It's Vegas, baby!

My grandmother's 80th birthday party is this weekend, in Las Vegas of all places. So my entire family on my dad's side is heading down to Sin City on Friday. It will be the first time in her life, that all her children and grandchildren will be together in one place. Crazy. She is pretty excited and so was I. I have not been to Vegas since I turned 21, over nine years ago. And I understand a lot has changed. In addition, my brother, whom I have not seen in almost a year and a half, is flying in from Texas. And did I mention, it's Vegas?!?

Then today at lunch, someone said something that made me feel all self-conscious. It was Kara. Apparently, according to "all the magazines" it is Hard Rock's 100th anniversary. And to celebrate they are shutting down the Hard Rock in Las Vegas and having a huge star-studded party. "It's this weekend and everyone is going to be there!" Don't ask me why this made me feel so stupid all of a sudden! In fact, as I am writing this I realize how lame the whole thing is. But honestly, I was almost sorry that I was even going to Vegas this weekend. I couldn't help thinking, "Oh my god! I am going to be the frumpiest girl in town!"

Admittedly, I am having a rough Monday. It started raining again and the dreary weather always gets me a little down. I spent the weekend wearing the same denim capris and hooded sweatshirt for two days. Then I was running late this morning, so the outfit I wore to work was not particularly flattering. I wore my orthopedic shoes today. I could not find my coat on the way out, so I opted for the ski parka. And for lunch I had tator tots. Oh, that's right, did I forget about Vegas?!? I wanted to purge the tots. Oh my god! I have to get into my skinny jeans and hoochie tops all weekend. I have to do my hair and makeup. I am usually good for one night, but I am not feeling very confident about three. And my hair--I am in ugly grow out stage right now. What if they don't let me into the bars? What if my husband spends the whole weekend checking out all the young hotties that are sure to be everywhere? I don't know if my fragile ego can take it today!

My brother calls. "I am freaking out!" I tell him. "I feel fat and frumpy! I don't want to go!" He assures me I am being ridiculous. I won't be the oldest one in the bar. There will be plenty older than me. Besides, he was not planning on taking me to any of the "A-list" bars, like the ones where the Super Models hang out. It is impossible to get in, he explains. The bouncers hand pick the girls from the ridiculously long lines. Oh, well that's reassuring.

Unlike other Western cities, Vegas has a certain raw sensuality about it. It is the epitome of sex, excess, and debauchery. It is home to "The Bunny Ranch" and high rollers. Built in the middle of a desert with no water around for miles, it is the ultimate mirage. It is a place where people can go to indulge in their fantasies. Rich, poor, beautiful, or indifferent, makes no matter. There is something for everyone, right? Even me. So I am taking a more optimistic view and am hoping to find myself pleasantly surprised. And if that fails, I'll be at the bar!

Thursdays in PDX

I love this time of the year. The weather starts getting nice again and it stays light out until 8:00. It is Thursday night in Portland and for several years now it has been the night to see and be seen in town. I think it started with the art walk in the Pearl, then tailspun with PGE Park's Thirsty Thursday ($1 beer night), and more recently Last Thursday on Alberta. Whatever the reason, you can always guarantee that there will be a good crowd on a Thursday night in most Portland bars. In fact, on our way home tonight I observed a few different crowds of people at a couple of places. Seeing those people made me thirsty for a beer. So when I got home, I cracked open a Corona, grabbed the dogs, and parked myself in my backyard to enjoy the city skyline. The sun was just setting behind the West Hills, leaving traces of pink and purple hues in horizontal stripes just above the trees. The air is warm and smells of fresh cut grass. My beer is cold and as I take my first sip, I begin to reminisce about Thursdays past. And Wednesdays, and Fridays, and....

In college, the big night was Wednesday. "Wacky Wednesday" we called it. My sophomore year, I lived in my sorority house, and we had a ritual every Wednesday night. It all began promptly after dinner. The bathrooms were bustling with activity. There were showers to be had, outfits to be selected, hair and makeup. Then of course, you had to locate your "party bra"--cute and for some padded, just in case you planned on "mashing" with a boy. Waiting for us at the fraternity house were Upside Down Margaritas and cold Milwaukee's Best beer. Mmmm! The following week, awards would be handed out at our chapter meeting commemorating the mayhem that occurred on Wednesday night. "Morning Sneaker" which was a dirty Ked given to the girl caught sneaking back into the sleeping porch the next morning. And then there was "The Masher", a potato masher given to the girl who had the best hook up.

After college, it was all about "Wet Wednesday", the amateur wakeboard competition on the Willamette River. Although there were some serious competitors each week, to me it was never about the wakeboarding. No, it was all about being cute, drinking beer, and checking out all the cuties on the deck of Who Song's. I loved Wet Wednesday. The Thursday afterwards was usually always a little rough!

Then I discovered "First Thursday" in the Pearl. It is really meant to be about the art, but for me it became about being cute, Cosmopolitans (you can't drink Coors Light in the Pearl), and checking out the cuties at Oba's. Not long after, I discovered "Thirsty Thursday" and later "Last Thursday" and well, my month was pretty full. Alas, it had to come to an end someday, right?

So this Thursday, the only girls that I am hanging out with our my puppies, Bella and Ginger. And I am sipping on a beer from the fridge in a green lawn chair. I am wearing jeans that I have worn for a couple of days in a row. And as I look down, I notice they are covered in paw prints from "my girls". I have to laugh. I did have plans, but those were canceled. Someone had a sick child and another gal had other more important things to tend to. I was invited to a stamping party, but somehow I manged to space that (probably subliminal, as I am not a big fan of crafts). Across town, one of my "Wet Wednesday" partners is on the eve of giving birth to her second child. All of a sudden the beer has lost it's appeal. The sun has gone completely behind the hills. It is time to come inside. I linger just a little longer, but I cannot stay. Spring awaits around the corner and with it comes new beginnings. I pour out my beer and make my way into the house.

A blog a day,

keeps the doctor away. Or at least that is what the experts say. So I am going to try to be more diligent about posting more often. To help me along I have been jotting down ideas for future blogs as they come to me. Sometimes quotes, but mostly just random thoughts. Like the stuff that I lay awake thinking about at night.

As discussed in previous posts, many of the women in my life are new mothers or soon-to-be mothers. And in talking with them, as I so often do, I have discovered a couple of other scary things about what I affectionately call "The Mommy Trap". First is the unexpected insecurity that comes with 1) becoming pregnant and then 2) with becoming a parent. As every woman is aware, one of the most life altering side effects of pregnancy is the significant weight gain. However, every woman is different. And unfortunately, you don't know how you will carry your pregnancy until you are way into the final trimester. Enter our friends "The Simpsons". We have been friends with the Simpsons for over 5 years and shared a pretty good relationship with them prior to the last six months or so. And I have really been struggling with the whole thing, until recently.

Whereas we used to see the Simpsons all the time, we have only seen them once in the last six months. Even the phone calls have stopped. At last, we get an update through the grapevine. The mother-to-be is "fat and pissed-off". A phone call on Sunday from Mr.Simpson confirms it. With the due date fast approaching, she does not even want to leave the house. I am caught off-guard. What I had been construing as a snub this entire time, might not really be a snub at all. It sounds like my friend is depressed. Which is so unexpected because she was so gung-ho about getting pregnant before. She never doubted for one second that she wanted to be a mom.

A little background on Mrs. Simpson. She is my very fashion forward friend. In fact, fashion is her profession. And she is darn good at it. Petite, blonde, and sassy. So it is pretty safe to say that most of her self-image revolves around outward appearances. And from the sounds of things, pregnancy has temporarily robbed her of that. To add insult to injury, while Mrs.Simpson has been gaining weight, Mr.Simpson has been losing it. 35 pounds to be exact. Under other circumstances this would be welcome news. But it sounds like the hormones are really doing a number on her. All of a sudden, I stopped being mad. In fact, I feel bad. I know it is just the hormones, but I did not expect pregnancy to bring that out in her.

My friends the "Ramsey's" have two little ones in their life. Only 11 months separates the two boys, so they have their hands full. Prior to baby #2's arrival, Mrs. Ramsey and I had a conversation that got me thinking. Feeling a little anxious about the stress of another baby she said, "Mr.Ramsey is so pre-occupied with J. that it is hard some times." It is not what she said that struck me, it was how she said it. I could almost sense a tinge of jealousy in her voice.

Background on the Ramsey's. Mrs.Ramsey was raised solely by her mother, so has never known the affection of a father. With the arrival of J. in the Ramsey's life, he quickly became the apple of his father's eye. J. can do know wrong and Mr.Ramsey is an adoring father. Almost to a fault.

Curious, I asked another friend who recently became a mother, "Do you ever get jealous of Emma with your husband?" She does not, but her mother was jealous of her. She said that the love you have for your own child is so powerful and so pure, that she could easily see how it could be threatening to someone who is at all insecure. Hmmm, like a recently pregnant woman with hormones running a marathon through her body?!?

Okay, so maybe it is not actually pregnancy that is all bad. Clearly, after further analysis, it is just the hormones that are a result of the pregnancy. But still, marriage is already a lot of work. Do I really need to add yet another layer of complication? This is all coming up because my husband woke me up last night to tell me he wanted to have a baby with me. And for a half second, I thought it might be a good idea. YIKES! Glad we both woke up from that dream.

Damn, people are stupid

I have had enough today with idiots! I am not some kind of elitist, but I really wonder sometimes about other people. There are times when I just want to ask, "What color is the sky in your world?"

Like this guy that I work with. He is the creepiest, most socially awkward freak I have ever had to deal with in a professional setting. He is 44 and looks it--grey, balding. Most days he looks like he slept in whatever he is wearing--shirt half tucked, wrinkled. Despite his disheveled appearance and awkward mannerisms, he fancies himself a ladies man. In fact, he has hit on quite a few of the women at work and has even been spotted chasing complete strangers down in the streets. Sometime last summer, he decided that I might be interested in some of his weekend adventures. It is always the same story. He meets a girl. She is in her 20's. She likes to drink. He takes her out. And she never calls again. Hmmm, could it be because you are a fucking freak?!? I will tell you, I can drink with the best of them. And when I was younger there were nights when I could not have even told you my name. But lord help me if I could ever be drunk enough to think going out with this guy was a good idea! There is not enough liquor on this earth.

Today he really pissed me off. We are in different job functions, but our jobs require that we work closely together. I had a unique situation for which I had to customize a solution, "think outside of the box" as they say in corporate speak. Problem is, this guy is so not one of those "out of the box" people. He wants cookie cutter solutions to every problem. So he kept insisting that I was wrong. I am one of those "hate to be wrong" people. It took a third person to review it, but I was right after all. So I tried to explain why this was a little different. And he was just not getting it. He kept going back to, "Well, in the past other underwriters always did it this way." Okay, jackass! That would be okay if this was not a special circumstance. Can you get it through your thick skull? I would not be so frustrated if this happened only sometimes. No, it happens everytime I have to deal with him. Like on Friday when he had to send me something 5 or 6 times before it was finally right. He has the fucking words "Senior" in his title, I don't.

Then there are all the other incompetents I work with. The guy with autism who never speaks. In fact most days he is completely expressionless, kind of like those guys in the Blue Man Group. It freaks me out. I say 'hi' and he just looks at me and blinks. No smile. No nothing. There is Farrah Faucet with her polyester suits from the '80's. Not knowing how to use Excel, she once hand calculated a spreadsheet, manually entered all the figures, and still could not get it to add up. Then there is the evangelist. There is no such thing as luck, everything is a "blessing". I often wonder why I have been so blessed to be on such a team of misfits.

Tomorrow I will get up and do it all over again. For now I am just glad to be in the company of my cat and my dogs which I prefer over that of the idiots I work with!

The unconventional wisdom of Carrie Bradshaw

It is Tuesday of what is turning out to be a hectic week. My dad's oldest sister recently arrived in the US, 20 years after her original petition was submitted. She is in LA, but is coming today to stay with us for the next two weeks. Which is not a problem except for our house is small and the only spare room is technically our office (a.k.a. the dump zone). So for the last week I have been frantically trying to clean it up, so that it is somewhat presentable. In addition, I have three birthdays and a farewell lunch this week. Which required a trip to Target for cards and gifts. At 9:30 I finally get home. But I still need to go through the mail and pay all the bills before going to bed. So I head into the office. Unfortunately, due to the room's regular status as a dumping zone, there is a small mess waiting for me from my husband. I pick up the mess and begin on the bills. Finally at 11:00, I make it into bed exhausted. Then I remember--season five of "Sex and the City" is now available on my On-Demand cable! Must watch at least one episode.

I did not become a devoted "Sex and the City" fan until about midway into season six. And then a season later, the series was over. Sure the set is available on DVD, but I am too cheap to pay the $350. Then it became available On-Demand via my cable box. I powered through season two, watching two, maybe three episodes at a time. Only problem with cable, you have to wait a few weeks for the following season to become available. So I marked the calendard and patiently waited for season three which I completed in one entire day while home sick from work. On to season four. Never mind that I have yet to see season one or the fact that I already know how it is going to end. I just cannot get enough. The storyline is just so relevant to my life right now.

For example, last night was "Fleet Week" in NYC. Miranda is a new mommy and Carrie and the girls are feeling a change in the tide. All of a sudden Miranda's life is being consumed with motherhood and there is a disconnect. Carrie being the good friend she is, tries to relate and makes a promise nothing will change. "She had a baby, not a labotomy." Sometimes I have got to wonder. You know those women. In the meantime, Miranda is distracted and feeling left out. She is also scared. I can relate. I think I would be, too. In fact, it is my fear, too.

The show ends with Carrie walking through a perfect NYC night and the following quote, "Sometimes we have to leave behind who we were, in order to become who we will be." Hmmm...I fell asleep pondering that, thinking about the irony in the timeliness of this message. By this time it was way past my bedtime. I cannot help but to wonder if somehow I was meant to watch that episode last night. It was a kind of stressful day and I was feeling pretty grumpy by the time I made it into bed. Regardless, it was just what I needed.

HELP--I've fallen, and I can't get up!

Forgive me, for I have failed. It has been over a week since my last workout and I am really starting to feel guilty. It's just that it has been raining here. And well, running really sucks and running in the rain is just that much worse. I tried. There was the day that I wore a hat and found my waterproof jacket. It was not bad, in fact it was almost nice to run in the cool rain. But then the rain just never went away. Last Monday, I even put my running clothes out on the bed. I was going to go running before drinking beer, mostly to cancel out the act of drinking beer and less to actually gain some ground. But I took a nap instead and drank beer anyways. Then Tuesday came, and Wednesday, and Thursday (more beer), Friday, Sat...I promised myself I would start fresh again on Sunday. But then we lost an hour. Meanwhile, my workout clothes have been on my bedroom floor ever since.

So here it is Monday and it has stopped raining (for now). What will I do??? I never appreciated the body I had when I was younger. Even when I was working out regularly and feeling fit it was not good enough. Every year it is the same thing. Begin gaining weight when the sun goes away (October in Oregon). Then in spring when the short sleeve shirts, dresses, and skirts come back out, go into panic mode. Last year I decided to take a stand. I was turning 30 afterall, I felt entitled to a little weight. Well, guess what? I never lost any last year, gained even more this winter season, and last time I was on the scale I am officially the heaviest I have ever been in my life. So after receiving that news, I thought I had better get to running. My plan was to give myself at least 30 days. I think last I checked I was on day 20 or 21. Only nine more workouts to go and here I am, I have fallen off the wagon again. Then to add insult to injury, I was informed that a woman's body goes through significant metabolic changes once every 10 years. Great!

I could tackle it from another angle. I could try to watch what I eat. But the problem is, I have terrible eating habits. Like today, I had a reuben sandwich and chips for lunch. And this weekend, I had pizza, beer, fried shrimp, hashbrowns, and bacon (not in combination, of course). I almost thought about making a list of all the bad food choices I make throughout the day. Just because I think it would be a real eye opener to have to face the list. I hate to beat myself up over it. And I have really been trying to move away from my obsession with it for the last five years. I find it much more motivating to view it as a decision I am making for my health and not so much due to appearances. But this time of the year, it is hard to ignore the visual appeal of a healthy self.

I know exercising is good for me. Not only physically, but also mentally. I mean, listen to me. I have been off the wagon for just over a week and I notice a difference in my disposition. That's it, I am going to recommit to myself today. I wonder if I will still be able to find those workout clothes on my floor this afternoon?

The Middle Road

While searching for something to watch the other night, I stumbled across the "Newlyweds" marathon leading up to the series finale. Admittedly, it is one of my guilty indulgences. And as I sat in front of the TV for 3 hours watching, I could not help but to wonder, is money the true key to happiness? And as I began to ponder the answer, I began to wonder about the meaning and purpose of life. How I managed to get deep after watching Jessica Simpson, I cannot say.

Nonetheless, here is this beautiful couple that appear to have it all. Great careers, a gorgeous home, the right cars, the best clothes, shopping sprees, dinners in the finest restaurants, vacations around the world. Life is great right? So does that mean that my complete lack of these material things somehow discounts my value and purpose in life? Or does it just mean that I need to find my own way and my own purpose void of such material things? I believe the answer lies somewhere in between.

As I child, my world, my purpose was just to be. To grow and learn. I passed the time with school and outside of school, my time was spent playing with my cousins and my neighborhood friends. In high school, that continued. Of course I had moved on to other friends and I also become pre-occupied with appearances. I learned to love shopping. I learned to separate myself from my family. College was my first time away from home. I declared my major and I determined I was going to be the one to save the world. I learned more about my sensuality and became more comforfable in my own skin. After school, I became a career woman. I purchased my first real suit and matching heels and began my ascent up the corporate ladder. Only to have the ladder pulled out from underneath me when I was laid off from my first real job. At that time, I found myself for the first time, really questioning my purpose in my life. Was it to be the next CEO? Or did I have another purpose? One that had nothing to do with corporate America, but instead was more centered on home and the family? Again, I believed that the answer was someplace in the middle.

Since then, I have spent the last few years trying to find that balance. And I thought that my journey had finally come close to its end. Then I turned 30. And I have unexpectedly arrived at a fork in the road. Everything that I thought I knew about myself has all of a sudden become unclear. Everything that I thought I knew about everyone else has all of a sudden become unclear. Who am I? Who do I want to be? The girl that once stared back at me in the mirror is gone. She is no longer pre-occupied with her looks, her weight, or her fashion. She is not the CEO she dreamt she wanted to be. She is not a mother. She is not wealthy. She wonders, is she a good wife? She wonders, is she a good friend? She worries, will she be forgotten? She searches for the answers.

As I begin this new journey, in this new decade, I approach the only way I know how. As a researcher. Those who know me will appreciate my pragmatic style. I interview. I question. I explore. For some the answer was motherhood. For one the answer was skydiving. For another, the answer was new friends. For others it was career. For one, the answer was God. For me, I think it is someplace in between.