Oops, I Need a Stylist

Her "look" was only the beginning of Britney's problems during the Dateline interview with Matt Lauer.

I finally got around to watching the Dateline interview with Matt Lauer and Britney Spears.

I’ve sat back, watching this girl self-destruct just like the rest of you: shaking my head at her thong displays, her barefoot romps through the 7-ll and the rest of her trailer trash behavior.

I’ve snickered at America’s Pop Princess’ fall from grace so this interview . . . this interview was like a hug from Jesus.

Here are some of my favorite excerpts, with a few editorial comments to fill you in on the gestures exhibited by Spears and Lauer

Spears: I think because I was pregnant with my son, I didn’t want to do interviews. I wanted it to be a little private. But I think 90 percent of the world would agree that the tabloids have kind of gone a little [inappropriate air quote] far[inappropriate air quote] with me lately. You try not to respond to trash . . .

Cut to a brilliant edit of Lauer not responding to Spears.

Spears: They like to have the person they [inappropriate air quote] pick on [inappropriate air quote]. I feel like I’m a target and I feel like other girls are. At a certain point in everybody’s career, they’ll get it.

The misuse of air quotes, which are annoying when used correctly, was AWESOME.

Spears: And I still have helicopters [hovering over my house] that come twice a day.

Lauer: Just trying to get a picture of you at the pool?

Spears: Just anything. And they put the captions on their magazines, “Baby in danger” and stuff like that—which is really silly. But I wouldn’t be in danger if I didn’t have like this impactful thing around me all the time.

Uhm, no you self-centered twit, “Baby in Danger” is in reference to YOUR CHILD.

Lauer: You said a couple of times to me already you believe in karma. And as someone who is now several months pregnant, do you ever stop and think, “You know, he left someone else when she was a couple of months pregnant.” Does that ever cross your mind?

[Rapid blinking by Spears and you can almost see the dim bulb above her lighting up, but it never quite makes it.]

Lauer: What do you see in him? What is it about Kevin that makes you love him?

Spears: He’s very simple. Women complicate everything. He’s so simple. His simplicity and just he’s like a boy. He just, you know, and he cares. He cares so much and his—his heart is awesome. He has a really big heart [so that’s what the kids are calling it now] and I love that.

Oh honey, we know he’s simple. What I find so sad about her response is that even she's trying to justify this relationship at this point.

Federline: I have been paying for everything out of my pocket.

From the allowance he’s given, I’m sure.

Spears: You know, he has children now that he wants to support and not just let it be all me. He’s a man.

Sorry Shar, apparently only Brit’s children are important [read: rich] enough to support.

Spears: They make you feel like you have to have your transformation.

Lauer: Well—

Spears: Madonna reinvents herself. Right?

Oh Brit, Madonna may have gone around with a gold tooth and a wifebeater, but never at the same time. Sure, I remember thinking Madonna was just an attention whore during certain points in her career, but I don’t think anyone ever thought, “That Madonna girl, she’s just poor white trash that came into a little money.”

Spears: I like to cook, try to cook, and I like to clean. I’m obsessive like that. If I watch TV, I like to watch the home-redoing-the-house shows.

This bit of dialogue was disturbing to me because it was accompanied by odd Jack Black Kung Fu waving hands and weaving.

Lauer: How far along are you?
Spears: I don’t know.

How many pregnant women do you know that don’t know how far along they are?

Spears: That driving incident, I did it with my dad. I’d sit on his lap and I drive. We’re country.

As if we ever had any doubt about how "country" she is.

And just days after that photo appeared, on a visit to New York City, Britney stumbled again—this time literally.

Lauer: You’re walking with Sean in one arm and you tripped on—what was it, your pants?

Spears: Actually, I didn’t trip on anything. It was a New York street, and just cobblestones. [Uhm, no. I’ve seen the pictures of her stumbling and there were no cobblestones on that street.] And I was walking and I don’t think we were prepared with one security, ‘cause I’ve never had that much paparazzi ever on me in New York. So we didn’t even know there was gonna be that many people. So I think it was a mixture of so many paparazzi and how the road was all messed up [again, I’ve seen the pictures of this incident and it looks like a pretty level street], me just trying to get in the car.

Lauer: And there was a picture taken shortly afterward, I think you were in a store. And you appeared to be crying.

Spears: Oh yeah.

Lauer: Very upset. Were you upset because you just had a close call with your son? Or were you upset because the—

Spears: Because—

Lauer: —lenses were still on?

Spears: Well, because I got in the car and I was hungry.

I just couldn’t decide what to edit out of that because, it’s just ridiculous. So yeah, forget that the baby almost fell and could have busted his head open: she was hungry. Also, if you watch the interview, you can tell that Lauer is trying his best to prompt her towards the better answer, but she keeps interrupting him and it really does her no favors.

But it doesn’t mean she isn’t keeping busy. She found time to do a guest appearance on NBC’s “Will and Grace”.

Lauer: Was it fun for you?

Spears: It was awesome.

Lauer: Why? What was so great about it?

Spears: I hadn’t been out there for so long. So it was really exciting for me. And I just love funny people. Funny people are great. You know? And so hilarious.

Ya’ll know she’s a member of Mensa right?

And now, for Brits’ crimes against grammar: seriously, Momma Spears should NOT have pulled her out of school for her career.

. . . I didn’t have like this impactful thing around me all the time.

Nouns and adjectives – she just makes them up as she goes along.

So in my young mind I’m like, “I’m gonna just get married to someone of my home friends.

Actually, I didn’t know [regarding Federline’s relationship with Shar Jackson]. I didn’t know until two months later. But I don’t blame him because him and his friends—I’ve talked to his friends about this. They weren’t technically together when he came to me anyways.

I’m a motional wreck right now.

I just feel like the editors they don’t realize that there’s not just one magazine—there’s other magazines and they’re all paying to get a story. And I think that's where the energy from the people is coming from.

And I wanted to touch on some things with my husband because of the tabloids, that I try to keep my baby out of this whole thing. That’s what you know what I mean?
I think that’s cruelty when you judge people and—I’m not a Bible Belt.

What? Seriously, is this an anagram?

I kind of feel sorry for her because you can tell she's lost. She was given too much, too soon and didn't have any guidance.

But Britney, it's time to take this runaway horse by the reins and get yourself a team.

Get a publicist, get an image consultant . . . you can afford it.

And, I know it makes you sad to hear this, but ditch Kevin.

He is deadweight. I know he has a big "heart," but there are a lot of men out there with big "hearts."

Champagne Supernova

Have you ever been in your car, or at work, listening to the radio, just minding your own business, when a song from a particular time in your past sneaks in and kicks you in the stomach.

Yeah: I'm sitting here at work and fucking Oasis comes on the radio with Champagne Supernova. It was getting heavy airplay during the summer of 1996. I was about to celebrate my first year of marriage, so I was still a giddy newlywed. I remember the song well because I spent a lot of that summer at the natatorium in LSU's pool, and that song played at least once a day on the loudspeaker.

But, I have this one distinct memory of it playing.

I was practicing the backstroke and J showed up at the pool with my friend Jen. I remember taking a break and seeing them at the other end of the pool (heads together in confidence).

I remember feeling really happy.

Happy because I was 21, young, pretty and my husband and best friend got along.

Now, 10 years later, I realize that J was probably telling Jen about the latest gaggly of guys he had fucked, and Jen was doing her best to encourage him to be honest with me.

So, now when I hear Champagne Supernova I feel incredibly sad.

Sad because I still mourn for that happy girl who thought nothing could go wrong.

Oasis - Champagne Supernova

How many special people change
How many lives are living strange
Where were you when we were getting high?
Slowly walking down the hall
Faster than a cannon ball
Where were you while we were getting high?

Some day you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova in the sky
Some day you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova
A champagne supernova in the sky

Wake up the dawn and ask her why
A dreamer dreams she never dies
Wipe that tear away now from your eye
Slowly walking down the hall
Faster than a cannon ball
Where were you when we were getting high?

Some day you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova in the sky
Some day you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova
A champagne supernova in the sky

Cos people believe that they're
Gonna get away for the summer
But you and I, we live and die
The world's still spinning round
We don't know why
Why, why, why, why

How many special people change
How many lives are living strange
Where were you when we were getting high?
Slowly walking down the hall
Faster than a cannon ball
Where were you while we were getting high?

Some day you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova in the sky
Some day you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova
A champagne supernova in the sky

Cos people believe that they're
Gonna get away for the summer
But you and I, we live and die
The world's still spinning round
We don't know why
Why, why, why, why

How many special people change
How many lives are living strange
Where were you when we were getting high?
We were getting high
We were getting high
We were getting high
We were getting high

Three Guesses

What do YOU think Tom is up to in this picture?



Meanwhile, Katie stumbles forward in a drugged stupor.

I'd Rather Be Dancing

I don't usually talk about work because I don't want to get dooced, but I have a job that requires a significant amount of overnight travel. It's not glamorous and it's not fun. It takes me away from S, a set routine and my comfy bed.

But tonight, TONIGHT I discovered an exciting new perk to business travel: trying out new gyms.

This week I'm in a city I've been to a number of times and two trips ago I stayed at a hotel that partners with a club called the Riviera. Usually when I go to the gym I play it safe and do some freeweights and either job on the treadmill or hop on an elliptical. However, the last time I was here I went to the gym at the same time that one of the cardio classes was going on. I couldn't exactly see what they were doing from the machine that I was one, but I could hear the music: PDiddy, Nelly, Ludacris . . . I was intrigued. So I finished up my workout and peeked in - they were dancing! Dancing like they were at 'da club, ya'll.

I danced for 11 years and it's been a long time since I took my last class and at that I only took ballet, tap and jazz because the school I attended didn't offer hiphop. So, when I saw this class I made a mental note to call the gym the next time I was in town and I was in luck.

Tonight was my first night of "Cardio Jam" and it was AWESOME. I felt like JLo up in that joint. There were no mirrors in the class so I just kind of threw it out there and had a good time. In my head I looked awesome and kicked ass, on the outside I'm sure I looked like I belonged in a Rhythmless Nation, but I didn't care.

It's been a long time since I went to the gym and had this much fun and my only true sadness here is that my gym at home doesn't offer a class like this one. But, I'm here through Friday and they are offering another CJ class on Thursday night so you know I'll be shaking it.

I Touch Roses

When we moved into our home (built in the late 1920s) we were pleased with the existing flora on the premises: camellias, fig bushes, lantana, azaleas . . . and a large, gangly rose bush. I don't know much about plants, but I know enough to live in a home through at least one calendar year in order to see what pops up in the yard. I know even less about roses, so I turn to the internets to help me identify this beauty:


Also, it appears to close up at night. I didn't know roses did that.

And, just in case there are any gardeners looking for some porn:

You Make the Call

We are but a few months away from the wedding date and I need to turn to you the internets to help me make an important decision:

Goat
















Or, No Goat:
















You make the call.


Also, for those of you that I don't get to see on a daily basis, here is a picture of the ring:

Fat Bottomed Girls Were Not Born to Run

At the beginning of the year, I posted this.

Ya'll saw the pictures I've posted before. I did train with the local group and by our race course practice run I was walk/running a pretty good 5K. Then, I went on some business travel and came down with amoebic dysentery. According to Wikipedia, this is something common when travelers visit "developing nations." I was in Alabama people, which admittedly isn't all that far along, but COME ON!

The plan was to run the Heritage Race through downtown Montgomery, but on the morning of the race I was still experiencing some cramping and discomfort. Not to mention, two weeks of persistent diarrhea can do some pretty effective dehydrating.

So, the race was a no go for me. I was pretty upset because I have a history of not following through. I figured if I'd skipped this chance, then I might just blow it off and not ever run a 5k.

Then, I saw an add for the Joy to Life: Walk of Life 5K Walk/Run.

Six years ago now, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. She was a post-menopausal woman at the time and her chances of recovery were incredibly high (in the 90th percentile), so I never really worried for her life because I knew that statistically her chances of survival were great.

More importantly, my mom became my biggest hero because her chances of survival were greatly improved by early detection. See, her cancer was detected during her routine, annual mammogram. It was so small that even a monthly self-breast exam wouldn't have found anything. Here doctors actually described the "mass" as being no larger than a grain of sand. My mom was very fortunate to: 1)find it early, 2)be a post-menopausal woman and 3)have a medical plan that allows her to afford annual mammograms.

Which is why Joy to Life: Walk of Life 5K Walk/Run was a no-brainer for me. All proceeds from the annual Walk of Life benefit the Foundation, which supports screenings and early detection of breast cancer for women in the tri-county area who are younger than 50 years old and cannot afford mammograms.

So, I strapped on my running shoes and headed to the race bright and early on Saturday morning. I picked up my number and filled out my "I am walking in honor of: Edna Martinez" form for the back of my shirt and I stood around. I was nervous and excited, but mostly I was scared that I'd fall or do something equally uncoordinated during the race.

Within minutes of arriving, I was approached by a few members of my original running club and our coordinator. I was relieved to see Mary because I'd been needing that validation. That whole, "SEE, I did show up. I did follow-through."

I didn't finish in record time: 00:46:09, but there were still scores of people behind me when I crossed that finish line.

But, as I ran up to the finish line and heard the cheering voices of survivors, current breast cancer patients and other runners that had finished before me, I realized it wasn't about that.

It was about my $25 registration fee helping save someone's mother, daughter, sister, friend.

That, in the end, was my reward.

Talk To The Hand

I spent a large part of my weekend sacked out on the couch watching The Gilmore Girls Season 1 DVDs (Thanks Secret Squirrel).

I'm not ashamed to admit that I spent that much time loafing. Fuck it, I've earned it. I've been on the road for six weeks now so I think I've earned a little downtime.

What I am ashamed to admit is that I'm not so good with the remote control. I forget which button just rewinds vs taking me back to a previous scene. I also don't know when I can and can't hit certain buttons.

But, you can bet my bitchy DVD player doesn't let me get away with shit.

If, say, I'm trying to look at the menu that shows me the list of episodes before the DVD player is ready, she sassily replies with:



That's right: my DVD playes gives me THE HAND.

I try to fast forward through the FBI Warning to get my GG fix, but she's all:

"You want me to 'hurry up' so you can watch your show? Uh-uh, I don't think so."

Bitch.

Wish List

We are a little over a month away from my birthday, and since I'm fairly certain the only person reading me these days is my brother (Hi Boo!), I'm going to put up my wish list:

1. A subscription to Real Simple Magazine
2. Yoga pants from Old Navy (Size L)
3. Girlmore Girls on DVD (Season 2) (My friend The Secret Squirrel surprised me with this. Thanks B!)
4. this baby.
5. I totally couldn't wait on this so I splurged this weekend and bought this my own damn self.

Check back in for periodic updates :)

Lez Be Friends

Oooh, this is my 100th post. I'll wait while you roll out the big cake with all the candles and start my clip show.

Anyway, my brother has gotten me into watching The L Word. I've never watched this show before because I didn't used to have Showtime. I'm really cheap so I just didn't go for any of the movie channels, but then I moved and the cable company didn't catch on to the fact that they left me the "premium" channels (What?). So, now every Sunday evening finds me watching The L Word.

I love it.

Mostly because I am fascinated by the complexity of women's relationships. No matter how many hateful things they do to each other, they remain in the same web of friendship. Maybe it's that untangling themselves from it would be too complicated. I don't know, the truth is I've never had trouble cutting myself out of a relationship that is past it's prime, so these women fascinate me. Then again, I also have few people that would come to my side if I were diagnosed with breast cancer (as Dana was a few weeks ago).

Anyway, and I think this show has taken heat for this, I have never seen this many beautiful lesbians in one group.

While I may live in the South, where being out isn't exactly embraced, I have had lesbian friends . . . quite a few. I've also been to more than my share of lesbian bars packed with throngs of Sapphic sisters.

Now, it's not like all the lesbian gals down here are sporting mullets, driving beat up trucks and carrying a can of Skoal in their back pocket, but they don't look like that.

What I see a lot down here are fabulous gay men (many of whom I am blessed with their friendship).

Beautiful men that work out, are coifed within an inch of their lives and KNOW how to dress.

Where have all the pretty lesbians gone?

I Hear The Secrets That You Keep

Anyone that's had to spend the night with me is well aware of the fact that I talk in my sleep.

It's usually random stuff, nothing that really makes any sense.

So, imagine my surprise last Saturday morning when I hear S say:

"Well, do we qualify?"

I had only just woken up, so I asked, "Are you awake?"

S, with eyes closed, "Yes."

I figured why not find out what we qualify may or may not for. So, I cut my eyes at him and thought, "Why not?"

So, I replied, "What do you want to qualify for?"

S, "Food stamps . . . "

Of all the things we could qualify for (home loan, as adoptive parents, car loan . . . ), he comes up with FOOD STAMPS!

My reply, "Why would we want food stamps?"

S, "If someone else is willing to pay for our food . . . "

At which point I stared at the ceiling and realized: dear God, I am marrying my father.

Me, "S, are you sure you're awake?"

S, still with eyes closed, "Why?"

Me, "You were just talking to me about food stamps."

S, "Hmm, I guess I'm not awake."

And in nanoseconds he was softly snoring.

Born to Run

Except, not.

It is so clear in this picture that I am NOT feeling that endorphine rush.

You know what I love about that picture the most?

You can just tell that I'm thinking, "Dear God, why am I doing this to myself?" While the bitch in the background is all, "I love to run . . . weeeeeee!"

Also: my double chin is so massive I look like I have the goiter.

In my defense, I did not know they were taking my picture.

So, two weeks later, when I saw the camera aimed in my direction: I was ready. This, is what you call FIERCE.

I blame my father for cheeks that look like I'm storing nuts for the winter.

Book List

S' parents gave me a Barnes & Noble gift certificate for Christmas. I'm rather deliberate in my purchases so it's taken me a while to come up with a list of reading materials worthy of my spending the gc.

On the top of my list was a new calendar. I know this isn't impressive, but I needed one and by the end of January they are 75% off - you know it was prudent of me to wait until after the new year to make this purchase, but I really limited myself. I had a choice of Cute Cats 2006, More Cute Cats 2006 and Dali. I went with the Dali. I don't have any particular affinity for Dali, but his work reminds me of a moment I had during the first spring I lived in Colorado Springs.

Springtime in the Springs is gorgeous. The skies our cloudless and the blue is the most startling shade of indigo. The sky looks even more stunning against the mostly barren terrain. I really can't do it justice. Anyway, this particular spring morning I was on my way to work, anyone that knows me is well aware of the fact that I am not a morning person, so my morning commute was usually my 30 minutes to wake-up and face another day at work. On this particular day, I remember glancing into my rearview mirror to check my eyeliner (what, like I ever look in there to see if I can switch lanes) and I saw this.

"Fuck me," I thought.

Mind you, it was early, I was still groggy and I couldn't make out the basket so for a brief time, on my otherwise boring drive, I truly felt as if I was living inside of a Dali painting. Alas, it was just a hot air balloon.

Later That Same Day . . .

My other purchases at B&N were the latest issue of Real Simple and Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking.

Didion's book has been on my wish list for a while now and it has been worth the expenditure. It's not a cheery book as she recounts for us the death of her husband and the year thereafter, which includes the touch-and-go hospitalization of her daughter, Quintana Roo. Roo, died of acute pancreatitis (not the reason for hospitalization in the boo) after the book's publication.

What moved me was how much her mourning period reminds me of what I went through when my marriage ended.

She opens the novel with:

Joan Didion starts her book:

"Life changes fast
Life changes in an instant
You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends."

For me it was a phone call from my spouse and life as I knew it had ended. She goes on about how people always say, "It was just a normal day when . . . " My recollection of the day I found out about J starts out, "It was another beautiful spring day . . . " not unlike the one in which I unexpectedly found myself in a Dali painting.

I can't tell you what happened in the hours after I found out about J. I am only sure of the fact that I finished out my day at work as if it was any other day.

Didion is referred to as a "cool customer" by the paramedics at the hospital. Rather than falling to her knees in a mass of uncontrolled sobbing, Didion takes stock of the moment she is in and focuses on the mundane: I'll need my keys if we are going to the hospital. I don't think she's a "cool customer" as much as she's doing what she needs to deal with the situation.

I could do this with a lot of what Didion when through, but I won't. If you've read my blog, you know the story of J and I so I won't bore you with it here. It would also be awfully naive of me to compare the end of a relationship to the lose of a spouse.

But, the next time a friend, acquaintance or sibling, whatever, goes over their breakup/divorce for the 1000th time don't belittle his or her pain by saying, "Get over it already."

The loss of a spouse/partner is painful, no matter how it happens.

Suck My Wind

For those of you that have been reading this blog for a while, you might remember that last year I resolved to run a 5K in 2005. Like most resolutions, it didn't happen but I'm figuring this is a new year and a great time to make another go of it.

So, this year I have a plan. See, one of the local tv stations has started a running group and the goal is for all of us to run a 5K together. Last year proved that I can't do this alone, and it's my hope that doing this as part of a team will motivate me to stick with it. So far it's going well. I train on my own during the week (using the Galloway Method), and then every Saturday we meet for a practice run outdoors.

The last time I ran a 5K was in 1999. It was a "Race for the Cure" even and there were cancer patients, cancer patients just out of chemo, that spanked my ass. I was literally one of the last folks to finish. At the time it really wasn't a big deal to me, but looking back I realize that it was pretty embarrassing.

See, the thing is, I don't really think of myself as a competitive person. I'm fairly laid back, and being number one isn't really in my nature.

At least, this is what I used to think.

This past weekend I had my first outdoor practice run with the group. About 60 of us showed up so we had to run in different heats. I was part of group 5, there were maybe 9 of us in my heat.

I kept telling myself, "Don't worry about what the person next to you is doing. You are only competing with yourself." But, after lap 1, when I realized I was one of the last three my competitive spirit went all Whitney on me and, "Hell to the naw," I realized I'd have to pick it up.

I'm running about a 15 minute mile, so I'm not exactly Flo Jo out there, but it felt good and I'm working on redeeming my poor performance in '99.

But, most importantly: I came in first in my group.

Suck it, bitches.

The End is Near

It is clearly a sign of the apocalypse when:

1. Your mother, who has never touched a computer other than to dust it, sends you e-mail.

2. Your brother, finally, starts his own blog.

I'm going to grab S, the cats and go hunker down in our underground bunker for surely it is the end of days.

The Announcement

Here's how it went down:

First, S told his parents first thing on Christmas Eve. We waited until then because on the 23rd we were attending his sister's surprise party and we didn't want the engagement to take away any of the attention from her.

They were very pleased and his father told him that he had made a very wise choice. His mother grabbed my face and welcomed me into their family and gushed on about how much she liked me. I was extremely flattered.

Then, we went to my parents' house on the morning of Christmas Eve. My mom and dad's place is wreck right now. It flooded during Katrina so their are exposed studs up to chest high and it looks like the place was robbed. But, this is where they were because mom was cooking on her gas stove (one of the few appliances that survived) as she does not "trust" the electric stove at my brother's apartment (where they have been staying post-Katrina).

My mom brought a dining chair into the living room for S to sit on (I was on the arm of the moldy sofa and dad was on the recliner) and S asked to her take a seat. Mom, not knowing what is going on, says, "No, I can't sit I don't really have the time . . .

S, "Oh, you'll want to sit down for this."

By the way, the entire time, my dad is reading the Sports section of the Times Picayune and only now does he realize, "Hmm, I may want to pay attention, too," and sets it down.

S' speech: Mr. and Mrs. M, I wanted to tell you that I love your daughter . . .

Dad, "We love her, too . . . "

S, "And, that I plan to be around for a very long time."

Dad, "Good . . . "

S, "She is an amazing woman, you did a wonderful job raising her and I'd love to become a part of this family, if you'll have me."

Dad, "Wow, thanks . . . sure, sure."

S, "And, I'd like to ask your permission to marry her."

(At which point he presented the ring.)

Dad, "Yes, yes, of course . . . you can have her."

I was misty eyed and laughing at dad's reaction and S turned to me and said, "If you'll have me . . . will you marry me?"

I said yes, mom was teary eyed, I was teary eyed . . .

Dad, "You could not have given me a better Christmas present."

It was quite nice. Mom told S that, not because I'm her daughter or anything, "But, Melissa is a good woman and you are lucky to have her."

Then she turned to me and said, "You are a very lucky woman to have such love."

After my Aunt V found out, this is what she told S, "I am so happy for you. I knew that when you moved to AL for her, this was good. This was good, strong love."

We celebrated Christmas Eve all evening long: first with his family and then with mine. Many champagne toasts were made.

So many toasts, that at one point at S' family's house the conversation turned to misplaced rings and lost items and his mother's voice rang above everyone else's:

"One more glass of these, and I'll tell you about something else I lost once."

I know I make her sound like a booze hound there, but she's not. Mrs. B is a really cool lady and the B's in general are a warm, welcoming family. Not only did they raise an amazing man, but they welcomed me with open arms.

I'm a very lucky, lucky girl.

Check back later to see if I've posted the Flickr link to our Christmas photos. Guess who got themselves one of them new fangled digital cameras for Christmas?

Lost in Translation

"This is my daughter Melissa. She has just been compromised."

This, people, is how my father announced my engagement to his neighbor.

You see in Spanish, when the gentleman has made his intentions known, he has offered the family a "compromiso," a promise if you will, to marry.

These slips in translation are the kinds of things that made me cringe when I was 13. Now though, I just wish I'd had the camera to capture the look on his elderly neighbors face as she processed the information she had just received.

Crazy Pussy

The last time I talked about my c@t, I got a bunch of weird spam comments. So, I'm going to try not to use the word: c@t.

Anyway, I have three pussies and the oldest one is 10-years-old (now, that out to generate some interesting spam). Her name is Sasha and she is so mean that my roommate thinks she is some sort of reincarnation experiment: perhaps a bit Joan Crawford with a splash of Bette Davis.

When she was a young pussy, she would stalk moths. I used to live in Colorado Springs and we'd go through "Miller Moth Season." It's what it sounds like: a ton of annoying migrating moths fly around your bulbs on the front porch and balcony lights and zoom inside at the first chance.

Sasha used to squeeze herself into the space between the top of our kitchen cabinets and ceiling and wait. They'd flit around the ceiling lights and she'd never take her eyes off of them. I never actually saw her catch them, but inevitably I'd look up at her and she'd have a bit of wing poking out of her clenched jaw.

Whatever. It kept them off of me and my wool sweaters.

But, Sasha was just a tiny baby pussy (not like Anne Heche's) with all kinds of energy. These days, she spends most days moving herself from sunny spot to sunny spot: not unlike a retiree on a Florida beach.

Until a few weeks ago. See, she'd been spending an awful lot of time in our kitchen lately. I just assumed it was because we were baking for the holidays and it was one of the toastiest rooms in the house.

Oh, but no.

Little miss had spotted a mouse.

Yes, there was a mouse in my house!

I didn't know but you can bet my pussy knew.

How did we find out?

Turns out the old pussy caught the fucking mouse.

Imagine my surprise when I walked into the kitchen to find her sitting at attention, as proud as you please, with this little gift for me.

There was high praise for her as she dropped it and presented it to me.

She may be considered a "senior" as far as pussies go, but clearly Sasha still has a lot of fight in her.

Let's Get Ready to Ruuuuuumble!

A few months ago I got into a fight with a friend. Of course, it all started out via email.

Email is a dangerous thing when you are having an argument because there's no tone. It's all inferred. These here internets have been around for some time now and I'm sure other bloggers have covered the dangers of arguing via email much better than I could.

Anyway, my final email wrapped up something like this:

"I've HAD IT. I am THROUGH with you."

The particulars of our fight aren't really important except for one thing: Don't fuck with my family.

My loyalty to them, no matter how misguided sometimes, is unflagging.

Anyway, removing this person from my life was as easy as deleting their phone number from my cell phone. This isn't something that I'm proud of, but it's something that I've done only under extreme cases of betrayal.

And, I'm good at it.

It's not about hate. It's about realizing that clearly this person is not a positive influence in my life so it is better for me if we are no longer friends.

The funny thing is, since I've stopped talking to this person I've realized that I don't really miss him. The only times I am really aware that he is no longer in my life are when I think of something really funny and bitchy to say. He's the only person that will cackle along with me no matter how cutting my comment.

That's also when I realize, "DAMN! I'm bitchy."

It's been quite humbling to realize I am . . . mean.

That's also why I appreciate having S in my life.

Whenever I start to get really bitch, angry or impatient, he's the living angel on my shoulder that always helps me see the other side of a situation. He doesn't indulge my bitchy nature and that's just one of the many little ways in which I realize how good this man is for me.

I've since seen the guy that I had the huge fight with and it wasn't uncomfortable. He was familiar and it was easy falling back into our pattern, but the truth is . . . I don't miss him.

Pillow Talk

A few weeks ago S and I were in bed cuddling. My head was on his chest and his right hand was playing with my hair. This isn't particularly out of the ordinary as 5 nights our of 7 this is how I fall asleep. While it's fairly typical, it's wonderful because I've never been the kind of person that can fall asleep while being held. Maybe it's just that I'm finally in the arms of the right man.

Anyway, on one such particular night, I was in that blissful place where you're body feels light, your foot does the occasional twitch and you're just about to fall asleep, and S says to me, "You know how we're going home for Christmas and our families are going to meet?"

Me, sleepily, "Mmm,hmmm . . . "

S, "Why don't we make it an engagement party."

Me, still groggily, "Mmm, sounds nice."

And then, my inner bridezilla, the one that's been sitting aroundin her dress and veil, tapping her foot impatiently, stood up and shouted, "BITCH, WAKE THE FUCK UP! THIS IS IT!"

So, my brain started to catch up to everything that was going on and instantly I was awake.

I lifted my head up from S' chest and leaned back so I could look him in the eye.

He was smiling and I said, "Oh."

Bridezilla rolled her eyes and plunked herself back down.

S continued on, "I know how important family is to you and I know how much you want to get married in the church, so instead of getting married in New Orleans . . . what do you think of getting married in Honduras?"

At this point, Bridezilla was glaring at me to answer this man.

And it's true, it had never crossed my mind to have a destination wedding. Much less, having one in Honduras but once he'd suggested it, it all just fell into place. It would be modest and other than tickets and hotel rooms, it could be done inexpensively and beautifully.

Me, now all dewy-eyed, "That's so sweet."

Sweet because I know how important family is to S as well, and getting married out of the country would mean that his four siblings would more than likely be unable to attend. So I said, "But, what about your family?"

S, "Well, I think mom and dad would go. Mom has yet to see any of the churches in Honduras. And, JJT & J are welcome to fly down, but as long as Mom and Dad are there I'd be happy. But, you still haven't said yes."

Me, "Right."

See, this isn't the first time for me.

My first thought was, "I really don't want to screw this one up . . ." which makes no sense at all because I didn't screw the first one up. But, I did make a bad decision. When my ex asked me to marry him I remember a voice in my head screaming, "NOOOOOOooooo . . . " and sort of fading off like a dying super hero.

This time it was different.

This time is was like a cheesy 50's movie where fireworks go off and a marching band starts playing.

I knew that I wanted to, my first instinct was to look into his eyes and say, "Yes." But I was scared. I told S this and he said, "That's understandable, and if you don't want to say yes that's fine, too. I'm not going anywhere so take your time."

The next few weeks went by and nothing changed.

I've always felt part of a team with S. I've always felt that I was in a secure, committed relationship. I know that regardless of marriage, S and I will continue to take care of each other and do all of those little things that couples do for each other. We bought a house together, so clearly I'm committed.

I'm just scared.