Friday, January 29, 2010

This is what i do when conference calls don't start on time.

This is the bed we have already, but in the color of the nightstand shown (both courtesy of Pottery Barn and Polyvore)

We need to get the nightstands, which are really dressers.

Have the lamp, currently filled with shells.

Have the clock, courtesy of my grandfather - it's an original 'oldey' not a newmadetolookold piece.

Love the bedding - also PB and J'adore the rug - which is Dash and Albert...

Master Bedroom

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Indeciseveness may or may not be my problem.

We, I, have changed our wedelope destination again. I also changed my dress decision again. I have changed the choice of both the officiant and the photographer. I tried to change the date and that is when V about came unglued.

I HATE making decisions. But it's always about the stuff i consider 'small' or less important. You notice i didn't change my decision to marry my prince charming.

I do this with work. Should I hire this candidate or this one? Should I push for this project approval or this one?

I do this with the kids. Where do you want to go on spring break? to the beach? What about DC? The big apple? Do you want to fly or take the train? (Seriously, we LOVE the train).

I do this with my house. V has repainted my dining room so many times the square footage has shrunk.

I have a problem. I just can't decide how to fix it.

Friday, January 15, 2010

A picture. And what's rambling around in my head about it.

I have this picture.

I found it yesterday, buried deep in the bottom of shoebox, stored inside the trunk where all of my pictures are kept, along with my favorite pieces of the boys' schoolwork and projects, and misc Mother's Day cards.

I had forgotten all about this picture. This picture of 5 couples, faded and bent, was taken at one of our weddings of our small group. The men, boys really, were all roommates through college and after. As one would rotate out of the apartment, another would find his way in, yet the group never really got larger - it was always the same 5 guys.

This picture bothers me but i can't throw it away. Kind of like an accident on the freeway, I stare at it, not really wanting to see what's right before my eyes, but unable to look in the opposite direction.

There was so much there to see if we had kept our eyes open and been honest with ourselves. maybe even honest with our friends. I mean that's what good friends do, right? We're supposed to be the ones who say the truth even if it's hard to hear. We didn't do that with each other. We didn't do that with ourselves.

Everyone of us is now divorced from our other half in that picture. Looking back now, hindsight being 20/20 and all (funny how that works) - i am not surprised.

The bride and groom in the picture - the bride decided she had chosen the wrong gender to be partnered to. Up and left a year after their wedding and moved in with her girlfriend. My best friend and her husband that are to their right in the photograph - he was my ex's best friend - he left her for another woman ( I posted about that situation here). The couple next to them, he refused to work, she supported him financially and emotionally and then couldn't take anymore and left. Then there were the "seniors" of the group. They had gotten married first - and had 2 little girls by the time this picture was taken. He decided he played for the other team too. And lastly, there is me and my ex. We had only been married 6 months. I was SO happy. But choosing to ignore what was in front of me - he was not happy. Did not want to be married. But i had forced the issue thinking once we were married he would realize that it was what he had wanted all along. stupid, i know.

I guess I'm bringing this all up because i have this friend that got divorced 3 years ago (not one of the picture people- more recent friend) and the other day she sent me an email and said how her ex-husband's leaving her took her totally by surprise. She was still in shock. She was planning on retiring in a couple of years with him by her side. They were planning their first daughter's wedding when he dropped the news on her.

I love my friend. But really? She REALLY didn't see? Someone that you lived with for 25 years ups and says one day - i really don't love you, i haven't loved you for a long time and i'm leaving, and you DIDN'T HAVE A CLUE THAT WAS COMING? How is that possible?

Looking back at that photo yesterday, i knew that 2 in our group needed to "come out". We knew most of us weren't prepared and some of us were pressuring others to commit when what we should have done was back off and grow up - but we went on bachelor and bachelorette parties and stood with them at the altar and never uttered a peep. Never pulled them aside and said "please please get somewhere quiet for a few days and THINK THIS THROUGH. This is serious business mister. Nope, we all just wanted to play grown up and buy our houses and have our babies.

I worry about my friend because i don't want her to go down another path with someone else and not evaluate where she's going and who she's going with. I want her eyes open and I want her to be honest with herself about what and who is staring back at her. That kind of responsible honesty we owe ourselves - don't you think? There comes a time when you go ok, THAT was a flag.

Because if i'm honest with myself - looking back at situation - i had a clue. i had numerous clues. But i chose to be an ostrich. That worked out well. Not again.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Bank of America just called me fat. I think.

After inhaling gallons of eggnog with rum and homemade fudge and lemon squares and gingerbread cookies and and and I gained enough weight to warrant my own zip code.

I decided this past weekend that enough was enough and i was going to do 2 things if it killed me. Make sure my house was cleaned. At least the living room and the kitchen. ok, the kitchen BUT at least change the sheets on the bed. yea. the sheets. AND i was going to go back to yoga dammit.

Now let me tell you all something. I am limber. Pretty much. And yoga happens to be one of those things that i can be away from for weeks. months. OK A YEAR. and still come back and make real yogis jealous. seriously.

So i'm feeling all high on myself even with my eggnog butt crammed into my yoga pants and go to class. The classes are $14. FOURTEEN DOLLARS. The amount is important because IT'S SO SMALL.

I give Debbie my debit card that she swipes and IT GETS DECLINED. I tell her to swipe it again. She does. DECLINED AGAIN. i start to break a sweat. We're in a room all of 5 feet by 5 feet and there are 4 other people behind me. I WANT TO CRAWL UNDER THE COUNTER.

Come on - you KNOW if someone was in front of you AND HAD THEIR DEBIT CARD DECLINED FOR $14 you would be embarrassed FOR them and want to buy them a cup of coffee and drop some nickels in the cup when it's empty. I grab my card, mumble something about there being a mistake, and walk outside to call my bank. REPEATEDLY. Because the number on the back of the card keeps giving me a stupid message about call volume being unexpectedly high or some other crap.

I see Debbie go to lock the door. Damn Yogi. She locks the door so people won't be rude and walk in after class starts and disrupt all that peace going on. So i slam the cell phone and run into class to deal with it later.

How centered do you think i got during that class? Debbie kept telling me to breath and to listen to my inner voice and my inner voice kept saying - WHAT IN THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? CAN'T YOU BALANCE YOUR CHECKBOOK?? DID YOU LEAVE YOUR DEBIT CARD BEHIND AT TARGET AGAIN???

I finally escape the tranquility being forced on me and get in the car and start speed dialing my bank. When the chick answers the line I patiently explain to her that my card was declined - she pulls up my account and tells me that the reason it was declined was because it was flagged for fraud due to "attempted purchases outside of my normal buying pattern."

Yea. It seems that even Bank of America knows that i damn well don't work out anymore. It's a sad day peeps, a sad day.