Leap Day

What is with all this originally posted business?!

Well, let me tell you – it is A LOT easier to delete your whole blog than you think!!! Yes, indeedy!!! In trying to re-vamp this blog in the hopes of showing how it really reflects the all the random nuttiness inside of me, I, in one of my more classic A.D.D. moments decided (in a bad way) to do way too many things at once…and wandered the mouse over "Are you REALLY, REALLY, REALLY, REALLY SURE you want to delete the email address linked to this blog and everything associated with it (meaning the blog istelf) Forever, EVER? Forever EVER?"

Then clicked "YOU BETCHA!" without even looking...not my wisest moment.

So the originally planned: "Welcome To My New Address - Thanks For The Casserole" blog has turned into one big, giant OOPSY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! In one of my brighter moments, I remembered that I had saved all my posts elsewhere on my computer and after some wrangling, I'm up and running again!

So, Welcome!!!

I guess as long as this only happens once every four years…?

Meanwhile, Back at the Empire State Building…

(originally posted 02/27/08)

Peer pressure. I don't care what your mamas told you: it never gets old. You never outgrow it. I don't care how cool you think you are, or how secure you think you are or how aloof you think you are. It's always there. Looming. Taunting. Killing your calves.

No, no, no…your Holsteins are safe…

I'm talking about the ones between your ankles & knees. THOSE calves. Write this down in your collective diaries – no pen? I'll wait…no really – you'll want to commit this to paper, I promise. Ready? OK – I've been working out. VOUS?? Oui, moi!! And not just once to say I'd done it & thought it overrated, but on a rather regular basis!!

I know! It's Cuh- RAZY!! Previous to this current bout of mental illness the most exercise I got was walking from sofa (living room) to fridge (kitchen) to refill the wine glass which on a good day merely negated the caloric intake.

But now, my uh, "friends" have gotten this WACKY idea in their heads that this activity called "working out" would improve the weight loss experience.

Improve? I'm pretty sure they are using that word pretty loosely. Today after our workout my whole body felt like green Jell-o melting in the sun (The green was an alien reference – as in "I'm such an alien to this world of exercise!") and I'm sure I won't be able to move at all tomorrow.

Huh?? Oh!!! You caught that…."OUR" workout…yeah…well, this is where the peer pressure comes in…unless guided by the gentle hands of those around me, I'd be sitting around like Jabba the Huttress waiting for my froggy lunch to be brought to me…

And wouldn't THAT be pretty???

So even though this exercise thing is certainly not easy, I must sum up by saying:

free gym at work membership? (did my lazy ass mention that?) Free
water, towels, gym locker, shower? Free
making sure you don't embarrass yourself in the gym alone? Priceless

Oh yeah. And I'd better lose some damn weight.

Desperately Seeking Jane

(originally posted 02/21/08)

Flattery is the sincerest form of imitation…wait…or is it the other way around? What is it about seeing, hearing, watching, reading something that someone else has done really well that makes us think that we can master it just as easily, if not more easily than the master him- or her- self? How many times have you heard this one: "My KID can do better than that!" Yes, your little Jenny Genius probably could…but then if that were the case, you wouldn't be going to work tomorrow, you'd be out exploiting your child on Oprah.

Not-so-slightly-veiled immature neener-neener aside, I've just re-read (for the umpteenth time) Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice and I wonder (amazement, not curiosity) at the complexity of this seemingly simple story. Good people are good – simple, clear, easy. Bad people are bad, but not so prematurely defined: reasons are given, excuses made, but in the end, overall verdict: not-so-good. Humor and tragedy are played out in the seemingly simplest way possible. And I think, as we all have at some point, I can do this! I can say "not very pleased" to mean "really pissed off" and I can make the cruel and mean look silly and ridiculous if viewed with a clear heart…but no. Within the space of an hour a girl that never left home, never experienced ¼ of the things in life that women of HER time, let alone mine, have experienced, a woman that died at the age that I am now has left me awkwardly flailing in the ditch of the English language, drowning in banalities, grasping desperately for a metaphor that hasn't been already trampled to death. Well done, her! Back to short, witty…uh…written…um…things for me.

Perhaps if I wore a muslin gown instead of a fuzzy robe & bunny slippers?

Be Still My Heart

(originally posted 02/14/08)

I just received the BEST Valentine gift a gal could hope for…from the man of my dreams…my heart's all a twitter and I think I may be a bit faint! He's come back into my life after so many years and as much as I wanted to be angry for making me wait so long, I understand, and when I see him, the years seem to have washed away in a blink.

Be still my heart - Indiana Jones is back. And I am enraptured again. I just watched the trailer and I am pretty sure I'll be watching it over and over all day long…

http://www.indianajones.com/site/

Happy Valentine's Day, Indy…welcome back!

The Grass is Brown All Over Town

(originally posted 02/13/08)

I know. I have no room to speak. I have no right to complain. I should shut my cake hole or better yet, use it to loudly thank the goddesses that I actually have something to celebrate on the Relationship Holy of Holies.

I honestly debated whether I should post this at all. Would I be struck down by mysterious and unearthly forces? Or human ones? That is yet to be seen...I actually felt guilty writing about the flip side of this evil holiday…YES! I said evil. There. It's out. I say this loudly to you all! Valentine's Day SUCKS!!

Don't hit me with cherry filled candy and black roses. I get it! The only people that are allowed to bitch are those that can rage against the heavens (and its corporate sponsors here on earth: Hallmark, Godiva, every South American rose farmer and Jared's) that they have no one to impose this 'holiday' upon – no one to impose it upon them. And I've been there – truth be told more often in my life than not.

Remember kindergarten when you had to send a valentine to everyone in your class? First grade, too? But then by second grade, something happened. Most teachers felt that you had developed friendships already and besides, parents do most of the work, so why torture them, too? But you fill out your 30 valentines because YOUR mom said that it wouldn't be nice if some kids didn't get any. Then you realize the next day that only two other moms besides yours felt that way. Which sucked. Because you only got those two valentines in your little doily decorated pouch. Then you realize in your 7 year old horror that you are expected to gloat in the lunch room so you fake an asthma attack so you can go to the nurses office instead. Which really sucked. And you panic every year thereafter. It's not always about not gettin' the love, though.

Sometimes love comes with a lot of expectations:

What about those poor gals ('cause let's face it – how many guys complain about being ignored on Valentine's Day?) that have to cajole their man into celebrating? Or the ones that get a small teddy bear holding a heart that says "Luv ya!" purchased with reluctance at the last minute at (insert gas station here)? Or the Really Nice Gal with the Evil Bay Mate? Our R.N.G. gets some flowers sent to work – she beams – so happy! But then Evil Bay Mate gets a HUGE bouquet from P.W. Boyfriend (and we all know that the W stands for 'whipped') who has to mortgage his house to pay for them. R.N.G. gives a watery smile & compliment (because she's Really Nice) and also because E.B.M. is gloating like the evil bitch she is…then giggles dismissively and pretends to be oh-so-sweet about the teensy bouquet sent with love and a human budget but she's really just a bitch and not-so-secretly happy that her man is more whipped than R.N.G.'s. "Ah! Mah! Gahd! And he's taking a second on the house and we're going to Santa Barbara for the weekend and he's treating me to ALL the spa services!!! Isn't he just the most whipped of all??" Yeah. Gag me. Call me when you're divorced. Better yet? Don't.

Here's a few for the gentlemen…how about those $400 dinners that cost $39.95 every other day of the year?? Or the $150 flowers that cost $12.99 February 13^th or 15^th? Or the $99.99 necklace you bought at Jared's but because commercials suck, she knows exactly how much you paid for it? And GOD FORBID you come over with just a teddy bear holding a heart…

And the evil high water mark of all…dreaded by both normal men and women alike: The Engagement. Every gal secretly wants it – every man secretly dreads it…is THIS the year? No? Maybe next? Or with the next guy? EVIL, I tell you! EVIL!! I'm convinced that this holiday has mutated into something meant to make you feel inadequate no matter WHO you are.

Expectations and commercialism have absolutely killed a little holiday that I believe that was started with noble intentions – tell someone special in your life – no matter who that is – that they are special. That's it. No flowers or stuffed animals or cards or dinners or any of that shit. Just an honest heart-felt word or two. Or action. Or anything. You feelin' me?

Most importantly, Love yourself – in the end that's the only thing that matters…