I cannot believe how many people feel the need to comment on the fact that I'm 36, never been married, and childless.
 
Even the few people who know about the VIM ask me if the relationship is headed toward marriage.  When I say I don't know, the next question is always, always the same - "Why not?  What's wrong?"
 
There is nothing wrong.  There is nothing wrong with me being 36, single, or childless.  There is not something missing in my life.  I do not feel incomplete.  I don't look at marriage as a goal to work toward in a relationship.  My goal is simply to be happy.  Not happy some day in the future...happy right now.  And I am. 
 
I'm way too busy enjoying the butterflies in my stomach I still get during my drive to the VIMs house. 
 
I'm too busy catching him look at me with "the look" in places where he shouldn't be looking at me with "the look."
 
I'm too busy snuggling and talking and laughing and being serious and watching and being watched and touching and being quiet and running around like idiots and sighing and asking questions and grinning and loving right now to worry about marriage.

But You Can't Make Me Catch the Bouquet

Dress pressed and hung?  Check.
 
New shoe soles scuffed to (hopefully) avoid slipping and falling in the steep-graded church parking lot?  Check.
 
Pretty undies packed?  Hair baubles bought?  Jewelry polished?  Check. Check. Check.
 
Duties memorized?  Hopefully. 
 
I am Bridesmaid.  Watch me attend.

Lounge Lizards

I have written and erased at least ten paragraphs about last night's bachelorette party.  The problem is that it was so unbelievable I can't even begin to choose an angle to go with.
 
Should I write about the cheesy 70s lounge we spent the night in - dark red, blue, and mildewy?
 
Should I try to describe the absolute freak-show quality of the patrons?
 
Can I possibly describe the, uh, dancing talents of one particular gentleman?  (Words really can't do it justice.  The closest I can come to describing it is to take Gumby, staple on about 8 very long, flailing, skinny arms and legs, sort of ball him up, then roll him down a long hill.)   
 
Maybe I'm getting old, but seriously, it was like the Twilight Zone.  It was almost Weirdness Overload. 
 
Look over there!  That man should really take off his hat.  Wait a minute...that's not a hat, that's absolutely the worst toupee ever manufactured!
 
Look that way!  That girl looks like a short, chunky Elvira in that short, cut-up, spandex dress.  Oh my Lord, she just bent over and she's not wearing underwear!
 
Lookie at the table next to us!  That guy must have just come from a wedding and didn't change out of his tapestry vest and VERY poufy-sleeved shirt with the 6inch long tight cuffs.  Oh wait, he's wearing chinos and Rockports, so maybe he didn't come from a wedding, which means....dear God!  He CHOSE to wear that outfit!  And look!  Now he's talking to the waitress who's dressed up like a catholic schoolgirl.  She's putting her tray down, they are going up to the empty dance floor.  Look!  They're linking fingers, stepping back, gazing into each other's eyes.  The Poufy-sleeved shirt and Tapestry Vest Man and Catholic Schoolgirl are twirling around, slow dancing (almost ballroom dancing) to a bass-throbbing fast dance tune.
 
I'm telling you - it was like we were in the middle of some kind of 4 hour performance art thing.   Everything was just a little off-kilter.
 
It might be the best night out ever. 

Couch Potato Training

  
Well, I've finished week 1 of my "Work My Way Up to Running 5K" plan.  Actually it's not much of a plan - it's walking/jogging a 5K course 3 days a week.  The idea, of course, is to work my way through less walking and more jogging.
 
It may be too early to say this, but I'm actually enjoying it.
 
I'm not going to set any land speed records anytime soon, but I'm out there.  I'm building it into a habit.

Sunflower, Cloudy Morning

 

One of the unexpected benefits of birdfeeding is the great big clump of sunflowers that has popped up right under the feeder.

Dear Men,

I don't think I'm giving away any gender secrets here when I say that we women Want To Know. Know what? Doesn't matter. We just want to know. Want to be in the loop. And not only do we want to know, we want to talk about it, too.

There are some things, however, that no matter how much we might say we want to know, should really stay on a strict Need-To-Know basis.

Say, for instance, that you and your girlfriend are talking about tattoos, body piercings, etc. Just small talk. You are under no obligation to tell your girlfriend that your ex, who has 2 grown children and is 20 years older than your girlfriend, has a belly ring because she is a competitive athlete who wears belly-baring tanks.

Dead Tired, but Deep

The VIM and I have a unique exercise program:

He suggests things to do (bike riding).
He encourages me by buying equipment I may not have (a bike).
Smiles and cheers and acts all proud when I tell him I went out on my own and did 13 miles.
He suggests we kick it up the next week by going 22 miles.
He encourages me when I say I absolutely cannot do 22 miles.
He rides with me the entire 22 miles, even though we are going so slow he can barely keep his bike from wobbling back and forth.
He tells me how proud he is of me when we're done.
He suggests we kick it up the next week by going 32 miles.
He encourages me when I say I absolutely cannot do 32 miles.
He rides with me the entire 32 miles.
He tells me how proud he is of me when we're done.

I've had people in my life tell me that they see a lot of wasted potential in me. Why are you such a slacker? Why don't you have goals? Why don't you push yourself? Don't you want to BE someone? DO something?

The truth is, I've never had anyone do more than that - Point out the wasted, unnamed potential. I've never had anyone encourage me or push me. I've never had anyone beside me, at times turning my vision to focus on the goal, and at other times, distracting me from the goal, reminding me to enjoy the moment. Right Now.

I understand that I don't NEED someone there. The potential is mine and mine alone, whether it be fitness, business, whatever. But it's so much nicer to have someone with me.

Thanks VIM.

Weak in Review

This Past Week:

• the VIM and I kept bad bad bad sleeping hours. To bed WAY too late. Up WAY too early. I'm physically exhausted.
  
• we finished wedding favors and I picked up my bridesmaid dress. One wedding almost down. I can't believe how fast the time went!
  
• another friend asked me if I would be a bridesmaid in her wedding. Very cool! As an added bonus, this will give me another chance to get my upper arms toned, since every known bridesmaid dress in the world is sleeveless.
  
• is it "bridesmaid dress", or "bridesmaid's dress"?
  
• I started some new, improved, more-responsibility job duties at work. I'm stressed.
  
• my uncle, who has been mere minutes from death on several occasions due to medical problems (heart, stroke, appendix), had another "episode". Apparently now he is diabetic as well. The fun just never ends.
  
• I went for a 22 mile bike ride.
  
• I tried to stop smoking. I'm still trying. I went from 1/2 a pack a day to 1 a day. I just can't let go of that one.
  

This Weekend:

• I really want to do nothing. I mean, I don't want to get dressed, don't want to go out, I don't want to read or type or watch tv. I want to nap. And meditate. And get myself back to some definition of normalcy.
  

Pretty Please?

Even Good Girls Get the Blues

I so very badly want to have an edge

I want to be feared
I want a tattoo
I want to just not show up for work
I want a pair of 15 yr old well-worn Doc Marten's

just for a few weeks. then I'll go back

to my beloved button-down shirts
and kicky sandals
and cute little purses
and curled eyelashes and pink lipstick

I need a vacation from being a Good Girl

The Toasted is the Mostest

I'm not a connoisseur.
Of anything.

But let me make one thing perfectly clear: There is a vast difference between a grilled cheese sandwich and a toasted cheese sandwich.