I really really really hate it when blogger loses my posts.

I type up this witty commentary (which I refuse to summarize in case I ever feel like typing it all again) and then blogger ate it.

I hate you blogger. You suck.

I need 19 more people to come on over to hit my 1000 mark.

I was excited but now I'm just sad. I want my post back.

It was a wonderful post. Now you're just stuck with this trifle.

Sorry. =(

tell your friends

Just got my last "site meter" report (how many of you folks like to trickle on over here) and I'm very close to the 1000 mark.

Visits

Total .......................... 978
Average per Day .................. 4
Average Visit Length .......... 0:03
This Week ....................... 28

If I were Haynes, I'd be having a sale because of it! ;-) Not sure what we'll do here inside my head, but I feel we should do something.

So, tell your friends and let's get those 22 people over here to put us over the top!

HP

Normal life sucks

I've been on a "normal" schedule at work for the last few weeks. I hate it. I go in at 9:30 and get off at 6:00 every day. It's numbing it's so boring and I have absolutely NO excuses for not being more like a normal person anymore...

I should be eating regular meals.

My house should be neat.

My checkbook should be balanced.

I should know where my checkbook is.

I should be keeping in better correspondence with my friends.

I could be writing my Christmas cards.

Okay, that's not normal.

It's not fair. I was happy working late every night. When I didn't get home til 8:30 every night, no one expected anything from me. Low expectations are a benchmark of my existence for God's sake.

I couldn't work out or be expected to remember birthdays or go to dinner with my parents or whatever, because I worked weird hours. I was never home. That was the deal.

The stupid company broke my deal! I'm supposed to be happy that I have this normal, sitcom family life.

I'm not. I'm bored to tears. I don't HAVE a life to come home to, for pity's sake. It's just more tv and Internet and boring boring boring.

I know. I should broaden my horizons and venture out into the world now that I finally have the time to do that. Ick. I'm 30. That's too old to develop a life and have people start expecting things from me! Seriously.

There are so many things I find dissatisfactory about my home surroundings but I was willing to accept that for so long because I was never here and never had time to really think or care about it. And now I'm here. All the time. Every night. Night after night after night.

Something's gotta give. I can't be expected to start organizing closets at this stage of the game! Come ON! I've already decided to put all that off until I move. I have promised myself a fresh start when I finally sell this house and move on.

Anyways, that's a whole other blog and even I'm not bored enough to bitch about my stuff. Just go listen to Carlin's rant on the subject, it's the same thing.

bored to tears,
HP

Back Alley'ing Romance?
So, life in romance alley is fabulous (again). Isn't it disgusting how it works like that? But things are so good in Us-ville that I make myself sick with my gloating. Can't help it. I'm disgustingly, over the top filled with joy. I'm so happy most of the time on the inside that I have to act vague and disinterested on the outside because if I displayed how truly happy I feel than I would look like the Village Idiot. (You know, one of the Village People that didn't make it.) Isn't that sad? We live in a society where happiness is to be mocked and I can't even say anything because usually other people's extreme joy makes me physically ill even when I'm NOT unhappy. [sidebar: don't you just love double negatives? I think they kinda give your point extra emphasis... I mean, they don't NOT do that, do they? ;-)]

Seriously, though -- the problem with the fabulous part is what do I really have to talk about when things are good? How boring is that? Don't get me wrong, I don't want the alternative... I mean, it was just last week that I was bitching about the anniversary thing. [sidebar: OH MY GOD -- if I dare doubt the man in his sincerity again, I will whip myself with a wet noodle... Swept me off my feet, I swear to God. Flowers and fine dining and wooing the likes of which I haven't seen since... well, ever!] It's just that when things are going good, I don't like to talk to my friends about it. Not just because it's "boring", but because usually when things are going well it's because we're being particularly open and honest and so forth -- and that's nobody's business but ours. I guess the bitchin' stuff isn't anyone else's business either, but I got to let that stuff out! Besides, if I were happy all the time I'd be a Disney cartoon and life just isn't like that.

Even Snow White ate a poisonous apple and had that bad hangover.

Well, I had some other random stuff I wanted to talk about but I'm so tore up from stupid Applebee's quesedillas that I can't think of anything else.

I'm going to go search for ANYTHING in this house that has bubbles in it... But no caffeine. I need sleep.

HP

Faux Single Life

So I went out to some of my old stomping grounds tonight solo (Daddy was home with a nasty ass case of poison ivy -- eesh!) and that was really bizarre.

You really can't go home again! Because I was out on Granby St. and I barely knew my way around, and I was the first friggin' bra at Mo and O'Malley's for God's sake! I was famous there!! So, it's a long ways to go from that point to not really being sure where to park or exactly where the bar was we were going to and so forth.

It was fun though. Relationship life, particularly the fairly domesticated tack that Scott and I have chosen, is so much different from single life and I can see now why Ms. Rose commented that I had forgotten. I had.

But, while I hadn't entirely forgotten the negative side of being single, I had sort of forgotten the fun side. And the really great thing about going out solo when you're in a relationship is that you don't have to deal with any of the bullshit stuff with being single (wondering if anyone's gonna hit on you or vice versa, being somewhat uncomfortable around other couples, etc) and can just focus on really having a good time with the people that you're with. I was out with my sunloving friend to meet her boyfriend and some of her other cronies. We talked about all kinds of crazy things (boobs, getting peed on, sex toys, movies, you name it) and I felt like a girl of 24 again. It was fun! I didn't drink til I was blind (although I was photographed until I thought I would be blind) like I might have done in my younger days and I got to come back to my boyfriend, oozing and pus-filled as he is he's still mine, baby!

So, the shortest version is that I had a great time. We all talked at once and everyone just wanted to hear their own opinion so we could get each other's reactions and there's the usual problem with the check at the end of the night, but I was really glad that I went. But. I don't miss it. I don't wish I was doing it every week again and I definitely hope I don't have to be out there doing it all again.

That scene is part of my past and it's something I enjoyed while I was doing it, but I'm so much happier being at home with my Daddy on a Friday night and watching lame tv and wearing pj's by 8:30 and playing card games... And when you're as happy as I am doing things that I never would have believed brought me happiness, well... That's when you know you've found your niche. ;-)

kisses all!
HP

Wow.

Blogging under the influence.

Wish I could say THAT was a first! ;-)

Still, hangovers suck and the almost empty, VERY large bottle of wine is taunting me.

Ick.

Actually, if memory serves (which it may not given the vast amount of brain cells that were murdered last evening) HP2 actually has to work earlier than I today, so ha ha! ;-)

Off to wash the evenings sins away, love you all!
HP

drunk

I am NOT sober and can still blog. Does that mean anything?

I can only BARELY blog. verrrrrrrr slowly. It's HP2's fault. She MADE me do it. We were in it together, but it's me and my swollen head that are going to work tomorrow. She can sleep in!

Not enough. Blame on Florida. Will explain, maybe. Not tonight tho.
hp

anniversaries are for wussies

You see, Scott or S or Daddy and I have been together for a year coming up this Monday, the 27th. To be frank, it's not great timing. Things are not going great in the world (small w) these days and it's just not great timing...

But, it's not like I care about that. It's been a year and we've made it. That means something, no?

No. Anniversaries are for girls, apparently. For girls to mark occasions and have benchmarks and milestones and so forth -- not that he said that. But he doesn't really understand why I'm making it a big deal. I make everything a big deal, so I'm not sure why this is all of a sudden a surprise -- but what're you gonna do??

But, you see... I'm not exactly known for doing well in relationships. Don't have a list of long-term ones and the ones I did have aren't really worth remembering -- other than to be glad they're over. So, it is a big deal to me. And just like everything that is a big deal to me, I want it to be a big deal for him too.

I know, I know. I'm whining. We've been through a lot, Scott and I. We managed to come back together after nearly two years apart and have grown in our relationship and grown in our feelings and faced many small obstacles already. He puts up with my emotionalism and I put up with his withdrawals. We complement each other on many levels and often speak a language that doesn't require a lot of words. That means something. It counts for something.

Someone not growing tired of me after 365 days is important to me. Me not growing tired of someone after same amount of time is also important.

And on some levels, I just want to get it over with! ;-)

This makes me a wussie. Fine. It's not the first thing to put me in that category, I'll have you know. But, I do think it's a big deal and I don't need fan fare and bouquets of flowers and dinner at Il Giardino or any of that crap. I just want the actual realization that despite the rain and thorns mixed in with the sunshine and roses that we have a pretty good thing going and there should be some time or day or whatever set aside to celebrate in how lucky we truly are to have one another.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Jealousy sucks. I'm going to work on that.

No. I'm NOT going to explain that! :-P

HP

random SCARY thought

You know, if I were pregnant then I might have a "nesting phase" and my house may actually get cleaned up. My lack of desire to clean my house is so strong that it may be worth getting pregnant just for that reason...

The problem, of course, is that then there's that whole baby to deal with.

Hi! Fidelity

I finally saw Unfaithful tonight. (No, that's not one of those highly recommended flicks -- I was bored and it was on HBO.) That was disturbing. If you haven't seen it, I'm going to give away the "twist" but you've pretty much been living in a closet if you didn't see it coming. In movie-land, bad things happen when you have affairs. Think Fatal Attraction and Presumed Innocent. Men were a-cheatin' and baaaaad things happened. Now, it seems that the women are a-cheatin' and baaaad things happen again.

Bad things should happen, don't get me wrong. But he killed the guy and his wife knows and lets him off the hook. (Kinda the reverse of Presumed Innocent. ) Let's think this through -- you KNOW that he murdered your lover because of YOU, what makes you think you're so safe?? You're 5 minutes late from your KFC run and he's going to think you're screwing around again and he's going to whack you this time. What are you thinking?

The thing that disturbed me more was these graphic sex scenes between Diane Lane and her lover... It kinda turned me on and that bothered me a lot. She was betraying her husband and her son and I just couldn't stop thinking that it was pretty hot that they got it on in the bathroom. And I'm forced to wake up when Richard Gere snaps and kills the guy and really examine the consequences. I'm pretty upset that the sex scenes were arousing, but maybe that's the point. She finds herself in this erotic situation and she can't get out of it. She knows its wrong but just gets sucked into that vortex -- the same way we the viewer get sucked in.

My belief is this -- don't put yourself in a situation where you're going to be exposed to that kind of vortex. The fact is that we can love each other unequivocably, but if Scott were thrown in a room with Catherine Zeta-Jones' identical twin sister who expresses her unabated adoration for snuggly guys... He's gonna cave. He's not going to remember my name. It's almost not personal -- she's CZJ's identical twin, I'd be a little weak. So, if you're Scott you just don't get into those situations. It may sound silly (calm down Honey -- she doesn't HAVE a twin) but the fact is that in every day life situations just like these come up. You have to acknowledge that it's possible that you may be attracted to someone else. That doesn't mean you should act on it.

I'm not trying to be preachy, because my life is certainly not above reproach. I guess the movie just really made me re-examine my feelings about fidelity... I've been cheated on by just about every man I've ever been involved with. Forgiven or at least moved past it several times. One of my friends has said that it's not so much the sexual act itself but the fact that her husband would've kept it from her... The fact that something like that he was tempted to leave their bed to share it with someone else and wouldn't even talk to her -- THAT would be the betrayal. I agree with that, mostly. I could almost get over the act itself if I could just get past the betrayal of trust. But, the bottom line is that I don't think I could stand for it again. If I were in the situation today, discovering that Scott had cheated on me -- I wouldn't be able to just look the other way and try to get through it...

But I also wouldn't kill anyone over it either...

Tomorrow I'll watch a comedy where everyone's faithful. ;-)
HP

about that singles comment

Ms. Rose (you can check out her blog, though I daresay it's a lot less prolific than mine) accused me of "forgetting what it was like out there."

As if.

A line I picked up from a tv show last night really resonated what I remember from being out there -- "I'd hardly call getting rejected in bars dating."

Yup. That about sums up singles life. It's not that I have forgotten it, per se -- it's just who wants to remember? Well, let me clarify -- that sums up dating life. Single life isn't so bad if you're not trying to date anyone. But, dating sucks.

Ms. Rose says she can see it in this very blog that I have lost it -- that singles thing. With all of the glowing reviews of Scott and our relationship. There's a few reasons for that. The first and foremost is out of respect to him. He DOES read this crap (though he rarely admits it or comments on it) and it wouldn't really be right to air out our dirty laundry on the world wide web. Especially since most of the stains in our laundry, as it were, are usually cleaned up fairly quickly and don't need to be hanging out forever to remind us. It's not like it's all sunshine and roses -- it's not. But the darkness and thorns is best kept on a small scale -- NOT the internet. That's what girlfriends are for, aren't they? Bitching and hashing. Which leads me to the second reason... Because it's not the same to crow to your girlfriends about the good times, it's easier to "dump" that stuff here. That's the stuff that can get fairly nauseating, especially if you have to listen to it when you're single. I can't tell you how many times I had to stifle retching when one of my girlfriends was going on about fabulous her boyfriend was while I was single. That stuff is NOT juicy, unfortunately. People want to know that you're unhappy and having problems and fighting all the time, because then it makes their own situations seem more normal.

And that makes it hard. Because when I DO get those overwhelming feelings of happiness about being in my relationship, there's no one to really talk to about that. Not even Scott. It's not that he doesn't love me back or feel some of the same ways (I hope!), but he just doesn't go on for pages of flowery prose about it. It's just not his style. That's okay. But, I AM like that -- so I use the blog.

That's the gyst of it. (Gist? Jist? What a stupid word!) I'm not sure why I should have to feel apologetic for being in a mostly stable and happy relationship, but apparently this is a crime against my formerly single self and my sisters from those days. But the fact is that back when I was on the prowl, all I really wanted deep down was a reason to NOT have to go out on Friday night. My life IS a little dull these days, I don't really have the wild vignettes that I used to have. It doesn't take me until Tuesday to recuperate from my weekends anymore. And the fact is that I don't miss any of it. I don't wish that I were single again and partying all the time. It's a documented fact that my tolerance level is at a lifetime low.

And there are plenty singletons out there that wish that they were playing games in their pajamas at 8pm on a Saturday night with their honey. Admit it or don't, but you know who you are!

HP

At the grown-ups table

Went to a surprise party for Scott's mom tonight. It was thrown by one of her friends. The good part is that she truly was surprised. I honestly thought she was going to fall over from the shock and have kicked myself repeatedly for forgetting my camera.

The not as good news is that it turns out I STILL don't feel like an adult. One of her friends was there with her three little kids (more on this in a minute) and the hostess didn't really seem to be down with having children in her home. Both she and her husband were very concerned about things being spilled and so forth. I wanted to say, "That is why God invented rug cleaner, my dears." But I did not because I was brought up better than that. So, we sat around and made small talk with all of these people who were a lot older than me and I kept wondering who are these people? How did I get to the grown up table?? Luckily, there were a few other "outcasts" and we joined together so we could have people to talk to, but altogether it was little disconcerting. I got shunted in with "the wives" while the "husbands" watched football in the kitchen. I'm not married! Although, I'm not entirely certain I would have liked it that much more if I weren't.

Don't get me wrong. I adore Scott's mom and it's not that the other couples weren't nice. It's just that they were older. More established, I suppose -- and definitely more about putting on airs then I can relate to. They're living in $200k + houses and getting ready for retirement... They actually have food in their freezers that isn't pizza and ice cubes. They probably have more in their savings accounts than I make in a year. Going on a cruise isn't a big deal for them, isn't the trip of a lifetime -- it's just an annual occurrence that's a bit of a laugh. Cannot relate to that. The women with their hair just so and the men with their little beer bellies talking about when their next golf game is going to be. Snore. Not that my life is so much more exciting, but at least my hair moves around! ;-)

About the kids. Once again I find myself surrounded by children that make me think -- there's something I'd like to have in my life. It's not fair for people to raise model, adorable children and then parade them around in public as if they are standard issue. I know that I'm not that lucky, but I can't remember that when I'm around these Stepford kids. They start to make you believe that you can have kids that will be relatively well-behaved in public and be open to new people and not whiney and just adorable. The daughter Anna (there's a girl and two boys) is borderline princess but she's just so damned cute that you don't even care. I was across the street saying good bye to Scott's aunt when they were leaving and I called out to Anna "are you gonna leave without saying goodbye to me??" She started to cross over the street to me despite the cars coming. I made her wait as her mom came up behind her to stop her too. When I went over, she gave me a big old hug goodbye and then started to walk away. Then she came running back and threw herself around me again and said, "I love you!" I thought I was going to melt into a pool of sentimental mush. It was hard to pull my hard-hearted self back together again after that, I tell you.

But I persevered. And didn't start getting baby pangs.

And I haven't forgotten what it means to be single, Rose! Although, if I were still single, I certainly wouldn't have found myself in the wives room.

I will explain the above comment in another blog -- I think for now I'm going to sleep off my boxed wine headache. See y'all on the flip-flop.

HP

Resistance IS Futile

Last night I made the conscious decision that I am going to stop the madness and stop balking at seeing really popular movies...

Here's the deal. Someone makes a movie and then a group of certain someones sees said movie and all of a sudden it is a sensation! Everyone is talking about this movie, everyone is watching this movie, this movie is the epitome of everything we want movies to be!

Here's what happens to me -- I don't see the movie. It's not always because I don't want to see the movie, there are often many factors involved. Sometimes the movie was produced before I was born or when I would have been too young to really appreciate it. Then the movie is "old" and everyone that's talking about it has already seen it, so I'd actually have to get the motivation to go get the movie and watch it on my own. That's an awful lot of motivation. Many times, it turns out that the movie came out during the period when I was married and living in South Dakota -- in other words, in a pop culture coma. Pulp Fiction was the number one example of a movie that fell in this category. Same scenario, everyone's seen it and I'd have to motivate myself to watch it. The last thing that happens to me is that somehow everyone I know will engineer a plan to go see said movie on a day when I'm inescapably unavailable. I never see the movie and once again -- everyone I know has seen the movie.

The fact is that I need to get over this need I have to watch movies with others and just see these damned movies by myself. This would solve a lot of my problems. Not that I have any major problems, but a minor one I have that drives me up the WALL is when one of these movies comes up in conversations and I have to admit I haven't seen it and I get the same reaction every time, "What? WHAT? You haven't seen ? How is that even possible??"

I hate that. A lot. I'm sure that there are things that these people haven't experienced that I've done a million times but since I don't know what those things are, I can't rub their faces in it. It sucks.

So, part of the problem is that there's all this stigma attached to the fact that I haven't seen whatever the amazing movie is and that pisses me off, so I just don't watch the movie because now I have all of these negative feelings associated with it. My friend Julia once told me that the only way I had to be elitist was because I hadn't seen these movies. I could be snooty about being the only person who somehow hadn't seen Pulp Fiction. (As much as I would love to receive comments, don't comment on this. I've seen it. Yes, it was wonderful and I'm glad I saw it -- but was it really worth all those years of sneering at me?)

Such was the case with O Brother, Where Art Thou? (Grammar question: if the title includes a question mark, does the question mark cease to become actual punctuation and simply become part of title and therefore I should have put a period at the end of that sentence??) I hadn't seen it and everyone I knew had and said it was funny and wonderful and that the songs were cool. Out of context, the songs seem really silly. Like how many times do I have to hear that you're a man of constant sorrow? I believe you, okay? So, we watched that last night and I loved it and completely regretted putting off watching it for so long. I promised myself that I would not do that any longer. That the next time something came up and it was said "I can't believe you haven't seen that" that I would react by getting the movie and watching it. Someone feels that strongly about something, gotta be a reason why.

Off to get ready to look at artsy stuff -- enjoy your weekends!

HP

I'm vain and I'm proud

It's a sad thing in life when I have a Hallmark moment because I didn't wear eyeliner to work. What's up with THAT?

The day started off with a exfoliation snafu. I had left the stuff at Scott's house, so I picked it up last night and zealously scraped off the week's worth of dead skin since I last had the wonder product. Perhaps a little too zealously because my skin was a little sensitive. Nevertheless, I proceeded boldly forward with makeup as usual. But, I decided that I was going to make a life change and tone down my "day" makeup. (My God I read too many fashion magazines, don't I?) No more eyeliner while the sun was shining for me, no sir.

I honestly think that I am so shallow that I can't think properly when my face isn't right. I just felt off all day. I think part of it was my tingly skin, but part of it was the look of defeat and hang-dog tiredness that I had without the extra eye makeup. It sucks. I want to like my face, you know, naked. But I don't. Not in public. As soon as I come home and it's just me, I get as ugly as I possibly can and really try to push the bar there. I'd wear pink curlers in my hair and a mud mask just to prove the point, but the curlers are too much trouble and the mask renders me unable to speak and we can't have that. (It's cruel of you to point out that there's no one here for me to talk to -- you obviously have absolutely no clue how much I talk to myself!)

I'm not saying that I'm all that gorgeous with the stuff on, but it's just different. I could (and have) go on for pages about how wonderful makeup is but it's disturbing that I'm so addicted to it. I don't want to be one of those women whose biggest problem of the day is finding out I had lipstick on my teeth...

Then again, there are worse things. And I'm not saying that I'm not grateful that that is the worst problem of the day. That's actually part of the problem. My addiction to little bottles and fashion magazines really makes me feel shallow. My lack of any real problems makes me feel surperficial and inane. Which is ridiculous. I have had my share of problems, haven't I? But, the funny thing is that putting on a new face when things are going hard really does help me through those times. And if I can overcome my problems by buying new lipstick, how hard can those problems really have been? If I'm thrown off course by a bad hair day, how am I going to deal with the real problems that are bound to be thrown my way??

My God, I DO worry about this silliest shit don't I? Think I'll go buy an eyelash curler online...

HP

You know you're getting old when you start to care about going to bed at a "reasonable" hour.

You can make plans to go to breakfast at 10am on a Saturday without worrying that you'll be hungover from the night before.

You actually realize the benefits of having life insurance.

You can't remember the last time you didn't stay home on a weekend night and play games.

You can't imagine wanting to do anything else on the weekends.

You choose comfort over fashion when you go out.

You don't own anything that's fashion over comfort anymore.

That's all I have now, but feel free to add a damned comment with some more. Not that you will.

Blame it on the bossanova

I am such a fucking sap. Seriously.

So, it was around this time last year that things between Daddy and me started cooking. As with all significant life experiences, I like to review my journal from the previous year with all the goings-on. (Sometimes, I go back for years and years, just to really see the change.) [sidenote: Blogging has almost effectively killed my journal. That and being happy most of the time. Who knew?]

It's really funny. I had all these trepidations about us getting back together again, but essentially I was over the MOON like every day. And the funny thing is that not much has really changed. I have reservations about us being together, but most of the time I'm pretty much over the moon.

Well, okay. I'm not over the moon anymore but I really do love him and I really do feel like I have a better understanding about what it means to be in love than I did before. It's not really just about the ooey gooey four pages of adjectives about your partners attributes, it's about the four pages of things that would ordinarily make you strangle a regular person but that you somehow are able to tolerate and even occasionally appreciate in your partner. That's when you really know. When you're not getting booty on a regular basis and you're still happy, it might be love. When your partner is in a bad mood for a month and indirectly takes it out on you and you're still whispering sweet nothings in their ear, it might be love. When your partner is so transparent to you that you see through him more easily than you do windows and yet he STILL manages to surprise you, it might be love.

The fact is that things aren't always sunshine and roses with my honey. Some days, I'd be willing to settle for rain and thorns because things are so gristly. But the fact remains that there's no one else I want to go through the bad times with than him. The good times just seem THAT much better and they're already pretty good. Bringing on more facts, it's not like he's the only available apple in the orchard. I've had indications from other apples that they're prime for the picking. But he's the apple of MY eye and I would never ever do anything to jeopardize that. The other apples can rot and fall off the tree for all I care. Seriously.

I'm going to try to keep the mush crap to a minimum, but I realized today that I'm pretty content most of the time and that's a damned far sight better than most people. There are things I wish that were different about me and my life and so forth, but if this is what I have to "settle for" then let me be the spokeswoman for settling because it's pretty damned good from here!

Yours in ooey-gooeyness...
HP

Two Blogs for the Price of One

Went back to work today. Really can't decide whether to blog about that or my day in North Carolina yesterday with Scott's mom. The North Carolina story's better than the work story, but it's the work one that's on my mind.

Okay, I'll give you the shorter (we all know that Heather doesn't DO "short") version of the work thing... Back to work blues. They suck. I like my job, I like the people, but I don't like having to go there. Not after being able to take a week off and just play. I liked that. It made me want to be old and retired, and I never long for that! Things are changing at work and one of my favorite playmates is on a different schedule now, so I'm really just kinda fending for myself. (The previously mentioned Curly Sue.) It's a bummer. She let me pick on her AND thought it was funny and that shit just doesn't grow on trees. Guess I'll be catching up on my reading now. Or start smoking at work again. Who knows? But, I got to bs with my boss and found out that she's riding along on my schedule with me. It's interesting because she's hating the hours (she's a morning person -- would start working at 6am if she could) and I'm not but I'm pretty good at bumping her up.

And it was nice to be back and have people miss me. Well, in their own way. I was running the Heather Show as often as I could today and from across the aisle in the cube farm one of the other managers said, "We-ell, sounds like Heather's back." But not in a bad way, so that was okay.

I did manage to kill some time by giving blood -- got me off the phone for a while AND keeps the Red Cross off my butt for 56 days! Woo-hoo! Got to do a little stand-up with a guy who was waiting with me. We both thought we were incredibly clever so we had a grand time playing off of each other.

All in all, it wasn't too painful but still I think another week off would've been better!

Now... North Carolina. Went down with Scott's mom (who will be Mom for the rest of this blog) to see his aunt and some friends of hers who were visiting from Wales.

Loved it. The couple were Molly and Ray and they've been married for 46 years. Can you imagine? To each other, I'm saying. They're just two peas in a pod. He humors her and she humors him and I loved them. THAT is what I aspire to. That is a marriage. That is a life. Their secret? He does his thing, she does her thing, and they get together in between -- and go dancing. Isn't that great? They travel all over the place and met Scott's aunt on one of their trips -- so are obviously very friendly and outgoing. And they have these lovely Welsh accents, which makes them sound sweet and innocent and will look you in the eye and pull your leg and you just believe them because they sound so sweet. Especially Molly. She had me believing that Aunt had a rose garden out in the wilds of her backyard when I inquired where some of the flowers in the house had come from. I was shocked when I found out she was just kidding me. You have to meet her to fully understand and she leaves tomorrow so that won't be possible... But there are very few people that I meet that I am completely bowled over in adoration of and they totally fit that bill. I hope this was not our only meeting!

So, we visited and chatted and lunched and shopped and it was grand. Mom and I had time to chat and bond on the drive there and back. Which was nice. I'm finally on track to getting her to understand that some of the information that she shares and some of the things she asks about I'm not entirely comfortable with. I decided not to go whole hog into this particular hornet's nest but the groundwork has been laid. Basically, I just told her that sometimes when we are talking on the phone, she starts talking about things that I'm not comfortable hearing about but I don't know how to stop her. I demonstrated how I will hold the phone away from my head and hope that she will stop talking about whatever soon. A couple of times during the day something would come up and I would mock holding the phone away and say that this was one of those times like on the phone. It became a bit of a running joke -- also known as "creating intimacy." (This is what Scott calls it when he is making fun of me -- he's not mocking me, he's creating intimacy. Although, it's true.)

Aunt gave Mom her birthday present. I was going to go into details (in fact, I even published a version of it so you may have caught it) but I decided that it just wasn't right to publish details that lurid on the internet about the woman who may one day be my mother in law. The printable version is that she got a gift that will keep on giving.

But, I'm going to have to hold out the phone for the rest of the details.

My Lord, I'm developing a conscience. What's next? Morals and decency?

It's too much -- I'm going to bed.
HP

My Makeover Story

Yesterday, I went to the Clinique counter to buy a small something so I could qualify for the free gift.

I thought I could get away with buying "a small something" because I forgot.

I forgot that I am intimidated by the makeup counter girls. They always seem so pulled together and even though I know they make crap wages, I still envy them because they're prettier. And I even know, deep down, that they're NOT actually prettier -- they just know how to apply makeup very skillfully and that just makes me envy them more. They hold the secrets that I need to recreate myself and I want it.

But inevitably I buy the things they suggest because I so strongly believe that they want me to look good too -- and not that they have a quota on Lipstick #5 -- Dirrty Girl Pink. Typically, it's because they casually mention something horribly wrong with my face that I thought I'd been successfully managing to cover up.

It happened again. It was my intent to just buy foundation. This was already a leap for me because I was scared off by my last color test with the Clinique girls. But, I want to make the transition to "grown up makeup" and the only way to do this is through Clinique. It's grown up makeup for people who aren't quite making grown up dollars yet. I worm my way to the counter through several frantic patrons, also coveting the free gift. (I later learned that "free gift" time is a retail hot period -- like holiday weekends or hurricanes for insurance claims adjustors or month end for bill collectors or summer for realtors -- and the girl that served me was in a hurry that morning and was stuck at a friends house and was wearing Lancome! Quelle horreur!) My salesperson, Melissa, half listens to what my requirements for foundation are as she grabs what must be the quota foundation this month and convinces me it's the best one. Suddenly, as she leans over to fix my face she says, "Have you ever tried exfoliating?"

These are fatal words from someone at the beauty counter. Any time they ask if you have tried something, it's usually because it's already fairly obvious to them that you haven't and they're in such shock that you wouldn't be using said product that they really want to hear your story for NOT using it. They figure you must have had a really bad experience with it in the past to not be using it now NOW when you so desperately need it. They are already mentally flipping through their mental alphabetized overcoming objections to whatever your excuse is.

Of course, they will be right. You will have a reason. They overcome it by telling you how much your life is going to change by using this product. You will have radiant skin that will never burn, only tan. It will glow like the light reflected from the perfect alabaster cut from a fresh mussel. Your radiant skin will eventually attract the man of your dreams, who will of course be handsome, single and filthy rich. You will marry him and have 3 beautiful children who will adore you and will have caused you no more pain in childbirth than a bad case of hiccups and no stretch marks. And then you will achieve enlightenment and ascend into heaven. Because you were smart enough today to buy our 7 Day Exfoliant Treatment.

I was smart enough. I wanted skin that was free from flakes and the enlightenment thing could be okay too.

And because the whole time she was selling me on the wonders of exfoliating, she was zhuzhing foundation on me -- I barely noticed when she transformed my pink blotchy face into a matte wonderland. I thought that if this foundation (Nearly Caught Me Nude) could make me look this much better this much faster (normally even made up I want to cry from the view I get in the cosmetics mirrors) just imagine how it would be when I got him home and coupled it with my Kissing Me Softly with this Mauve lipstick. But not until I exfoliated the tar outta my face!

Anyways, it was like Christmas. We wound up going to see Kill Bill almost as soon as I got home, so I couldn't exfoliate -- but it was almost all I thought about until I started to get ready for bed that night. (Although trust me when I say that I was not distracted by any thoughts in Kill Bill other than trying to make sure I was keeping track with what was going on!) So, I finally get to exfoliate...

Kids, it was amazing. I think I lost 5 pounds off my face. It was like the first time I ever got a pedicure -- I was an inch shorter after. My skin felt so baby smooth, I thought it was going to start crying and wanting to be breast fed...

The fact is it's not just makeup -- it's a dream. It's not just skincare -- it's a miracle. Those girls are out there selling a dream and I'm ready to buy in! I'm ready to buy the hype -- I'm worthy of the hype!

Of course, only when there's a gift with purchase involved though! ;-)

-HP

Runaway Day

We spent the day in Norfolk, which for Scott is about akin to going to Cleveland. Long way away and not too keen on why he wants to go there. He hung out while I got my speedy trim and then we hit the Chrysler Museum. WHOLE lotta glass in there! Let's just say that the fact that my sign is Taurus the Bull has often proved to be self-fulfilling. I was pretty nervous. Turned out okay. But they did ask me to not come back again for a long time.

Just kidding.

Blah, blah, blah -- went to dinner at Kelly's and then had plans to go see a free showing of Runaway Jury with my godmother, her work friend and HER husband. We hung out and bs'ed over dinner and then stood in line and bs'ed some more. Saw the movie -- which was good. They took a pretty interesting turn from the book and I am not entirely certain WHY they went the way they did. I also felt that the movie made it fairly obvious where the main character's sympathies really lay. But, I think this may have been because I read the book -- because in my own informal poll after the movie, none of the others felt that way at all. And I did agree with the "host" of the free showing when he said that the reason why it wasn't a big deal, per se, that the basis for the case in the movie changed (I'm not giving away any plot points -- in the book it was "Big Tobacco" in the movie it was "Gun Lobby") was because the point was about jury tampering. How easy it is to do both legally and illegally.

We're strolling to the car, just my Daddy and me, and I'm chatting about the movie and he's answering with some of his own thoughts. But when I get to the car I realize he has another agenda. He asks me what I think about the Work Friend's husband. Let me give you some background -- he never asks what I think about anyone purely for the sake of asking me what I think about anyone. He likes to tell me HIS spin and see what I think. It's utterly and completely fascinating the things he sees and thinks that just never even occur to me to think about.

I'm not going to get into the WHOLE conversation because that would be a blog unto itself. It's really about how one thing about a person is something that takes him down an entirely different train of thought than it does me. Trains of thought I never even considered boarding. Please do not interpret that on any levels I think this is a bad thing, it's just incredibly interesting to me. He has such a way of describing these thought processes and these characteristics and why he thinks this way and that way that I'm just completely mesmerized. To the point that I can't believe I never even thought that way. That those things never even occurred to me!

It makes me feel a little dumb sometimes.

He wouldn't like that, it would make him talk about these things even less. (In case you hadn't figured out, Scott's blog reading has tapered off dramatically -- we can now feel free to talk about him like he's out of the room.) And I would really hate that. He opens up rooms in my dusty brain and shines a flashlight in them and stirs up some dustbunnies and sprays some airfreshener around. It's a never-ending amusement ride for me... This is the part where I get whiny and self-indulgent. You may want to skip this one and wait til I blog something more frothy...

I can't figure it out. I know that I'm not providing him with this level of intellectual stimulation. Sometimes, maybe. Sometimes we have conversations and we banter back and forth with our opinions and I can see that he is legitimately thinking about the points that I have made and even taking them into account. This doesn't happen very often. I'm just not about the deep thoughts. I want to be. I want to be the kind of person who is interested in widely and varied things, but I just can't seem to get there. I try to read and watch and see things of intellectual stimulation and they just bore me to tears 85% of the time. The other 15% it's because I saw some movie of the week and I decided to have an opinion. It's sad. I happened to read a newspaper article because the comics weren't available. I read Newsweek because the cover story was about Friends and while flipping to get there I happened to read something that was noteworthy.

It's just weird -- when I have these a-HA moments about why I'm with him and why I enjoy our relationship, they seem to be coupled with similar thoughts that I can't figure out why he's with me and why he enjoys our relationship. I realize that a lot of this sounds like a low self-esteem thing and some of it is, but let me clarify -- I think I'm pretty cool. I am just ditzy enough to be dangerous, but I know what rigor mortis is -- for God's sake. I'm not going to get into a laundry list of things that I like about me but I know what they are. I just can't figure out why any of those things would appeal to someone like him. Isn't that funny?

The best part is that just like every other woman on the planet who has found herself in this position, I can't seem to let the point rest. Realistically, I have to realize that on some planes it's a self-fulfilling prophecy. If I constantly question him about what it is he sees in me, then sooner or later he's bound to do the same thing and bam -- standing in whatever the dating version of the unemployment line is. But, I'm a pesterer and festerer -- I have never in my life been able to leave well enough alone and while I've learned plenty from my mistakes, some behaviors just can't be modified. It's just that simple.

I'm gonna let it go though. I don't want him to figure it out. I like this amusement ride and I plan to give the guy my tickets and go for the ride again for as long as the ticket-takers don't make me get off the ride and get back in line.

Damn. I promise I'm going to sign up for analogy class soon.

When is this shit going to get funny again? Was it ever funny?

-HP <--- bet you're surprised by that, but it's true! ;-)

The Go-Go's would be so disappointed

I just don't know how to relax. I'm on vacation, I'm supposed to be doing nothing and sleeping in. Can't hang. The idleness bothers me. I think it's because when it was announced that I was taking a week off and not going ANYWHERE, I got an enormous amount of crap from mywork peers. Why take the whole week off? Aren't you going to do anything?

Here's the thing that's interesting... In April, we are -- of course -- going on the now overly reported cruise. Where I will be sitting on a boat, lounging in the sun, drunk sun up to sun down but essentially... doing nothing. Why is it okay to not be doing anything on a boat in the middle of nowhere but not acceptable in your own home?? Seriously. Besides, I'm not at my house -- I'm at Scott's. (That's right -- Rose used his name in the never-used comments so fuck it -- no more anonymity for you, buddy!) So, I'm sort of on vacation. I brought a suitcase, even.

Truth be told, it's only Wednesday and I think he's going to be packing my stuff for me by Friday at the latest. It's odd to think that he lived with roommates and girlfriends far more than I have lived with other people, and yet he's so much less tolerant of the constant interruptions of other people. Not to say that he's nasty about it, by any stretch. But there are definite periods of time where I can tell that he's pretty much mentally calculating when he gets to have his house back.

I can understand this. Ironically, it's our state of separation that keeps us together. (In my opinion -- but he's not likely to be contradicting any time soon.) We get along well together most of the time because we spend most of the time apart. Hence, while I can't help but wonder what the future holds and have fancy visions of us dressed like cake toppers in my head -- I can't really picture this unless we were permanently living in a duplex with each of us occupying a half. I need time to be able to talk on the phone for hours about nothing and to sit in front of the computer and write this meaningless bs and do my homework and write in my journal (HA! Like that ever happens anymore) and read books and did I mention talk on the phone. I like to do that with minimal distraction. When we're in the same place and I'm doing those things, I can't feel natural about them. They feel forced or rushed. I can't really completely immerse myself in those things because I can't help but think, "Shouldn't I be putting all of this energy into HIM?"

But the thing is that in the meantime he's putting energy into doing his own version of all those things and it never occurs to me to wonder if he shouldn't be devoting that energy into ME? Until now, damnit! Just kidding. Maybe it's because I come into his world far more often than he comes into mine. I don't expect to be doing "my world" stuff while I'm in his world usually but do still expect him to do HIS stuff, because it is his world after all.

Back to the future (hee hee) -- I think that what makes it easier to comprehend in my mind is the idea that when this future thing goes down (yo) we'll be residing in a different home. Not his world or my world but OUR world. So it won't be odd that I'll be doing my stuff or he'll be doing his stuff because it's shared space.

As long as an appropriate amount of energy continues to be devoted to just ME, then that is okay. ;-)

HP

Oscar's in the Air

I love this time of year. All the films that want to be nominated for Oscars are ponying up to be the last thing on the tip of everyone's tongue. So, they start trickling into theaters -- trying to be late enough in the year so they are remembered come vote time, but still early enough so they don't get inundated in all of the holiday crap. Even the movies that aren't trying to be Oscar-caliber are better than your average movie.

Mystic River, Kill Bill, Intolerable Cruelty and on and on. CAN'T wait. I can almost smell the popcorn in the air. Going to an advanced screening of Runaway Jury on Wednesday and really excited about that. The best part is that the Bravo channel is running all of these little snippets on the behind the scenes of the movies. I'm so excited I can't even see straight. Good movies -- movies that make you think and give you things to mull over. And things to TALK about. I LOVE seeing a really good movie and seeing it with intelligent people so there's so much to talk about afterwards. What they saw that you didn't see, the nuances that you may have catched that they didn't suspect. Where each of you thinks the movie was going. I LOVE the movies!

Well, my golden carriage is about to turn back into a pumpkin so I think I'm going to head off...

-HP

I apparently do not have the kind of thoughts that people are wanting to comment on. No emails, no hitting the comment button -- I barely have friends saying anything about my stuff. To be honest -- I'm vain enough for this to bug me. Some days a lot more than others. I can't help it. I want to not care what people think. In fact, in the past I have gone to GREAT lengths to put on a show that I don't care what people think. But the truth is -- I do. I not only care what they think but I especially care when it seems to be about things other than ME!

Okay. I was joking there, but not entirely. It would be nice to have someone give me an opinion or comment on things that I have written. If I were getting paid to do this, then there would be a fair amount of comments -- and most of them probably wouldn't be all that positive. I don't want just positive comments -- contrary to popular belief I do not believe that the world revolves around me.

I don't!

Anyways. Enough of that.

I'm on vacation this week. It's Daddy's birthday today and we took the whole week off a long time ago. Plans were drafted and re-drafted and it would seem that what we're going to be doing is touristing around THIS area. Which is okay. Please understand that I am not a person who really appreciates leisure time. I get bored easily. I don't like to sit around. Well, I DO like to sit around, but after awhile I get bored. I really only seem to be able to appreciate sitting around if there is something else that I'm supposed to be doing. If I'm supposed to be at work or meeting my parents or mowing the lawn or cleaning my house or balancing my checkbook, then I can happily lounge in front of the tv with death-grip on the remote and a bag of tater chips for hours. But, if my only plan is to sit and watch tv, then I'm not so happy. I NEED the alternative. I need to know there's something else I could (or better still, SHOULD) be doing to really be good at vege-ing.

Speaking of vege-ing in front of the tv, here's what I've learned so far this morning. Ben and JLo did NOT break up, y'all. Well, they did -- but they got back together. The wedding is still on. :::Phew::: I was really worried about that, weren't y'all? Why am I asking -- it's not like you're going to respond! Also, there's this new kind of eyedrops where you just mist your eyes rather than dropping the drops in. I can't see how that works -- if I had something spraying towards my eyes then I'm going to shut my eyes. Are we lizards and the stuff just soaks thew our eyelids? Odd.

Last in Heather briefs, took a quiz today about my approach to conflict... The results were as follows:

You have a mixed approach to facing conflicts. You tend to switch back and forth between conflict avoidance and a more direct style, perhaps depending on the situation. Sometimes it's appropriate to avoid a conflict, especially if you're not feeling safe or it's the wrong time and place to face the problem. However, conflict avoidance is not a helpful style to use all the time. When you run away, you can't work problems out and unresolved issues build up.
Resolving disagreements takes a lot of maturity — it means you respect other people's ideas and listen to them without getting defensive. Try talking to someone, such as a therapist, relative or friend, who can help you learn how to consistently discuss your problems and make constructive efforts to solve them.
Don’t forget: If you ever become verbally or physically abusive during arguments, you should talk with a mental health professional about it as soon as possible in order to prevent further harm to others and yourself.

The part about the violence is kind of disturbing, isn't it? I'm thinking if you are a physically abusive person that you're not taking the time to finish the surveys they sometimes have at Hotmail. You're probably out looking for people to pick on. Maybe that's just my opinion... Not that I would KNOW what your opinion is, you never say...

Anyway -- I'm not bitter. I am going to head out for some coffee that's NOT Nescafe so I'll catch you around!

HP

Lost (and found) in Translation

We went to see this movie last night and it was SO good. Lost in Translation for those of you too drunk to get the title reference. Here's how it made me feel...

When I travel, which is not as often as I would like, there's this feeling that comes over me that's hard to explain but I'm going to try... As I'm heading towards my destination, I'm still mostly thinking about my "home life". The obligations that I have, the people that I know, the worries and concerns of my daily life. Also thinking about all the good things about my home life and how it's kinda hard to leave it behind, even if only for a little while -- even though I'm really looking forward to going to my vacation life. I think about my "vacation life" too and what that's going to be like. But only in theory because I really don't have any idea what that slice of life is going to be like. And then I arrive at my destination and I'm immediately inundated with the sites and sounds of my new location. The buildings are different and the people are different and the sounds seem louder and the brightness is brighter. It's a lot to get acclimated to. And I get so mired in these sights and sounds and experiences that eventually my "home life" seems a lot further away then it really is. Seems like a part of someone else's past. I think about the people there and try to imagine them where I am, and generally it's kind of hard to do. But, as I meet new friends and old and I'm telling them about my home life -- it seems incongruous that there's any other life than the here and now. Gradually, I get adjusted to vacation life... The process seems to happen in accordance with the amount of time I'm on vacation. Things that were wildly unfamiliar become familiar. Basic things, like how to get to the grocery store for example. Home things appearing in vacation land. Just as this process starts to solidify, it's time to go home. And as I head towards home, the process of the arrival happens in reverse. I think about all the things I did and saw and heard and talked about and learned about while on vacation. I'm thinking about my home life too, but only in theory. I somehow feel as though my home life should become different to stay in step with the change in me I've experienced from vacation. Of course, it doesn't. All the same things that were going on at home before I left are still going on. The minor dramas have settled themselves or snowballed into actual problems. The people I left behind ask me about my vacation but only with a mild interest. I was gone, they cared, but they don't really care about what experiences I had. Because, they can't see and feel them when I talk about them. They didn't see my friend basking in the wide open space of the Badlands. They can't taste the Hurricane while hearing the clacking of the multiple strands of beads around their neck. They don't recognize my genius at suggesting we take a CAB to dinner so we can drink even more. They can't hear the awkward skinny guy easily strumming amazing songs on his guitar, all the while apologizing that he's not more talented.

So, you see -- they don't have my visions as they flip through my vacation pictures so of course they don't show more than nominal interest. I forgive them this because when they take their vacations, the same thing will happen.

And this is the feeling that surrounds Lost in Translation. The feeling that your life is irrevocably altered because of this snapshot of a moment. And the reality that it's really not. Bill Murray did an AMAZING job portraying the quiet desperation of a man who desperately needs a breath of fresh air in his life and when he finds it, realizes that you can't hold onto fresh air. You just have to breathe it in and appreciate it for as long as you can, and when it's time to go back to the reality of your smoggy air -- you deal with it. Because that's what you do.

I don't want to give anything more than that away. It's an amazing movie. Probably the best I've seen in a long time and I hope that someone gives him a nod for SOME kind of award. If you see it, write me and tell me what you think.

I'll be daydreaming of my next vacation! ;-)

-HP

plagued by a poor vocabulary

And here's why I'm plagued -- because I lack the sufficient range of critical phrases to really, properly pan Coupling. What an awful, awful show.

And trust me, I'm just a heartbeat above being one of the most easily amused white women in America. It doesn't take much. Well, that's how it feels. Do you find yourself in these positions where you are not only the only person laughing at a joke or movie or comedian or whatever -- but you are laughing really, REALLY loud to boot? Yeah. That's me. Happens ALL the time. It's hard. I have adapted. There are just some things I find funny that other people don't. (Classic example -- Pootie Tang... I once told someone that I laughed so hard at that movie that I almost peed and that person never spoke to me again.) And when I find things funny, well -- everyone knows. I don't have a quiety, ladylike laugh on the best of occasions.

But I digress. Coupling, it sucks. A lot. Everyone looks like they're trying so hard. "Oh, look at us -- we're talking about sex and it's all in good fun." "Look, we're all having sex with each other -- aren't we cool?" Ick. What if everyone on Friends had slept with each other by the middle of the second episode? What's there to look forward to, exactly? What's left? You're going to bring in new people I care about even less than these characters and sleep with them too? Snore. They're all caricatures of themselves and it's too early for that. I can't stand overblown characters that just have 3 personality traits. I mean, seriously -- I'm boring as shit and even I have a couple more traits than that. Not the least of which is that I make some people think they're really funny. (They probably aren't, but they are to me.)

But, still -- I am upset that I lack the range of phrases that critics seem to have at that their disposal to fully describe how awful something is. Do you suppose they have a flip chart for that?? Kinda like those books that you used to have when you were a kid where you combined the different heads with the different bodies and feet? Only you combine different aspects of movies and get these phrases.

"Okay, it has a monkey, Sigourney Weaver and mismatched identities -- what's the proper phrase?"

On a WILDLY skew tangent, Scout made me work out last night. Now, I'm in pain. A lot of it. It's been difficult to move my arms without yelping. I managed somehow.

I'm telling you this to explain why I'm ending this... Here!

-HP