Finding Zen

The Nielsons

It has just come to my attention that fellow blogger friend, Stephanie Nielson, and her husband Christian were recently involved in a plane crash.  

I am deeply saddened by this news, and ask that if anyone is able to send a letter or make a donation that they please do.  At the very least - I hope that you are reminded to fully embrace and take pleasure in each day we are given to enjoy our lives, and those whom we love in it.

c/o Stephanie and Christian Nielson
Maricopa County Hospital
2601 East Roosevelt Street
Phoenix, AZ 85008

For updates, her sister C Jane - will be posting on her blog.

Goodbye 20's

I stood behind a gal in the grocery store the other day.  She had long, bronzed, beautiful legs to match her beautiful hair and her beautiful face.  She was tan - but not wrinkly yucky lay-off-the-fake-bake-tan, it was like the real deal.  Tan like Gabrielle Reece tan.   Moist, smooth, dark skin.  Did I mention her legs were up to my shoulders?  And guess what?  There was NO HAIR?  None. Not even a fuzzy one.  There was nothing.  It was like she had total body laser hair removal.  She was RADIANT.  And tan.  And tall.  And hairless.  And I just stared at her.  Wishing I had no hair.  No lines.  The kind of skin you want to nuzzle up to and rub your face on....rest your head and take a nap.  Hmm.

I have hair everywhere.  But we don't need to go there AGAIN.  It is one of my ugly superficial burdens.  Like the frown between my eyebrows that sucks in a little millimeter of my face every day - until one day there will be nothing left to look at but a big old DISSAPOINTMENT.  Not even FROWNIES can help me.  And I've tried.  AND - the lovely break-outs I now get on my back and upper chest since coming off birth control.  Now, tell me that isn't special?

I'm a bit worn these days.  A little less pep.  A little more emotional.  Somedays even a little depressed.  But I keep it all in check.  My sister-in-law said something to me the other day - that day I got my 6th cycle 'bust'...she said something like "You have to just be thankful for what you have today - because you never know what may happen tomorrow".  And I know this.  We all know this one.  But its good to hear it every now and again because its so true.  I have so much to be thankful for, and so many good things in my life to appreciate.  It seems downright inefficient to focus on anything but enjoying what we have, and not what we have-not.

So today, on the eve of my 30th year in this world - while I may not have buttery smooth bronzed calves...or a life growing inside me...I do have love, companionship, laughter, an incredibly supportive family (IN-LAWS and OUT-LAWS included!) a fridge full of groceries, a really nice home, designer jeans (size 26 - boo-ya!), good health, The Rosetta Stone - French I & II, AND!!!...tomorrow, August 16, 2008 - I will have my very own, completely custom-built down to the paint and the rims..gears..and all - a bicycle!  Made by my husband.  Just for me. Take that WEST COAST CHOPPERS!  Take THAT sexy hairless legs in Publix lady!  I guess I don't need to be hateful about it - thats not in the spirit of the Buddha.

Here's to 30 more!  Thanks for hanging around these parts ya'll.  I enjoy your company.

Now...do any of you have any recommendations for IN-GROWN LEG HAIRS?? They are multiplying...FOR THE LOVE OF JESUS!

6th Cycle

And another BUST.  You cannot imagine the dissapointment this brings me month after month.

I'm clearly NOT in charge of my fertility.  This fecking blows.

Lord Please Help Me...

You know that bumper sticker. The one that says something about being the god your dog thinks you are? Yeah. Well. They got it wrong. It should have been something more like:

Lord, please help me NOT to be the asshole my dog thinks I am.

This morning I was trying to wrap up some work on the computer before heading into my other job. The garbage men were outside, and like clockwork, the dogs morphed into Cujo. Flesh-eating, rabbid, foaming at the mouth - Cujos. And its annoying. And distracting. And the cacaphony of it all crawls under my skin and up into the veins in my neck and I am lucky I don't die on the spot of a ruptured blood vessel. Where the dogs would probably EAT ME.

I can't help but think every single time GET OVER IT ALREADY! DONT YOU REMEMBER 'THEY' CAME YESTERDAY? And the day before...and the day before that....These are smart dogs. These dogs practically feed themselves. They play frisbee in the backyard. They fetch us beers from the fridge. They complain when their water isn't chilled. I don't buy it.

So I yell. Loudly. The kind with spray. The kind that makes you feel like you are one step from the edge. I yell at the top of my lungs from the opposite end of the house...

SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP!!!

*I may need to work on that one when children arrive...

And they do. For a second. But they just can't help themselves and ALWAYS have to throw in an extra seething crazed bark for good measure. Or just to piss me off.

And as we pass eachother in the hallway, we exchange a look - and its not a look of 'DAMN IT...I am so sorry! I need to work on this issue. I know better. It won't happen again....I am a very bad dog.", its more of a "Hey ASSHOLE, why don't you shut the fuck up!" kind of look.

Especially the little dog. I think she's plotting to overthrow me. In this scenario - I wish they would both turn into cats.