Would you be mine? Could you be mine? Won’t you be… my neighbor? Hi neighbor!
I am sure you are all imagining Fred Rogers in his freshly donned grey sweater and lacing up his navy keds right about now. I know I am. I used to love Mr. Rogers, and that little train that took you to the castle and land where all those hand puppets lived… I need to get one of those installed in my house. Anyway, the great thing about that show was the clarity of it all, there was nothing to wonder about… nothing to guess. You watched the show and once it was over, it was over. You could put it behind you.
Now, there is something that I have left sort of “out there” if you will. I don’t leave a lot of loose ends in my life, no dangling participles for me… thank you very much. I generally live my life, and my updates, with completeness. I like it that way. So, I find myself needing to go ahead and circle back to the “update…” that was written on June 18th of this year. Aunt Martha had taken a look at the dating scene, and upon observation found some interesting people, men actually, in that scene.
All the world is a stage… and I guess everyone’s life is a three act play. Act I – your youth, this starts at birth and the termination of this act varies from person to person… but if it lasts too long having a kid of your own definitely ends this act. Act II – your adult life, this is the part of your life where you wonder where your childhood went, and you save for your old age… it is a transitional period where you know you started out in diapers and you are heading back to them. Act III – your old age, this is where you get to spend the money that you saved but you also need to be judicious about that spending simply b/c you never know when you are going to land in a retirement home eating food that should never be pureed, which is expensive on its own and I plan on having some extra cash to bribe the nursing staff with… you see those nurses have access to EVERYONE’S medications. And even though my doctor didn’t prescribe me any happy pills those nurses could “accidentally” put one in my translucent pill cup. Start thinking of your angles now while you have more of your faculties. So, what does all of this mean? It means that the “Dating Scene” generally occupies the first scene of Act II.
So here goes… I had actually learned about several men that were in the dating pool. One of these men had embarked upon a “Summer of Hot”. This is an excerpt from that update…
Man #2… Is nearly thirty, he is twenty-nine so is he staring thirty in the face. This sterling example of male maturity has definitely taken up where Seinfeld’s George Costanza left off. Now, bear in mind that George Costanza was a fictional character that was brought to fruition with the sole purpose of entertaining… not teaching, “Seinfeld” was not an educational program and I think maybe we need to start putting disclaimers on fictional sit-coms… “Do Not Try This At Home” streaming along the bottom of the screen. Apparently, George and his “Summer of George” has spawned the idea that this young, for lack of better or more fitting term, man to go ahead and embark upon his “Summer of Hot”. He is surrounding himself with only “hot” women for the entire summer. Yes, be forewarned, this guy is out there! He is not dating you to date you… he is dating you because you are hot. But make no bones about it, he will not be dating you for long. Now, this guy has become a source of constant entertainment for his fellow co-workers. He has also disclosed that he “only has one more summer of hot” in him. Apparently a “summer of hot” takes a lot out of a person. Now, I do believe that the “summer of hot” can only be acted upon by a man. I don’t think a woman, especially one of my advanced years, could embrace a “summer of hot” with much efficacy. I think if I wanted to start a “summer of bald” or a “summer of beer guts” or even a “summer of divorced and over thirty-five” I think I could be successful in surrounding myself with one of the extremely narrow sects of the population. But why limit myself, when I could date any number of those and really mix it up! I am sure that these woman (bless their hearts) are hot, but from what has been related to me is that they aren’t the brightest of women. So this man, is purposefully exposing himself to mind-numbing conversation of plastic surgery, why waxing is better than shaving, and the latest scoop on MTV’s “The Real World” in order to have some eye candy. My guess is that his “Summer of Hot” may need to be followed by a “Fall of Reading”… otherwise he may not be able to communicate still with the rest of us.
I checked my calendar recently and noticed… the summer is over!!! Which means the “summer of hot” has come to a close. I have always been a curious little creature, and as I thought about the summer being over… I started wondering how the “summer of hot” went. I wondered if this “summer of hot” was all it was cracked up to be. Was the journey into “hotness” something the cleansed the soul? Tainted the spirit? Dumbed down the brain? Or just drained the wallet? I had to know… I had to find out… I had to talk to the man that had walked the path. So I did. Here it is… the post mortem on the “summer of hot”.
Now remember the “summer of hot” means that you go where hot people go and do the things that hot people do, and immerse your life in this Paris Hilton lifestyle… “yeah, that’s hot”. This journey did not go as it was planned. The “summer of hot” turned into the “summer of sog” due to the torrential down pours that we had this summer. So the idea of hanging out at the lake with all these hot women running around… well, didn’t happen in the frequency that it should have. It did happen though. He did go to a water hole of some kind and see hot women take off their bikini tops and jump from a low bridge into the water. Now, these women did this for free. At least the dancers at the bars are getting paid! At least they are parlaying their exhibitions into a cash generating business… these girls… got nothing for their efforts. This is why “girls gone wild” has been so lucrative. The guy that films that… he is living the “summer of hot” and getting paid to do it!!! I am sure every man wishes he was him, don’t you love capitalism!!! I digress, anyway with all the rain there weren’t never ending supply of women in bikinis. So, what do you do when you cant go outside… you go to the bar!
This is rich… so this guy goes to the bar… and there he is sitting at a table, the table next to him has two women occupying it… and both are drinking. There is a salsa band playing (there should always be a salsa band in a ‘summer of hot’ story) and one of the girls is very “hot”. She has dark hair, olive colored skin and bright blue eyes (those could be colored contacts but who knows, more importantly who cares… this is the ‘summer of hot’ and you don’t scrutinize in that situation). Anyway, her wing man is there and she is not hot. This woman is reported to look a lot like Angelina Jolie. Btw, when men tell stories about a hot girl… that hot girl ALWAYS ends up looking like Angelina Jolie, even if in real life she looks like and IS Mary Lou Retton. The hot girl gets up to dance, and it is looking at our warrior of hot and is dancing to her salsa music. She keeps dance. She keeps staring. So what does our hero do, he decides it would be a very “summer of hot” thing to do to go over and start up a conversation with Mrs. Pitt the international hot woman of mystery. After about an hour she asks him to walk her to her car because she has to go… and he said that “as a gentleman he walked her to her car”. Does anyone else buy that? “As a gentleman”? I don’t think so… I would venture to say, as a “horn dog” this was his last chance for any sort of physical contact with this epitome of hotness. He said that he walked her and then BOOM! They started making out like high school kids at prom. After they came up for air and dried themselves off they exchanged phone numbers. He fully expected to be seeing her again, and making out again I am sure. Did she call, no. Did she text message, yes. The content… “I had a really good time, but I have a boyfriend and a son and I cannot do anything else with you”. Whoa! A boyfriend and a son… yeah, she has enough men in her life… move on!!! Side note: I think the whole text messaging people important information like that is pretty cowardly. You know… stand up and be counted!!! Do you think Angelina Jolie would text message Brad, “I just adopted another kid, hope you don’t mind... it's a green one! I have always wanted a green one!”. No way.
The “summer of hot” came to a close with an ironic twist. This man had been looking for hotness all summer, seeking it out in order to bathe in it, and on the very last day, in the very last hour, with the very last moments hanging in the air… he met someone he is dating. Is she an aspiring actress? No. Is she an underwear model? No. Is she a Hooters waitress? No. She is a teacher!!! The “summer of hot” may indeed be followed by a “fall of reading”… God, I love it when I am right!!!!
There you go people… you want a summer of hot… hit the PTA meetings and start trolling the staff!!!
That is all from my cube… hope your cube comes with a door!
Peace, love, and “end scene!”
Martha
Update... Sept 17, 2007
Good afternoon consumers! Let’s dish, shall we?
Ok, so I find myself in an exceptional mood this fine Monday afternoon.
Monday’s are historically not good days for me. I hate Mondays. To quote “Office Space”, I always have a case of the Mondays. This isn’t a Monday phobia, I am not afraid of Mondays. It isn’t even the fact that it is Monday, it is more a function of the fact that my weekend is over!!! So, if Monday is a holiday… then I hate Tuesday. Do you see the trend? It is whatever day that killed my weekend is the day I hate. This is one of the trillion reasons I am looking forward to retirement. My mother is retired, and that woman is in a permanent state of Saturday. Everyday is Saturday! She can stay up late every night, sleep in as late as she likes, wear whatever she wants to wear… no dress code!!! She only has to turn her computer on to check email, and best of all… lunch is anything you’d like for as long as you’d like it! No geographic restrictions… no having to get back to the office… THERE IS NO OFFICE!!! I love my mother, and I love the Saturday-life that she leads. I want to lead that life!!! I have so many years ahead of me… but trust me folks, I am going to the poster child for retirement. You are going to have to surgically remove the smile from my face, when I turn the page of my life and the only word on the next page is “Saturday”.
Consumer note: Just like retirement needs to be budgeted for… so do the Saturdays of your life! Save up during the week so you can really splurge… eat Taco Bell during the week, pop open a can of anything for dinner… because you are gonna want to have some cash to really live it up on Saturday. For your retirement… seriously people… your 401k should be your best friend. One day, I want to be able to loan Warren Buffett money.
So, let’s see what happened this past Saturday. This past Saturday, for me, was awesome… let’s see what it brought me. I woke up Saturday and was feeling good. I had been really under the weather last week. I was feeling so bad last week, that I literally thought that this may be what happens to you right before you die. It was bad people. I rallied though and even felt pretty good on Saturday. I could breathe at least two breaths before coughing… that is what I consider improvement. I was feeling so much better than I had in the prior days that I felt lighter… free-er. I felt like, not only was the monkey off my back, but that the elephant in the room that was sitting on top of the monkey on my back was completely gone as well!!! Angela called early in the morning, “What are you doing?” she asked. “Not too much.” I answered. And then she said it… “Well, the world is our oyster my friend!!!!” This became the anthem of the day. The world was our oyster! Well, at least Dallas and the surrounding areas were our oyster! And what an oyster it was! I head down to her apartment, and let me tell you... driving from Frisco to White Rock never seemed easier. That monkey is totally gone… it was a breeze… I felt good, my car seemed to be peppier, my CD’s seemed to lilt through the air, my karma was bright pink as I barreled down the Tollway. I pick her up… front door service no less… and we head over to Hotel ZaZa to have brunch at Dragon Fly.
Consumer note: I love Hotel ZaZa, and that is weird for me. There is something about this place. It is chic, but that’s not it. It is soothing, but that’s not it. It has the coolest robes, but that’s not it. It is totally indescribable but if you ever want to “get outta town” without leaving Dallas… rent a room at ZaZa. I co-hosted a bachelorette party there and got upgraded to a Magnificent Seven Suite… it was truly magnificent! Holy crap that room was bigger than my house and was so much better decorated. It was decked out. I felt like Martha “Puffy” Newton or P. Newty Martha or something really bling like that, and that is the feeling you get at ZaZa… go down and grab yourself a Saturday of that!
There we are sitting outside by the pool at ZaZa. The day was perfect for this, the weather was warm but not too warm. They had the misters on, and the little fountains going in the pool for atmosphere. It was just great. The waiter came over to talk to us about the menu and mentioned that they had a “bottomless mimosa” for $15. What?!?! That is truly excellent and what a great way to start your Saturday… that is, if you like Orange Juice!!! I do NOT like orange juice. I don’t like oranges. I do wear the color orange, and I don’t root for teams whose main color is orange… hello, UT?! But Angela does like orange juice and happily ordered that. I felt it behooved me to ask, “Do you have a bottomless Bloody Mary?” the waiter turned to me and said “No.” I immediately began not liking him. I ordered my bloody mary and we sat there chatting like true sophisticates. Happily talking about the issues of the day over our morning cocktails, and being served while at the pool. I am so bling. We don’t speed through the meal, and we linger a bit longer than we normally would. I mean obviously it was Saturday and there was no rush, the world was our oyster, so that meant the world would wait for us. Angela had a bottomless glass that kept getting refilled so there was no need to leave thirsty. And I think we were both just really enjoying the leisure tempo of our day and its glorious beginning. We finally head out and decide our next destination should be North Park.
Consumer note: North Park Mall has been re-modeled. Do not go to North Park on a Saturday. Even if the world is your oyster… they are too many other people in that part of the oyster on a Saturday.
We go to North Park Mall, and it is packed. I parked just outside of Nordstrom, in the garage and stroll in. We do a bit of shopping there, and then proceed to enter around six other stores in the mall. We finally had had enough shopping and decide to head for the car. Now the important part about heading to your car is remembering where your car is. I really believed that my car was on the second floor of the garage. I believed it with all of my being. I left Nordstrom walked into the garage, onto the second floor, and looked and didn’t see my car. I was immediately alarmed. This sense of panic literally washed over me… it made my face hot, my neck sweat, and my heart race… it was like a pulled the fire alarm at school and was sitting outside the principal’s office waiting for punishment. My mind raced, I KNEW that was where it was supposed to be. It took nearly five minutes of me walking around blindly and anxiously before I decided to go up to the third floor. I did, and there it sat…my beautiful, completely not stolen, car. It was great to have it back… even though it was never gone.
Consumer note: Panic early and often.
We headed back to White Rock Lake and went for a walk. It started to get really toasty out there, so we cut the walk short. Why over exert yourself on a Saturday such as this, right? We ended up going back to get the car and to go get pedicures. There is nothing more relaxing that a pedicure. Someone is there not only massaging your feet and lower legs, but they are also making your feet look pretty for weeks to come. It is the perfect combination of aesthetics meets relaxation… you cant get that anywhere else. There isn’t anything else out there that provides you with beauty and relaxation without any pain involved whatsoever. We walk in and we wait for a paltry five minutes maybe before they sit each of us into our big, huge, leathery, oh-so-comfy massage chairs (I love that part too). At this point the only thing that could make this better is if they handed me a martini and a winning lottery ticket. Other than that… I was good.
Consumer note: The pedicure place that we went to was down off of Mockingbird… apparently teenagers go there. The pedicure was going flawlessly and much relaxation was being had by all until a teenager sat down next to Angela. The worst thing in the world happened, she recognized one of her friends that was sitting on the OTHER SIDE of the salon… so what does she do, does she move over to be next to her friend… no, she just starts talking at an unbelievably loud volume in order for her friend to hear her. They talk about stuff that made me laugh and blush and want to beat the crap out of her all at the same time. She goes to Ursuline Academy in Dallas, her friend goes to Bishop Lynch. They were talking about homecoming and who is dating who… one of their friends apparently has a boyfriend and it is serious… but the girl doesn’t know if she wants to get MARRIED yet. Hello!!! I am 33, and that is struggle for me to get to that mindset!!! Omg!! This is what they are grappling with? I say… finish high school, go to college, do some traveling, and start paying taxes before you decide if you want to get married!!! Geez!!! It was hard not to bust out laughing… but seriously if you go in to get a pedicure and you see some teenage girls talking, know this… the conversation will under no circumstances stop or even hit a lull, it will get louder, it will get more inane, it will at some point make you want to abandon your pedicure in order to save your brain cells, but it will also make you laugh with pity.
After my pedicure I dropped Angela off, it had been a big day, and I still had more to do… I had a play to go see Saturday night! Which I did. It was good, but the world didn’t feel like my oyster anymore. It was just my world again. It was a fleeting day, but one I will always remember. One filled with possibilities and a pearl around every corner. I hope your Saturday was that good… heck I hope this Saturday is even better… maybe this Saturday San Francisco will be my oyster!!!
Enjoy the week!!!
Peace, love, and oysters!
Martha
Ok, so I find myself in an exceptional mood this fine Monday afternoon.
Monday’s are historically not good days for me. I hate Mondays. To quote “Office Space”, I always have a case of the Mondays. This isn’t a Monday phobia, I am not afraid of Mondays. It isn’t even the fact that it is Monday, it is more a function of the fact that my weekend is over!!! So, if Monday is a holiday… then I hate Tuesday. Do you see the trend? It is whatever day that killed my weekend is the day I hate. This is one of the trillion reasons I am looking forward to retirement. My mother is retired, and that woman is in a permanent state of Saturday. Everyday is Saturday! She can stay up late every night, sleep in as late as she likes, wear whatever she wants to wear… no dress code!!! She only has to turn her computer on to check email, and best of all… lunch is anything you’d like for as long as you’d like it! No geographic restrictions… no having to get back to the office… THERE IS NO OFFICE!!! I love my mother, and I love the Saturday-life that she leads. I want to lead that life!!! I have so many years ahead of me… but trust me folks, I am going to the poster child for retirement. You are going to have to surgically remove the smile from my face, when I turn the page of my life and the only word on the next page is “Saturday”.
Consumer note: Just like retirement needs to be budgeted for… so do the Saturdays of your life! Save up during the week so you can really splurge… eat Taco Bell during the week, pop open a can of anything for dinner… because you are gonna want to have some cash to really live it up on Saturday. For your retirement… seriously people… your 401k should be your best friend. One day, I want to be able to loan Warren Buffett money.
So, let’s see what happened this past Saturday. This past Saturday, for me, was awesome… let’s see what it brought me. I woke up Saturday and was feeling good. I had been really under the weather last week. I was feeling so bad last week, that I literally thought that this may be what happens to you right before you die. It was bad people. I rallied though and even felt pretty good on Saturday. I could breathe at least two breaths before coughing… that is what I consider improvement. I was feeling so much better than I had in the prior days that I felt lighter… free-er. I felt like, not only was the monkey off my back, but that the elephant in the room that was sitting on top of the monkey on my back was completely gone as well!!! Angela called early in the morning, “What are you doing?” she asked. “Not too much.” I answered. And then she said it… “Well, the world is our oyster my friend!!!!” This became the anthem of the day. The world was our oyster! Well, at least Dallas and the surrounding areas were our oyster! And what an oyster it was! I head down to her apartment, and let me tell you... driving from Frisco to White Rock never seemed easier. That monkey is totally gone… it was a breeze… I felt good, my car seemed to be peppier, my CD’s seemed to lilt through the air, my karma was bright pink as I barreled down the Tollway. I pick her up… front door service no less… and we head over to Hotel ZaZa to have brunch at Dragon Fly.
Consumer note: I love Hotel ZaZa, and that is weird for me. There is something about this place. It is chic, but that’s not it. It is soothing, but that’s not it. It has the coolest robes, but that’s not it. It is totally indescribable but if you ever want to “get outta town” without leaving Dallas… rent a room at ZaZa. I co-hosted a bachelorette party there and got upgraded to a Magnificent Seven Suite… it was truly magnificent! Holy crap that room was bigger than my house and was so much better decorated. It was decked out. I felt like Martha “Puffy” Newton or P. Newty Martha or something really bling like that, and that is the feeling you get at ZaZa… go down and grab yourself a Saturday of that!
There we are sitting outside by the pool at ZaZa. The day was perfect for this, the weather was warm but not too warm. They had the misters on, and the little fountains going in the pool for atmosphere. It was just great. The waiter came over to talk to us about the menu and mentioned that they had a “bottomless mimosa” for $15. What?!?! That is truly excellent and what a great way to start your Saturday… that is, if you like Orange Juice!!! I do NOT like orange juice. I don’t like oranges. I do wear the color orange, and I don’t root for teams whose main color is orange… hello, UT?! But Angela does like orange juice and happily ordered that. I felt it behooved me to ask, “Do you have a bottomless Bloody Mary?” the waiter turned to me and said “No.” I immediately began not liking him. I ordered my bloody mary and we sat there chatting like true sophisticates. Happily talking about the issues of the day over our morning cocktails, and being served while at the pool. I am so bling. We don’t speed through the meal, and we linger a bit longer than we normally would. I mean obviously it was Saturday and there was no rush, the world was our oyster, so that meant the world would wait for us. Angela had a bottomless glass that kept getting refilled so there was no need to leave thirsty. And I think we were both just really enjoying the leisure tempo of our day and its glorious beginning. We finally head out and decide our next destination should be North Park.
Consumer note: North Park Mall has been re-modeled. Do not go to North Park on a Saturday. Even if the world is your oyster… they are too many other people in that part of the oyster on a Saturday.
We go to North Park Mall, and it is packed. I parked just outside of Nordstrom, in the garage and stroll in. We do a bit of shopping there, and then proceed to enter around six other stores in the mall. We finally had had enough shopping and decide to head for the car. Now the important part about heading to your car is remembering where your car is. I really believed that my car was on the second floor of the garage. I believed it with all of my being. I left Nordstrom walked into the garage, onto the second floor, and looked and didn’t see my car. I was immediately alarmed. This sense of panic literally washed over me… it made my face hot, my neck sweat, and my heart race… it was like a pulled the fire alarm at school and was sitting outside the principal’s office waiting for punishment. My mind raced, I KNEW that was where it was supposed to be. It took nearly five minutes of me walking around blindly and anxiously before I decided to go up to the third floor. I did, and there it sat…my beautiful, completely not stolen, car. It was great to have it back… even though it was never gone.
Consumer note: Panic early and often.
We headed back to White Rock Lake and went for a walk. It started to get really toasty out there, so we cut the walk short. Why over exert yourself on a Saturday such as this, right? We ended up going back to get the car and to go get pedicures. There is nothing more relaxing that a pedicure. Someone is there not only massaging your feet and lower legs, but they are also making your feet look pretty for weeks to come. It is the perfect combination of aesthetics meets relaxation… you cant get that anywhere else. There isn’t anything else out there that provides you with beauty and relaxation without any pain involved whatsoever. We walk in and we wait for a paltry five minutes maybe before they sit each of us into our big, huge, leathery, oh-so-comfy massage chairs (I love that part too). At this point the only thing that could make this better is if they handed me a martini and a winning lottery ticket. Other than that… I was good.
Consumer note: The pedicure place that we went to was down off of Mockingbird… apparently teenagers go there. The pedicure was going flawlessly and much relaxation was being had by all until a teenager sat down next to Angela. The worst thing in the world happened, she recognized one of her friends that was sitting on the OTHER SIDE of the salon… so what does she do, does she move over to be next to her friend… no, she just starts talking at an unbelievably loud volume in order for her friend to hear her. They talk about stuff that made me laugh and blush and want to beat the crap out of her all at the same time. She goes to Ursuline Academy in Dallas, her friend goes to Bishop Lynch. They were talking about homecoming and who is dating who… one of their friends apparently has a boyfriend and it is serious… but the girl doesn’t know if she wants to get MARRIED yet. Hello!!! I am 33, and that is struggle for me to get to that mindset!!! Omg!! This is what they are grappling with? I say… finish high school, go to college, do some traveling, and start paying taxes before you decide if you want to get married!!! Geez!!! It was hard not to bust out laughing… but seriously if you go in to get a pedicure and you see some teenage girls talking, know this… the conversation will under no circumstances stop or even hit a lull, it will get louder, it will get more inane, it will at some point make you want to abandon your pedicure in order to save your brain cells, but it will also make you laugh with pity.
After my pedicure I dropped Angela off, it had been a big day, and I still had more to do… I had a play to go see Saturday night! Which I did. It was good, but the world didn’t feel like my oyster anymore. It was just my world again. It was a fleeting day, but one I will always remember. One filled with possibilities and a pearl around every corner. I hope your Saturday was that good… heck I hope this Saturday is even better… maybe this Saturday San Francisco will be my oyster!!!
Enjoy the week!!!
Peace, love, and oysters!
Martha
Update... Sept 5, 2007
Welcome to the latest installment of “Update…”, my little life has been quite eventful as of late… so I am only gonna skim the surface… that is all I have time for, I do actually HAVE a job and actually need to at least fake doing it sometimes.
Quick random story: So, I was in the shower this morning… I do that regularly. I also do my best thinking in the shower, it seems to be my temple of thought or my sauna of meditation or just more or less where I get clean. Anyway, I was going to be having dinner with a new friend this week. Now, this is a new friend, and not someone that I know personally, but this new friend is pregnant. This throws a wrench in my normal social patterns. I mean the stereotypes dictate that this person could be in any number of emotional states, and it is not only up to me to discern this quickly upon introduction but to navigate these perilous waters with little knowledge of this person and their likes and dislikes… talk about being a little nervous, I was actually trying to figure out how to approach the situation. So, I thought about do’s and don’t’s… like… don’t touch her belly. Don’t talk about liquor and order a double martini with a Makers chaser. Do be yourself, but if you see her burst into tears detour the conversation to something that pertains to her… Don’t talk too much about her job, you don’t know if she is leaving that world behind and regretting it… or if she is leaving that world behind and loving the fact that those bastards are history. Don’t talk about the cute little dress you just bought in a size 4, and how it really makes ANYONE look slim. Do you see the pitfalls here? Do you see the myriad of potholes in the road? That road looks like a driving range on beginners day! Now, I must admit that I am a little afraid of having children, not raising children, but actually giving birth. I think most women are, actually I think it is most women who have never done it. I am sure it is like sky diving the first time you do it, it’s scary… the second time… no big deal. The difference? In sky diving you have someone else strapped to you in a tandem jump… you are truly in it together. To quote Leonardo DiCaprio “You jump, I jump”. In that birthing room, no one else is gonna give birth that baby but you! Then I started thinking of the movie “Alien”… and that thing that popped out of that man’s chest… are you with me? Pregnancy is much like that. Your body has been taken over by an alien being, that is literally going to pry its way out of you when it is damn good and ready. Yeah, I am sure everyone in that theater was screaming their heads off, except the women that had already given birth. I could just see two female friends sitting together in the theater, one a mother, the other a non-mother… the scene comes on, and pandemonium goes up in the theater, men are screaming, the one friend is screaming, the other woman leans over, still eating her popcorn and says, “you know, when something is trying to get out of you like that, it isn’t that bad. And look at how quick that was for him, if ONLY I had had it that easy!” She then leans back into her chair and resumes her popcorn consumption… completely unphased by what she has just seen. You gotta love those women who have given birth, they are my heroes! Personally, I feel that pregnancy and delivery is something I must tolerate in order to have the children that I want… can I get an ‘Amen’?
On with the “update…”
I just got back from New York, yes the Big Apple baby! It was my sister, Mary Pat, 50th birthday bash, and what a bash it was!!! It was like nothing could go wrong… everything ran like a well oiled machine, for the most part. We hit our first snafu on the way out of town. My sister Laura, my mother and I headed to the airport early Friday morning to catch a 7am flight to LaGuardia. We arrive at the airport, it is 6am. We park the car and look at the massive security lines… the sight of it hits all three of us at the same time, we are going to miss this flight. We get our bags checked in and get in the security line that literally looks like “American Idol” audition lines. The line is forever long, and stretches around three roped off zig-zag lines, and then proceeds down a long hallway. I look at Laura, and we decide to leave mom in the line and seek out another line… “Leave your phone on we tell her”, the lady standing next to my mother says “If your phone rings, I am coming with you!”. We both run to another section of the terminal, in an all out sprint. We find the next line. It is LONG, but not as long as the other line… we call, and my mother and she and her new friend make their way to us. We are standing, we are waiting, we are checking our watches every five minutes when suddenly one of the terminal employees says, “First-class and platinum members in this line.” That line is SHORT! And I say, “Gold members?” and she says “Yes.” Cha-ching!!!! Yahtzee baby, I jump over to get into the line and my sister says “I’m not gold.” I grab her hand and pull her out of line and say “I am! Let’s move.” She grabs my mother, the stranger that has been following us around comes too! We may have chance! We are waiting, they are checking everyone’s carry on bags… literally going inside of all of them. We have twenty minutes before the flight takes off, and we get to the front of the line. Laura kicks off her flip flops, I kick off my flip flops, my 70 year old mother wore tennis shoes! She is unlacing them! The time is ticking by, I can hear my heart beating in my chest, as she slowly leans over to unlace and get these shoes slowly off of her feet. Finally they are off, and I whip them into a bin, she puts her carry on bag into a bin, her purse in a bin, and we walk thru the security scanner… then I hear… “BAG CHECK!!” What?!?! It is my mother’s carry on!!! They whip out the five plastic bags that she has inside her brown carry on, saying “You can only have one bag ma’am”. You have got to be kidding me?!?! I tell Laura to GO!… Save yourself! Laura heads for the plane, I am there waiting for Mom, because if by some miracle we can get her out of here, I can run with the bag to the plane and she will then only have to steam her own weight! The lady consolidates everything into one bag, she wont let me touch anything, she wont let me help her, she wont hurry, and the clock isn’t slowing down!!! Finally this cartoon of a security officer lets us go, my mom is running as fast as she can, which is slower than my fastest walking pace, and I take the lead, I have her purse, my purse, her carry on and flip flops on as I speed down the terminal. We get on the plane and even have a couple of minutes to spare… New York, here I come!!!
We get in, and meet my sister and my aunt at the airport. We didn’t have any transportation arranged, but my mother had called ahead and said that we should take a “super shuttle”. So, we get our bags and I call “super shuttle” to see if they can pick us up. The man on the phone asks, “What name is the reservation under?”. I say, “We don’t have one.” Once he started laughing, I simply hung up. We managed to procure ourselves a nice shiny white limousine to take us to our hotel, take that Mr. Super Shuttle!!! From then on the weekend went flawlessly.
I had made up an itinerary and everything went perfect, or at least really close to it. There were a few “wild cards” that were built into the weekend, mostly breakfast places and such. My mother however is also a “wild card”. I love my mother, I couldn’t ask for a better one, she really is great, and a lot of fun to be around. Now, my mother was married to my father for 35 years. My father was REALLY outgoing. Never met a stranger. I think since his death, my mother has tried to fill that spot with enthusiasm. That being the case, my mother is friendly and will really talk to anyone. The only problem is that my mother doesn’t always who, or what, she is talking to. On Saturday morning we all went to breakfast, and whenever you eat in New York you try to use the restroom… the simple fact is that you don’t know when you will find another one to use. So, we all head to the ladies’ room. My mother included. There is quite a line at the ladies’ room, and so I allowed my mother to go ahead of me in line. There was a “woman” standing in line just behind me. She was 6’2” tall, in flat shoes, had an adam’s apple, extremely narrow hips, was wearing a wig, and heavy makeup. The line had extended beyond the bathroom and was pouring out into the hall, and she was holding the door open, to let in some air. My mother washes her hands and is ready to leave when she encounters this “woman”. My mother says, “Wow, you could be the doorman!” My mother trying to be funny, laughs a little and says “Oh, I’m sorry, door-person”. At this point it is everything I can do to keep a straight face, I don’t want to laugh… I know that my mother is just being herself, and there is NO WAY she knows this is a man she is talking to. The woman tells her, that the line is long, and my mom says something about the line to the mens’ room is always so short. Her new friend says, “I have been in plenty of mens’ room before and you’re right, there is no line.” My mom now feels like she is engaged in conversation and goes further to tell her that she could start charging people for holding the door and work for tips! Finally my mother leaves. I use the restroom and all the while I am trying not to look at anyone in the eye. I just simply want out. I finally get outside and ask my mom, “Did you know that was a transvestite you were talking to?” She says, “Oh gosh, no it wasn’t!”… yeah folks, it was!
The highlight of the trip for me was high tea at the St. Regis Hotel. It was really elegant and really amazing. The presentation was phenomenal, the food was spectacular, and I felt like a “lady” or at least like a programmer paying to feel like a lady! It was honestly fantastic, if you get to New York I highly recommend it. We did see two shows, we ate non-stop, and we covered an amazing amount of ground in the 3 days that we were there. It was a great trip, one for the record books! I hope Mary Pat enjoyed it, I hope that she looks back on her 50th birthday as one of her best, I know that I will.
Until next time…
Peace, love, and door-“men”,
Martha
Quick random story: So, I was in the shower this morning… I do that regularly. I also do my best thinking in the shower, it seems to be my temple of thought or my sauna of meditation or just more or less where I get clean. Anyway, I was going to be having dinner with a new friend this week. Now, this is a new friend, and not someone that I know personally, but this new friend is pregnant. This throws a wrench in my normal social patterns. I mean the stereotypes dictate that this person could be in any number of emotional states, and it is not only up to me to discern this quickly upon introduction but to navigate these perilous waters with little knowledge of this person and their likes and dislikes… talk about being a little nervous, I was actually trying to figure out how to approach the situation. So, I thought about do’s and don’t’s… like… don’t touch her belly. Don’t talk about liquor and order a double martini with a Makers chaser. Do be yourself, but if you see her burst into tears detour the conversation to something that pertains to her… Don’t talk too much about her job, you don’t know if she is leaving that world behind and regretting it… or if she is leaving that world behind and loving the fact that those bastards are history. Don’t talk about the cute little dress you just bought in a size 4, and how it really makes ANYONE look slim. Do you see the pitfalls here? Do you see the myriad of potholes in the road? That road looks like a driving range on beginners day! Now, I must admit that I am a little afraid of having children, not raising children, but actually giving birth. I think most women are, actually I think it is most women who have never done it. I am sure it is like sky diving the first time you do it, it’s scary… the second time… no big deal. The difference? In sky diving you have someone else strapped to you in a tandem jump… you are truly in it together. To quote Leonardo DiCaprio “You jump, I jump”. In that birthing room, no one else is gonna give birth that baby but you! Then I started thinking of the movie “Alien”… and that thing that popped out of that man’s chest… are you with me? Pregnancy is much like that. Your body has been taken over by an alien being, that is literally going to pry its way out of you when it is damn good and ready. Yeah, I am sure everyone in that theater was screaming their heads off, except the women that had already given birth. I could just see two female friends sitting together in the theater, one a mother, the other a non-mother… the scene comes on, and pandemonium goes up in the theater, men are screaming, the one friend is screaming, the other woman leans over, still eating her popcorn and says, “you know, when something is trying to get out of you like that, it isn’t that bad. And look at how quick that was for him, if ONLY I had had it that easy!” She then leans back into her chair and resumes her popcorn consumption… completely unphased by what she has just seen. You gotta love those women who have given birth, they are my heroes! Personally, I feel that pregnancy and delivery is something I must tolerate in order to have the children that I want… can I get an ‘Amen’?
On with the “update…”
I just got back from New York, yes the Big Apple baby! It was my sister, Mary Pat, 50th birthday bash, and what a bash it was!!! It was like nothing could go wrong… everything ran like a well oiled machine, for the most part. We hit our first snafu on the way out of town. My sister Laura, my mother and I headed to the airport early Friday morning to catch a 7am flight to LaGuardia. We arrive at the airport, it is 6am. We park the car and look at the massive security lines… the sight of it hits all three of us at the same time, we are going to miss this flight. We get our bags checked in and get in the security line that literally looks like “American Idol” audition lines. The line is forever long, and stretches around three roped off zig-zag lines, and then proceeds down a long hallway. I look at Laura, and we decide to leave mom in the line and seek out another line… “Leave your phone on we tell her”, the lady standing next to my mother says “If your phone rings, I am coming with you!”. We both run to another section of the terminal, in an all out sprint. We find the next line. It is LONG, but not as long as the other line… we call, and my mother and she and her new friend make their way to us. We are standing, we are waiting, we are checking our watches every five minutes when suddenly one of the terminal employees says, “First-class and platinum members in this line.” That line is SHORT! And I say, “Gold members?” and she says “Yes.” Cha-ching!!!! Yahtzee baby, I jump over to get into the line and my sister says “I’m not gold.” I grab her hand and pull her out of line and say “I am! Let’s move.” She grabs my mother, the stranger that has been following us around comes too! We may have chance! We are waiting, they are checking everyone’s carry on bags… literally going inside of all of them. We have twenty minutes before the flight takes off, and we get to the front of the line. Laura kicks off her flip flops, I kick off my flip flops, my 70 year old mother wore tennis shoes! She is unlacing them! The time is ticking by, I can hear my heart beating in my chest, as she slowly leans over to unlace and get these shoes slowly off of her feet. Finally they are off, and I whip them into a bin, she puts her carry on bag into a bin, her purse in a bin, and we walk thru the security scanner… then I hear… “BAG CHECK!!” What?!?! It is my mother’s carry on!!! They whip out the five plastic bags that she has inside her brown carry on, saying “You can only have one bag ma’am”. You have got to be kidding me?!?! I tell Laura to GO!… Save yourself! Laura heads for the plane, I am there waiting for Mom, because if by some miracle we can get her out of here, I can run with the bag to the plane and she will then only have to steam her own weight! The lady consolidates everything into one bag, she wont let me touch anything, she wont let me help her, she wont hurry, and the clock isn’t slowing down!!! Finally this cartoon of a security officer lets us go, my mom is running as fast as she can, which is slower than my fastest walking pace, and I take the lead, I have her purse, my purse, her carry on and flip flops on as I speed down the terminal. We get on the plane and even have a couple of minutes to spare… New York, here I come!!!
We get in, and meet my sister and my aunt at the airport. We didn’t have any transportation arranged, but my mother had called ahead and said that we should take a “super shuttle”. So, we get our bags and I call “super shuttle” to see if they can pick us up. The man on the phone asks, “What name is the reservation under?”. I say, “We don’t have one.” Once he started laughing, I simply hung up. We managed to procure ourselves a nice shiny white limousine to take us to our hotel, take that Mr. Super Shuttle!!! From then on the weekend went flawlessly.
I had made up an itinerary and everything went perfect, or at least really close to it. There were a few “wild cards” that were built into the weekend, mostly breakfast places and such. My mother however is also a “wild card”. I love my mother, I couldn’t ask for a better one, she really is great, and a lot of fun to be around. Now, my mother was married to my father for 35 years. My father was REALLY outgoing. Never met a stranger. I think since his death, my mother has tried to fill that spot with enthusiasm. That being the case, my mother is friendly and will really talk to anyone. The only problem is that my mother doesn’t always who, or what, she is talking to. On Saturday morning we all went to breakfast, and whenever you eat in New York you try to use the restroom… the simple fact is that you don’t know when you will find another one to use. So, we all head to the ladies’ room. My mother included. There is quite a line at the ladies’ room, and so I allowed my mother to go ahead of me in line. There was a “woman” standing in line just behind me. She was 6’2” tall, in flat shoes, had an adam’s apple, extremely narrow hips, was wearing a wig, and heavy makeup. The line had extended beyond the bathroom and was pouring out into the hall, and she was holding the door open, to let in some air. My mother washes her hands and is ready to leave when she encounters this “woman”. My mother says, “Wow, you could be the doorman!” My mother trying to be funny, laughs a little and says “Oh, I’m sorry, door-person”. At this point it is everything I can do to keep a straight face, I don’t want to laugh… I know that my mother is just being herself, and there is NO WAY she knows this is a man she is talking to. The woman tells her, that the line is long, and my mom says something about the line to the mens’ room is always so short. Her new friend says, “I have been in plenty of mens’ room before and you’re right, there is no line.” My mom now feels like she is engaged in conversation and goes further to tell her that she could start charging people for holding the door and work for tips! Finally my mother leaves. I use the restroom and all the while I am trying not to look at anyone in the eye. I just simply want out. I finally get outside and ask my mom, “Did you know that was a transvestite you were talking to?” She says, “Oh gosh, no it wasn’t!”… yeah folks, it was!
The highlight of the trip for me was high tea at the St. Regis Hotel. It was really elegant and really amazing. The presentation was phenomenal, the food was spectacular, and I felt like a “lady” or at least like a programmer paying to feel like a lady! It was honestly fantastic, if you get to New York I highly recommend it. We did see two shows, we ate non-stop, and we covered an amazing amount of ground in the 3 days that we were there. It was a great trip, one for the record books! I hope Mary Pat enjoyed it, I hope that she looks back on her 50th birthday as one of her best, I know that I will.
Until next time…
Peace, love, and door-“men”,
Martha
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