On Being Ready

When I was single, I used to curse my fate and wasted hours wondering why I couldn’t find someone to settle down with. For so many years I felt like not enough, an obvious outsider in the land of coupledom, the fifth wheel, that friend who was always going on dates but never really had a partner. But now that I am days away from marrying Mr. Darcy, almost three years into our relationship, I am glad it took me until I was 36 to find my Mr. Right and until I was 39 to get married.

You see, all that time I spent dating random guys (or as some would say “sowing my wild oats”), I learned a lot about myself, about relationships, and about love. So when I finally met Mr. Darcy, I was in a place where I was ready. I haven’t been bothered by any nagging regrets- did I live out my single days to their fullest? Why yes, yes I did. I have the stories to tell and the scars to prove it.

Every guy I dated before Mr. Darcy helped shape the woman I am today- for better or for worse- and I’m grateful for all of them, even the ones who broke my heart. Because in its breaking, I learned how resilient my heart is and it grew stronger every time. I have no regrets for the life I’ve led or the men I’ve shared it with. I even got lucky a few times and dated some really great guys who are now among my closest and best friends. In fact, three of them are coming to my wedding.

The other day as I walked through our old neighborhood, I kind of chuckled to myself. Six and a half years ago when I moved to Seattle, I wanted so desperately to fit into the scene there. The dirty emo hipsters with their tattoos and tight jeans and retro outfits, their late nights at bars and hangover breakfasts on Sundays. I wanted to be cool too. And maybe I was. Maybe I still am. But I realized then as I dodged smoking teens and street musicians and girls much younger, thinner, and hipper than I, that I’m so happy with my life. My suburban life with Mr. Darcy in a house we own, at jobs we like, surrounded by friends and family we love, the hope for a child alive inside of us, about to get married to one another. This is the dream I never thought would come true. It’s so much simpler than I ever thought and yet, more than I thought was possible for myself.

So many of you have been on this journey alongside me, reading my updates, and giving advice and support. It feels like forever ago and simultaneously like yesterday that I was lamenting my single life and my poor choices in men- so much so that my friends intervened with the Boyfriend Review Board. Remember that? Luckily Mr. Darcy (who was known as Bachelor #4 back then) passed with flying colors.

You guys? I’m getting married on Sunday. I can hardly believe this is happening to me.

Current ‘Do

A commenter asked for a photo of my hair in its growing-out-ness so I’m obliging.

Luckily this photo hides my gray hairs (tomorrow is blessed hair cut day!).

This ‘do requires blowing my hair out with a round brush and using a flat iron. That’s what is required when you’re a wavy hair gal who wants a straight style.


Sorry for a lack of posting and commenting. I am in the midst of my busiest time at work (1,200 person fundraising luncheon that is slated to raise $750,000 plus a diva celebrity guest speaker). Free time is a stranger to me til after mid-March.



Who remembers the show Solid Gold?

I’m totally dating myself but whatever.

I used to LOVE that show. Like borderline obsessed. I loved how the Solid Gold Dancers would wear those hideous, shiny leotards, waving their hands in front of their shaking asses like they just ripped a stinky fart. How Dionne Warwick (before her psychic career kicked off), Marilyn McCoo and what’s his chest Rex Smith hosted in their cheeseball way. Man, sometimes I really miss the ’80s.

I was thinking about this show last night while I was dancing to Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” in the privacy of my living room. That song takes me back. Way back to when my sister and I would come up with water ballet/dance routines to such hits in the swimming pool in our backyard. I used to boss my sister around making her practice over and over. (Doke, I’m sorry if this is something you have to discuss in therapy.)

I also loved the Pointer Sisters. No really. I still do. Don’t look at me like that or else I will start doing the “Neutron Dance.” Another personal favorite is Sheena Easton’s “Morning Train”- we even had a whole dance routine to that one. It was AWESOME.

Check out Sheena in all her 1980’s big hair, heavy eyeliner, fugly sweater, tight pants and knee high boots glory. ( Feel free to dance.)

I’ll tell you one thing, our choreographed “Morning Train” routine was a lot better than Sheena’s performance on Solid Gold. The SG Dancers with the canes dancing behind her? WTH is that? Our dance had MEANING. It was like . . .poetry in motion.

But no, I won’t video blog it.

I’ll Take Sprinkles On That ‘Do.

Sizzle (with glee): My co-worker told me there’s a new fro yo shop at the end of Broadway. I totally have to go! I loooove fro yo.

Fella (In a tone of disdain): Why do you keep calling it that?

Sizzle (so innocently): What? “Fro yo?”

Fella (Crinkling his nose): Yes.

Sizzle (slightly indignant but still excited at the prospect of frozen yogurt): That’s what we’d call it back in California. Maybe you’re not West Coast hip enough to get my lingo. Pennsylvania boy! Whatevs.

Fella (aka Mr. Comeback): It sounds like you are referring to someones hair style. “That’s some ‘fro, yo!”


Toothsome: 1. agreeable, attractive; 2. of palatable flavor and pleasing texture, delicious

I love fro yo because it is so toothsome, especially with sprinkles on top. 

’08 Will Be Great (Right?)

The Fella and I rang in the new year in our pajamas, eating homemade sushi and sipping sake, feeding each other cream puffs while lounging on the couch watching Stardust. (Most excellent flick by the way- do rent it!) When midnight came around we were near the end of the movie and almost missed the obligatory “happy new year!” cheer and kiss. But we’re always kissing. It’s likely we would have been kissing around that time anyhow. We are ridiculously affectionate. (Awww, gag.)

I had planned a brunch to start the new year off right and then almost everyone I invited said yes which put me in a bit of a pickle. How was I going to fit 13 people in my small apartment? Dokey and Double B came to the rescue and hosted it at their house. It was fun to just be mellow with friends and nibble on yummy food. As Finn neared nap meltdown, we took our cue and went home to waste countless hours in front of the Monk marathon. (That show! I love it!) I really am finding myself wanting a Monk bobblehead. Is that so wrong?

I’m afraid to say it but. . .I’m feeling almost like a healthy human again. (Knock on wood immediately.) My dizzy spells are infrequent. The nausea is very sporadic and the least it’s been in two weeks. Now if only I could muster the money for a massage, maybe the right side of my body would stop being so sore. Friends say the cut on the back of my head is healing nicely. Yes, I make them look at it. I can’t see it! My hair is falling out where the scab is. Luckily, I was blessed with my Mom’s thick hair so losing a couple chunks isn’t going to do much damage. I’m wondering though, how soon is too soon to dye one’s hair after head trauma?

Today is my final day off from work. Of course, since I am feeling better than I have for my entire vacation. Because, isn’t that just like life? I can’t say I missed working. That can’t bode well for tomorrow, can it? For all of you already braving the work world again, I’ll do my best to live it up today for you. Just for you.

* * * *

Double B gave me a “365 New Words A Year” calendar for Christmas. I thought I’d share the learning with all of you. Like today. Today’s word is hypocorism. It means “a pet name” or “the use of pet names.” As in: Whenever The Fella calls me by the hypocorism Sweet Pea, I get all mushy inside.

Sing, Sing a Song

Ever since I picked those four songs for you to vote on, I’ve had other songs running through my head. Like “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” which is my Mom’s favorite and the only song, besides “When The Saints Go Marching In” that I learned to “successfully” play on the guitar when I was 10 going on 11. Or “All That I Want” by my favorite band, The Weepies. Or that incessant song made popular by Mariah Carey, “All I Want for Christmas Is You” (but which I recall from Love Actually– a great flick.) So now, after all your careful voting, it looks as though “Santa Baby” has won out. . . and can I just tell you? I don’t even think I like that song! Ha ha. You know what else? It has becoming startling clear that I must present some sort of persona or something on here if you’re all enthusiastically voting for me to sing that well-known-to-be-sexy song. Is there something you want to tell me?

The Fella (who reads this blog, by the way) and I are still in negotiations about doing the duet. In his defense, I sprung it on him and really should have asked him before I put it up on the blog as an option. Sure, I think it would fun/funny and sweet and maybe even a little bit racy. Sure, I think he’s got good pipes (among his countless assets). But we’ll see. For now, “Santa Baby” has won the contest. I hope you don’t regret your choice after hearing me sing!

When I was a kid, my Mom was convinced that I could sing (I think she still is!). I was in the school choir but I never took lessons or did solos or anything. She would always ask me to sing holiday songs for the family. When I took guitar and piano lesson, I’d play for a family audience too. Sadly, I completely lacked any discipline to practice and never got really good at it. Plus, I suffer from that whole character flaw of wanting to be naturally good at something before I even try. In my adulthood, I find it funny that I can talk in front of hundreds of people without breaking a sweat but when it comes to singing in front of people, I freak out inside. Forget karaoke. I just can’t take the pressure. Maybe many, many drinks later but . . . while I don’t sound horrific, I’m just not that great of a singer. It’s sad that all my dreams of being a sultry songstress have been dashed but it’s for the best.

As you’ll likely see soon enough.

“So small a turning/The world grows older every day/An ache, a yearning/Soften when I hear you say/All that I want, all that I want/And when the cold wind’s blowing/Snow drifts through the pine trees/In houses lights are glowing/Likewise in your eyes that find me here/With all that I want.” -All That I Want, The Weepies

Your Vote Counts: Cast It Now

I woke up to sequins scattered across the floor. While this is a far cry better than waking up to cat poop or puke, the green of these little gems does not put me in a festive mood. I sincerely hope this is not an indication of the coming day. And if it is, it better mean that shiny things will be scattered across the hours, decorating my day.

When I arrived at work yesterday I sat down at my desk and kept feeling something rubbing against my right calf. I would shake my leg a little as I sat there but didn’t think too much of it. A few minutes later a co-worker came into my office and as I rolled my desk chair back I discovered a sock. That tickle I had felt on my leg was none other than a sock stuck up my jeans. Oh dear, I’ve become someone who can’t dress herself properly. Of course, I blurted out my mistake out loud to the amusement of those stationed around me. My embarrassment is other people’s entertainment. So be it.

Speaking of embarrassment and entertainment. . . I’m wondering if you can give me your two cents. I know you guys love to chime in! I’m going to participate in Neilochka’s Blogger Christmahanukwanzaakah Online Holiday Concert on Monday but I can’t decide what song to sing. Aimee from Greeblemonkey has proposed that we sing a duet of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” which I think is a fun and brilliant idea. But if I was to sing solo or sing a song in addition to the duet, I can’t decide what to sing. That’s where you come in. Here are the top choices:

  • Let it Snow!
  • Winter Wonderland
  • Santa Baby
  • Baby It’s Cold Outside (if I can persuade the Fella to sing along with me for the boy parts)


(Please no write ins. It was hard enough to narrow it down to four.)

“You will get a sentimental/Feeling when you hear/Voices singing let’s be jolly,/Deck the halls with boughs of holly./Rocking around the Christmas tree,/Have a happy holiday/Everyone dancing merrily/In the new old-fashioned way.” -Rocking Around The Christmas Tree, Brenda Lee

For the Hell of it

  • I think a bug bit me on the eyelid. It’s not as sexy as it sounds.
  • I joined a gym. Now I just have to go to the gym and work out. That’s how you see results, right?
  • Sex counts as working out right? Does it count for more if you do it in a public place? (Sorry Mom, just ignore this. I’m only kidding!)
  • I’ve been singing “I can bring home the bacon/fry it in a pan/never let you forget you’re a man/because I’m a w-o-m-a-n/that’s what I am/doing what I can” since Saturday night. My inner rapper wants to come out. Or that 1950’s housewife costume really got to me.
  • My friend Hunter told me I am the strangest feminist he’s ever met. Maybe it was because I was standing in my kitchen in an apron (not in costume, mind you) making biscuits from scratch.  (It’s because I am a w-o-m-a-n! Feminists can bake. I’m a righteous babe AND a good homemaker. So take that naysayers!)
  • My friend Frankenfurter and I are setting up two of our friends. Upon discussing this match we realized that we are like the Wonder Twins of matchmaking. Two couples he set up are now married and one of my matches is married, the other living together. So when we discuss the impending meet up between our two pals we put our knuckles together in a  “Wonder Twin powers activate!” kind of salute. Let’s hope they click!
  • I am overusing exclamation points to hide my fatigue.
  • I really should end this random post lest I be late for work again.

“If looks could kill you would be an uzi/You’re a shotgun – bang! whats up with that thang?/I wanna know how does it hang?/Straight up, wait up, hold up, Mr. Lover/Like prince said youre a sexy mutha- . . .Shoop shoop ba-doop/Shoop ba-doop/Shoop ba-doop ba-doop ba-doop/Shoop shoop ba-doop/Shoop ba-doop/Shoop ba-doop ba-doop ba-doop…” – Shoop, Salt ‘N Pepa

Delayed Reactions

…On Monday….

Co-worker: Did you get your hair cut?

Me: Yeah, last Thursday.

Co-worker: Oh! Well it looks great.


Later that same day. . .

Co-worker 2: Did you do something different with your hair?

Me: Yeah, I cut it last week.

Co-worker 2: Huh, last week? Well I like it!


Then Tuesday. . . .

Co-worker 3: I like your hair today.

Me: Thanks! It’s called “bed head.”

Co-worker 3: I use that stuff too! Mine comes in a jar. . .

Me: No, I mean, I woke up with this hair.

Co-worker 3: Lucky!

(For the record, it doesn’t look that different except I am wearing it messier than usual.)

“The rain is fallin’ on my window pane/but we are hidin’ in a safer place/under the covers stayin safe and warm/you give me feelin’s that I adore/It starts in my toes/makes me crinkle my nose/wherever it goes I always know/that you make me smile/please stay for a while now/just take your time/wherever you go/What am I gonna say/when you make me feel this way/I just……..mmmmm…” -Bubbly, Colbie Caillat

I’m Well Connected

Sizz: “Jenny Two Times, Dumpling and I were going. . .”

Hunter: “Are all your friends in the mob or something? What’s with the nicknames?”

Yes. I’ve got my own special gang. And they’ve all even got special skills. Like if I need someone to slash some tires, Mikey’s my guy. If I need someone to get me out of paying a bill, Jenny Two Times is my gal. Put a little fear of God into someone? Supple & the Mad Irishman could probably make some folks quake in their boots with just a well timed look or eye brow raise. So, yeah. . . I’ve got peoples and those peoples got my back. Heh.

“I cannot name this/I cannot explain this/and I really don’t want to/just call me shameless/I can’t even slow this down/let alone stop this/and I keep looking around/but I cannot top this/if I had any sense/I guess I’d fear this/I guess I’d keep it down/so no one would hear this/I guess I’d shut my mouth/and rethink a minute/but I can’t shut it now/ ‘cuz there’s something in it. . .” -Shameless, Ani DiFranco