well, adult children. The son left official employ but is still freelancing on some IT stuff; the daughter is still there as office manager. Now, I like her as a person, she can be fun. As a co-worker she sometimes drives me up the wall.

On occassion I have to ask her for things, paperwork mostly....or ask her to do certain things that fall within her area. Inevitably she will go next door to my boss' office to question him about it. That in itself is annoying. However, this is also accompanied with a "Daddy! I have a question!?" This sort of thing goes on all the time. Daddy this, Dad that. Am I being overly sensistive?

Methinks that a professional environment as such does not include a mid-40s woman whining "Daddy" when she has a question. It is just so unprofessional in my opinion. And often I also feel that no matter what I say or do, how brilliantly I perform etc. - it will always come down to me not being able to top "Daddy!". That didn't come out right.

The son is tolerable, although he also calls him "Dad", it just sounds more..well, masculine I suppose. Why am I having such a problem with her then? Is it the tone of voice? The pitch of "Daddy" that grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard? Or is there some rivalry in play as well?

Could be that I truly want to impress my boss with my feats but feel this is impossible since his little girl will always beat me out? I think I'm being silly. Or am I?

Heureux, Felice, Glücklich, Happy

2006-08-08T07:38:00.000-05:00

Years ago, 20 to be exact, I owned a very special sweater. It was not a luxury item spun of the finest silk, nor was it particularly remarkable in its craftsmanship, origin or even color. It was a basic dark grey with batwing arms. As I said, not all that remarkable at first glance. However, across the front was emblazened the one word that put a bounce in my step every time I wore it: "HAPPY". The font was a bouncy flow of letters and every time you read it you couldn't help but smile.

Any other day I went to work, the obligatory "Good morning." was exchanged with co-workers upon arriving. However, on the days when I wore this sweater I was most often greeted by, "Hey Happy! How you doin'!?" Everyone seemed to smile a bit more, grin more often and exchange pleasantries more often. It was a conversation piece for sure.
Happy was the catalyst to an easiness throughout those workdays; shedding it at night was accompanied by a sense of loss. Very strange indeed.

I'm reminded of this sweater sometimes these days and I recalled it with nostalgia this morning in the shower. (Don't ask, I think a LOT in the shower).

There is so much sadness and confusion in the world today, what if we could all just put on Happy sweaters? It could prove to brighten someone's day and perhaps I could start a new movement? Ha! Wouldn't that be something?

[Credit: Thanks to fellow blogger imho for the image]

Teen kills mom during driving lesson

2006-08-07T07:42:00.000-05:00

This is about the saddest thing I saw on the news this morning. The 39-year old mother was giving her 15-year old daughter driving lessons and the girl hit the gas instead of the brakes while parallel parking. Imagine that? The poor kid. What an incredible trauma to sustain. I would never want to get into another car for the rest of my life. The sadness over the loss of the mother and the guilt for having caused it, incredibly difficult.

I think about my son getting behind the wheel in a couple of years. The way he views cars frightens me! He is in that phase right now where he just wants the coolest and fastest car possible. I'm hearing his enthusiasm at being able to drive soon, but I'm also hearing him boast how fast he's going to drive etc. That certainly doesn't serve to eliminate my fears of him getting hurt or worse.

I have a healthy respect for all cars, big or small, having been in a couple of wrecks in my life. Luckily I never sustained any serious injuries but it's still traumatic. I can't remember the last time I drove without a seatbelt!

Looking at today's teens driving habits - they drive while putting on make-up, talking on the cell phone, with music blasting and thumping. How can they pay attention to traffic this way? I'm glad legislature approved the fine and banned cell phone's for teens while driving. It's just a disaster waiting to happen. Hopefully, I can teach my son safe driving and I won't have to worry about standing too close to the car and getting run over by accident. I still have a couple of years, so that eases my mind somewhat.

My heart goes out to the family of the girl and her mother...truly a distressing situation.

Fuck buddies

2006-08-06T05:09:00.000-05:00

I've been an AOL member for longer than I care to admit - since 1993. Before AOL had all the nifty content, before there was anything faster than a 2400 baud modem, before a low monthly fee (my AOL bill back in the day ran around $200 a month - can you imagine?!). Somehow you end up attached to your screen name as though it defines you in some alternate universe.

I've met some good people in the chat rooms, made some friends I still stay in contact with, had a few flings and a couple of longer term relationships. Over all it's been an educational and oft enlightening experience. Yay - they made it free now! But I digress.

The shock value of today's post is priceless (sorry Mastercard) but in all honesty there is a disturbing trend behind it.

I chatted with a gent for a while, friendly banter back and forth, harmless flirting, some music file exchanges - nothing heavy. However, I am leary of folks who don't have photos; hence, I insisted that he send me one. Which eventually he did. Now, I'm not sure what he was expecting my reaction was supposed to be? I imagine he pictured me falling hopelessly in love with his photo and we would live happily ever after. Instead, I was honest and said, "You look nice but you're not my type." IM silence for a few minutes. Then he goes ballistic. I won't go into the entire detail but the gist of it is, that he deemed me shallow, unbelievable and where did I get off passing judgement like that. Huh????

I've learned over the years never to lead anyone on lest I cause heartache and false hopes; it has been my policy to be polite but brutally honest about my true intentions/feelings/whatever. 9 times out of 10 it works. This guy was the one case where it backfired. He was genuinely appaled that I had said this!

For a few days after that he continued IM'ing me and eventually it came down to: "Well, if you just want to be friends - how about we become fuck buddies? Would that work for you?" It was my turn for extended radio silence. What on earth made this guy think that I would even entertain that notion? It's absolutely incredible! The IM's got so bad I had to eventually block him entirely to get some peace as he was relentless in his Fuck Buddy pursuit. Now, I'm a pretty open and progressive kind of girl, but come on!?

I've noticed this disturbing trend in a lot of the different chat rooms. The generic hello's quickly disintegrate to propositions of spankings (me being the spanker or spankee), what are my measurements, do I want to dominate (him or her), do I have pretty feet or toes, do I love stockings, will I do this or that - and in exchange I am often offered boatloads of cash. Has AOL become pimp heaven? What is going on here?

Would any of these guys (and yes, some gals too) approach me in a bar and ask me those same questions? Hell no! So it appears that AOL has become a safe haven for deviants and perverts. Hey, if toe sucking and the paddle is your thing who am I to judge? Just don't assume that you can just blindly message me and expect me to clap my hands in glee upon being found to engage in various act of depravity and kinkiness. It's just weird. And then when I don't bite, you have the nerve to curse me out? WTF?

Whatever happend to etiquette and common sense? An old fashioned hello not followed by "I'm so horny, what are you up to?" Are we as people really so far removed from real life and so firmly entrenched in the instant gratification culture that we truly expect to order sex any way we want it through a chat room?

Some of these folks appear to be perfectly respectable members of society - doctors, lawyers, police men etc. Yet, they have formed the opinion that AOL is entertainment as well as an online sex ordering system. It's unreal. Cybersex has replaced the real thing in some cases (hey, the ultimate in safe sex I hear), the deviants are out in droves on the hunt (child molestors included) and I have stopped answering my IM's lest I know how it is. It's like avoiding that seedy bar you know is frequented by undesirables.

Is AOL doing anything about it? Hell no again. They used to have these room guides, volunteers that monitored the goings on in the chat rooms. People used to get booted and/or banned for this sort of behavior. Well, no more. You have to go through all kinds of gyrations and execute complicated searches as well as experience long wait times to get to a live person to report infractions to. It's become a free-for-all for deviants as they know you can do nothing about it. Abysmal!

While I'm still of the opinion that the Internet is the greatest invention ever, the proliferation of disrespectful, appaling and deviant behavior is alarming. I think the public service agencies are catching on to this - why else would there be a need for a special FBI squad trolling the chat rooms? Sign of the times? Maybe.

I for one will stick to the old fashioned way of meeting my potential bed mates. And for all of you toe fetish folks - no I do not want them scattered, smothered and covered, thank you very much.

Theory on arrested development

2006-08-05T10:40:00.000-05:00

It dawned on me today that most of the pictures of my children around the house are depicting smiling little boys. I stopped framing and displaying photos of my boys when they were around 10 or 12. Not that I don't have any of them at their current ages (22, 20 and 14 in case you were wondering) - I just have not framed any of them.

I wonder if this is a Freudian trick to make myself believe that I am really not 42, that I am still a young "chick" and that I am just fooling myself along the way. If I start displaying photos of them as they really are - I would have to face up to the fact that my youth is no longer there. Not that 42 is old - it's just not 22 or even 30. Ha!

I look at pictures that various family members email me of other family members and the first thing out of my mouth invariably is, "Wow! He/she looks so old!" As if I truly expected them to look the same as they did 20 years ago. It's weird. In my memories everyone is young and hip and so on, they (as well as myself) never age - ever. But being faced with the reality that people age and die - well, it's just ugly and I am not ready to go there.

I look at pictures of myself over the years and to me it seems like I never really get any older. Or perhaps I'm just really, really delusional. My closet is still full of clothes I wore 10 years ago and most don't fit me any more. I keep thinking I will shrink back and voila - I will wear them again. Bohemian hippie fashion is coming back into style, so I'm good there.

I have a tough time reconciling with what I see with what is. Surely, this is not a new phenomenon?

Me at 18

Me at 32

Me at 42

Chinese dog massacre

2006-08-04T06:25:00.000-05:00

I've noticed that this bit of news has already been burried whereas I am of the opinion it should still be debated all over TV-Land. When I first read the story a couple of days ago, I was stunned and in complete disbelief. It is unfathomable that a government would order the brutal bludgeoning muder of 50,000 dogs! In case you have missed it, you may view the story here (CNN), here (Yahoo), here (Fox), here (Spiegel in German) and if you have a strong stomach here (PETA). I caution against viewing the PETA site and have only included it here for illustrative purposes. My son and I viewed 5 seconds of the video and shut it down. That's how badly it affected us.

We are dog lovers. Our pit mix Peaches is our joy and we love her to death. The mere thought of a government official tearing her away and beating her to death in front of our very eyes makes me want to be violently ill. The image of the dog in the Chinese street hovered over by Chinese killing squads mercilessly beating on him - it is too brutal to explain, understand or even accept.

When our last dog left us, I cried like a baby. The attachment to a pet can be as strong as the bond between parent and child; I know of a few people that treat their pets as such. I try to keep some perspective to this though and I can't say that I particularly spoil her or spend tons of money on things she has no use for (like a rhinestone studded collar for example).

If the Chinese government had invested in proper vaccination procedures for pets, this atrocity could have been prevented. I cannot even imagine the trauma of thousands of children and families at having watched their beloved pet murdered before their very eyes - helpless to do anything about it. The psychiatry industry will be booming for years. Wait, do they even allow shrinks in China?

I've said too much and not enough. I need to regroup; I'm hoping by giving my outrage a voice via this medium it will act as a cathartic experience. Perhaps not.

How rude! The office jerk et.al

2006-08-03T12:19:00.000-05:00

Well, maybe one or two - not wanting to generalize here. Thanks to fellow blogger Andy who provided me with a ton of laughter last night, I'm feeling much more chipper today. And thanks to my latest bathroom reading I've got more food for my giggles today.

Ran across a fun article on the office jerk and things that annoy us. Seems that my grievances aren't so far fetched as CareerBuilder actually did a real live survey about just this thing.

There are a few of us in the office less than happy about the fact that when we arrive in the morning, the coffeepot is either empty or has one cup left in it. Either way the person being lucky enough to arrive first has to make another pot. How rude! (My best Stephanie Tanner impersonation yet) We've tried sending threatening emails but the practice has not ceased. Perhaps we could ready the pot for the next day and lace the grounds with some ex-lax. That'll teach'em.

Same goes for stealing food/drinks whatever out of the fridge. I know who the culprit is and one time I actually caught him red handed. He walked by my office with one of my V-8's in his hands, looked at me sheepishly and said, "You don't mind do you?" Uhm. Yeah, I do. Unfortunately he's part-owner of the company so I wasn't sure what to do. I quietly seethed and watched the remaining cans of V-8 disappear after that. I'm contemplating a personal fridge for my office.

Oh! It irritates me to no end when I am on the phone, someone enters my office and just stands there. To me this says, "I don't care that you are on the phone - I am way more important." How rude! I try to ignore them in the hopes they will eventually just give up and leave; it's tough carrying on a conversation with someone staring at you though.

The other side of that coin is when you're in a meeting (that you deem important, or else why bother having the meeting?) and the phone rings. Instead of letting voice mail get it - they pick it up. And then - it's even worse if they put up the index finger to indicate "one second" - which invariably turns into 5-10 minutes . So in other words - whatever is on my mind really doesn't matter anyway, so they might as well pick up the phone. How rude!

Such rudeness in the workplace (and I could go on and on) is probably not a new phenomenon, I just seem to notice it more the older I get. Perhaps I still have some old school etiquette left in me, who knows. It goes against my nature to take other people's food from the fridge, interrupt phone conversations or meetings, take the last of anything (coffee or the last piece of pizza/cake whatever - all qualify) or generally be an annoying co-worker and human.

I wonder if they make funny posters I could hang in our common kitchen? I will go on the hunt right now. Ha!

Can you say $#%^$^^&* !?

2006-08-02T12:38:00.000-05:00

Look at this woman. She looks exactly how I feel today - irritated, impatient, cranky, annoyed and generally pissed off. Although this is an ancient joke I have to say that it's true - and 100% NOT funny. Right.

I try to laugh at myself when I get this unreasonable but it's really quite impossible. The reactions to life's little annoyances are usually instant, violent and without any sort or rhyme or reason. Some of these annoy me no matter what day of the month it is.

Take Subway for instance. I craved a sub today so I figured, why not? I left relatively early to beat the crowd. When I got there, there were two teenage girls in line, flirting, and giggling and making a mess of their order. I spent an entire 20 minutes in there for two measly subs! Pissed me off! The guy behind the counter was taking his sweet time with the girl's salads and I was left 20 minutes short of my lunch hour.

Or how about the guy reading the newspaper at the red light? He's so engrossed in his paper he forgets to look up and MOVE when the light turns green. I have the irrepressable urge to lean on my horn and scare the wits out of him. I didn't do it, but glared at him through the windshield instead; not sure if he saw me. Don't care.

Finally when I made it back to the freeway and heading toward the office, minus 20 minutes thanks to Mr. Subway, this person (and I use this term losely!) supposedly merging into traffic from the right almost causes a five car pileup! Apparently he didn't think it was necessary to check his mirror for any traffic in his lane. He just swerved right into traffic, no signal, nothing. I hit my brake so hard my heart become dislodged. This time I did hit my horn, as did four people in front of me and at least four more behind me. A great big bunch of cars every which way hodge podge on the freeway as well as the shoulder; a nasty tangled up mess. What does this person do? He guns it down the shoulder and speeds away - leaving the rest of us shaking, cursing and extremely late for work.

This day sucks! Grrrr.

PS. Artwork by Sharron Rose - Funky stuff!

Sleep disorder

2006-08-01T08:05:00.000-05:00

I have a sleep disorder. It manifested itself around the age of 14 and has tortured me off and on ever since. Strangely enough I did not exhibit any symptoms until the introduction of the electric alarm clock into my life and with it, the annoying snooze button. No doctor has been able to help me and there is apparently no cure for “Fivemoreminuteitis” – I am doomed to live with this ailment for the rest of my days.

It is an unpredictable ailment since I am never able to predetermine when it will strike again. During my teenage years I suffered the most; mornings were painful as the monster had me firmly in its grip and I was forced to succumb to it totally. There were days I crawled out of bed with the full intention of going to school, yet my disease made it impossible and coerced me mercilessly to find a place to go to back to sleep. Some days I could satisfy the demon by napping on the bus, others the urge would be so overwhelming that I would end up dragging myself into the basement and falling into a coma like state on the cold cement floor.

As I grew older and had children the disease thankfully retreated somewhat. Perhaps it was taking pity on me since I had to wake early feeding babies and changing diapers. I cannot imagine being attacked by this monster while trying to do those things and may have ended up with a diaper on my sons head a bottle in his you-know-what. Imagine the horror!

My 20s and 30s consequently were thankfully void of Fivemoreminuteitis (although I am straining to remember much of my 20s probably due to the fact that I never slept anyway and spent all my nights out partying).

Going into my 40s the monster has risen again; only this time, it also demanded my sons complete devotion without mercy. It must be genetic and I carry with me a great guilt over having passed on such a horrid and merciless disease. My youngest is afflicted with it the worst – he will sleep for 16-18 hours at a time, sometimes missing daylight altogether. Now that it had my sons firmly in its grip it turned to me and said, “I missed you honey! Come back to papa!”

So here I am again, afflicted with an incurable ailment that appears to be most active during weekdays and strangly enough never affects me on Saturdays and Sundays (I am up at 7 am both days!); it has taught me over the years how to brush my teeth with the right hand, my hair with the left and jump into my shoes at the same time; it has perfected my skill to be out of bed and off to work in less than 20-25 minutes (causing the envy of a few exes); it has kept my face free of gunk since I never put on make-up in the morning and made me very efficient at time management.

Perhaps I should be grateful to Fivemoreminuteitis and learn to appreciate the gifts it gives me in return for partial narcolepsy?

New design...

2006-07-31T19:52:00.000-05:00

....gotta love it. It's tough to find a template that speaks to you but also about you. Too much generic stuff floating around out there.

Boy, how often have I felt like the poor shlupp above? Ha!

Dead End?

2006-07-31T13:56:00.000-05:00

Ran across the photo today and it reminded me of the ongoing discussion at home about death and dying. My son seems to agree with the road sign "Dead End", to him we simply cease to exist when we go. No heaven, no hell, no reincarnation - just utter, bleak blackness.

Living is hard enough already - do I really want to look forward to being wiped off the face of the earth and being nothing more than wormfood? It creeps me out.

I wonder if his attitude stems from the onslaught of death and the dying on a daily basis. We see it in games, movies, cover of newspapers, the daily news - it's just everywhere! I don't recall seeing that much of it when I was 14, then again I was outside playing with my friends. He on the other hand engages in battle via the Internet to murder, plunder and pillage. And that's fun to him. It concerns me on the other hand.

Kids should not be so desensitized toward violence that it becomes the norm. I really want him to have a reaction when he sees someone dead or dying and not pass it over as though it were nothing. Maybe he just can't believe that those people would go toward a better afterlife - I mean, if it were true why wouldn't we all just off ourselves and leave this nutty planet? Because nobody has the answer. I'm not going to leave any sooner than I have to but in the mean time I will keep the faith that "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus."

Man shortage, part trois

2006-07-30T18:30:00.000-05:00

Enjoy :)

video may take 10-20 seconds to load

Great man shortage, Part Deux

2006-07-30T14:42:00.000-05:00

I seem to have sparked some sort of blog debate with my previous post, "The great man shortage". While I can agree with Dennis to a certain extend that yes, the pool of eligible bachelors does shrink as we get older, I cannot agree that I should lower my standards and settle. What's up with that? Why am I not entitled to want a partner that complements me? I'm certainly not desperate or whining as this Finnish gent seems to think.

I've been married. So the stats being quoted really refer to women over the age of 35 previously UN-married. I am way ahead of the game. Ha!

I get propositioned by the 20somethings on up all the time. Am I interested in a quick fling? Hell no. I want a "quality" guy (as my oldest puts it), that doesn't have the unbearable urge to sow his oats, impress the female population with his car/job/money..whatever. But I digress again.

I'm not going to apologize and stand by my statement: There is a man shortage. Ha!

The escape artist

2006-07-30T08:01:00.000-05:00

I was roused from my sleep rather rudely at 8 am this Sunday morning. It was my neighbor looking for his wayward dog again. His German Sheppard is kept in the back yard, restrained by a 4 foot fence. This never made much sense to me since the dog is clearly capable of digging under or jumping over with ease. Yet, week after week his owner puts him back out there all day and most nights - by himself. Without human interaction or other dogs to play with. I know for a fact that my own dog is a bit of an escape artist as well. Yet, knowing this, I would never put her in the backyard unattended. Well, that and the fact that I had to pay $100 to get her back from animal control the one time she did get out. Lesson learned. I digress.

Dexter is a great dog; well behaved and lovable, he adores it when I catch him and take pity on him bringing him in my house until his owner returns home. He is too large to sit on my lap but he will try every time anyway. Which leads me to believe the poor pup is just starved for attention - hence the repeated attempts at freedom.

I experienced similar feelings in my marriage. Being couped up all the time and missing the basic warmth of loving interaction led me to run away a few times too. Why should Dexter be any different? I'm willing to bet he'd ask for a divorce from his owner and go off to find a better match. I feel for you boy.

Forgiveness....

2006-07-28T08:01:00.000-05:00

I've been reading quite a bit on forgiveness, negative energy and anger in general. Not that I'm a particularly angry person - but we all carry around old grievances that just don't seem to want to go away. I know I'm guilty of bearing a few grudges and even the death (and sometimes wished for death) of the offender doesn't seem to alleviate the old angry feelings.

A passage I read the other day caused me to stop and think though:

"If you keep thinking "That man has abused me." holding it as a much-cherished grievance, your anger will never be allayed. If you can put down that fury-inducing thought, your anger will lessen. Fury will never end fury, it will just ricochet on and on. Only putting it down will end such an abysmal state. -- Sunnata Vagga"

Which is very poignant. When my mother told me that my step-father was killed in a car crash of sorts I expected to feel relief. I felt nothing of the sort. The old anger toward him had festered for so long in my soul that it was firmly entrenched in memories I was not willing to let go. Perhaps it allowed me to remain behind the safety of my 10 foot wall, fortified with every transgression anyone had ever taken against me.

Letting go of old hurts is very difficult. We carry them around with us as badges of honor - we've been through the wringer and wear our battle scars proudly. What we forget is that the longer we hold on to these old wounds, the more they will fester until they destroy us, our relationships, our capacity for compassion, forgiveness and love.

I for one am ready to let them heal and start dismantling.

Technology - conversation buster!

2006-07-26T08:46:00.000-05:00

On my way to an appointment yesterday I fiddled with my radio waiting at a red light. Glancing in the rearview mirror there was a young couple in the car behind me. Both were on the cell phone. I couldn't quite make out if the person in the back seat was also on the phone. It's a sign of the times I suppose. Yet to me, it feels too disconnected - which is an oxymoron since the technology is supposed to keep us more connected. And here they are sitting in the close confines of a car and nobody is talking to each other!

While I own a cell phone as well, I held out for as long as I could actually getting one. As my sons got older and began roaming around the neighborhood though, I felt it imperative that I was reachable when not home baking cookies (ok, I made that one up, I'm a horrible baker). I crumbled and finally purchased one. I don't like using it. I have the least amount of minutes possible on my plan and 9 months out of 10 I don't even use one quarter of my "allowance". I do not use it for business ever as I am adament not to be married to work 24/7. If I don't answer, it means I don't want to talk to you.

My stepfather had a cellphone in the early 80's. This thing was as big as a desktop PC and required it's own suitcase to lug around. A big, gray ugly box. But wow, we thought it was way cool. Ha! It truly was a cool thing to have but very uncomfortable, not very sleek and stylish (certainly didn't play music or show videos), yet what nobody knew was that this little invention would forever enslave us. We would be within reach of anyone with our number 24/7 around the globe. It scares me to tell you the truth. We have all this technology at our hands to communicate yet we seem to be doing less and less of it. The disjointed garbled conversations on text messaging in crazy letter combinations don't count and email is becoming a lost art since we are inundated with spam, spam and more spam (I had over 2000 of them in my junk folder last week!).

When I was 16 I had to actually get of off my behind and walk down the street to talk to my friends. We connected in real-time. Maybe those kids in the car behind me could put down the phones every once in a while and talk; try it, you might like it!

True North

2006-07-25T12:36:00.000-05:00

I've received a few emails lately commenting on some of my posts; most are quite poignant and led me think even further on my random musings on life. It occurs to me that I have spend a good number of years aimlessly wandering through life. Whenever I got where I thought I wanted to go, I felt that this was not the place. And I moved on. This is not metaphorical either. I have packed my bags on a whim quite a few times and just up and left town. Some folks will do a fair amount of relocation throughout their lifetime, I would venture to state that most of these relocations are within the general geographical area though. Me? I had a tendency to move across entire oceans and continents! Once, I did not even bother to give notice to my landlord terminating my lease. I woke up one day and decided to move to England; hence, I did just that. My house key was mailed to a friend asking her to please clear out my apartment and give the stuff to charity, keep it or toss it. She wasn't too happy about that and was convinced that I had lost my ever-lovin' mind. Maybe I had. The England stint didn't last too long and before I knew it I was back in Germany - starting all over. I did within six months though move to California. Ha!

I have become quite adept at starting over; years of experience will do that sort of thing. Yet, no matter where I start or end, it never seems to be the fulfilling spot I had invisioned it to be. A heartfelt yearning still permeates my every fiber and I still fight the urge to up and move somewhere else. By now I have come to realize however that it will do me no good. I cannot for the life of me figure out what it is that is tugging at me so that I become so fiercely restless. This is not only true for geography but relationships as well. My wanderlust is often misunderstood by my significant other and I simply cannot see myself being stuck in one place for the rest of my life. Perhaps this is why I am still single. My internal compass is stuck on searching for my True North.

Paul Harvey

2006-07-23T20:15:00.000-05:00

We tried so hard to make things better for our kids that we made them worse. For my grandchildren, I'd like better. I'd really like for them to know about hand me down clothes and homemade ice cream and leftover meat loaf sandwiches. I really would.

I hope you learn humility by being humiliated, and that you learn honesty by being cheated. I hope you learn to make your own bed and mow the lawn and wash the car. And I really hope nobody gives you a brand new car when you are sixteen.

It will be good if at least one time you can see puppies born and your old dog put to sleep.

I hope you get a black eye fighting for something you believe in.

I hope you have to share a bedroom with your younger brother/sister. And it's all right if you have to draw a line down the middle of the room,but when he wants to crawl under the covers with you because he's scared, I hope you let him.

When you want to see a movie and your little brother/sister wants to tag along, I hope you'll let him/her. I hope you have to walk uphill to school with your friends and that you live in a town where you can do it safely.

On rainy days when you have to catch a ride, I hope you don't ask your driver to drop you two blocks away so you won't be seen riding with someone as uncool as your Mom.

If you want a slingshot, I hope your Dad teaches you how to make one instead of buying one. I hope you learn to dig in the dirt and read books.

When you learn to use computers, I hope you also learn to add and subtract in your head.

I hope you get teased by your friends when you have your first crush on a boy\girl, and when you talk back to your mother that you learn what ivory soap tastes like.

May you skin your knee climbing a mountain, burn your hand on a stove and stick your tongue on a frozen flagpole.

I don't care if you try a beer once, but I hope you don't like it. And if a friend offers you dope or a joint, I hope you realize he is not your friend.

I sure hope you make time to sit on a porch with your Grandma/Grandpa and go fishing with your Uncle.

May you feel sorrow at a funeral and joy during the holidays.

I hope your mother punishes you when you throw a baseball through your neighbor's window and that she hugs you and kisses you at Hannukah/Christmas time when you give her a plaster mold of your hand.

These things I wish for you - tough times and disappointment, hard work and happiness. To me, it's the only way to appreciate life.

Written with a pen. Sealed with a kiss. I'm here for you. And if I die before you do, I'll go to heaven and wait for you.

Teenagers will be teenagers....

2006-07-23T17:15:00.000-05:00

I was going to title this "Boys will be Boys" but I think the problem is fairly universal and not gender specific. Ha! I had an impromptu visit from my son's best friend's father today. Did I know that they were out of town for 4 days and that the boys had a party with booze and smoking and everything at the house? Of course I didn't. As far as I knew, they were spending the night at some other friend's house. Paint me gullible. They were damn good liars, all four of them had me convinced of it too. Crap.

Which leads me to this... why is it that teenagers always think they invented the wheel? There is nothing they could do, say or pull that I myself haven't been through at 14. I mean really. ::rolling eyes::

Yet here we are. Me having to ground him - again - and him thinking, "Crap! Caught again!". And it happens every time too; without fail. It's almost comical. He expends a lot of energy trying to pull the wool over my eyes and getting away with murder but it never works. Do they learn? Heck no - they will try a different route and get caught again.

Ah, the joys of the teenage years. How I miss them.

Punishment?

2006-07-23T11:24:00.000-05:00

I felt something coming on yesterday with a gritty, irritating feel in my right eye. Mind you, this occurred almost immediately after my excursion into Flickr a few hours before. I rubbed at it furiously as the itch became almost unbearable. Nothing helped. My solution? Let's go to bed at 9 pm and sleep it away. It did not help. I awoke this morning with a nice shiner. If someone had clubbed me across the eye ball it could not have been more swollen, red and angry looking. Now, you might say that it's just an eye infection, go see the optometrist and get some medicine.

I see divine intervention in everything. The searing image of the dead Lebanese baby may have burned my retina; I know it damaged my soul to a degree. I cannot see this picture without being deeply disturbed by it, without feeling it tug at my heart strings and fighting to urge to immediately hug my children. I cry when I see images of abused children in the news and often wonder, "What makes a person hurt their children?" I've often wondered the same about my dysfunctional upbringing and although I've come to terms with the fact that some folks may just be hard-wired to feel no remorse..well.. I have been cursed with an extraordinary dose of empathy because of it. I feel the pain of the children, I feel the pain of anyone suffering and feel it with them. For that reason, I cannot watch any Lifetime movies that have anything to do with damaging fragile children's bodies and psyche's. I've felt the pain of losing a child firsthand and while it dulls with time and you learn to live with it, it always lingers somewhere in the dark corners of your broken heart and surfaces at the least appropriate moments.

I am not politically inclined in any radical way whatsoever. My choosing to include the Lebanese baby in yesterday's post was perhaps a way to release the anguish I felt at seeing it. Yet, today I wonder - should my eyes have seen it at all? Divine intervention gave me a black eye.

Sleepless in Charlotte...

2006-07-22T03:07:00.000-05:00

Last nights cruise into the world of Flickr was born of curiosity but turned into a sleepless night fairly quickly. All these goings on in the Middle East has me deeply worried. I'm torn if I should be taking sides (is this my fight?), reminded of my own mortality and painfully aware how much the world has changed since 9/11. Or perhaps the mayhem was always there and I chose to not see it? Before the fight was brought to us, it always seemed to be "somewhere else" and I watched the bloodshed on TV but from afar and with almost clinical detachment.

I am 42 and still remember the Cold War era, air raid sirens and bomb drills; I still remember the many jumping the Berlin Wall in their bid for freedom and being shot in their fruitless quest; I remember the Iran hostage crisis, genocide of Cambodia, Dawson's Field hijackings, murder of Marines in Mogadishu; and naturally, the mother of all - September 11, 2001.

But, last nights excursion into Flickr had me stumbling across raw pictures from the Israel-Lebanon conflict and here I am. It is barely 4 am, the rain is mercilessly pounding my roof and the image of the dead baby will not leave my mind's eye. Try as I might to erase it, it is forever burned into my memory and pictures such as these (that the popular media will not show) remind me how precious each day of life on this planet truly is. My son is spending the night at a friend's house tonight, blissfully ignorant of all the pain in the world as I was at his age - tomorrow I will hug him and tell him I love him.

Photo published by the Arabist, Flickr, July 21, 2006

The nerve!

2006-07-19T18:57:00.000-05:00

Now I'm just irritated. I read the latest and greatest on the education debate by the Republicans and I am aghast! School vouchers for poor students in underperforming schools to go to private schools or get a tutor. Huh.

This is by far the most infuriating thing I have read all day. As a single mother I have had two boys going through the public school system and none of the schools were really up to par. Yet, I am not poor, so tough ..... for me on getting my sons the education they deserve, right? The rich can afford private schools, the middle class (some, not all) have to work two or three jobs to be able to do this and the poor, well, if the government has their way.... you get the drift.

Where is the equality in all this? What I am seeing is that I worked my behind off all this years to keep the bills paid, food no the table and so on ... but I wasn't poor enough to be helped nor rich enough to help myself. Oooh, that's a good one.

The big chill....

2006-07-19T15:18:00.000-05:00

While I was incredibly excited to have the chance to chat with my son via MSN messenger all the way across the "grossen Teich", it has proven to be more of a hindrance. We chatted daily for about a week until I received an email from him requesting to take a "time out". It appears he felt strange about the whole thing. Needless to mention, I was distraught for a moment. Here I was, 21 years in agony over a child I could not see with a new chance of reconnecting and I felt that I had blown it.

I sent him a brief but understanding email....and will wait for him to come back 'round. It occurred to me that the anonymity of Internet chat is not always a good thing. In this case, the exchanges were brief, somewhat disconnected and didn't lend themselves to forging a relationship between a lost child and mother. I should've thought of that before I happily agreed to exchange MSN handles. What we really needed was a "real-time" visit, good old fashioned snail mail letters and photo exchanges and the like. A much slower approach to forging a relationship. The instant exchanges of photos, meaningless banter and the like didn't help or apparently mean a whole lot in the scope of things.

I do understand his feelings.... and respect them. I think I will go and buy some funky stationary and write an old-fashioned letter with postage and everything.

Middle-aged bar flies....

2006-07-16T10:02:00.000-05:00

In my insane youth I thought it to be a given to head to the local watering hole for happy hour after a long, ardeous day. Through time, marriages, children and other obligations I sort of gave all that up to a large extend. I still enjoy a few drinks occassionally but have found recently that the whole environment turns me off. Whereas I used to delight in engaging my bar neighbor into debates, I know sit with my Creative Loafing - sipping a beer, watching CNN, munching on some steak bites or otherwise ignoring folks around me.

I was a regular at a popular Irish pub and everyone, including the owner, knew me by name. They still do, mind you, but the visits have been sporadic to say the least. I get annoyed at loud patrons, crowded tables, golf on the TV when I want CNN.... in short, I have turned into a middle-aged bar fly. It's quite disturbing!

The scene used to be a means of meeting new people and socializing and I did it quite well. Up until a few years ago I had a large circle of aquaintences. This has shrunk considerably as one by one they all dropped out of view. I see them ocassionally but when I do, it's never the hearty "HEY! How have you been?" with the exuberant hug and obligatory peck on the cheek. It's just a half-hearted attempt at feigning friendship when clearly it always was restricted to sharing a few drinks, a few laughs and nothing more.

Unless I've had a few too many and want to engage you into a political debate, don't even try messing with me. I'm content just sitting there with my face buried in the local blotter or news of the weird. Although, there is plenty weird stuff going on around me at all times.

Take the older gentleman that everyone knows to be a chatter box, known to drink to oblivion and always dishing out helpful advice on anything from your personal lovelife to how the country should be run. The other day I made my brief visit to the pub and he was already there. Sufficiently soused and engaged in a heated debate with a scary biker type. I tried to ignore the whole thing but it was getting difficult as the decibles attained heights no doubt heard in every corner of the place. What happens? The gent gets excited, tries to turn on wobbly legs, steadies himself on a barstool (or so he thought) and promptly takes a nose dive to the floor. Did anyone help him up? Negative. Everyone rolled their eyes in an "man, what a loser" comment and continued to ignore him. I felt bad for him. I also felt a little put off and wondered, "Geez, do all of us older folks look like this when we had too many?" I have to tell you, my evening was ruined and I quickly made for the door.

I notice a lot of older men and women in said watering holes. Some chat, some sit, some stare, some look forlorn and lost other look like they just want to drink their sorrows into the bottoms of hell. When did we become such a community of sad sacks? I don't like to party anymore but still enjoy a few drinks and witty banter with complete strangers. But the whole scene largely leaves me cold now. When did this happen? And, more importantly, what does it mean??

It really was my camera and not my sight... :)

See Shoe. See Shoe Drop.

2006-07-11T12:26:00.000-05:00

It has been an interesting week. Scratch that, interesting is not the word I should be choosing. I’ve had the fortune to chat with my son briefly online almost every day. The more I know about him, the more I am astounded at the similarities. Although he’s 22 he seems to be going through the normal teenager identity crisis – he’s just not sure what to do. The eternal savior that I am I had to give him advice; “don’t put so much pressure on yourself”, “take care of yourself first” and so on and so forth. All the while I’m thinking that I’m not really the best person to give him such advice since I hardly followed my own counsel at that age. I’m hoping that maybe it does help him a little, even though he really doesn’t know me. He’s been jumping through my dreams every single night. I haven’t had that much activity and restless nights since I first left England so many years ago. All of the suppressed garbage came right back up and I am struggling to squeeze it back into the safety box that kept me sane all that time.

To make matters worse, word from my ex-husband in Washington is that my middle son, now 20, has gotten himself into another pickle. I realize that the history of that relationship is not evident by that brief reference. For brevity’s sake, I’ll just say that he was released from jail in May of this year after serving six months for breaking and entering. Breaking and entering into MY home – twice successfully and the third time not. It appears that he was video taped in some store, a gun seems to have been involved and the FBI has something to do in this whole story. I am really not so sure what on earth transpired – maybe I don’t really want to know. He vehemently denies any wrong doing but then again, that is his modus operandi and I know him well enough to see right through the lies.

So while on one hand I am elated to be in touch with my oldest, one the other I am distraught that the middle son seems to be lost in the world of crime and drugs. How can children be so dramatically different? My youngest isn’t the poster child of awesomeness, but I’d like to think that the closeness of our relationship has made him more prone to make better choices. So far his occasional bouts with crazy choices have been disciplined and never repeated. I am aghast at the life that my second son has chosen for himself. Carelessly stomping over people, their property, their thoughts and feelings as though he is a mammoth about to be flash frozen and couldn’t give a rats you-know-what about anything but living every second.

I’m doing my best to maintain some resemblance of normalcy for the sake of my youngest; but he’s picking up on the worry-vibes. I need to watch that.

You, me and she make three

2006-07-06T07:29:00.000-05:00

I have spent years wondering what it would feel like to have a long lost child make contact, how I would handle the fact that he had another mother that raised him, loved him and cared for him. Would I feel jealous? Would she feel threatened? How do you achieve such a delicate balance that no one is hurt or offended in the process of becoming reacquainted?

The very first email I sent my son was difficult; not because of what I had to say but because I was at a loss how to sign it. Gina? Mom? I struggled with that for a moment and decided to put the question to him - ultimately signing it both ways before clicking that send button. He replied that for the time being he would prefer to call me Gina, since the woman that raised him was his "Mum". It stung for a second but then I had to remind myself that I really had not been instrumental in making him the fine young man that he is today. So Gina it is. It will take time to earn the designation "Mom".

We've had some conversation on this via MSN messenger (what a wonderful tool this is across the Atlantic!) and the process of connecting, or re-connecting as it were, has been delightful and sometimes suprising. It brought on reminders of the old nature vs nurture debate as it was obvious that he shares a lot of personality traits and quirks with me and his two half-brothers. He was as stunned as I was. Somehow the conversation flowed easily from one topic to the next, with occassional dips and spikes - as was expected since we chatted most of the day.

I am so thrilled to be embarking on this journey but terrified at the same time that I will blunder and say something to scare him off. Will I say something that will offend him and his allegiance to his "Mum" or will his curiosity and our biological bond withstand my occasional faux pas? I have not been able to think of much anything else in the past few days. They say time heals all wounds but this one has been torn open and I'm not even licking them.

Phonecalls from the past

2006-07-04T13:56:00.000-05:00

Considering everyone seems to be in a celebratory mood today (for obvious reasons) I am somewhat contemplative instead. And there is an obvious reason for that too, although the world at large wouldn’t know what that reason is.

Yesterday I received a phone call that I had been dreaming about, planning for, rehearsed for – you name it. I had a speech at the ready but when the call came, I was too stunned to say anything remotely intelligent, let alone impressive and too shocked to shed any tears. The call came from my oldest son, now 22, whom I had not seen since he was 10 months old. He grew up with his father in England, who remarried and seems to still be in a fairly stable situation. But what do I know? There is a fairly long story behind all of this but for brevity I will not go there. Not yet.

Over the years I have made various, unsuccessful attempts, at getting past the gatekeeper on the telephone – namely, Mrs. X. I got nowhere every time I did call and finally gave up. Until Easter of this year when once again I forgot about the time difference between the US and the UK and called at 4 a.m. their time. Being subjected to a barrage of expletives wasn’t my idea of fun, it was exceptionally painful to be honest, but for the sake of leaving my current address and phone number I endured it. I may have had nightmares for days after that but in light of recent developments I’m sucking it up and stuffing it into the drawer labeled “things I never have to do again”.

I always thought I would burst into tears when eventually my son made contact with me, as I always knew somehow that he would. None of that happened. We had a calm conversation as though we had always known each other, exchanging laughs and observations and the like and it felt comfortable. Nothing overtly emotional about it at all. I’m still trying to sort that out. Perhaps I’ve gotten so used to missing him that I was drained already and simply had nothing left to be emotional about? I don’t have a shrink on retainer, so I’ll have to ponder this on my own.

On independence

2006-07-04T08:53:00.000-05:00

Oh say, can you see? Here we are, celebrating yet another Independence Day. Which leads me to ponder – what really is independence? In the case of the country we all know what it means, freedom from the Brits of course (no offense to the English, I love you guys). Yet the ties are as strong as ever. In the context of a 40something single woman, what is independence really?

We grow up, mostly, have raised our children, established careers, own our own homes and our mantra is “We don’t need to stinkin’ men!” All the while, we have this inexplicable yearning to belong. So we join book clubs, church communities, PTA’s and the like to fill the void by our “man-less” existence. So are we really independent then? If we are then we should be self-sustaining communities on our own without the need for outside validation. I have found this to be impossible. Yes, I value my freedom, whatever that may be. But somewhere, the void in me does echo and it gets loud on occasion.

I’ve never been a joiner. I don’t belong to any nomination (although I was raised Roman-Catholic), never been a member of a PTA for any of my children, never been in a book club (does the mail order kind count?), never gotten involved in politics or volunteerism. This is not to say that I don’t care – I care deeply about a number of issues. I am simply reluctant to follow this whole group think mentality for the good of man kind. Look where it’s gotten us? There is strife all over the globe and as a country we are deep in the thick of it. But I digress again.

So we form lose alliances with like minded folks to establish a sense of belonging to something. Message boards, chat rooms – ah, the virtual community; such a vast resource of opposing minds, terabytes of information (and misinformation) at our fingertips. Take this blog for example. I have no idea if anyone will ever read this, or even care about a word I have to say. Yet, it does give me a sense of belonging and sharing, while letting me retain my autonomy and aforementioned independence. Do I really care what others think of my random ramblings? I’m not sure. I suppose somewhere I do or else what would be the point? We all want to make a mark on the world in some meaningful way. If I did not care, I could simply whip out trusted pen and paper and submit my musings to an old-fashioned diary and hide it away in my sock drawer.

My personal and professional accomplishments serve to validate my existence, yet I still look for outside input and ‘atta girl’s. This in a way retains my independence but also lets me belong. Funny how that works. What is your idea of independence?

Get out of my head!

2006-07-03T12:29:00.001-05:00

This one deserves it's own post since it is just hilarious. Apparently I am not the only one at the moment to ponder my 40something status and what to do about it.

Thought provoking read!

The High Pressure Friend

The great man shortage

2006-07-03T12:29:00.000-05:00

In 1986 I was married, so I missed the article by Newsweek warning me of the great man shortage. Now that I am no longer married and getting older by the minute, I wonder if there is any truth to it. Are my chances of getting married dwindling away? The pool of eligible bachelors is shrinking in my opinion and I am not about to marry a 20-something. I actually cringed when Stella got her groove back since I would be screaming bloody murder if my love interest played video games all day. But that’s just me.

I am actually a subscriber to a couple of dating websites – match.com and eharmony.com. I have to admit that match is really boring and the quality of singles that I’ve met thus far leaves much to be desired. I am willing to bet that all the handsome strangers displayed on their pages are really just decoys. I’ve tried to make contact with a few (ok, so I like a good-looking guy – sue me) and not once did I get a response. The only men that contact me are older than me, balding, chubby and some other physical attributes I’d rather not get into. Am I being shallow? Judgemental? My son says, “Mom, you’re too picky!” So what!? I LIKE being picky. I’ve lived alone for so long now that I am pretty set in my ways and bringing in a completely different personality from my own just wouldn’t work. I wouldn’t last a day in a relationship like that.

So I look for similarities but also issues that matter to me the most. For instance, I am a horrible housewife I’ll be the first to admit it. I hate doing laundry, windows, floors – if it involves cleaning I hate it. Which is not to say that my house is just a nasty mess, it’s just not Cleaver clean. I have dust bunnies and dog hair in various locales across the house and I don’t even care. But I’m a hypocrite. When I know visitors are coming I’ll go into a frenzy and scrub everything. Why is that? I hate when people judge me on inconsequential stuff but then I turn around and feed right into the craziness. I’m digressing again. Crap.

Back to the man shortage. Both websites leave a lot to be desired although I will say that I’ve made contact with a very nice gentleman in Washington state. Nothing but emails back and forth so far; but I like what I read. So my head goes into overdrive, “What if we really hit it off and he asks me to marry him and then I have to move to Washington? It rains too much, that would make me nuts. Why can’t he move here?” and so on and so forth. It’s an entire scenario from start to finish and it never ends well. So I’m a little nervous if I am about to sabotage myself again. I do this every time I meet a man. Finding faults in them that I simply could never live with. Sometimes it’s warranted. Like the handsome police officer who ended up calling me at 3 am in the morning all the time because he worked the night shift and well, am I not supposed to be at his beck and call? This was the same handsome gent who could not believe that I wouldn’t sleep with him in a New York minute. Come to think of it he was from NYC so maybe that’s a normal thing there? I told him he was in the South now and he’d have to try to become like molasses – real slow and easy like. He didn’t like it. His entire conversations revolved around sex, having sex, getting sex from me and so on. It was irritating. Needless to say he is history.

Why are there so many single people signed up for dating websites but only a handful seem to be making connections? You don’t hear that thousands of folks have found their soulmate and marriage through those sites, just a few hundreds. So, if there are 3 million subscribers and 100 successes what does that say for their success ratio? It totally stinks. If I were to hire a roofer (which incidentally I am working on) and he told me that 3 out of 100 customers were completely satisfied with his services, I’d tell him to go take a hike. So why do we shell out mucho bucks for those dating websites? Optimism, dear Watson. Or maybe we are all delusional. Or optimistically delusional with Pollyanna tendencies. I for one, am about to cancel the subscriptions – for the third time. Yup, I’ve done it before and wasted my hard earned money on Chubby Checker and his buds and got absolutely nothing in return. Not even a date.

I’ll keep you posted on how Mr. eharmony works out, but I’m not packing yet.

Being 40something...

Is being homesick a real illness?

Career paralysis

The joys of buying a car. NOT!

I am not a prude! Am I?

The value of keeping a diary

*I* is more than a pronoun

The case for selective amnesia

Single - to be or not to be

One missing link recovered

Foray into current politics

My musical evolution

The red-headed stepchild - Envy

Body image..Germanstyle

Desperately seeking...

Charlie's Angels to the rescue? Eeek!

The heartbreak of losing my house

Running on empty

And the end has finally come

One year later...

Finally somewhat settled

I did it. I actually did it! Germany here I come!

Life as we know it...

And she's at the finish line!

My, how time flies....

Where's a good psychic when you need one?

Slow going and happy birthday to me...

Another door closed...hummmm

The hunt....

Does anybody really know what time it is?

Sometimes you can go back home...or can you?

War is brutal...Silly String to the Rescue!

Abominable Winter Blah's

Berlin Wall for Sale

Thanksgiving is every day

Life as a single mom of a teenager

Blasted haircut!

Running on empty

The ties that bind

The money pit

The money pit

The devil doesn't wear Prada - he invented it!

Coming to America

This is not the movies!

Germany calling.....

Other people's trash....

The dynamics of dysfunction

Big hairy spiders.....

The value of an MBA...

Coming out of hiding....

Drowning in boxes

I am a credit whore

Productivity? Buh Humbug!

Buy me, buy me!!

Breaker Breaker 1-9

The thing about respect....

Workouts and fun

Come to the dark side.....

Daddy's girl, round two...

Resistance is futile...

It's your brain, stupid!

Chicks, broads and old ladies

The value of reminiscing

Dreamland

Oooo....I've been so bad today

Putting the fun back into life

The fountain of youth....

Ah...sweet relevations

Should I stay or should I go?

Letting go is the hardest thing to do

Egyptian exchange students - "missing"?

Daddy's Girl

Heureux, Felice, Glücklich, Happy

Teen kills mom during driving lesson

Fuck buddies

Theory on arrested development

Chinese dog massacre

How rude! The office jerk et.al

Can you say $#%^$^^&* !?

Sleep disorder

I is more than a pronoun