jealous is as jealous does

Two years into my 30's, I've noticed that I'm slowly becoming comfortable with who I am. Not in an adolescent-identity-crisis way but in more of a coming full-ish circle sort of way. Like it doesn't bother me anymore that Kevin and I aren't married yet, after eight years. Now, looking and listening to newlywed couples, I actually feel relieved that we've already been through the preliminary. We're strong and confident enough to weather most storms. And that's comforting. I feel proud even. Or silly things, like coleslaw and pulp.  I've basically accepted that I actually like coleslaw and orange juice with pulp. However much of an old fogey that makes me. I'm ok with it. I'm ok with the fact that I can be a naggy ninny who likes clothes put in the hamper instead of the bedroom floor, space between furniture and framed photographs, gardening and lawn chairs. With as much as I've detested the arrival of birthdays in recent years, I'm actually enjoying getting older and feeling like an adult with grown-up tastes and desires. 

But there is one part of me that I can't seem to assuage : jealous judy. I still cannot help but feel jealous of my own friends and acquaintances when news of their impending success surfaces. I immediately stack myself up against each one, listing all my missing ingredients. "Well if I were THINNER or more OUTGOING, a lot less LAZY, had more AMBITION, didn't concentrate on FEAR, maybe actually had some STYLE and knew how to dress for success or had more MONEY to fund my dreams and COMPLAINED less and took ACTION MORE and blah blah blah blah." Insert flailing onto to bed in defeat here. "And succumbed to DEFEAT less often." siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh. 

 I even have a secret nemesis. Someone who, unbeknownst to her, drives me bat shit crazy with every single achievement on her roster. And I can't stop checking in, looking at what she's doing etc. etc. Its like a car crash---I have to look. Torture is what it is, unnecessary self-torture.Thank god for partners, best friends and unconditional love. For they are the only two on the planet who know the identity of my dirty little secret....and still love me anyway.

 Jobs, money, happiness and accomplishment---all things I want for my friends but find hard to swallow. I know its me. I know its me that I have the actual problem with, and my jealousy is just a catalytic mirror that spins me into drama central. Or its my reflection.

October

Small things. Right now, this morning, all I can think about is small things. Like a cup of Pumpkin Spice Coffee from the Keurig machine. Its quick, equally stunning and doesn't require much effort on my part. A cinnamon roll from Trader Joe's with just a very light drizzle of frosting. So light its noticeable and makes me feel not-that-bad about eating it. The morning chill still perched on my shoulder from taking Fi out just minutes ago. Neighbors walking by, a horn stammering in the distance and jazz.

For these and all small gifts, I am profoundly grateful.

by New York Artist, Maritza Lugo.

this made me lol today, probably because I relate to it a little to much. :o( 

I caught it on HELLO GIGGLES, a cute/fun/quirky blog by Zoey Deschanel and Co. . If you haven't checked it out, please do <3 Its fab.

iphone friends....

...is my new favorite app for iphone or ipads! Its so much fun! Check it out!

What the Hell? An Avril Analysis...

What am I doing this holiday sunday? Ooooh just shopping for a vintage table cloth on Etsy annnd listening to Avril Lavigne's new single, What the Hell? on repeat. Yeeeeeeah...you heard me right. I am a closet Avril Lavigne fan-----no longer apparently. The very few people I've shared that with in the past, always have the same reaction: squinted eyes in disbelief and ponder. "Seriously??" they ask. But what can I say? She's just so much fun to me. If I were fifteen I would worship her, learn to ride a skateboard and bleach my hair blonde. But I'm thirty-one. Fooey! So I'll just pack on the crayon eyeliner with gloss, blast her tunes and punch the gas while speeding the Hollywood 101. 

Top Ten reasons WHY I heart Avril...

1. She is a songwriter. She writes her own music and plays guitar. I've always appreciated artists who actually create their music and lyrics, nose to tail. It's more personal, relatable and honest IMHO.

2. Her music is fun and some songs are so silly they're stupid. I'm in my head ALL THE TIME. It's nice to just turn off the editor, sing along like a loud fool and have fun...something I need to do more often. Popular music has a valid place in the fabric of life. People get so caught up in "indie, underground, no one knows who they are!" crap. Remember the Beatles? MJ? Dancing in your room and singing into your hairbrush? 

3. She's teeny with a big voice. I've always wanted to be teeny. Everything about me is big, loud and...BIG lol. 

4. I love her style. Not so much the hardware and goth bustiers but that she can be sexy in a tank, shorts and sneaks. Plus I'm a little sick of Katy Perry's boobs already. I hate dressing up and high heels, seriously. No matter what I always feel like a boy in a dress. I would rather have twenty pairs of bitchin chucks, pumas or vans and wear jeans everywhere. 

5. Her videos rock. I love that her videos follow the old Mtv format of actually telling a little three minute story. That's the old fogey in me. 

6. She gave her mom a cameo in her video <3 I would totally do that if I were a pop star. 

7. She's Canadian. It's my general assumption that Canadians are just freakin cool. All the one's I've met have been down-to-earth, stand up peeps. I don't know how to explain it, A!

8. Ok this is a weird one : her teeth. Normally I dislike when folks have very sharp fangs, like fangoria favorite Kirsten Dunst. But Avril's fangs are juuuuust right. Cosmetically I think hers look kinda cool. 

9. Pink. She always rocks the pink yo.

10. Because somewhere in the back of my head I will always be fifteen and a total spaz....and I wouldn't change that for the world. 

We made it....

Yesterday was interesting. In So Cal we had two earthquakes at around 1 o'clock in the afternoon. I of course didn't feel them because I was driving to the bank and grocery store. But just as I walked through the door, Kev calls me and says, " DID YOU FEEL IT???" annnd here we go. An entire afternoon of worrying that not only will there be another earthquake, but it will happen while I'M home alone. And because of their trip to Pechanga the next day, Kev was going to be spending the night at his mom's house. Which of course translates into apocalyptic mayhem and I am most certainly in eminent danger. 

The boy tried to reassure me by suggesting that since the earthquake was a decent size---that meant more pressure was released---and the likely hood of "the big one" happening was significantly low. Insert one brow raised, disbelieving face here. The ridiculous thing is that I'm a So Cal native. Earthquakes are not foreign to me, not even scary most of the time. In fact they're down right mythical...until you're suddenly in the middle of one and the dog is barking, shit is falling and car alarms everywhere are going off. lol But the thought of being alone at home, with the baby (dog) to protect while California slowly shakes itself into the ocean---is disconcerting to say the least. 

Nevertheless, at 8:45pm, I reluctantly kissed the boy goodbye and watched him drive away.  My preplanned evening of brownie making and a Mad Men marathon was slowly starting to look pointless. After all, I had an earthquake kit to prepare, shoes to put at the foot of the bed and flashlight stations to man all throughout the apartment. Luckily I had my trusty partner to help me complete these tasks. Fiona followed me in and out of every room, watching each motion. I looked down at her solid little gaze and I could see the wheels in her head turning. "Ok dad is gone, big bag by the front door, mom has flashlights? WHAT is happening exactly?"

But there were no more quakes, no aftershocks, no burglars, rapists or chupacabras of any kind. I spoke to both my parents on the phone and Kevin called just before bed for a little iPhone facetime. I didn't leave the lights on, there was no clock radio noise to keep me company and when my head finally hit the pillow I decided to just nut up and relax. After all, our building was built in 1955 and its still standing. And as long as I have my twelve inch, Himalayan Salt Lamp night light... I'm in the clear. 

Hump Day

I had the most delectable can of peas today. I know canned veggie tables aren't as great as fresh-off-the-farm but damn these were exquisite. Maybe it was just that I got something I wanted right when I wanted it. You know that always feels good. 

And tonight, even though I was dog tired and hot as hell, I washed all the dishes before I went to bed. Just like Betty Draper in Mad Men, I thought. Only that bitch has help. Shit who am I kidding? I AM the help. Big, fat, frowny face. Hope there's another can of magic peas for tomorrow.