Splitting Hairs

March 31, 2011 at 6:48 am | Posted in my neurosis, vanity | 38 Comments

(UPDATED: I HAVE ADDED PHOTOS!)

I have to break some news to you. Are you sitting down?

Okay. Good.

Let me just spit it out: I am chopping off my hair.

There. I said it. PHEW! I feel better.

It boils down to this: Despite enduring months and months of the in-between-hair-growing phase, receiving many compliments on my longer locks, and even liking the look of it myself, I have come to the conclusion that longer hair is just not me.

It’s quite a revelation, really. To be able to recognize what is oneself. To feel like you know yourself that well. I do not feel like me with longer hair. It’s that simple. I don’t regret the time spent growing it out because I needed the process to arrive at this place of knowing.

I don’t feel like I failed. I said I wanted to try having longer hair and I did. And now I get to cut it off and go back to being the true me- a woman who feels more feminine, more attractive, and sexier with less hair. I realize we are a rarity and well, that’s even more reason to rock the short ‘do, right?

Pictures forthcoming.

Chin length to. . . no length!

It’s not EXACTLY what I was going for but my hair grows like a weed and well, change is good. In person it looks a bit 60′s inspired.

Ant-ics

March 29, 2011 at 6:35 am | Posted in everyday frustrations, my neurosis, the super | 15 Comments

It’s been ages since I shared a tenant-related story. Partly because I have this fear that some of them have googled my email address and found the blog. Partly because people aren’t being incredibly stupid assholes (KNOCK ON WOOD).

I will tell you this though- remember when The Smell Lady was harassing the Japanese exchange student with daily accusations of smoking pot in his apartment? Well, he’s long gone (and so is she, thankfully) and yet there is still a distinct pot smell coming from across the hall. Turns out, it was his neighbor (the woman who watches our cats when we go out of town) who is the culprit. She straight up lied to Smell Lady’s face about it. I don’t blame her. I mean, what good would confessing do? Fuel her fire and no one in their right mind would EVER want more of her wrath.

Gee, I don’t miss her one bit.

Meanwhile we’ve had an on-going ant problem in multiple units located in the front section of the building. At first it was in 2 apartments, then it grew to 4, and now it’s 6 and counting- including our apartment. I hate ants. Let me emphatically reiterate my feelings: I HATE ANTS. They gross me out due to their high volume, persistence and rampant foraging. Despite being very clean people. Despite the 8 traps we have set along their trail. Despite me going all Pulp Fiction on their asses, they continue to come en mass in search of food.

Let me explain what “going all Pulp Fiction on their asses” means. It’s me  basically losing my shit in the kitchen as they are swarming about the floor and counter. Picture me standing there, eyes bugging out, red-faced and fuming, screaming “I WILL EXECUTE EVERY MOTHERFUCKING LAST ONE OF YOU!” as I spray them with Windex. That’s what it means.

It’s not my finest moment. I’m pretty sure it scares the cats and Mr. Darcy. But as I have previously made clear, I HATE ANTS.

So Thursday we have AARD coming out for the 3rd time to spray except this time every single apartment on the bottom two floors is going to be sprayed. Even if they have never seen an ant. We must eliminate this problem. Some of our tenants  have been suffering for far longer than us and the damn ants are even in their bathrooms (eww). Unfortunately, spraying means no humans or pets can be present in the units for 2-4 hours after. Which means on my day off I will get to cart my two cats over to my Mom’s for a couple hours. The upside of that is that I don’t have to pay for boarding them AND I get to hang out with my Mom and nephew for a bit. Hopefully none of the tenants will throw a fit about having to board their pet (so far, not a peep) and this final spraying will end the wrath of ants.

Party People

March 28, 2011 at 5:48 am | Posted in fun & frolicking | 20 Comments

We went to a party Saturday night.

I heard about it through work. It was invitation only. Even though it was benefiting the organization I work for, we didn’t have that many details. You had to RSVP because if you weren’t on the list, you couldn’t get in. You were supposed to dress up (a rare thing in Seattle). There would be free drinks, dancing and you would get your photo taken upon entry, sort of like a red carpet affair. That photo was then uploaded immediately and projected onto a wall in one of the party rooms where everyone could see the “who’s who” entering the party.

So a bunch of us decide to go and are all in a panic about what to wear. I had Friday off from work which, consequently, is very bad for my checking account as I spent it shopping. Of course the dress I love the most is over $100. BUT IT HAS POCKETS. I am a sucker for a dress with pockets. I swear if/when I get married, my dress will have pockets. I bit the bullet, purchased it, along with a few other accessories and managed to make an outfit suitable for hobnobbing.

Even Mr. Darcy had to go shopping as he has nothing fancy. He landed a new suit jacket, dark wash jeans and button up shirt.  He looked pretty dapper. I have yet to see this man in a tie. (Someday!) He included me in his shopping outting by texting me photos of options as I was at book club. He was very sweet to compromise with me as I can be kind of. . . bossy. . . when it comes to his fashion choices. Look, I am not always this angel you read before you. (Snort.)

So we get all snazzy and meet our friends for dinner and drinks before the party. It’s a good time with good people and I had a blast. But the party itself? Was way weird. There was a very bizarre mix of people in attendance. Some that quite possibly were paid to be there -the go go dancers were for sure and it appeared that there were high class hookers in attendance or just ladies with a similar wardrobe. Some party goers were very much the epitome of the aged frat boy, the trophy wife, and/or scenesters. We felt a bit out of place.

I mean, my landlord happened to be there! I would not party with my landlord on purpose. We just don’t have that kind of relationship. So despite the open bar and ample people watching, Mr. Darcy and I bowed out early. It was about 10pm when we cut out, meaning we’d been at the party a whopping hour. It wasn’t even that we were tired, it was just not our bag. We’re more the pub-going type. Get us in a group with our pals in a low key setting and we’ll likely stay out late laughing the night away. I’ve never been into clubs, huge parties, or pulsing techno even when I was in college.

But I did enjoy dressing up.

Painting the town red. Until 10pm that is.

Apparently after we left the music changed to something more danceable and our crowd of friends stayed to party the night away until 1:30am. We are officially old. Oops.

Shifting

March 21, 2011 at 6:39 am | Posted in event planning, family, my neurosis, processing | 16 Comments

Yesterday I didn’t do anything except go get a sandwich.

I mean it! I laid upon the couch watching movies and playing games on my iPhone while Mr. Darcy toiled away on a Very Important Artist Project.

It felt weird. I felt restless which at times lead to a feeling of aggressiveness. I know, I know, I am a freak who can’t enjoy a day of nothing to do. I proclaim it and embrace it- I AM FREAK, HEAR ME ROAR.

Clearly, I need a new hobby.

There’s this slump I hit after a big event where I feel a bit lost, like I don’t know what to do with myself. There isn’t anything to obsess on or toil over for 11+ hours a day. There isn’t a looming deadline. It’s over and done with, successfully at that, and yet I can’t just ride the good feeling.

More and more I’ve become acutely aware of my ability to numb out. It’s becoming glaringly obvious in counseling sessions when I am asked “what are you feeling right now?” and my eyes bug out and I can’t name one singular feeling. I’m just… frozen, disconnected, numb. It’s so strange because I am a very feeling-oriented person. I can talk and talk about feelings- mostly other people’s or about mine in a distant way- but in that moment when I’m asked point blank? Nothing comes. It worries me. I don’t want to be this way and yet, training myself to connect to my true feelings in the moment scares me to no end. It’s been my coping mechanism for the greater part of my life. When you have gone to a place where you’ve felt too much, too deeply, you sometimes choose to not feel that much or that deeply ever again. The trouble with that method is that in avoiding feeling pain, you also avoid feeling goodness too.

My half-brother wrote back to me and in his note he shared that his experience of our father was that he was a quiet man and that their relationship felt one-sided (his side). He said he tried to reach out to Dad but there wasn’t much connection and that after a while, he stopped trying. All this time I thought maybe he had some insight into who our Dad was- being much older than I, having grown up in a different family, even being a boy- but it sounds to me like I might have had more of the “good Dad” than he did. Which makes me feel lucky and sad all at once.

It’s time to make my peace with the man I knew and called Dad. Saturday marked 18 years he’s been gone. Soon, I will have been alive longer without him than with him. Something about that fact shakes me to my core. Time is fleeting and while all this pondering and puzzling has its purpose, there is much more than sorrow to carry from that childhood place.

Something is shifting inside of me. And I am listening.

“You cannot find peace by avoiding life.” -Virginia Woolf

 

Aftermath

March 18, 2011 at 6:42 am | Posted in event planning | 33 Comments

You know when you work really, really hard on something and a lot is riding on it and it goes off without a hitch but you can’t feel the awesomeness because you are exhausted to the bone? That’s pretty much where I am at right now.

The fundraiser was a huge, massive, awesome success. At least that’s what everyone is telling me. And if wrangling over 1,100 guests and raising more than $833,000 (way over goal) doesn’t tell me it was a success, I don’t know what will. Even my boss, who we know isn’t the greatest at giving positive feedback (she’s been working on it), has been calling me the unsung hero and the heart of the event. My co-chairs gave me a gift and keep calling me a rock star. Mr. Darcy even came, donated more than we had agreed upon because he was so moved, and when he found me after proclaimed how proud he is of me. I was like, SEE?! This is why I have been out of my mind and working crazy hours.

There were the minor hiccups- People showed up claiming they were registered when they were, in fact, not. Some people tried to squeeze 11 guests at a table that fit 10 guests tightly. One of the power point slides did not have all the correct names of donors. And yes, someone kind of missed their cue but maybe only I noticed (and those in the front row who saw me scrambling towards them and gesturing semi-wildly to hurry the F up). And yes, our diva was very diva but also very real and funny when she ventured off her script- a script that was faxed to her about 30 minutes prior to her speaking which was pretty obvious as she held the paper up close to her face wearing her sparkly rhinestone reading glasses while standing at the podium. She did not get the name of the organization wrong. But when she sang? She blew the roof off that place. Let it be know that Ms. LaBelle has serious pipes.

Oh yeah. Patti LaBelle was our celebrity guest. And she  hugged me. And her piano player kissed my cheek.  SO THERE. Her whole crew was full of lovely people and while it was insanely difficult to get information out of them prior to their arrival, they at least arrived on time and delivered.

So now I am trying to do all the stuff that is required of an event planner post-event- like thanking everyone and entering all the gifts and making reports and debriefing with people. We got one email that had used an exclamation point at the end of every single sentence. And the email was 4 paragraphs long! It sang the praises of the event from start to finish and basically said that other non-profits should take a cue from us on how to run a successful, inspiring event.

Well I’ll be.

And now my life can resume some semblance of normalcy. I can go back to my regular work outs, cooking dinner and eating it before 9pm, seeing my boyfriend for more than 30 minutes before falling asleep, reading blogs and actually writing on my own. But first, a celebratory lunch with my coworkers and then a massage. Because, goddamn, I earned it.

 

Big Time

March 14, 2011 at 6:23 am | Posted in event planning | 24 Comments

Wednesday is my biggest fundraiser of the year. In numbers it looks like this:

10th anniversary of the luncheon

1,177 guests

1 Grammy-award winning diva

5 of said diva’s glam squad

3 event co-chairs

3 youth speakers

3 honorees

1 CEO

1 hour program

$750,000 fundraising goal

I know I am in event crunch mode because I am event planning in my sleep. I get about 4 solid hours then am tossing and turning going over the massive guest spreadsheet. 1,177 guests makes for a big ass Excel sheet.

With event planning there are always unknowns. My job as the event manager is to have a plan for scenarios A through Z. My biggest unknown is our celebrity guest speaker. I’m imagining horrible outcomes with her – she doesn’t show, she shows late, she goes over time, she goes off topic, she says the wrong name of the non-profit. I have never actually spoken with this celebrity and only hope that her publicist passed on our talking points. Despite the outrageous (to me!) sum of money we are paying her, I have had an extremely difficult time getting answers to simple questions like- where are you staying?, when does your plane land?, who is the day of contact?, what will she be saying? I do not understand why there is resistance but then again, I am not a diva’s publicist/pr person/agent. I’m pretty sure that’s a job I would never, ever want. I am really bad at kissing ass.

My co-worker, one that I have worked with for over 4 years and who has been at every luncheon said to me the other day- “I just wanted to tell you that I’m proud of how calm you are this year.” She meant that as a compliment and I took it as such. Because despite all the details that make me harried, I feel like I am on top of the game plan. Despite suffering through raging PMS (not convenient, body of mine!), I’ve not lost my cool. I’ve said “no” probably too quickly at times but sometimes someone has to be in charge. And that someone just so happens to be me.

I won’t be around much for the next few days as all my focus and attention will be on executing a seamless, profitable event. And then I will likely collapse in a heap of exhaustion and, hopefully, accomplishment.

3 B’s Trifecta

March 9, 2011 at 7:55 am | Posted in body image, everyday frustrations, health, yoga | 25 Comments

How do I say this?

I’ve lost my yoga mojo.

Maybe it’s just me being in pre-event mode, totally busy, stressed out to the max, and wanting any free time I find for myself (and a glass of wine) to be about being at home.

Maybe it’s the fact that during last Sunday’s yoga class I felt dizzy for most of it. That dizziness coupled with the new focus pose for the next two months totally disheartened me.

Not only are we back to hand stands but we’re alternating that with this:

 

Thank you Yoguini for this photo. And to Katherine who makes this pose look easy.

 

In Sanskrit this pose is called Ardha Bhujapidasana. I like to call it, No Wayasana. Do you see that her leg is held up near her shoulder?

Before we even tried to get into this pose we did Tolasana or Scale Pose:

 

Thanks to About.com for this image.

 

I could not lift my ass off the ground to swing it from front to back. That was defeat number 2. Defeat number 1 was feeling faint every time I did a forward bend. (Yes, I ate breakfast! I don’t know why I was so woozy.)

Once I felt the failure of that pose, I think my mindset was pretty fucked for the rest of class. I don’t know if it is that I don’t have enough arm strength or core strength or both or if it’s the fact that I am bigger than your average yogi. I have a belly and big boobs and they get in my way when I try to get into some of these poses. I am very flexible and bendy but that doesn’t really matter when you have a chunk of chub and a mass of boob occupying the space you need to fold yourself into.

Body slamming aside, I was terrified of this pose. A different kind of terror than the one that overtakes me when I attempt to kick into handstand (I do not like being upside down!). I know that my mind was a big part of the problem. It was the 3 B’s trifecta: Boobs, Belly, Brain, that really did me in.

I even have trouble with this twist pose:

 

You can imagine that a belly might be inconvenient when trying to twist like this.

I can twist. I can even hold Chair Pose pretty steady and long. But adding a twist to the Chair Pose and I’m wavering. Mostly because of the 3 B’s Trifecta.

 

All this is to say, I haven’t wanted to return to class. The class my favorite teacher leads! Because I am afraid that I will leave there feeling like a failure like I did on Sunday. Because in my mind there is NO WAY I will be able to master that pose at this point in my practice. It feels too advanced. I feel too heavy. I don’t feel strong enough – despite working out 3-5x per week.

I am going to try to take two yoga classes this week with other instructors and see if I can regain my yogi equilibrium. If I can light that yoga spark inside of me again. I’m not a quitter but I also hate failing. Sigh. My teacher says that a true yogi laughs when they fall out of a pose because it’s not supposed to be a super serious thing. That there is an element of lightness to the yoga practice. She also says that when she can’t get into a pose, she walks away wondering the deeper reason why. Where is the resistance? That’s the question I am pondering presently.

Where and why am I resistant? Is it body limitations or my mind?

 

 

My Boyfriend, The Artist

March 8, 2011 at 6:31 am | Posted in float my boat, fun & frolicking, why I love him | 18 Comments

“I need to go to Ikea to get some frames.”

“Okay. . . but why?”

“Oh for my art show at the gallery next week.”

This is how my boyfriend announces to me that he is having his first art show.

“Is there going to be a reception of some kind?”

“Nah.”

“But why not? Don’t you want your friends to come out and see this? It’s kind of a big deal.”

“I mean it’s cool, yeah, to have my stuff up for people to see. But people probably won’t come.”

“Listen, do you know who you are dating? I am an event planner! I just mentioned the reception to you and planned it in my  mind. It’s done. We’re doing it. The end.”

Mr. Darcy isn’t one to call attention to himself. Unless you get him riled up in a political discussion.- then you might find it hard to get him to shut up. (He can’t help it. It’s a family trait.) (Also, it’s kinda sexy.) He also labors under the delusion that no one will show up for him. That’s why I had to throw him a surprise birthday party (where in everyone, even people living on the eastside of town, came to celebrate him). That’s why I had to force an artist’s reception on him. Because he doesn’t know how to let the limelight shine on him, even when it’s warranted.

And he’s dating me. Me, who likes to celebrate her birthday for a good week. Me, who does not shy away from talking in front of large groups, making friends with perfect strangers, who plans huge fundraisers and parties for a living. He’s totally in for it, right? Right.

So we sent out a Facebook and email invite to everyone we know. We got some beers and some wine. We raced home from work to get to the place to set up and wait for the friends to arrive. It’s a small place so it felt packed the entire time- and it was a great turn out. DUH. People like him. And want to support him. And besides, we had free booze.

Did I mention we didn’t have time to eat any dinner beforehand? Couple that with the booze and well, um,  yeah. . . I got mighty tipsy. Like fun tipsy not falling down drunk. Like by the end of the party when we were cleaning up, I pretended to drink from an open bottle of wine (because I didn’t want to waste it! Cough.) Like when I repeatedly cried out “chicken sandwich!” because the place we were all going had this yummy chicken sandwich and I was starving.

Chhhhhickkkennn Saaaannnndwwwwwichhhh!

When I was finally eating it I declared it the best chicken sandwich I’d ever had. Sincerely. Forever and ever. Amen.

 

Proof that we are dorks. And that Mr. Darcy is very street.

It was a really good time. Thanks to all who came out!

 

 

Oh Brother, Where Art Thou

March 7, 2011 at 7:31 am | Posted in family | 29 Comments

A year and a half ago I told you all that I have a half-brother and that I had not seen or spoken to him since our dad died, now 18 years ago. I started looking for him on-line but was coming up empty. I felt a lot of mixed feelings and sometimes I was spurred on to search and other times felt like giving up. I mean 18 years is a long time to not know a person. Was it worth it?

About a month ago I met up with  One N Jen at Zumba class. Her mother-in-law*  was visiting and joined us. We all got to talking and it came up that she lives in an area of California I am familiar with because my MIA former best friend lived there for a while and it’s near where my half-brother lived when I knew him. I mentioned that my brother used to teach math in the same area as she still teaches. She asked me his name and when I told her she said it sounded familiar.

Small world, right?

She offered to do a little research and reach out to him on my behalf. I gave her my contact information, excited and nervous. Not too long after that, she sent me an article with a photo of man who was in fact involved in the school district and who had the same name as my brother but he did not look like the man I remembered. I stared at the face and thought, even if 18 years changed a person, they wouldn’t change him into someone unrecognizable. It wasn’t him.

A little later she sleuthed another man by that name who used to teach and became a principal for many years. She sent an article from 2009 that talked about his retirement.There was a photo in the article and, without a doubt, it was my brother. I could see the resemblance though he was gray-haired and thinner. The article said he’d been battling lymphoma for nine and a half years and while he was retiring, he still had more chemo treatments to do before setting out on travel adventures with his wife (the same wife he had when I was little).  I worried that I had waited too long.

She called the school and got his phone number and they also forwarded an email to him on her behalf. He was still alive! She left a message telling him that I was looking for him. A week or two went by and nothing happened. She messaged me wondering if I’d heard and I felt defeated, telling her that no, there had been no message from him. Maybe he wasn’t interested in knowing me? Maybe he wanted to leave all things related to our Dad in the past? I had no idea.

And then I checked my Facebook messages on Saturday. I hardly ever check my Facebook messages you should know but for some reason felt compelled to that day. There was a message from him there saying hello, that a teacher in his school district had messaged him saying she had run into me, inquiring what I’d been up to these past almost-two decades.

Woah.

I wrote him back, of course, but now I’m thinking I said too much or the wrong thing. I filled him in about the family and myself- the Cliff’s Notes version. I asked about his 3 kids and his wife and his health and his retirement. I also said I’d like to talk to him about our Dad since I feel like maybe we had different experiences with him. I’m not sure if I should have said that yet but that is so like me. I always come on too strong and too honestly. But it’s out there. We’re Facebook friends of all things. And there’s been an email exchange.

So now I wait and see what comes next.

*I cannot thank Jen’s mother-in-law enough for going above and beyond to help me find my brother. Thank you Laurel!

Permanent

March 4, 2011 at 6:59 am | Posted in float my boat, reader participation | 43 Comments

I’ve been thinking about tattoos.

I have one already. It’s the poor choice of a young girl who just so happened to fall prey to peer pressure. If you must know, it’s a butterfly on my upper/back hip, and due to its location, is rarely seen by most people. I’m grateful for that as I’m not that fond of it. I never got it colored in and it has blurred a bit with the passing of time (almost 18 years). I’ve thought about getting it covered over with something else but nothing has come to mind yet.

I love hearing the story behind the tattoo. The meaning. I’m particularly moved when it is in remembrance of someone dear. My butterfly one has no real story, or at least, not one I like. I went with 3 friends to a tattoo shop so they could all get them. One got a shooting star or half moon (or both?) on her ankle. Another got a sunflower she drew on her pelvis (hi Jenny Two Times!). And my boyfriend at the time got Super Grover on his arm. When I questioned him about permanently inking a Sesame Street character on his arm and how, maybe when he was older he’d regret it, he said to me, “Super Grover will always be cool.” I hope that is still true for him. (And I am relieved we are no longer a couple.)

Mostly I’m thinking about them because I am hoping to get another for my 38th birthday (April 18th if you haven’t marked you calendars). I’m imagining the one I’ve been dreaming of for a couple of years now which I’ve alluded to here before. The one I (almost) feel ready to get. But I am torn because I also love the idea of getting a word tattoo. I’ve seen some really lovely ones and I think they are powerful. But then again, I am a lover of words. So I’m considering combining the two somehow. Lucky for me, I have an artist boyfriend who will draw it for me.

I am wondering - if you had to get a word or symbol tattooed on your body, what would it be? And why?

 

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