the usual suspects go downtown

Saturday night my group of friends and I celebrated a multi birthday bash at the Ivy roof top bar; the best place to people watch in San Diego. The battle ensued between the not so beautiful people that comprised the crowd (those fake tanned, surgically enhanced, questionable millionaires you use to see at the Barefoot bar/beach comber round up who have been "about 42" since 1990 drunkenly chasing the scantily clad wait staff and/or the barely legal youngsters who asked them to fish for beer at am/pm their senior year of highschool-which was last June) vs. the beautiful people in the crowd (those fake tanned, surgically enhanced, questionable millionaires screwing their faces in strange and complex expressions to the front doorman in vain to look like their fake IDs, while fleeing from cougars and drunken quasi 42 year olds and wondering why their pursuers look strangely like the old guy/girl who bought them beer at the am/pm senior year) and it brough a smile to my face and a sigh of relief over my boringly domestic married life. Of course the usual suspects, my wonderful friends, were unanimously dressed and pressed in their requisite "down town" duds, and I have to reminisce at our dynamic, for we have all matured and evolved without changing our core personalities or how we interact. And some of us have even progressed from pink lipstick, the Jennifer Anniston 90s shag and penny loafers (yes girls, I did finally realize that the wet and wild shocking pink lip gloss that I clung to went out in 1993, and I am so thankful you introduced me to my new best friend "mac" in 1999). We all poke fun at the unique characteristics that have branded us forever within our crowd, the impetus of many drunken laughter and mimicry as we reminisce via facebook or text the morning after. For example, case in point Saturday night, I can still have been introduced to the same person 5 separate times and blank on their name. Forgive me Cynthia. And then there is my beautiful blonde friend, spotted doing her quintessential right sided hair flip that signifies her status of officially being "buzzed". I became mesmerized with how each strand of her perfect blonde hair covered one full side of her scalp, much like Donald Trump before his fateful firing of an apprentice hopeful. Then there is my lovely friend who often looks at me around 11 pm and whispers "i wish I were watching Battle Star Galactica" while we exchange opinions on the controversial season finale. My other friend who always manages to kiss the hot twenty year old no matter where we are-she is a youth magnet. My friend who bemoans her single status, then turns around and has a hot new boyfriend her first month back on match. The topics of conversation have changed from the latest hook ups and quarrels to our children's inability to clean up after themselves, or the state of the economy, but as I looked around at the beloved faces of those with whom I have shared my joys and triumphs for close to 17 years, I am eternally grateful and humbled that I have experienced such lasting friendships with these wonderful and loyal folks.

week on, week off

Assimilating into my new life has been a duplicitious process; I am both joyful and daunted by being a step mother. We have my husband's children every other week, and the navigation between the two has taken some adjustment. One weekI will find myself worrying with my husband over his teenager's somberness, while hesitantly accepting my other step daughter's request to assist me in my house cleaning duties (for I want to encourage to cleanliness the torrential hurricane of disorder that is her life and yet my patience is tested as have to add an hour to the cleaning schedule as an eight year old's attention is easily diverted from the toilet bowl to Miley Cyrus). I have to find time to accomplish my personal responsibilities and adjust to the noise level generated by small children and adolscents; giggling plus questions plus running stairs plus hamster plus disney channel produces a decibel to which I am not yet accomostomed. It is a gradual process. At first I use to relish the weeks without them for the ease and lessened stress. Time with my husband running on the beach, blogging, dinners with friends. And yet the challenge therein at the end of that week being the mental preparation for the impending week of difference. Louder noise, increased stress. And then when they come it is like the rushing of wind, and it is amazing the joy generated by the simplest words of an 8 year telling you that she missed you. And now the diametric opposition of weeks has settled to a paradigm of appreciation for the differences of both-the simplicity of time alone with my husband, compared to the opportunity to experience an element of parenthood while inadvertently memorizing Nicklodean's Saturday night line up. Adjusting to the contrast and diversity of life is a stressful, joyful and bittersweet process. And I will always bless the sweetest words of a small child and how they have warmed a novice yet learned heart.

A graceful way to break up

Though I have many happy recollections of my single life, I unfortunately don't share that same fond memory for the breakups. The sometimes pathetic and down right cruel way the relationship tie was severed by an ex. And likewise similar recountings by disparaged and weepy friends questioning their self worth as a result of said "dump". Thus begs the question- Is there a graceful or gracious way to break up with someone? And if so, why couldn't those, so disparaged, have been the recipient of kinder words than those harsh ones that caused self esteem to plummet and hearts to break in a thousand disillusioned shards. The requisite, meaningless excuses or complete absence of communication (see blog entitled "fiery car crash" for more details) employed during a breakup can wreak havoc on an already vulnerable heart, and leads one to wonder why someone chooses that option when they have the opportunity to break away gracefully, honestly and prevent a lot of upset on both sides?


I have heard a million break up lines, the one time my ex called to speak to me as if any other evening's conversation, only to suddenly tell me things did not "feel right" an hour into our discussion of our impending weekend plans. Or the slick rick who called my close friend at 7am, the morning after their glorious overnight trip to San Franciso, to tell her he thought they were getting "too close". Of the many things they discussed during their mini holiday, his "five year plan" for them as a couple. Or at 18, the gorgeous marine sargeant who decided to let my high school friend Jamie know he was no longer interested in her by asking out another mutual friendI wonder if "sargeant idiot" thought Jamie would take that not so subtle hint of his ending their relationship. And to add insult to injury-this so called other friend called my friend Jamie to ask permission to go out with this guy-seriously. Justice was delivered for Jamie when we heard through the grapevine that our friend had a suprise visit to the gynecologist soon after her first date with the marine for a malady that Jamie was thankfully spared. My favorite break up excuse is the complete absence of excuse-your supposed lover just does not bother to show up to an arranged engagement, or ever call you again. I never understood that one. I have heard pathetic arguements to support this action, "it is the kinder, better way" or "she will get the hint without a weepy confrontation". Translation, it is easier for the coward thus engaging in these actions to flake out rather than confront and resolve. Or, there was not phone call because someone's hand was broken or cut off at the limb. My friends and I laugh retrospectively laugh over some of these shared experiences slash humiliations. But to all those considering breaking off a relationship, I humbly request that you adhere to the golden rule "do unto others as you would have them do unto you". Approach with honesty, be respectful, communicative and attempt to leave yourself and your soon to be exes dignity intact. The shoe may very well be on the other foot soon enough, and trust me you can only die in a fiery car crash one in a lifetime.

To miss you

I have always been a solitary creature, not prone to longing of individual or place, content to live with myself, exist with my own thoughts, conjecture and sometimes conversation
As a child I would spend hours entertaining myself, never hearing the door creaking and my worried mother so peeping her bemused head and inquisitive eyes through the crack to apprise and thus surmise this strange child who composed lyrics and plays to entertain the silent and invisible majority that comprised her friends
And though I formed strong friendships and convenient social attachments throughout the progression of my life, with overlong exposure I would feel thus confined and need to break free to the solace and silence of my mind and heart, belonging to the world but never truly apart, I chose to stay apart.
And then there was you. At first our periods of intimacy and companionship interspersed with separation were once again convenient to me, truly too much time with one human let alone a man would previously sent me into a threatened tail spin for fear of losing supposed relished and sovereigned autonomy, avoiding a connection or commitment for fear of rejection of self or reprisal of true character, would someone accept me truly. oh i was not sure.
And as our lives and heart drew closer and you demolished walls erected for closure and protection, i find myself most vulnerable and most open to you and despite myself think of you each moment and long for you each hour. What meaning is this, to miss someone if not hearing beloved voice or seeing sweet face, strange place to call home when all of one's time is spent with one's own and there is neither confinement nor resentment but sweet reality that this is where I am supposed to and most long to be..You are the only one I ever truly missed and the last one i ever want to kiss.

Cling together part 2

Today was a crabby day. I felt fat, tired, work was uninspiring and my back ached. I could run the gamut of minor annoyances that are plaguing me; truth be told, there is nothing substantially wrong and I am just having an off day. So instead of crabbing it up to my husband, and bitching down the proverbial list of every negative tic, I made an overall statement about my irritability, whicy drew from him both compassion for my plight and a kindred spirit. He proceeded to regail me with pent up frustrated confessions about his incompetant boss, as he could well empathize with the frustrating work component I shared. This both lightened his spirit and cleared his focus my way. When he arrived home, I was greeted with an enthusiastic kiss and plan to take me to dinner to "cheer me out of my gloom". This turned the corners of my mouth in an upward motion, enabling me compartmentalize my truly insignificant plight and focus on the positive. How fortunate I am to have a strong ally with whom I can share all of my joy, frustration and laughter. How blesssed to have a human litmus test to truly assess if my sour mood is justified or merely hormonal. How nice to have a person willing to put aside his frustration in consideration of my own. That is enough to turn any sour mood sweet!

you have to cling together

My husband and I invariably experience periods of discontent amidst the splendor of love. Ok, to more aptly put it, we fight. Not very often, but alas, not very well. There is a rational and respectful method to battle in which each participant expresses their contrary view point in a calm and collected manner, with empathy and understanding reciprocated though the point is not neccessarily agreed. We have not quite gotten to that point. And sometimes our mutual immaturity, in retrospect, shames and humors us. The period of acclimation when a relationship is newly established is tense enough. Integrating lifestyles is accompanied by exposure to new moods, habits and traits not necessarily desired. And we are expected to endure and ignore that which irritates us, as we made a conscious choice to blend lives and hearts. And though blanketed by love, there are proverbial snags in the fabric. And we are no exception. We shout, we pout, and the silence of intropsect and resentment ensues. And though we have gotten better, less delay between inception and resolution, as the initial arguements would last for a period of days and now we are laughing and enjoying each other soon after the heated exchange. Nevertheless occasional criticism and hateful words are flung, which we later so duly regret. How does one fight well? When strong emotion is the basis for a passionate and loving relationship, the dark side to that coin is that those same strong emotions that elicited great love also spark great anger. It is a slippery slope. I love my husband, and yet we struggle with working together when we argue as oppossed to drifting away from our alliance when we have opposing views. An old friend once told me, when asked how she made it through the tense struggles she and her husband experienced when newly married and faced with financial, career and child rearing struggles, that you have to "cling together through the turmoil or else it will drive you apart." Wise words indeed. I feel as though my husband is my greatest ally, the one who understands and accepts me unconditionally, loving me despite and for all components of my being. Perhaps for our next arguement, instead of turning away in anger I shall grasp his hand and literally cling to his love, even while fuming or feeling resentment over something that will undoubtedly prove insignificant in the greater picture of life.

About this friend

I have a bevy of interesting and dynamic friends that invariably become the subject of one of my blogs. What better diversity of content to draw from than what is gleaned from their experience and perspective? And I do believe we all have that quintessential "friend" that dates and thinks like a dude, though she is unwaveringly feminine in appearance and demeanor. She just has the base common sense to accept when something is not working and thus make an alternate choice that will work, unlike most of us who steep in insignificance and disappointment waiting for a man to change or decide that he wants us. This pragmatism has worked primarily for her in that she can decisively filter through men that are not a suitable match, but worked against her in that she has perhaps been too picky in her selection. She become involved with someone late last year, who after a speculative period of time, she decided would be her next lover/boyfriend/companion. This is attributed partly to his slight mystery and elusivity during their courtship; she never really felt like she had him, therefore he became more appealing. Due to her charisma and beauty, men tend to fall rather easily, and the more disinterested she becomes, the more they pursue. The fact that this guy had stolen her lines and method, that she was forced to walk in the uncomfortable shoes normally worn by her suitors was a genius move on this his part. Though truly I don't know if his behavior was intentional; the result of a skilled hunter who can assess his prey and alter his mechanism of tracking to lure and thus capture. Or the proverbial pieces falling into place when something is meant to work out. And after months of not knowing exactly where she stood, true to nature, she grew bored and backed off. Likewise he was a little reticent about becoming too close too quickly. So they took a mutual break, dated others, and realized what they had together was way better for them both. Fast forward a month later, she is now in an official "relationship" with him, they have met each other's children, and things are falling into place quite easily. In seemed as if one minute they were walking in opposite directions and the next minute they had changed course to plot a path that helped them meet in the middle. And I wonder at the conclusion-timing, destiny, chance or strategic plotting? I speculate a little bit of them all. But thankfully I don't have to speculate on the outcome, for I see the paths forging towards each other until blessedly intertwined for a long lasting journey.