Dork magnet

Standing in an impossibly long line at Starbucks trying to kill some time before a doctors appointment it occurs to me.... I am a bonafide dork magnet. I've been single now going on almost 2 years and in that time I've gone on a handful of dates, 6 to be exact. It's not easy being a 40 year old single mom and trying to meet people. Especially if you're not inclined to dancing on tables or hanging out at bars. I tried the Internet dating thing and that got me 3 people. All dorks in one way or another. The one who knew my ex husband and still lived with his mom, the one who wanted to become the Brady bunch after the first date and Spear man. Ahh.. Spear man.... Any of my close friends who read this post will remember him. At the end of our date, after telling me that while he finds me extremely attractive he won't be having sex with me until we are married, he gave me a spear. Full on authentic South American tribal spear. Most guys just bring flowers. Dork. Which brings me to today. Back at Starbucks waiting to order my non fat vanilla latte the guy behind me strikes up a conversation based on the tattoo on my foot. "So you like Seattle huh"? "Must be a big nirvana fan". Nope. It's Chicago. Can't stand Nirvana. "Cool he says, I'm getting a vanilla latte too... How about you let me buy yours and we go have a chat on the patio"? IF I hadn't been on my way to a doctors appointment and IF he hadn't been wearing a size schmedium t-shirt and sporting a hipster pseudo beard I might've considered his proposal. He looked confused when I said thanks but no thanks. Dork. My girlfriend Kim says I need to "put myself out there more". So I'm trying... But this week has been too much. Tuesday on a late night run to Von's for milk and coffee I was followed to my car by a guy with a considerable beer belly AND a case of beer under his harm who felt the need to tell me I was beautiful. Thanks for the compliment. It might've been more flattering if he didn't look like Don Johnson's bloated, older brother. Dork. I am a dork magnet. I can't say I don't get hit on or asked out. I just get DORKS.

Ra Ra ree kick em in the knee

Back in 1986 a tall, gangly girl stood waiting outside the gym doors at Sage Middle School in black Dolphin shorts and matching Tshirt holding borrowed pom poms waiting for her number to be called. This was THE day, cheer leading tryouts. For weeks she'd practiced with her Uncle Joe's girlfriend who was a skilled cheerleader. The routine was learned, the hair was done, every thing was ready except for her nerves. The door opens and she walks in facing the firing squad of judges which included 2 teachers and 3 8th grade cheerleaders. These girls were the pinnacle middle school life. She was intimidated to say the least. It was time...do the routine. Take a deep breath, hope they didn't notice how sweaty you are  "ready .. OK". Everything went well until the end. She was supposed to perform a combination of a cartwheel (Which she didn't know how to do) and a jump. The result was She fell in a pile of knees and elbows, taking out two of the three cheerleader judges at the same time. The one remaining cheerleader judge proceeded to humiliate her for making such a spectacle. "Why did you EVEN bother trying out"? As she ran out of the gym crying, she swore to herself that from that day forward all cheerleaders would be the enemy. She became the anti-cheerleader. Looking back now, it reads like a bad episode of the Afterschool Special. But it's real. She was me. I still remember the names of the three cheerleader judges. I still remember the way the hard, shiny gym floor felt like as I slammed into it. I'm having flashbacks because today my daughter tried out as a 7th grader for her 8th grade squad. She, however is amazing and talented. She's got rhythm and skill. I have no idea where that came from. It certainly wasn't me. Cattiness is still the order of the day. Cliques still rule but my daughter can rise above all that because she can actually CHEER! I've even been able to set aside some of my own emotion towards the situation and make "spirit shirts" and hair-bows which caused my kitchen floor to be covered in glitter. It's weird how God works...the anti-cheerleader becomes mother to the cheerleaderiest cheerleader ever. And I love it. Oh the irony.

D-day

There is an entire industry built around getting married. Multi-million dollar industry in fact, full of pageantry and tradition. The same does not exist for divorce unless of course you consider snaky attorneys to be on par with wedding planners. There are certain similarities with regard to time lines but no real tradition. Weddings require a fancy dress, hundreds of guests, flowers, a photographer and a buffet. I'm pretty sure if you showed up at the courthouse for your divorce with all these things you'd be asked to leave. I showed up for the wedding with 3 of my very best friends in tow, dressed in matching lavender dresses. Today, I go alone.
What if there were ceremony attached to undoing a marriage? Would it be considered disrespectful or crass? Would it make the transition easier? Surely someone would find a way to make money on it. Singing  "going to the courthouse and I'm gonna get divorced" doesn't have quite the same ring to it. But really...If getting married were half as difficult as getting divorced, more people might take the decision more seriously. As it stands, today I go before a judge to settle the details of my own divorce and to get back the right to use my maiden name again legally. In six months and one day I will be legally unmarried. All the work the wedding machine did 17 years ago, everything that took a year to plan, many of my parents dollars and 325 guests to put together will be undone. Maybe I'll start a tasteful "divorce planning" business. I could find some way to inject some humor into the bummer business. At any rate, maybe I can give the snaky attorneys a run for their money.

Time warp

I should be sleeping but I can't. I'm moving in 3 hours but the sleep won't come because I get can't my kids and the time warp we live in off my mind. Since the moment they were born time has been messing with me. Some days go by at a snails pace and others zip by like lightning. The bulk of life falls in between one and the other but nights like tonight are special. Tonight was my sweet baby girls first junior high "get all dressed up" dance. We went shopping and bought the dress and shoes both on clearance. The dress, lovely and age appropriate. The color made her already gorgeous blue eyes even prettier. The shoes...too tall but sparkly so they of course they were a must have to my sweet baby girl. I look at the pictures I posted and I think "who IS this girl"? She's beautiful and sassy and  self conscious all at the same time. She's my daughter which means she has a hard time accepting that she is truly a beautiful human being inside and out. Took me till I was 40 and I still mess it up most days. She did her own hair and makeup for the occasion just by watching a few YouTube tutorials. What talent she has. I could never have pulled that off at 12. My vision of this evening was for her to walk down the stairs to her dad, brothers and I all waiting anxiously on the couch, video camera at the ready, for the first glimpse of her in her dress. Instead she got out of my car and walked carefully though the rain to where her dad was sitting in his own vehicle behind us. I'm sorry you don't have the family I dreamed for you sweet baby girl. But I can promise you this, you will always have me and I will always love you. One day at a time, be it a snail day or a lightning day we will make the best of what we have. I will take too many pictures of you and post them all on Facebook because part of me still thinks I can somehow "freeze" the moment. Stop the time warp. How lucky I am to be her mom. On the snail days when her teen angst and hormones are driving me crazy. On the lightning days when I wake up crying because its all going away too fast. Everyday. I love you.

Mayan Schmayan

It's 2:27 on 12/21/12 and I'm still here. I figured I would be. Nothing looks different outside. Nothing is different inside. Here's my humble opinion on the end of the world....it's already happened many times over just within the scope of my little existence. The world ended the first time in 8th grade when what I thought was gonna be the haircut that made me cool actually made me look like Ellen DeGeneres's ugly twin. It ended again the day my grandparents died and the day I found out that my husband cheated on me. All these events altered my perception of my world and caused me to change the way I interacted and lived in it. Collectively our world ended on September 10th and some people would say on November 6th it happened again. I can guarantee the parents in Connecticut feel that that their worlds ended last Friday. There are people who would say that my belief in a book thousands of years old is just as silly and irrational as their belief in the Mayans and that's ok, Matthew 24:36 makes it really clear for me "no one knows about that day or hour, not even the Angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Seems pretty straightforward. The very same sncient book gives me hope. Since the beginning of time we've been trying to predict the end of it. Call it a universal hobby. It's ok if you believed in the Mayan deal but you probably feel a little silly today. I say if they were so great at predicting the future they might still be here...either way despite the calendar that looked like a cookie..we're all still plugging along on planet earth. Someday my time here really will come to its final end but no Mayan can say when.

Stupid Girl

I am an optimist but not a fool. I am honest and I expect the same in return. The hardest person to be honest with is ourselves. After all who knows how to fool us better? As it turns out not everyone is capable of that level of honesty and today I can accept that. So now I go about the business of removing you from my life. Delete you from my Facebook page and block you so even if you wanted to look you can't see me. Delete the text messages, voicemails and photos. Take your name out of my contacts list and hope you listened when I asked you not to ever, ever talk to me again. It's easy to electronically cancel out someone's presence in your life.... It will take a little longer to remove the memories of chemistry, touch and smell. Maybe having the flu will help the process along...I have decided to keep the lessons I learned and I'll spot your kind quicker next time. I already had you once in a different wrapper. My learning curve is getting faster. I hear that Garbage song "Stupid Girl" in my head when I think of you... I won't be a stupid girl anymore.

Turkey Day

I don't like Thanksgiving. Not as a concept, but as a holiday and certainly as a dinner menu it is not my favorite. There are several reasons behind this theory, chief being I don't like turkey. I'll eat it if I have to but I'd rather not. Add to this the fact that until my mid twenties I hated to cook and you have a recipe for disaster. No pun intended. When I was little Thanksgiving was a loud, drunken holiday filled with football and food I didn't care for. Shuttling between my grandparents houses so that just when I got comfy at one place it was time to leave and go to the other. Eat at both houses so as not to be rude equaled an upset stomach for the long ride home. As I got older and married, had kids of my own I began to understand the insane pressure to be everywhere and celebrate with everyone. I once drive from West Hills to Victorville then back to Canoga Park just to have all the bases covered. I always wanted to just drop out of Thanksgiving. Boycott all together and go out for Chinese. The part that was good was family. Being little and running around like a nut ball with my cousins. Listening to my grandparents and aunts and uncles tell stories. Plus, surviving turkey day meant Christmas was that much closer. About half way through my marriage my ex and I began bucked convention and started our own tradition of going dirt bike riding for the holiday. The girl who hated to cook became Martha Stewart of the motorhome and I loved it! We cooked turkey in a trashcan, had bonfires, rode dirt bikes all day and watched the stars at night. No stress. No pressure and no over eating unless you wanted to. I began to love Thanksgiving.  Now it's the second turkey day since my divorce. The ex claimed this holiday because he has the motorhome and the dirt bikes. I agreed because after all I could care less about turkey. The first turkey day I had the kids. He was busy and couldn't put together the trip and that was fine by me. This year, they're going and my heart hurts. Selfish me. I hope they'll have fun with their dad and his girlfriend. I hope they ride safe and wear all their safety gear. As for me... I still haven't made it to the point of Chinese food on turnkey day but I am going to the movies with a friend and hopping between two places for food and fellowship. One house even has ziti along with their turkey! Genius!  I have cultivated some wonderful friendships and I am blessed to have family that loves me even if I don't love Thanksgiving .